Post by jayvee on Jun 23, 2006 21:56:35 GMT -5
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Looking for an artist, as well: ptstoryworkshop.proboards99.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=jobs&thread=1151117704
DEAD: WITH DICK & JANE
CHAPTER ONE
PAGE ONE.
P1. A small town main street at night: There's a Ma & Pa Diner, an eye doctor, an insurance agency and a donut shop. The street is empty except for a parked car sitting parallel with the right side of the street, nearly a block down and apparently abandoned, and a newspaper blowing across the concrete like tumbleweed.
(CAP) SMALL TOWN, KANSAS.
P2. Jane locks the diner door where she works.
P3. Jane walks towards the camera, strolling down the left side of our screens. She's wearing a pink waitress outfit with a white waist apron and a denim jacket covered from top-to-bottom in novelty buttons, digging in her purse.
P4. She's close enough now that the bottom of the panel cuts her legs out of the scene. We can see Jane's name tag clearly now and she's lighting a cigarette.
P5. Jane walks past us but we've yet to switch cameras. Still focused on the street: the parked car's headlights flick on.
PAGE TWO.
P1. Side view: Jane keeps walking as the car crawls up behind her. She pretends not to notice.
P2. Closer: A young black kid, older than a teen but barely, leans out of the window to taunt her as the car pulls up alongside and matches her walking speed. The driver is obscured by shadow, but he appears to be a big man.
(DEBO) HEY, BABY!
(DEBO) AIN'T IT A LITTLE PAST YOUR BEDTIME?
P3. His expression sours as she ignores him and keeps walking.
P4. Still hanging out the window, Debo grabs a hold of Jane's jacket and pulls her to him. His anger is just as blatant as her surprise as the cigarette falls out of her mouth.
(DEBO) HEY, BITCH!
(DEBO) I'M TALKIN' TO YOU!
P5. Debo pulls her close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. The car has apparently stopped. She's struggling, turning her head away from his. One hand is jammed into her purse, digging again.
PAGE THREE.
P1. Splash: Jane pulls out a can of MACE and sprays Debo in the face. His reaction is immediate, letting go of her to claw at his eyes and cheeks.
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(TITLE & CREDITS) SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
PAGE FOUR.
P1. Jane flees into an alley as the kid writhes around, still hanging out the window.
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) BITCH SHOT ME, CHAZ!
P2. Debo continues to writhe. The driver's side door opens.
(DEBO, yell) I'M DEAD!
(DEBO, yell) I'M FUCKING DEAD!
P3. A hulking white guy in a suit steps out of the car. You can see the vehicle's shocks working overtime as he does, rocking the car. Chaz is wearing shades and has his short black hair slicked back into a ducktail. Debo continues to thrash about.
(CHAZ) SHUT THE FUCK UP, DEBO.
(CHAZ) WE GOT WORK TO DO.
PAGE FIVE.
P1. Jane sprints through the alley, panicked as all Hell. She knocks over a trash can in her hurry.
P2. Same place, same angle: just a few seconds later. Chaz and Debo (with red, swollen eyes) give chase, kicking the downed trash can out of the way as they pass.
P3. Close-up: Jane tries dialing 9-1-1 on her cell phone as she runs, finally clearing the alley.
P4. Debo's eyes grow wide, turning to look at his partner as they move.
(DEBO) SHIT, MAN!
(DEBO) BITCH GOT A PHONE!
PAGE SIX.
P1. Side shot: Chaz whips out an impressive looking pistols and aims. Debo stumbles to stop next to him.
(CHAZ) NOT NO MORE SHE DON'T.
P2. Black.
(SFX) BLAM!
P3. Camera looking down the street from behind Debo and Chaz: gun still smoking. Jane drops like a sack of potatoes in someone's front yard.
P4. Close-up: Jane's blank stare as she lies motionless in the grass. The phone lies next to her, half-open and glowing.
P5. Black.
PAGE SEVEN.
P1. Black.
P2. Through Jane's eyes, a super blurry Dick hovers over us.
(DICK) 12ABX13.
P3. Dick becomes a little less blurry.
(DICK) 0DXCHX2?
P4. A disheveled Dick is in full focus now, holding a rag in one hand. It looks as though he's torn it from his shirt.
(DICK) LEMME GUESS… FROM A SMALL TOWN IN KANSAS?
