DeleteD Scene

Preparing for Episode III, we looked at all the writing that ended up on the cutting room floor, and decided to share the full, unedited version of Shane's opening monologue from Episode II (We simply could not fit the whole thing in the show, so only performed a morsel). For those of you that missed Episode II, the following is the full letter/monologue from Shane to his mother as he sits in Laramie County Jail in Cheyenne, Wyoming: 

"It’s true and it’s not true. It’s true that they give you a phone call, but it’s not true they give you just one. In Cheyenne County Jail they would have let me call the entire state of Illinois if they thought I might raise bail. A fund raiser, that’s all it is. But it’s not as bad as the movies let on—it’s a lot like starting at a new high school. It’s the impression you leave that counts.

Letters are more my style, these days. They postpone your side of the argument. Gives me a chance to express myself uninterrupted. You know what you are? Huh, I’ve forgotten… But it doesn’t matter because you can’t interrupt, see? Distance is an excellent defense—better than the highest wall is the thickest. Yet, perhaps your stubbornness and mine, opposing, can somehow support one another?

Ah, breathe. Do you remember the balloons Dad blew up for my birthday party that year? He died that same day, but the balloons, they didn’t deflate for four or five days. All sitting on the floor of my room, exhaling slowly—no way to capture it, I suppose, Dad’s breathe. 'Out of confusion, as the way is…' That’s your favorite poet. Dad wrote that poem along with a note in my red notebook, his birthday present to me. 'Being but men, we walked into the trees...'

You used to like poetry until your boarder moved in, the troglodyte, the Fred to your Wilma. You never liked basketball. Suddenly it was all Lakers, Knicks, Clippers, the Heat and the Magic. The heat and the magic…

(aside) Evan, can you sing something else?. He’s been singing ‘Somewhere’ from West Side Story ever since the back of the police car. He already drove 17 hours from Michigan to Nebraska, what was two and half more hours to Cheyenne? That’s all we needed.

Rendering of the Sundial Bridge. A Gnomon is the projecting piece of a Sundial.

Rendering of the Sundial Bridge. A Gnomon is the projecting piece of a Sundial.

A gnomon, that’s what you are! Know what a gnomon is? A lone spire reaching for heaven yet crooked at an unholy angle. You cast a shadow, but you’re predictable as clockwork. Where is Diane’s shadow now, people ask. Oh, I see, it’s that hour is it? Quite later than I thought. Later still now than then. Still now. 

You’re sure to fall, leaning as you do. And so am I—I reach desperately across chasms and hold the opposite side tightly until my hands crack and bleed. Why? To unify space, bringing here to there and there to here.

Instead of collapsing, you and I—oh, I’m sure that’s the easiest option—what if we affixed ourselves together in our warped ways, and your acute angle supported my desperate reach; what if my desperate reaching held you up as you extend, casting your shadow with pride? If we could do that, we’d defy gravity, be impossibly beautiful, and passersby would gather to admire us."

Written by David Ovies. All Rights Reserved ©