The Pedestrian - Short Story Board

The Pedestrian - Short Story Board

Storyboard Text

  • Leonard Mead is walking along an intersection.
  • Leonard talking to the houses, nobody responds, but someone laughs.
  • DAMN BRO, YOU GOT THE WHOLE SQUAD LAUGHING.
  • What is it now? Eight-thirty P.M.? Time fora dozen assorted murders? A quiz? A revue? Acomedian falling off the stage?
  • A police car stops him and a police officer confronts him.
  • PUT UP YOUR HANDS!
  • I'm walkin' here.
  • Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do. He wouldstand upon the corner of an intersection and peerdown long moonlit avenues of sidewalk in fourdirections, deciding which way to go, but it reallymade no difference... (Bradbury 1).
  • Leonard Mead gets arrested for walking.
  • What is it now? he asked the houses,noticing his wrist watch. Eight-thirty P.M.? Time fora dozen assorted murders? A quiz? A revue? Acomedian falling off the stage?Was that a murmur of laughter from within amoon-white house? He hesitated, but went on whennothing more happened. (Bradbury 1).
  • Leonard finds out that he's being put in the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.
  • A metallic voice called to him:Stand still. Stay where you are! Don't move!He halted.Put up your hands!But- he said.Your hands up! Or we'll Shoot!The police, of course, but what a rare, (Bradbury 2).
  • They drive by a brightly lit house and Mead exclaims that it's his house.
  • Yes, said the voice. Here. There was asigh, a pop. The back door of the police car sprangwide. Get in.Wait a minute, I haven't done anything!Get in.I protest! (Bradbury 2).
  • GET IN!!!!
  • The car hesitated, or rather gave a faintwhirring click, as if information, somewhere, wasdropping card by punch-slotted card under electriceyes. To the Psychiatric Center for Research onRegressive Tendencies. (Bradbury 2).
  • To the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.
  • They passed one house on one street amoment later, one house in an entire city of housesthat were dark, but this one particular house had all ofits electric lights brightly lit, every window a loudyellow illumination, square and warm in the cool darkness.That's my house, said Leonard Mead.No one answered him. (Bradbury 2).
  • Nobody cares.
  • Ayo, that's my house.
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