P5. Jane groggily sits up. Her shoulder's been wrapped, presumably where she was shot. She's in nothing but a sports bra and work slacks now and there is blood all over the pants. She looks down, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
(JANE) HOW… DID YOU KNOW?
PAGE EIGHT.
P1. Splash. Rag in one hand, Dick waves his other arm out like Vanna White, showcasing the surrounding room with mock prestige. A smooth metal door lies at the end of his fingertips. The room itself is bereft of furniture minus three worn cots, over-crowded with six other people who all look unkempt as well, untidy and half-starved. A florescent light runs the span of the ceiling. There are two five-year-old girls, what appears to be their father, a punk rocker, elderly woman and a savagely obese STAR TREK nerd. Dick's face retains a bleak expression, having to break some seriously sucky news.
(DICK) BECAUSE WE ALL ARE.
PAGE NINE.
P1. Jane continues to look shocked.
(JANE, whisper) W… WHERE ARE WE?
P2. Dick smiles, handing her the rag.
(DICK) KEY WEST?
(DICK) MEXICO?
(DICK) TRUTH IS, NONE OF US KNOW FOR SURE.
(DICK) ONLY THINGS WE GOT IN COMMON IS BEIN' FROM A SMALL TOWN IN KANSAS AND GETTIN' MUGGED BY THOSE TWO THUGS… AND NOT KNOWIN' WHERE WE ARE, OF COURSE.
P3. She looks at him, puzzled.
(DICK) YOU'RE AWFUL CHEERFUL.
P4. He frowns, looking back at the two little girls playing with their father.
(DICK) YOU'RE MISTAKING SENILITY FOR CHEER.
(DICK) HAVEN'T EATEN IN A COUPLE OF DAYS.
(DICK) DON'T GET ME WRONG, THOSE ASSHOLES FEED US… JUST NOT VERY MUCH AND I FIGURE THE KIDS NEED IT MORE'N I DO.
PAGE TEN.
P1. She uses the rag to wipe the sweat off her face.
(JANE) THAT'S NOBLE.
(JANE) ANYBODY ELSE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH?
P2. The rest of the room's back to minding their own, desolate business. They don't even acknowledge Jane's presence anymore.
(DICK, op) THEY ALL SPEAK ENGLISH.
(DICK, op) IT'S JUST… THEY DON'T TALK TO YOU FOR THE SAME REASON THEY DON'T CRY ANYMORE.
(DICK, op) IT'S ALL JUST SORT OF POINTLESS, YOU KNOW…?
P3. Jane looks disappointed.
(JANE, whisper) OH.
P4. She looks up at him.
(JANE) THEN HOW COME YOU'RE TALKIN' TO ME?
PAGE ELEVEN.
P1. He sits now beside her.
(DICK) HONESTLY?
(JANE) YEAH.
(DICK) I FIGURE WE'VE BEEN DRAGGED INTO A GENRE HORROR MOVIE AND ARE JUST SITTING HERE, WAITING TO BE EITHER CHAINSAWED OR EATEN TO DEATH AND…
P2. He leans over and whispers in her ear.
(DICK) I THINK I'D JUST LIKE TO GET LAID BEFORE I DIE.
P3. Jane is shocked.
(JANE) !
P4. He smiles sheepishly.
(DICK) RELAX.
(DICK) WAS A JOKE.
P5. She feigns angry.
(JANE, icy) WHAT'S YOUR NAME?
P6. He looks at her, feeling horrible.
(DICK) I'VE BEEN CALLED A LOT OF AWFUL THINGS OVER THE YEARS.
(DICK) MY FRIENDS CALL ME DICK, THOUGH, WHICH SEEMS APPROPRIATE ENOUGH.
P7. She grins.
(JANE) WELL, DICK… YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR SUCKS.
P8. He smiles back.
(DICK) I KNOW.
PAGE TWELVE.
P1. Jane's mood changes abruptly.
(JANE) HOW LONG'VE YOU BEEN IN HERE…?
P2. Dick shrugs nonchalantly.
(DICK) COUPLA WEEKS?
(DICK) A MONTH?
(DICK) HARD TO TELL TIME WHEN ALL YOU GOT TO JUDGE IT BY IS HOW MANY TIMES YOU GET SLEEPY.
(DICK) YOU'RE THE ONLY NEW PERSON WE'VE HAD… WHAT DAY WAS IT WHEN THEY JUMPED YOU?
P3. She looks up at him.
(JANE) I… THINK IT WAS THURSDAY.
