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INT. TODD'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
The living room is spacious, with a tile floor a television
and a sprawling couch. It leads into a kitchen on one side
and a hallway on the other. BETH, TONY, PHIL and RANDY all
sit on Todd's couch with ANDREW sitting on a metal folding
chair in the middle of the floor holding a clipboard.
ANDREW
Okay, so when your friend arrives
here you need to be firm, but
gentle. We don't want him to feel
victimized.
TONY
Are we allowed to throw things?
ANDREW
Don't throw things.
TONY
Sweet.
ANDREW
The first thing we're going to want
to do is get him to admit he has a
problem. I know you guys have all
written down some things you wanted
to say-
Andrew is interrupted by the sound of Tony lighting up a bowl
of sticky green. He takes a massive hit, then passes it to
Phil, who eagerly accepts. Andrew stares at them.
ANDREW (CONT'D)
What are you doing?
Phil exhales his hit.
PHIL
I can't speak for anyone else, but
I'm gettin' motherfucking high off
this bumbleberry green-green cause
I got a feeling that things are
about to get intense in here.
ANDREW
This is an intervention.
PHIL
Exactly.
Phil and Andrew look at each other. Phil holds the pipe out
to Andrew.
ANDREW
No thanks.
Phil shrugs and hands the pipe to Randy. Andrew shakes his
head and gets back to business.
ANDREW (CONT'D)
Ok, moving on. I know we should
have done this earlier, but I think
it would be a good idea for you all
to rehearse what you were going to
say. Beth, why don't we start with
you?
Beth unfolds a piece of paper and begins reading from it.
BETH
Todd, we have been friends for
almost six whole weeks. I will
forever remember and cherish our
memories together. But I can no
longer ignore the toll your
addiction is taking on yourself, on
your friends and loved ones, and on
your community.
ANDREW
That's good, that's a good start.
Todd enters. He looks around in confusion.
TODD
Uh...hey, guys. What's up?
ANDREW
Hello, you must be Todd.
Andrew gets up and shakes Todd's hand then gestures to a
second folding metal chair near his.
ANDREW (CONT'D)
Why don't you take a seat, your
friends had something they wanted
to say to you.
TODD
Uh, yeah, sure. I guess.
Todd sighs and looks at everyone.
TODD (CONT'D)
So what's this all about?
ANDREW
Beth, why don't you start from the
top?
Beth takes a deep breath and reads.
BETH
Todd, we have been friends for
almost six whole weeks. I will
forever remember and cherish our
memories together. But I can no
longer ignore the toll your
addiction is taking on yourself, on
your friends and loved ones, and on
your community. Every time you
murder and eat a human being, it's
like we all die a little bit on the
inside.
At this point Andrew's face shifts as if he is trying to
decide what he'd just heard.
BETH (CONT'D)
And one of us dies all the way,
literally. Because you kill them
for food. You're losing your
humanity, Todd, and I can't stand
idly by anymore.
Silence. Andrew is visibly perplexed and disturbed. Beth
folds the paper back up and puts it in her pocket.
TODD
Holy fucking shit. This is an
intervention isn't it? I just
noticed the sign.
Todd points to a large banner pinned to the wall behind the
couch with the words "HAPPY INTERVENTION" written on it on
festive lettering. Also two helium filled balloons bouncing
against the ceiling.
BETH
Yes, Todd. That is what this is.
ANDREW
Wait a minute. What are you saying?
BETH
Were you not listening? You're
supposed to be the professional
intervener around here and you're
not even paying attention to what's
going on?
ANDREW
Are you saying this man is a
cannibal?
BETH
Yeah, that's why we're here.
ANDREW
You said he had an eating disorder.
BETH
That's correct.
PHIL
If cannibalism isn't an eating
disorder...I mean...
BETH
Yeah, like, what would be?
ANDREW
I'm not really sure how to go about
uh, are...you're not serious?
Everybody looks and Andrew for a moment. Phil breaks the
silence.
PHIL
I think we're building up some
pretty good momentum, I feel like
we should just keep on chugging
along. What do you think?
He looks at Andrew.
ANDREW
Uh...
PHIL
I agree.
TONY
Can I go next?
TODD
You guys, this is crazy, I don't
have a problem with eating people.
PHIL
We know. That's the problem. Tony?
Tony holds up his piece of paper and begins reading.
