(He sighs deeply, resting his chin as much as the wooden board allows.)
(He chuckles nervously, but the laugh cuts short into a pained wince as he shifts his neck, nearly triggering the collar.)
(The scene is pitch black. The sound of crickets and crashing ocean waves fills the background. A tight spotlight illuminates a wooden stockade. Tandy's head and hands are locked in place. Around his neck is a glowing shock collar. He is sweaty, exhausted, and desperately trying to maintain his trademark false optimism.) The_last_man_on_earth_2x04
It’s just... it's lonely out here. The world ended. Practically everyone we ever knew or loved was wiped out by a virus. And here we are, the last handful of human beings left on the giant blue marble, and I am locked in a box. We have all the space in the world, and I have about three square feet.
Below is an original, creative dramatic monologue written from Tandy's perspective during his long, isolated night in the stockade before the fire breaks out. The Monologue: "C to the T" (He sighs deeply, resting his chin as much
Do you think they can hear me? New Phil. Melissa. Todd. Todd used to be my best friend. Now he looks at me like I’m a piece of expired cheese. And honestly, I don't blame him. I was a jerk. A Grade-A, certified, grass-fed turkey jerk.
(He looks off to the side, his eyes suddenly catching a flick of light. He blinks, focusing.) Tandy's head and hands are locked in place
Citronella spray and electricity. A true sensory experience. Who needs five-star spas when you can have high-voltage shock therapy on a beach in Malibu? It's all about trust, guys! I get it! I really, truly do. (He looks up at the stars, his voice softening.)