SCRIPT-COMS™ PRESENTS

SMELL OF THE DAY

A workplace fable about friendship, funk, and one very questionable fork.

By Louis Clifford Caldwell Jr. “I’m a weird dyslexic storyteller.”

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DREAM CAST NOTES

WHOOPI GOLDBERG

Think Jumpin’ Jack Flash meets divine office clairvoyant. She’s half sarcasm, half sermon, wrapped in a scarf that’s seen things. Wise, weary, and allergic to foolishness. If Whoopi sighs, you’ve been judged.

RUPAUL(out of makeup, but never out of drag)

Always composed, always glowing, always performing. Even in a hoodie, she radiates main-character lighting.

HARVEY FIERSTEIN (aka “ARNOLD”)

In full Torch Song Trilogy mode — gravel-voiced philosopher of the lunchroom. Equal parts dramatic and domestic. The only man who can make retrieving a fork sound like a one-act play.

MARGARET CHO

Vintage Cho energy — the stand-up era when she joked about gay culture because she loved it so much. Loudly supportive, softly chaotic, and deeply committed to moving queer joy into the mainstream. That vibe, please.

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COLD OPEN

INT. OFFICE LUNCHROOM — DAY

A faint funk lingers in the air — a mix of reheated despair and something aquatic.

WHOOPI (offscreen)

Why does it always smell like someone microwaved mystery fish in here?

(The microwave dings cheerfully, like it knows it’s guilty.)

RUPAUL (grimacing)

Because someone did — three days ago. It’s a legacy smell now.

(A plastic fork clatters to the tile. HARVEY bends to pick it up, accidentally kicks it. It skitters under the vending machine.)

HARVEY

Aw, come on…

(He crouches, trying to fish it out. The fork keeps slipping away. Finally, he stretches, grabs something, and stands up, triumphant.)

HARVEY

Got it!

(Everyone turns. He’s holding… something brownish. Something glossy. Something that used to be alive.)

WHOOPI

That’s… not a fork.

HARVEY (holding it higher, squinting)

What is this thing?

MARGARET (from across the room)

Hey, that might be mine! I dropped teriyaki on a stick the other day. Looks awful similar.

HARVEY (examining it)

I don’t know if that’s yours… this one’s got whiskers and a tail.

MARGARET (instantly)

Oh no, that’s not mine.

HARVEY (face twisting)

Why am I holding it?!

(He drops it. A heavy thunk hits the tile. Everyone freezes. The microwave beeps again, like it’s mocking them.)

RUPAUL

Congratulations. You just found the source of the smell of the day.

(They all nod solemnly. WHOOPI gathers her lunch.)

WHOOPI

(little-Black-woman-trapped-in-a-phone-booth energy)

I’m eating in my car.

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