EXT. MIDWEST – NOON
On a corner of a small town that just over 850 mostly elderly people call home sits a middle-aged man named CARLO inside his ice cream truck. It is a sunny afternoon. He is bored and alone. Six-year-old SOPHIA stands nearby, silently for a while. but then she stirs CARLO out of his daydream with a soft voice that can almost be mistaken for a gentle breeze.
SOPHIA
Hi. Do you have vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles?
CARLO lifts his head and hastily turns on the switch that plays traditional American ice cream truck music.
CARLO
What?… Who’s there?… Oh—how can I help you?
SOPHIA
(gentle whisper)
I said can I have a vanilla ice cream cone with sprinkles?
CARLO grunts, nods, and begins to make the cone.
CARLO
Have we met before?
SOPHIA
I don’t know. Maybe.
CARLO finishes making the cone and hands it to SOPHIA.
CARLO
Where are your parents?
SOPHIA
They went away.
CARLO
Where did they go?
SOPHIA
With everyone else.
CARLO
With everyone else? I don’t know what that means. How far away
do you live?
SOPHIA
I live just over those hills, on the other side of the valley.
CARLO
And you walked here? All by yourself?
SOPHIA
When I was really little my mother and father used to walk everywhere. We
didn’t have a car. But in the summer we could hear the music from the ice
cream trucks. From all the way down here.
CARLO
You haven’t touched your ice cream yet. It’s melting.
SOPHIA
Oh no! I need another one.
CARLO
(sighs heavily)
Before I give you another one, I’ll need two dollars. One for this one and
one for the next one.
SOPHIA
My mommy only gave me one dollar.
CARLO
Fine. I’ll live with it. But where is your mother?
SOPHIA
I told you. She went with the others.
CARLO begins to make a new cone.
SOPHIA
Did you know that you’re the last ice cream truck in
the whole world.
CARLO stops making the cone and turns toward SOPHIA.
CARLO
What? What did you say?
SOPHIA
It’s just you and me now.
CARLO pokes his head out of the window of the ice cream truck.
CARLO
Where are your parents?
SOPHIA
In heaven.
CARLO
Heaven. Yeah, right. Are you lost?
SOPHIA
Maybe. Maybe not.
CARLO steps out of his truck and gently—though nervously—takes SOPHIA’s hand.
CARLO
Which way did you come here?
SOPHIA
I told you. I came down the hill, then walked between those two buildings,
then came up this hill.
CARLO
Between those two building down there?
SOPHIA
Yes. But I don’t want to go back.
CARLO stands on a big rock that’s just about the same size as a milk crate. He still holds onto SOPHIA’s hand and gently helps her up onto the rock. He calls out loudly:
CARLO
Does anyone know who this little girl belongs to?… Hello?… Listen
up… Does anyone know who this little girl belongs to?
After a moment, without having heard a response, CARLO lets go of SOPHIA’s hand and returns to his ice cream truck to make a phone call. He starts to dial.
SOPHIA
All the phones are dead.
CARLO realizes there is no dial tone.
CARLO
How did you know that?
CARLO hangs up. SOPHIA runs around the ice cream truck singing:
SOPHIA
You are the only ice cream truck in the world.
You are the only ice cream truck in the world.
You are the only ice cream truck in the world.
CARLO
(annoyed)
Stop it.
SOPHIA laughs.
CARLO
Why are you laughing? Why? Is it because that according to you
I’m the only ice cream truck left in the world? Is that it? Well, that’s stupid.
It’s stupid and silly.
SOPHIA
You’re no fun.
CARLO
I’m no fun? Well, sorry about that. But I don’t have time to be fun. All I have
time for is to prove to you that there are more people around than just me and
you. There are others. Plenty of others. We’re gonna go down the hill so I can
prove it to you.
SOPHIA
Are you sure you want to do that?
CARLO
Why wouldn’t I?
CARLO rolls up the window, powers down the generator, removes his apron, and exits the truck. SOPHIA grabs CARLO’s hand and leads him down the hill. After a bit of strolling, they reach the bottom, where they go to a building with a steel door that looks very menacing.
CARLO
Is this where your parents live? Maybe I know them.
SOPHIA
No. But they used to work here.
CARLO
Maybe if we knock on the door, someone will come out to talk to us.
SOPHIA
Maybe. But I think we should go back up the hill instead.
CARLO ignores her, then notices light peeping out from all around the perimeter of the steel door. He pushes the door open, then falls to the ground in dismay.
CARLO
What is this place? It looks like Times Square in New York City. How can
that be? I was there once. There are thousands of people in Times Square.
Where are all the people? Where are they?
(turns to Sophia, trembling).
Why did you bring me here?
SOPHIA
You wanted to come. You wanted to open this door.
Don’t you remember?
CARLO looks at SOPHIA. There is a look of recognition in his eyes.
CARLO
I know you. Twenty years ago, maybe. When I was a boy. But how
could you still be a little girl? How could you be here?
CARLO seems lost in his memory. From the ice cream truck comes a voice:
VOICE
You already died, when you lied
Slippers on your feet
Robe on your back
Trying to catch up to what you lack
Music was tears
Cold nights in the black hole
The only hope was the twinkling specks on those white clouds.
She stood on the corner waiting for you
But you never listened
Even unconscious the music still plays.
CARLO comes out of his memory trance and addresses SOPHIA.
CARLO
What’s your name?
SOPHIA
Sophia
CARLO
(hesitantly)
Sophia! I loved a girl name Sofia when I was seven year old… Are you…
You can’t… It’s impossible… Are you Sophia?
-End-
©Robertson Tirado copyright 2018
This short screenplay is exclusively written for independent directors, a $250 licensing fee grants up to 10 filmmakers the rights to visualize this story. Contact Robertson Tirado for payment and certificate.
Robertson's Short Stories 