(JANE) THE THIRTEENTH.
P4. Dick looks concerned, almost frightened.
(DICK) WHAT MONTH?
P5. Jane thinks.
(JANE) UH… JUNE.
P6. Dick seems to deflate.
(DICK) CRAP.
(DICK) I MISSED MY BIRTHDAY.
P7. He looks solemn for a moment, silent with eyes towards the floor.
P8. Dick abruptly brightens up.
(DICK) SAY… YOU GOT A NAME?
PAGE THIRTEEN.
P1. Chaz and Debo sit in a room full of monitors watching the room. Chaz pays no attention to the show, reading a girlie magazine instead. Debo seems enamored, like a little kid in front of cartoons.
(DEBO) YOU THINK WE CAN KEEP 'ER?
(DEBO) BEEN AWHILE SINCE I HAD ONE WITH SPUNK.
P2. Chaz checks out the centerfold.
(CHAZ) YOU KIDDIN'?
(CHAZ) SHE'LL SELL FASTER'N ALL THA OTHERS COMBINED… AND FER TWICE THE PRICE.
P3. Debo looks over at his partner in crime.
(DEBO) EVEN THOUGH WE SHOT 'ER UP?
P4. Chaz continues "reading," brushing Debo's attempt at conversation aside.
(CHAZ) SHIT, MAN…
(CHAZ) ASS LIKE THAT AIN'T NOBODY GONNA BE PAYIN' ATTENTION TO 'ER SHOULDER.
PAGE FOURTEEN.
P1. Debo goes back to watching the monitor.
(DEBO) YOU DON'T EVER FEEL BAD 'BOUT THIS SELLIN' PEOPLE SHIT… DO YA, CHAZ?
P2. Chaz stops reading and raises an eyebrow, the first time he's physically acknowledged that Debo was speaking.
P3. Debo nervously tries to make a save, putting his hands up like "I dunno."
(DEBO) I MEAN… SHE MIGHTA BEEN SOMEBODY'S MAMMA.
P4. Chaz frowns.
(CHAZ) SHE YOUR MAMMA?
(DEBO, op) NAW.
(CHAZ) THEN I STRONGLY SUGGEST THAT YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP.
PAGE FIFTEEN.
P1. Debo persists.
(DEBO) BUT…
P2. Both together.
(CHAZ) YOU BOUGHT YER SISTER A NEW HOUSE, DIN'CHA?
(DEBO) YEAH… UP IN DENVER, BUT…
(CHAZ) THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP.
PAGE SIXTEEN.
P1. Dick has fallen asleep with his arm around Jane. Nestled into the side of his chest, she's sleeping, too. They sit in relative darkness, the light having dimmed.
(CAP) THE ROOM IS SOUND PROOF, COMPLETELY CLOSED OFF FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD.
P2. Still watching Dick and Jane: the shadow is broken by the light of a door opening.
(CAP) THE DOOR'S BEEN ENGINEERED ON GLIDERS TO BE SILENT, AS WELL.
P3. Debo is loaded to the gills, standing in the doorway and pointing guns at the prisoners. Chaz starts pulling the old lady prisoner out of the room by the hair and it looks like the STARK TREK nerd is going to play hero.
(CAP) IT'S SO THE ONLY SOUNDS THESE PEOPLE GET TO HEAR ARE THOSE OF THEIR OWN BEGGING TO STAY ALIVE, AND THE INCESSANT PROFANITIES OF AN UNDEREDUCATED, GUN-TOTING MOOK.
(CHAZ) C'MON, YA OLD BITCH.
(NERD, yell) HEY!
(NERD) LEAVE 'ER ALONE!
P4. Debo blows the nerd's brains out all over the wall as Chaz takes the old lady outside.
(CAP) AND THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF A CELLMATE, OF COURSE.
PAGE SEVENTEEN.
P1. Chaz comes back and grabs the two little girls by the elbows.
(CHAZ) YOU TWO RUNTS, TOO.
P2. Debo keeps the father at bay by gunpoint.
(CAP) PROBABLY THE BEST PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAP IN THE WORLD, DEPRIVING YOU OF EVERY SENSE BUT THE ONE THAT HURTS THE MOST: YOUR IMAGINATION.
P3. One of the girls takes a bite out of Chaz' hand.
(CHAZ, yell) OW, MOTHERFUCKER!
