The Apocalypse NOW Daddy: The Ride Of The Valkyries

“A road trip (with a toddler) cannot give us judgment, or shake off our errors; it merely holds our attention for a moment by a certain novelty, as children pause to wonder at something unfamiliar.”

Seneca

EXT. APOCALYPSE GARDENS -DAY
Trees and grass being VIEWED through the veil of time or a dream. Coloured smoke wafts through the scene: a kaleidoscope, a rainbow. 8 mm family video footage, stuttering frames of children running around a garden, dancing under water sprinklers. Music begins quietly, suggestive of the era, of this era, every era. Perhaps LET IT GO from FROZEN or THE END from The DOORS.

Now MOVING through the FRAMES are the silhouettes of cars, not that we could make them out to be that. The fast moving silhouettes of camper vans, caravans and lorries. Then a car BURSTS into the centre of the scene and pushes the happy family to the background and appears to come out of the screen, like a shark in one of those old 3D cinemas.

The scene becomes ghostly again.

DISSOLVE TO

INT. APOCALYPSE HOUSE – DAY
A CLOSE SHOT, upside down of the stubble covered face of a young (-ish, if 40 is considered young-ish) man. The unmistakeably chiselled features of APOCALYPSE DADDY. His eyes open, he stares intently at the SLOWLY ROTATING ceiling fan. Each turn of the fan sounds like the blades of a helicopter slowly turning.

EXT. IMAGES OF CARS – DAY
They continue to move slowly along a three lane motorway. The image looks like an acid trip. Multi-coloured and slow, the cars melting into leaf like fractals.

INT. APOCALYPSE HOUSE – DAY
The camera moves slowly across the living room of Apocalypse House… and we see Apocalypse Daddy standing at the window looking out at a busy street scene below.

APOCALYPSE DADDY (V.O.)
Home… shit. I’m only at home. Every time I wake up I think I’m gonna be back on the road.

He moves back to the sofa and sits down, turns over an empty Nespresso coffee capsule in his fingers.

APOCALYPSE DADDY (V.O.)
When  I was home after my first tour it was worse. I’d wake up and there would be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife. The kids just ignored me. When I was there I wanted to be on the road and when I was on the road I wanted to be anywhere but the road. All I could think of was the motorway. Service stations and food encrusted on the seats. The constant screaming. The constant…constant… screaming. Every minute I stay in this room is a minute you gotta add to the journey.  A minute spent here is eight minutes on the road.

He gets up, naked, and starts doing yoga. Moving slowly, in time with the slow spinning ceiling fan.

FADE OUT:

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