TONY
Two weeks ago, you came over to my
house to chill. It was fun, we
drank a whole fifth of schnapps,
smoked some premium purple chronic,
and kicked back. I thought we
bonded that night, I thought you
were one of my real, true friends,
but the next morning when I woke up
from my deep alcohol induced sleep
I found that you had stolen all of
my weed, my skeleton-riding-a
skateboard bong, all of the cash
from my wallet and had somehow
removed all of my toes without
waking me up. When I went over to
your house to try to sort things
out, you answered the door eating a
burrito. With my toes in it. There
they were, all mixed in with beans
and chicken and salsa. My toes. I
felt betrayed. Probably the most
betrayed I have ever felt in my
life. How am I ever going to trust
you again? My grandma gave me that
bong.
ANDREW
This is a set-up, right? Did they
bring back Scare Tactics?
RANDY
Loved that show.
TONY
My toes are wood now.
ANDREW
What the fuck is going on?
TODD
Come on, how could you guys
actually think I eat people?
Phil points to a large white-board with the words "People to
Eat List" written on it, followed by a series of names, some
of them crossed out, including: Phil, Randy, Beth, Tony and
Viggo Mortensen.
PHIL
Well that's kind of a dead
giveaway.
TODD
Oh, shit...all right, I admit it.
I'm a cannibal.
Tony studies the names on the whiteboard.
TONY
I was wondering what happened to
Marsha.
BETH
Why is Viggo Mortensen's name on
there?
TODD
I just saw Eastern Promises.
RANDY
Loved that movie.
BETH
Why is it crossed off?
PHIL
Alright everybody, let's get back
on track.
Phil looks to Andrew.
PHIL (CONT'D)
What should we do next?
Andrew takes a moment to respond. His eyes betray bafflement.
ANDREW
I'm not really sure what's going on
here, but if this guy is actually
murdering and eating people-
PHIL
He is.
BETH
He definitely is.
Everyone nods in agreement.
TODD
I've seen him do it.
PHIL
We're talking about you.
Todd shrugs.
ANDREW
-Then you should probably call the
police.
PHIL
Ya know...I like where this
intervention is heading so I think
we should just power on through
this. Let's save the police as a
last resort.
Andrew gets out of his chair and begins walking toward the
door.
ANDREW
Well, I don't know if it's really
necessary for me to be here anymore
so I'm just gonna-
TODD
Well, you actually can't leave.
Andrew stops half-way to the front door.
ANDREW
What?
TODD
The doors are all dead-bolted. You
can't exit the house without a key.
A key I have placed at the end of a
maze of tunnels underneath my
house. Tunnels filled with traps,
and starving, feral, pigs. You're
free to-
PHIL
I thought you just kept it in your
wallet.
Todd sighs.
TODD
Fuck! How did you know that?
PHIL
You told me once when we were hella
high. We were on our way out for
cheetos. I couldn't open the front
door. Remember?
TODD
Yeah, now I do.
PHIL
I was like: "Hey, man...the doors
locked."
TODD
Yeah. Yeah.
Todd nods.
PHIL
And you were like: "yeah, you can't
get out without this key." Then you
showed me the key. Remember? I was
like "That key?" And you were like
"Yeah, this one. This key that I
keep in my wallet." Remember that?
Todd nods some more. Phil takes a hit from the pipe.
TODD
Yeah. Yeah, I do...but I'm not
going to unlock the doors.
So...you're still trapped.
RANDY
When you say trapped you mean
like...we can't get out?
TODD
Fraid so, buddy.
PHIL
Well, we could break through a
window.
ANDREW
Jesus fucking Christ. What is this?
What is this?!
PHIL
Hey, man, calm down. It's my turn
now. I have some words I want Todd
to hear. From my heart.
Andrew runs off and starts trying to find a way out, trying
various windows and doors. Phil removes his paper and starts
reading.
PHIL (CONT'D)
I was willing to turn a blind eye
when you ate the mailman. I was
willing to look the other way when
you ate the pizza delivery guy. I
was willing to forgive you when you
ate my cousin. But when you ate my
dad...in my own house...and you
just left the mess there for me to
clean up for you. It's like you
don't even care. It's like you
don't even care what kind of person
you are anymore, or the affect you
have on those around you. You ate
my father. Ate him alive. And I had
to deal with that. You need to stop
eating people. I thought that maybe
writing a short poem about the
experience might help you to
understand how you made me feel.
Here it is: You ate my dad, and it
made me mad, you ate my dad, and it
made me sad. It was the opposite of
rad. It was really, really bad, and
I would be glad if you had not
eaten my dad...but you did. The
end.
Randy starts clapping. For a long time Randy's clapping is
the only noise made. Eventually he stops.
BETH
That poem was fucking retarded.
TODD
Don't listen to her, bro. I was
moved.
PHIL
Thanks, man.
Andrew walks back to the group and sits down in his chair.