(CAP) HERE, PANIC BECOMES YOUR BEST FRIEND.
(CAP) IT'S ALSO THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN TELL THAT YOU'RE STILL ALIVE.
P4. Dick watches with a grave expression.
(CAP) HARD TO BELIEVE THAT THIS DYNAMIC DUO OF STREET THUGS CAME UP WITH IT ALL ON THEIR OWN.
PAGE EIGHTEEN.
P1. The little girl runs back to her daddy, hugging him for dear life.
P2. Still holding her sister hard by the elbow, Chaz pulls out his trusty pistol and takes aim.
P3. Close-up: blood splatters against the wall.
PAGE NINETEEN.
P1. The cell door slams shut. Chaz leaves some parting words.
(CHAZ, outside) MOTHERFUCKER.
P2. The girl, as well as her father, lay hunched over on the cot, dead. Their eyes, glazed over and lifeless, stare out at the last three prisoners and there are both blood spatters and chunks of flesh mounted to the wall behind them. The little girl has a gaping hole in her chest that translates into a gaping hold in her dad's stomach, though they're still wrapped in a post-mortem embrace. The STAR TREK nerd, or what's left of him, is half-propped up by the opposite wall.
P3. The Goth rocker looks to have a catatonic stare.
P4. Dick closes his eyes and lowers his head.
P5. Jane starts crying, burying her face in his shoulder.
PAGE TWENTY.
P1. The Goth rocker jumps up and starts screaming, ripping out his own hair and otherwise freaking out.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
(GOTH, yell) WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!
(GOTH, yell) THERE'S NO FUCKIN' WAY OUT!
(GOTH, yell) WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!
P2. The rocker grabs the dead girl and her dad and throws them off the cot.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
P3. He kicks the cot over.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
PAGE TWENTY-ONE.
P1. Dick hammers the guy with his fist, breaking the rocker's nose.
(GOTH, yell) FU --
P2. The crazy Goth lands awkwardly on top of the dead girl and her father, Dick standing over them with his fists clenched and breathing heavily. Everything but his angry eyes and grimace is obscured by the shadow.
(DICK, whisper) WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.
(CAP) NEXT: THE GREAT ESCAPE.
(c) 2006 Jeremiah Allan
Looking for an artist, as well: ptstoryworkshop.proboards99.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=jobs&thread=1151117704
DEAD: WITH DICK & JANE
CHAPTER ONE
PAGE ONE.
P1. A small town main street at night: There's a Ma & Pa Diner, an eye doctor, an insurance agency and a donut shop. The street is empty except for a parked car sitting parallel with the right side of the street, nearly a block down and apparently abandoned, and a newspaper blowing across the concrete like tumbleweed.
(CAP) SMALL TOWN, KANSAS.
P2. Jane locks the diner door where she works.
P3. Jane walks towards the camera, strolling down the left side of our screens. She's wearing a pink waitress outfit with a white waist apron and a denim jacket covered from top-to-bottom in novelty buttons, digging in her purse.
P4. She's close enough now that the bottom of the panel cuts her legs out of the scene. We can see Jane's name tag clearly now and she's lighting a cigarette.
P5. Jane walks past us but we've yet to switch cameras. Still focused on the street: the parked car's headlights flick on.
PAGE TWO.
P1. Side view: Jane keeps walking as the car crawls up behind her. She pretends not to notice.
P2. Closer: A young black kid, older than a teen but barely, leans out of the window to taunt her as the car pulls up alongside and matches her walking speed. The driver is obscured by shadow, but he appears to be a big man.
(DEBO) HEY, BABY!
(DEBO) AIN'T IT A LITTLE PAST YOUR BEDTIME?
P3. His expression sours as she ignores him and keeps walking.
P4. Still hanging out the window, Debo grabs a hold of Jane's jacket and pulls her to him. His anger is just as blatant as her surprise as the cigarette falls out of her mouth.
(DEBO) HEY, BITCH!
(DEBO) I'M TALKIN' TO YOU!
P5. Debo pulls her close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. The car has apparently stopped. She's struggling, turning her head away from his. One hand is jammed into her purse, digging again.
PAGE THREE.
P1. Splash: Jane pulls out a can of MACE and sprays Debo in the face. His reaction is immediate, letting go of her to claw at his eyes and cheeks.
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(TITLE & CREDITS) SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
PAGE FOUR.
P1. Jane flees into an alley as the kid writhes around, still hanging out the window.
