- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- Or something else.
- Nicholas has covered one side of the newspaper with doodles. He’s tired of aimlessly doodling. He looks around for something to SKETCH but doesn’t feel like drawing any of the objects in the room.
- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- You’re right, not a game. What would the greats have done on a night like tonight? What wondrous endeavors would they set for themselves?
- Nicholas looks at Abe, flips the newspaper over, and starts SCRIBBLING away.
- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- Something to challenge the intellect, to dust off the cobwebs, and expand one’s horizons. Something befitting our honored place in the echelon.
- Nicholas sketches furiously.
- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- Charades?
- NICHOLAS FREDLAND
- Ah-ha!
- Nicholas leaps up, grabs Lincoln’s Head and sprints up the stairs.
- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- Or not! I’m open to suggestions!
- Nicholas stands at an EASEL painting like a madman. Lincoln’s Head is on a table in front of him. It’s kind of a portrait and kind of a still life.
- LINCOLN’S HEAD
- I’m not entirely sure this is what I had in mind.
- NICHOLAS FREDLAND
- Hold still.
- Lincoln’s Head, resigning himself to his fate, tries to look heroic.
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