Stoopin

“The dead are dying of thirst”

The film opens on a Brooklyn brownstone that is drowning in late afternoon light. The street is slow. Out from the brownstone steps Wallace, a large, gloomy figure. He’s just about 30 years old and has employed himself as a local loan shark known as “Wally” to everyone around the way. He came to Brooklyn by way of Kansas City, Kansas in 2005, spending most of his time in East Flatbush before moving to Bedford Stuyvesant with his girlfriend, Melanie. It’s day 60 of the Covid-19 pandemic and like most hours of the period, it’s time for a drink, a cigarette, and a few phone calls. 

Wally pulls out a black chair from the vestibule and unfolds it at the top of his stoop. He surveys his block and notices a few cyclists on the street and a few pedestrians strolling on the sidewalks. Some are wearing masks and others are not. Wally sags into his chair and glances up at the window of his brownstone before pulling out a pint of bourbon. He unscrews his bottle and takes a long swig. He then reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds. He lifts a cigarette from the pack, lights it and takes a long drag as he leans back. He then calls Bucky, a mechanic in the neighborhood who borrowed $1000 for a root canal about 2 months prior. 

Wally: Mmmmmm Bucky, bout time you answered.. I was startin worry about ya. Mmm. So… when you gonna have my money? Mmmhmmm, alright well you already 40 points back so… Naw..You don’t tell me to raise the vig. Don’t make me come see your ass, pandemic or no pandemic. Well then nigga you shoulda had dental insurance. You wouldn't be gamblin with my money now would ya? That’s not what I heard… I’ll tell you what… how about we make a deal right now. Let me get one of them pit puppies ya got…. Ahhh yeah, didn’t think I knew about that. Fuck yeah, I’ll take one…what are they, blue nose? Naw, I don’t need no papers on it. Bring it this week then. Bet. 

Wally hangs up the phone and pulls out another iPhone. He opens to Spotify and starts playing the rapper Freddie Gibbs, a song called Robes. He waves hello to a neighbor who is sweeping the sidewalk across the street. As soon as the neighbor looks away he takes another drink and dials up another call.

Wally: Danteeee...Yoooo… you takin action on this H-O-R-S-E game ESPN got going? What kinda odds you got on Paul Pierce? Alright then, puta c-note on him… Shit yeah, the Truth.... You know I’m from Kansas. C’mon now. Alright, and then parlay Pierce and Conley gettin outta the first round...another c-note. That’s it. Well what else you got? Table tennis? Hell naw… well what kinda odds you got on it? 

Wallace has a smile on his face when he gets off the phone, he loves the thrill of placing a bet through a bookie. He misses sports and other real action but since he can’t find it he’ll play whatever he can. Wally checks the mail. Jump cut. Eats Chinese from a carton with chopsticks. Jump cut, more cigarette smoking. More drinking. 

He scrolls through his phone some more as he takes another long pull from his bottle. Finally he finds the number he’s looking for. As the phone rings he notices a man about his age and build walking across the street at a slow pace. He remarks at him for a beat and half, there is something about the man that catches his eye, something that he can’t place. He’s dressed in threadbare, earth toned colors and limping a little. Wally’s phone continues to ring, finally a voice on the other end picks up.

Wally: Yeah, yeah.. Granny. Can you hear me? Granny? You there? Yeah, I can hear you now.. Ahhh I’m doing alright. How are you doin? Ha ha yeah, I been eatin. Well what I got pray for if I got you prayin for me? Huh, who’s better than you? And I appreciate it. Oh yeah? Well put that nigga on the phone then. Alright, I love ya too.

Wally: Whatup Pap? Oh ya know.. I’m holding up… I ain’t go no complaints. Yeah, I heard that… yeah, that’s too bad. Heard his family did right by him though, I called them up and paid my condolences... yeah. He’s good, thinking he grown and shit. Hell naw, we barely on any terms at all, she be bitchin, talkin about “Where my money at?” I say “Damn, woman.. It’s child support, I ain’t funding your new goddamn bag collection.” You know, always the same damn thing. Ha ha yeah, I got me a pint of a little somethin…. How could you tell? Pap? Pap… you breakin up on me. You there?

The call drops. He attempts to call back to no avail… As the phone continues to ring he notices the man again but this time standing directly across the street… leering. He hangs up the phone and calls out to him.

Wally: Somethin I can help you with? Yooo… you hear me, nigga? You gotta problem?

The man continues to stare right through Wally leaving him feeling quite unnerved. He looks closer and notices something familiar about him that he still can’t quite place. He stands and takes a few slow steps toward him, his irritation turning into a deep and strange curiosity. He thinks he knows him.

Wally: Sonny?

As soon as he utters his name he hears a shout from the upstairs window. It’s his girlfriend, Melanie.

Melanie: Who you yellin at?

Wally: I wasn’t yellin.

Melanie: Bullshit, you weren’t the whole block could hear you.

Wally: I said I wasn’t yellin.