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) SHIT!
(DEBO, yell) BITCH SHOT ME, CHAZ!
P2. Debo continues to writhe. The driver's side door opens.
(DEBO, yell) I'M DEAD!
(DEBO, yell) I'M FUCKING DEAD!
P3. A hulking white guy in a suit steps out of the car. You can see the vehicle's shocks working overtime as he does, rocking the car. Chaz is wearing shades and has his short black hair slicked back into a ducktail. Debo continues to thrash about.
(CHAZ) SHUT THE FUCK UP, DEBO.
(CHAZ) WE GOT WORK TO DO.
PAGE FIVE.
P1. Jane sprints through the alley, panicked as all Hell. She knocks over a trash can in her hurry.
P2. Same place, same angle: just a few seconds later. Chaz and Debo (with red, swollen eyes) give chase, kicking the downed trash can out of the way as they pass.
P3. Close-up: Jane tries dialing 9-1-1 on her cell phone as she runs, finally clearing the alley.
P4. Debo's eyes grow wide, turning to look at his partner as they move.
(DEBO) SHIT, MAN!
(DEBO) BITCH GOT A PHONE!
PAGE SIX.
P1. Side shot: Chaz whips out an impressive looking pistols and aims. Debo stumbles to stop next to him.
(CHAZ) NOT NO MORE SHE DON'T.
P2. Black.
(SFX) BLAM!
P3. Camera looking down the street from behind Debo and Chaz: gun still smoking. Jane drops like a sack of potatoes in someone's front yard.
P4. Close-up: Jane's blank stare as she lies motionless in the grass. The phone lies next to her, half-open and glowing.
P5. Black.
PAGE SEVEN.
P1. Black.
P2. Through Jane's eyes, a super blurry Dick hovers over us.
(DICK) 12ABX13.
P3. Dick becomes a little less blurry.
(DICK) 0DXCHX2?
P4. A disheveled Dick is in full focus now, holding a rag in one hand. It looks as though he's torn it from his shirt.
(DICK) LEMME GUESS… FROM A SMALL TOWN IN KANSAS?
P5. Jane groggily sits up. Her shoulder's been wrapped, presumably where she was shot. She's in nothing but a sports bra and work slacks now and there is blood all over the pants. She looks down, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
(JANE) HOW… DID YOU KNOW?
PAGE EIGHT.
P1. Splash. Rag in one hand, Dick waves his other arm out like Vanna White, showcasing the surrounding room with mock prestige. A smooth metal door lies at the end of his fingertips. The room itself is bereft of furniture minus three worn cots, over-crowded with six other people who all look unkempt as well, untidy and half-starved. A florescent light runs the span of the ceiling. There are two five-year-old girls, what appears to be their father, a punk rocker, elderly woman and a savagely obese STAR TREK nerd. Dick's face retains a bleak expression, having to break some seriously sucky news.
(DICK) BECAUSE WE ALL ARE.
PAGE NINE.
P1. Jane continues to look shocked.
(JANE, whisper) W… WHERE ARE WE?
P2. Dick smiles, handing her the rag.
(DICK) KEY WEST?
(DICK) MEXICO?
(DICK) TRUTH IS, NONE OF US KNOW FOR SURE.
(DICK) ONLY THINGS WE GOT IN COMMON IS BEIN' FROM A SMALL TOWN IN KANSAS AND GETTIN' MUGGED BY THOSE TWO THUGS… AND NOT KNOWIN' WHERE WE ARE, OF COURSE.
P3. She looks at him, puzzled.
(DICK) YOU'RE AWFUL CHEERFUL.
P4. He frowns, looking back at the two little girls playing with their father.
(DICK) YOU'RE MISTAKING SENILITY FOR CHEER.
(DICK) HAVEN'T EATEN IN A COUPLE OF DAYS.
(DICK) DON'T GET ME WRONG, THOSE ASSHOLES FEED US… JUST NOT VERY MUCH AND I FIGURE THE KIDS NEED IT MORE'N I DO.
PAGE TEN.
P1. She uses the rag to wipe the sweat off her face.
(JANE) THAT'S NOBLE.
(JANE) ANYBODY ELSE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH?
P2. The rest of the room's back to minding their own, desolate business. They don't even acknowledge Jane's presence anymore.
(DICK, op) THEY ALL SPEAK ENGLISH.
