Treatment for THE LOLLIPOP LAD by Jason Lee
You’ve heard of people being sex mad, but how about sex driving you mad? It’s not easy being a young lad, scraping a living by any means necessary. What happens when the Lollypop Lady where you deal drugs lusts after you – do you just grin and bear it
Mrs Turtle a Lollypop Lady, mid-fifties, Rubenesque, stopping the traffic on a rough street.
Kevin, early twenties and scrawny, in the back of a Ford Escort Mexico, with Chris and Ray, also early twenties.
School kids, parents and grandparents cross, as the traffic builds.
Our obsession with Mrs Turtle began when we found out it was her that had grassed us up. We used to sell kids a bit of blow, nothing too heavy mind.
In a back street, Kevin takes the money from a twelve year old girl, hands over the drugs, Chris and Ray wait in the car.
They wanted it, and we supplied it. They’d probably all be on heroin if it weren’t for us!
The only jobs going were in call centres, so this was one way of avoiding that nightmare. Would you really want one of us ringing you up, trying to flog you stuff?
Chris and Ray had chipped in for a classic Ford Escort Mexico, with bucket seats up front, and super-woofers in the rear.
We had a right laugh cruising around, just going mental, blasting out music.
Then, because of that old cow, the cops began eyeing our every move. That’s why we began watching her back, just to make sure she was paranoid. It was easy really, in such a small town. Everyone knew each other’s business. Turtle did duties at the school morning, dinner and home time, so we were always there.
The sound of the Escort ENGINE, with the three men watching Turtle
Given the law were watching us, getting us to move on and stop harassing her we decided to find out where she lived.
All the terraces were identical but her tiny front was as manicured and neat as they come.
The lads pull up outside Turtles terraced house, the beats of EastEnders as Kevin’s nose meets her door.
Through the letterbox he spies a large lollipop lolling against the wall like a skinny lover.
Mrs Turtle moves to the kitchen, still in her white coat.
As it dawns on him this is odd, she catches him peeking and invites him in, as if she is expecting him. Kevin shuffles into the hallway unsure of what to do next, noticing her wonderful perfume. Her coat falls open, and her creamy body makes him drool. It all seems so natural.
She moves her right hand gracefully towards the top of her inner thigh, her rose painted fingernails caressing her milky skin. She yanks him by the hand upstairs, and into her bedroom. In the distance a foghorn echoes.
She shouts at him to drop his pants and spanks him with her large lollypop. As she delivers whack after whack of almighty proportions her knuckles go white from gripping the bedposts.
Around the bed sit a dozen different lollipops, some glowing silver, others onyx black. She uses each one on them with relish. Kevin begs enough, but she is not having it.
He lays slumped on the bed, and she takes a photograph of his raw derriere.
Kevin stumbles out her front doors. Chris and Ray are waiting, grinning like garden gnome, then they rib him and Kevin remains silent.
The next day Turtle is down by the school gates like usual. As she spots them, she spins the lollipop around. One side is covered with a giant photograph of Kevin’s pimply behind.
She yells – do you think this will stop traffic, pouting her lips like a screen goddess. Kevin yells at Ray to run her over, but Ray is too stoned to do anything. Turtle moves the lollipop towards her lips and gives it a long luscious lick.
Kevin is in a mental hospital, and has put on an enormous amount of weight. He cannot stop eating the traffic light like lollypops, chocolate on the outside and green, yellow then red in the centre.
I don’t mind being fat. It’s better than being like the others in here, the anorexics. They’re as thin as lollipops most of them with big heads and funny sticking out jaws. I get on well with one of them, Emma.
Emma sits rocking.
VO (CONT’D): They try and stop her from using her phone all the time but she just screams back, ‘dial Emma, dilemma, it is all a huge dilemma don’t you think?’
We’ve all got our catchphrases, something to hold onto, like Jesus loves me or people like me because I’ve got money. Does it matter if they’re true or not?
They’re only words like STOP CHILDREN!
Turtle with her lollypop stopping traffic.
VO (CONT’D): But they usually seem to work.