Melanie: Why don’t you come upstairs?

Wally: I gotta make a few more calls to make. I’ll be up in a bit.

Melanie: Are you drunk?

Wally: I’m grown, woman. It don't make a damn bit of a difference what I am.

Melanie: Well you gonna come up here and eat or what?

Wally:  I’ll be up in a bit.

Melanie: Mmmhmmmm.

Wally: The fuck that s’posed to mean? “Mmmmhmmm.”

Melanie: I ain’t coming to get you again if you pass out down there. Silence. Whatever.

Melanie shuts the window with a slam. Wally looks back across the block for the man he thought he knew. He’s nowhere to be found. He goes back up to his chair.  Jump cut…. He practices basketball moves but he’s real tipsy so he’s swaying. He looks aimlessly down the block again and has another drink. He’s on with another potential borrower now.

Wally: Uhh huh… uhh huh, sorry to hear that. Alright, so how much you need?.... Alright so check it you neighborhood nigga… It’s 5 points a week, 20 a month… you can do that math on what that is over a year… and at this amount if you don’t pay imma come to you and we’re gonna work something out… Can you manage that? Alright then, come by tomorrow. Mornin’ would be fine.

Wally drinks. Music plays. Jump cut… He gets a call now, this time, from someone who he owes.

Wally: Yooo Whatup Beano… I been meanin to call ya as a matter of fact. Yeah… look Imma keep it 100 with ya.. I’m down about 3 points right now, you know given the current climate of things… imma be short. Short like 10-15 bands, straight up. Nigga, I ain’t frontin you.. Business is slow, we in the middle of global fuckin crisis… you hurtin… i’m hurtin… we all hurtin, g. It’s a ripple effect… it ain’t just these straight folks feelin it. It’s in the streets now too, ya feel me? 

Alright, now... my man we did a lot of business together so.... just… well, that’s a bit insulting…Well you tryin to threa—.

I needa week. Give me a week and Imma have it.

The phone clicks.

Wally: Hello? Hello? Fuck!

Gulp gulp gulp. Wally drinks so much that things begin to spin. He has debts on the streets and those are starting to pile up on him. Who lends to a loan shark? People who aren’t afraid to murder to prove a point that all debts will be paid. Wally struggles to keep himself upright. He makes another call.

Wally: Yooo… what’s good negro…. What you mean who this? This yo cousin fool… the most philanthropic nigga you know… and you know why I’m callin too…. Yeah….yeah…. New phone my fuckin ass… When you gonna have my money? I ain’t Sally Mae, so don’t make me come Freddie Smack yo ass… (it was bad joke that Wally is so proud of… he’s practiced it). Ha ha ha… man if you wasn’t my family I’d kill yo fuckin  ass. Straight up...Yeah… it’s like that… Shit yeah I’m, pourin up….I hope you is too….

Shit just hopin these wild lookin nigras get back to work asap… niggas lookin desperate and shit… i ‘ont like what I see….

… I gotta ask you something… You remember Uncle Sonny? Yeah… you was young when he passed. Yeah.. yeah… man… I saw a nigga looked just like him ha ha ha… thought I was trippin. Yeah… man.. That’s why you can’t drink like that...everything in moderation…kill yo ass. Drink a hole in your goddamn throat.

Shit man… imma about the same age he was... Got my ass feelin old as fuck.. It’s just… well I was thinking of him… and…. Nigga, just make sure you pay me my money.

Jump cut. Wally gulps more and liquor and struggles to keep himself upright. Freddie Gibbs continues to play and he tries to rap along but he’s so off. He tries lighting a cigarette. Then the man whom he saw earlier is now in front of his stoop and is again staring directly through Wally. After a moment Wally finally notices him.

Wally: Well shitttttt… would you look at thissss. Thank you so much for gracin us with your presence…. Don’t think I didn’t see yo ass earlier… the fuck ya want, Unc? Huhhhh? The fuck ya want?!?!! Hmmm???? Nigga ya thought I didn’t know it was you? Y’ain’t slick...

Ya wanna drink? Yeah, I bet you do ya dead, drunk mo’fucker…. The dead are dyin of thirst ain’t they? 

Wally holds out his bottle, he has a difficult time keeping his arm steady. The man sets at the bottom of the stoop, still looking at Wally.

Uhhh uhhhh… I ain’t like you, I ain’t goin no where, nigga…. Ain’t no drunk ass nigga gonna talk me into dyin… ha ha ha ha belie’ dat… I ain’t goin nowhere. I ain’t like you.

Wally gives into his drunkenness and collapses onto the stoop.  Cut to morning.

Wally wakes up in the same position he passed out in, he’s alone on the stoop. Melanie never came to get him. Wally rolls to his side and then sets up. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a hungover growl.

He takes a deep breath and pulls himself to his feet. He grabs his chair, looks up at the window of his brownstone, has another deep sigh and then walks into his apartment. The camera does not go with him, it stays fixed on the brownstone, right where it started.

End