The Crystal Egg of Gormack
Reality is on the brink of collapse. Its only hope: Samson Dean,
a hard-boiled private eye—and talking gorilla. But first... A drink.
Sometimes, surreal hits the spot… like a boilermaker at your local watering hole, after a grinding, soul-extinguishing day of work.
Do you have fond memories of Naked Lunch? How about Brazil? Hows about if we flavor that with a dash of Howard the Duck on the side?
If so, you might well find Chris Librizzi’s Crystal Egg of Gormack your style.
Starting as so many Sam Spade inspired tales do, Crystal Egg opens in a bar.
A little hole in the wall called O’Malleys, the décor consists of two flickering lights, bullet holes in the walls. Police tape cordons off a backbooth. Mysterious blood stains dot the floor.
In other words, the kinda joint you’d bring kids and grandma to for Sunday brunch. Not.
Only one barfly haunts this hovel. Well, and a jaded bartender, too. They’re sharing a Tori Amos song on the juke and loneliness (the real stuff, not Billy Joel style).
Then Samson Dean walks in. Wearing a trench, a fedora and shadows across his face, Samson fits the dismal mood. But when he sits down and removes the hat, the bar’s no longer depression-as-usual.
Because Samson’s a gorilla. The talking kind. Drinking, too. Ordering a Whiskey neat, Samson commandeers the whole bottle. Seconds later, he’s in his cups.
The barfly eases over…
BARFLY
You ain't from around here, is ya?
SAMSON DEAN
L.A.
The Barfly lights up. He hops to the next stool. Right beside Samson Dean.
BARFLY
Los Angeles. City of Angels. Cool, man.
What brings you to the Big Apple? Circus?
Samson Dean gives the Barfly a dirty look...
And the Barfly knows he overstepped.
BARFLY
I didn't mean nothing...
Just don't get a lot of gorillas around here.
Especially talking ones.
Samson finishes his drink and pours another.
SAMSON DEAN
I'm here on business.
Business? What kind? And when you’re facing a talking gorilla who makes Mike Hammer like a kindergarden pussy, is it really wise to pry?
Soon, Samson’s on an existential tear – about life, femme fatales (of course!) and a certain must-have-collectible called the Crystal Egg of Gormack.
Wanna find out what that is? Read the script.
Despite its hard-boiled and furry protagonist, Crystal can potentially still be brought to life onscreen. Animation could work. Well placed shadows and a good gorilla mask might also do the trick.
For sure, it’s seven minutes of bizarre audiences won’t forget. After Samson makes his entrance, O’Meally’s – and Film Noir – will never be the same.