(DICK, op) IT'S JUST… THEY DON'T TALK TO YOU FOR THE SAME REASON THEY DON'T CRY ANYMORE.
(DICK, op) IT'S ALL JUST SORT OF POINTLESS, YOU KNOW…?
P3. Jane looks disappointed.
(JANE, whisper) OH.
P4. She looks up at him.
(JANE) THEN HOW COME YOU'RE TALKIN' TO ME?
PAGE ELEVEN.
P1. He sits now beside her.
(DICK) HONESTLY?
(JANE) YEAH.
(DICK) I FIGURE WE'VE BEEN DRAGGED INTO A GENRE HORROR MOVIE AND ARE JUST SITTING HERE, WAITING TO BE EITHER CHAINSAWED OR EATEN TO DEATH AND…
P2. He leans over and whispers in her ear.
(DICK) I THINK I'D JUST LIKE TO GET LAID BEFORE I DIE.
P3. Jane is shocked.
(JANE) !
P4. He smiles sheepishly.
(DICK) RELAX.
(DICK) WAS A JOKE.
P5. She feigns angry.
(JANE, icy) WHAT'S YOUR NAME?
P6. He looks at her, feeling horrible.
(DICK) I'VE BEEN CALLED A LOT OF AWFUL THINGS OVER THE YEARS.
(DICK) MY FRIENDS CALL ME DICK, THOUGH, WHICH SEEMS APPROPRIATE ENOUGH.
P7. She grins.
(JANE) WELL, DICK… YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR SUCKS.
P8. He smiles back.
(DICK) I KNOW.
PAGE TWELVE.
P1. Jane's mood changes abruptly.
(JANE) HOW LONG'VE YOU BEEN IN HERE…?
P2. Dick shrugs nonchalantly.
(DICK) COUPLA WEEKS?
(DICK) A MONTH?
(DICK) HARD TO TELL TIME WHEN ALL YOU GOT TO JUDGE IT BY IS HOW MANY TIMES YOU GET SLEEPY.
(DICK) YOU'RE THE ONLY NEW PERSON WE'VE HAD… WHAT DAY WAS IT WHEN THEY JUMPED YOU?
P3. She looks up at him.
(JANE) I… THINK IT WAS THURSDAY.
(JANE) THE THIRTEENTH.
P4. Dick looks concerned, almost frightened.
(DICK) WHAT MONTH?
P5. Jane thinks.
(JANE) UH… JUNE.
P6. Dick seems to deflate.
(DICK) CRAP.
(DICK) I MISSED MY BIRTHDAY.
P7. He looks solemn for a moment, silent with eyes towards the floor.
P8. Dick abruptly brightens up.
(DICK) SAY… YOU GOT A NAME?
PAGE THIRTEEN.
P1. Chaz and Debo sit in a room full of monitors watching the room. Chaz pays no attention to the show, reading a girlie magazine instead. Debo seems enamored, like a little kid in front of cartoons.
(DEBO) YOU THINK WE CAN KEEP 'ER?
(DEBO) BEEN AWHILE SINCE I HAD ONE WITH SPUNK.
P2. Chaz checks out the centerfold.
(CHAZ) YOU KIDDIN'?
(CHAZ) SHE'LL SELL FASTER'N ALL THA OTHERS COMBINED… AND FER TWICE THE PRICE.
P3. Debo looks over at his partner in crime.
(DEBO) EVEN THOUGH WE SHOT 'ER UP?
P4. Chaz continues "reading," brushing Debo's attempt at conversation aside.
(CHAZ) SHIT, MAN…
(CHAZ) ASS LIKE THAT AIN'T NOBODY GONNA BE PAYIN' ATTENTION TO 'ER SHOULDER.
PAGE FOURTEEN.
P1. Debo goes back to watching the monitor.
(DEBO) YOU DON'T EVER FEEL BAD 'BOUT THIS SELLIN' PEOPLE SHIT… DO YA, CHAZ?
P2. Chaz stops reading and raises an eyebrow, the first time he's physically acknowledged that Debo was speaking.
P3. Debo nervously tries to make a save, putting his hands up like "I dunno."
(DEBO) I MEAN… SHE MIGHTA BEEN SOMEBODY'S MAMMA.
P4. Chaz frowns.
(CHAZ) SHE YOUR MAMMA?
(DEBO, op) NAW.
(CHAZ) THEN I STRONGLY SUGGEST THAT YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP.
PAGE FIFTEEN.
