Opening scenes from TUSKERS-THE MOVIE

1. INT. – MUSEUM (MORRILL HALL, UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA STATE MUSEUM)

Screen virtually dark, with only a hint of light. A date appears on the screen: November, 2080. Close up of hand pushing a bank of light switches. We are in a gigantic, cavernous, dimly-lighted, room—Elephant Hall. Around the sides of the room are fossil skeletons of mastodonts, mammoths, and a few, much smaller, modern elephant skeletons for comparison. One end of the hall is a life-sized mural of a herd of woolly mammoths crossing a frozen stream bed, their breath fogging in the Ice Age air. Two people enter the hall, an older, dignified, gentleman and a beautiful, precocious, bright-eyed, highly intelligent, three-year old girl holding the man’s hand. Setting is mystic, girl’s conversation is filled with wonder, man’s voice is resigned but very patient. Young girl is Suzie Alexander; gentleman is her Grandpa.

SUZIE

Grandpa, they’re so beautiful!

GRANDPA

I’m sure they were beautiful. They’ve been dead for millions of years.

Suzie slips her hand out of Grandpa’s, walks toward the largest skeleton, a towering woolly mammoth, looking up at his skull. She gets down on her knees to examine the labels, mammoth tooth fossils for kids to touch. Grandpa joins her, kneeling down, reading labels.

SUZIE

What does it say, Grandpa? (Suzie touches the numbers.)

GRANDPA

It says I was wrong about the millions. These have been gone only for a few thousand years. Suzie’s gaze turns to the mural. Her eyes widen.

SUZIE

I want one, Grandpa. Can I have one?

GRANDPA

Sorry, kid. About the only way you’re going to get something that big is to marry a football player.

SUZIE

Then I’ll marry a football player. (She stands up, smiles; big, satisfied, smile.)  Grandpa?

GRANDPA

Yes, Suzie?

SUZIE

What’s a football player?

Grandpa stands up, takes her hand, follows her gaze toward the mural.

GRANDPA

I guess maybe your Mom and Dad haven’t taught you everything about Nebraska, have they?

SUZIE

They teach me Mozart. (She pretends to be playing the piano.)

GRANDPA

Sorry, kid. Not good enough. (Puts his hand over his heart, smiles.)

CUT TO:

BEGIN CREDIT SEQUENCE

TUSKERS

2. EXT. – MEMORIAL STADIUM

College football game in progress. Violent clash of bodies and equipment, cursing, taunting, coaches screaming, players bloody. The Nebraska Cornhuskers are obliterating their opponents; score is 56-0 near the end of the second quarter. Stands are filled with fans wearing red; it’s a violent belligerent psycho-mob out of control.

3. INT. – ELEPHANT HALL

GRANDPA

(Kneels down, starts drawing plays on the museum carpet). Come over here, kid. Look. Players try to carry a ball over a goal line. Lots of other football players knock you down, try to keep you from crossing the line. That’s why the men who play it are big. (Pan Elephant Hall.)

SUZIE

Doesn’t sound very hard. (Turns back to the mammoth fossil label.)  What does it say, Grandpa? Is this his name? (Runs her fingers over the name plate, closes her eyes, feels the Braille and raised letters.)

GRANDPA

(Still in his reverie.)  We haven’t lost a game in ten years. We’re never going to lose, Suzie. Just think of it. NEVER!

SUZIE

Grandpa, is this his name?

GRANDPA

Too bad you’ll never get tickets, kid. It’s the one thing your grandmother and I were never able to give your mom. (He wipes a tear.)

SUZIE

Grandpa, is this his name?

GRANDPA

Why, yes . . . yes; I guess so. Archidiskidon imperator maibeni. (He struggles with the pronunciation.)

SUZIE

Archidiskidon imperator maibeni. Archidiskidon imperator maibeni. Archidiskidon imperator maibeni. (Suzie pronounces the name perfectly several times, obviously enjoying the taste of the words.) 

GRANDPA

It’s a beautiful name, isn’t it? (To himself, wistfully, filled with amazement at Suzie’s abilities.)

SUZIE

I’ll call him ‘ARCHIE’ for short.

GRANDPA

Then I’ll call him ARCHIE, too! (Patient, smiling.)  I am so sorry about the tickets, my child.

SUZIE

(Takes Grandpa’s hand, looks up at him. Suzie pulls at his arm.)  Tickets, Grandpa? I don’t want tickets. (She turns back to ARCHIE, watching him as they leave.)

The entire screenplay is available on smashwords.com; the book is available on smashwords, kindle, nook, and as a paperback on createspace.com/3462041

An excerpt from PIECES OF THE PLAINS

Red Dirt - an excerpt from PIECES OF THE PLAINS

 Red Dirt is a piece that I started a few years ago while teaching an English course named "Writing About Nature." I decided that if my students were going to be asked to write every week, then I should do the same. This chapter from PIECES OF THE PLAINS: MEMORIES AND PREDICTIONS FROM THE HEART OF AMERICA (J&L Lee Publishing, Lincoln, NE; also on smashwords.com, kindle, and nook) was the result. It's been used in a number of places and will end up in my so-called "Oklahoma book" if that manuscript ever gets finished.

Oklahoma writer Ted Atoka's blog

Oklahoma writer Ted Atoka's page

This link is to an Oklahoma writer named Ted Atoka. Lots of stuff here worth taking a look at!

The Denver International Airport

The Denver International Airport
This is a chapter from a former book project entitled "Simple Solutions." If you're flying through Denver, it's a read that might add some perspective to your trip.

An excerpt from the Oklahoma book

Chapter 5 from the Oklahoma book

This book is entitled Bernice and John: Finally Meeting Your Parents Who Died a Long Time Ago. I've been working on it four about 10 years, and if I don't hear back pretty soon from the publisher that's been reviewing it for the past year, I'll self-publish as both an e-book on several sites and as a trade paperback with CreateSpace. The chapter is really about design.

An excerpt from "The Ginkgo"

My literary agent called the manuscript “an evocative book about ideas, exactly the kind of thing the American book-buying public is getting increasingly impatient with.” Then she declined to handle it. I understood her feelings, although at the time I thought: what happens to nations that get increasingly impatient with “evocative books about ideas”? Is this a healthy evolutionary trend for America?  Probably not. So I persist in my own sense of what must be said in print, regardless of what others believe. Yes indeed; the story of this relationship needs to be told, and especially to a nation becoming increasingly impatient with evocative books about ideas. In other words, a relationship quite unlike that imagined by a public increasingly impatient with evocative books about ideas. Why can’t I get that phrase out of my mind? I walk downtown. The sidewalks are filled with normal, everyday, people—lawyers, housewives, businessmen and businesswomen, panhandlers, college kids, and nondescripts.  Are they all impatient with evocative books about ideas? What are they not impatient with? Murder, narcotics, war?

The Ginkgo is available as a paperback from createspace.com/3382861 and also as an e-book from Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords.com.