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Jason Krigsfeld is not your average high school senior. He is a seasoned
world traveler with roots in both southern California and eastern Europe.
As a result, Jason has developed an intellectual curiosity and cultural
sensitivity that belie his youthful exuberance. Not content to remain
within the confines of Orange County, where he attends a prestigious
private school, Jason has also experienced the growth of capitalism in post
perestroika Russia.
He's seen both the good and the bad, having visited with students who
survived the terrorist massacre in Beslan in September 2004. Jason is also
socially and environmentally conscious, having volunteered to participate
in a relief effort to clean up an oil spill in the Tver region outside of
Moscow. As a self-described Japanophile, his interests extend to Asia and
beyond. These experiences and many others provide the likeable and free
thinking Krigsfeld endless material to work with in his pursuit of poetry
and screenwriting, his ultimate passions.

And if I traveled to the other side of the moon, to this place where only I could be and live and breathe, would I smile, would I laugh, would I be content with the craters and the sand? Could I do anything but think? When alone what else is there to do? Could I smile, would I laugh? Would the haunting memories play their games, and could I have past happiness brighten my days? Would I smile, could I laugh, just the moon and me, and a million thoughts, and those craters, that sand, its all but nothing and everything, all at once in this place. Can I breathe, am I breathing, if its only me?

He’s seventeen and scared because the promotions on TV are false, capitalism is a lie, and the future seems dim. To say the least, not all is happy happy, joy joy, must see tv, or something in the middle called Malcolm. More often than not he’s depressed, lonely, scared and sad, confused and naÔve. He’s KIND OPFER (17), asleep and naked, next to empty prescriptions, their refills, some CDs, and a sawed off shotgun—not sure about nothing but his dreams, his silly stupid dreams.

TEPPEI (18), a young misfit with a gutter for a mouth, crawls through Kind’s window and drags the pool hall junkie out for the day, one that might or might not be his last. At the local pool hall, they run stick better than the rest, owning the joint like it’s theirs for the taking.

Over a meal at The Hometown Buffet, we learn that Kind has been seeking emancipation from his parents, but not whether he has won the case or not. Ever the prankster, Teppei convinces him to steal silverware from the restaurant, and before they can say, “fork and knife” they land behind bars.

Fortunately for Kind, he has a brother, TRISTAN OPFER (24), who is his polar opposite, successful, professional, optimistic, and willing to spring the kid from the clink. No sooner do the two make it around the corner, that a fight breaks out leaving Kind alone and nursing a black eye. Within minutes, his girlfriend FELICITY (17) picks him up and drops him off at the beginning, his home.

He arrives to find a letter from the Santa Ana District Court in which sufficient evidence was found to emancipate him from his parents. He lies down next to a half-filled bottle of Nyquil, and flicks an unfinished cigarette onto the floor, and smiles. It burns red and black through the floor. The following morning firefighters and police investigators arrive on the scene.

EXT. LAGUNA NIGUEL CUL-DE-SAC - EARLY MORNING
Sun pierces the sides of a horse shoe of houses. Each house looks exactly the same: two stories, a small front yard, and brick steps leading up to them.
KIND (V.O.)
I live in Laguna Niguel, California, a place where developers bulldoze all signs of wild life, then name the streets after them.

The focus falls upon the street sign, reading RUNNING FOX CIRCLE in large, friendly letters.
KIND (V.O.)
I bet the fox ran real hard when it saw its family crushed under a tractor...
Three CHILDREN run out of one of the houses, backpacks in hand, and enter an SUV. The SUV backs up into the street and drives off.

INT. KIND’S ROOM - MORNING
KIND OPFER, 17, lies asleep in a small, twin bed, completely naked. Kind’s long, wavy, black hair falls unkept at the sides of his face.
Next to the bed stands a dresser on which sits an alarm clock reading 6:59 AM, and many open prescription pill bottles, most are empty. Across from the dresser stands a desk and a chair. On the desk lay some papers, some CDs, and a sawed off shotgun.
KIND (V.O.)
That lump of flesh is me. I’ve been around for seventeen years now and I’ve only really come to understood one thing; I'm not worth the 9 months my mother took to have me
The clock turns to 7:00 AM and church bells play from its speaker. Kind rolls over to his side, stretches out one hand and lets out a large yawn
KIND (V.O.)
I’m the abortion that got away.
On one side of the wall are four pictures. The first picture is of an elderly man with wavy, grey hair. His face carries a look of resignation, almost lifeless. The photograph is framed and artistic. The caption reads “ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES WESLEY OPFER A BAD FATHER”
The second picture is of a woman, light black hair. Some would call her beautiful if not for the stern expression on her face. The caption reads “I’M A SON OF A BITCH”
The third picture reveals a young man, early twenties. His teeth are white washed, his face chiseled, with a perfect smile. His hair is short, yet wavy, colored brown with natural blonde high lights. The caption reads “IF ONLY I COULD SWITCH PLACES”.
KIND (V.O.)
My name is Kind Opfer and if things don’t change for me today, I’m going to shoot myself in the neck with a 12 gauge shot gun.

BLANK SCREEN