P1. Debo persists.
(DEBO) BUT…
P2. Both together.
(CHAZ) YOU BOUGHT YER SISTER A NEW HOUSE, DIN'CHA?
(DEBO) YEAH… UP IN DENVER, BUT…
(CHAZ) THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP.
PAGE SIXTEEN.
P1. Dick has fallen asleep with his arm around Jane. Nestled into the side of his chest, she's sleeping, too. They sit in relative darkness, the light having dimmed.
(CAP) THE ROOM IS SOUND PROOF, COMPLETELY CLOSED OFF FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD.
P2. Still watching Dick and Jane: the shadow is broken by the light of a door opening.
(CAP) THE DOOR'S BEEN ENGINEERED ON GLIDERS TO BE SILENT, AS WELL.
P3. Debo is loaded to the gills, standing in the doorway and pointing guns at the prisoners. Chaz starts pulling the old lady prisoner out of the room by the hair and it looks like the STARK TREK nerd is going to play hero.
(CAP) IT'S SO THE ONLY SOUNDS THESE PEOPLE GET TO HEAR ARE THOSE OF THEIR OWN BEGGING TO STAY ALIVE, AND THE INCESSANT PROFANITIES OF AN UNDEREDUCATED, GUN-TOTING MOOK.
(CHAZ) C'MON, YA OLD BITCH.
(NERD, yell) HEY!
(NERD) LEAVE 'ER ALONE!
P4. Debo blows the nerd's brains out all over the wall as Chaz takes the old lady outside.
(CAP) AND THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF A CELLMATE, OF COURSE.
PAGE SEVENTEEN.
P1. Chaz comes back and grabs the two little girls by the elbows.
(CHAZ) YOU TWO RUNTS, TOO.
P2. Debo keeps the father at bay by gunpoint.
(CAP) PROBABLY THE BEST PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAP IN THE WORLD, DEPRIVING YOU OF EVERY SENSE BUT THE ONE THAT HURTS THE MOST: YOUR IMAGINATION.
P3. One of the girls takes a bite out of Chaz' hand.
(CHAZ, yell) OW, MOTHERFUCKER!
(CAP) HERE, PANIC BECOMES YOUR BEST FRIEND.
(CAP) IT'S ALSO THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN TELL THAT YOU'RE STILL ALIVE.
P4. Dick watches with a grave expression.
(CAP) HARD TO BELIEVE THAT THIS DYNAMIC DUO OF STREET THUGS CAME UP WITH IT ALL ON THEIR OWN.
PAGE EIGHTEEN.
P1. The little girl runs back to her daddy, hugging him for dear life.
P2. Still holding her sister hard by the elbow, Chaz pulls out his trusty pistol and takes aim.
P3. Close-up: blood splatters against the wall.
PAGE NINETEEN.
P1. The cell door slams shut. Chaz leaves some parting words.
(CHAZ, outside) MOTHERFUCKER.
P2. The girl, as well as her father, lay hunched over on the cot, dead. Their eyes, glazed over and lifeless, stare out at the last three prisoners and there are both blood spatters and chunks of flesh mounted to the wall behind them. The little girl has a gaping hole in her chest that translates into a gaping hold in her dad's stomach, though they're still wrapped in a post-mortem embrace. The STAR TREK nerd, or what's left of him, is half-propped up by the opposite wall.
P3. The Goth rocker looks to have a catatonic stare.
P4. Dick closes his eyes and lowers his head.
P5. Jane starts crying, burying her face in his shoulder.
PAGE TWENTY.
P1. The Goth rocker jumps up and starts screaming, ripping out his own hair and otherwise freaking out.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
(GOTH, yell) WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!
(GOTH, yell) THERE'S NO FUCKIN' WAY OUT!
(GOTH, yell) WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!
P2. The rocker grabs the dead girl and her dad and throws them off the cot.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
P3. He kicks the cot over.
(GOTH, yell) FUCK!
PAGE TWENTY-ONE.
P1. Dick hammers the guy with his fist, breaking the rocker's nose.
(GOTH, yell) FU --
P2. The crazy Goth lands awkwardly on top of the dead girl and her father, Dick standing over them with his fists clenched and breathing heavily. Everything but his angry eyes and grimace is obscured by the shadow.
(DICK, whisper) WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.
(CAP) NEXT: THE GREAT ESCAPE.
(c) 2006 Jeremiah Allan