ANDREW
I just checked the doors and
windows and we're actually trapped
in here.
TODD
Told you.
PHIL
Could just break a window.
ANDREW
Look guys, if this is all some kind
of sick joke you better fess up now
because it's not funny. I'm
actually starting to freak out,
alright. For real. Just...cut it
out.
PHIL
No joke, man.
ANDREW
I'm calling the police.
TODD
Your cell phones won't work in
here.
Andrew tries his cell, he fidgets with it in frustration. It
won't work.
ANDREW
How are you doing this?!
TODD
Technology.
PHIL
Randy, why don't you go next.
Randy nods to Phil and readies his paper for reading.
RANDY
I thought you were a cool guy. I
thought you were my friend. But the
night I woke up and found you
suckling upon a fresh wound I had
acquired earlier that day in a
bicycle accident changed all of
that. I remember that event vividly
FLASHBACK
INT. RANDY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Randy is fast asleep. Under the blankets by his legs there is
a man shaped lump, moving very slightly. Randy stirs to
consciousness and notices the shape. He throws back the
covers to reveal, Todd.
RANDY (V.O.)
I remember you, drinking my blood
like milk from a mother's nipple. I
remember the awkward look you got
on your face when you realized I
was awake.
Todd's mouth is open and pressed against Randy's bare and
bloody leg. His eyes go wide as he realizes he has been
discovered. He stares at Randy with an awkward, apologetic
and shamed look. Randy stares back in disgust and shock.
RANDY (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The way we stared at one and other
in absolute silence for what felt
like hours.
Todd removes his mouth from Randy's leg, and places a band
aid over his naked wound.
RANDY (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I remember when you broke the
silence by saying-
TODD
Sorry, I thought this was somebody
else's blood.
RANDY
Then crawled on your hands and
knees out of my bedroom and down
the hallway.
Todd crawls off of Randy's bed and creeps out of his room on
all fours out of sight.
BACK TO SCENE
Randy sits at the couch reading. Everyone listens intently.
RANDY
And I also remember a few other
things. I remember not being able
to sleep for more than a few
minutes at a time. I remember
locking my bedroom door and
propping a chair against the handle
at nights. I remember never feeling
safe, and always needing the lights
on. I remember those things,
because I am living them
constantly. And that's because of
you, Todd. For fear of you coming
into my room one night and drinking
all of my blood as I sleep. Or
maybe dropping all attempts at
subtlety and just bashing me over
the head, dragging me away and
eating me alive like you did Phil's
dad. Are you proud of yourself,
Todd? Are you proud of what you've
done to me?
Todd, shrugs and halfheartedly nods.
RANDY (CONT'D)
I still don't know how you got into
my house that night.
TODD
I was actually hiding under your
bed all day long.
RANDY
That makes it worse.
Todd nods.
PHIL
I'm officially calling for an
intermission in this intervention.
I'm gonna get a beer.
Phil walks over to Todd's refrigerator. He opens it for a
split second, slams it shut, spins around and pukes into the
sink.
TODD
You okay in there, buddy?
Todd walks out of the kitchen back to the couch and sits
down.
PHIL
There are about two half-dozen
severed heads in there.
Andrew abruptly stands and walks into the kitchen, looks into
the fridge, screams and bolts for the front door. It still
won't open. He runs back to the group, stopping next to the
white board in a panic.
ANDREW
I don't know what you sick, crazy,
degenerates are doing or why you're
doing it. I don't know if this is a
joke or if it's real, and I don't
care anymore.
As Andrew rants Todd gets up and walks over to the
whiteboard. He begins writing something.
ANDREW (CONT'D)
Do you realize that this is a
crime? Do you realize you're
committing a crime right now? I
could have you all thrown in jail
for this!
Andrew has written the words "This Guy" under the "People to
Eat" list and drawn an arrow pointing toward Andrew. He walks
away while Andrew continues his tirade.
ANDREW (CONT'D)
I swear on everything that is holy,
if someone doesn't let me out of
that door right now, I am going
through one of these fucking
windows!
Andrew turns around and sees Todd standing next to him with a
mallet, practicing his hammer bashing technique. He notices
the words on the white-board and the arrow pointing directly
at him. Todd stops swinging the mallet and glares at Andrew.
Andrew looks back. Fight or flight kicks in as Andrew turns
tail and runs.
BETH
I don't think this intervention
bull-shit is working. Didn't we pay
this dick-wad?
PHIL
Yeah. And I am most assuredly not a
satisfied customer.
TONY
Wasn't he supposed to cure him?
Isn't that what this was all about?
PHIL
That's what I thought, man. And I
don't think he did...
Todd chases Andrew in circles into the kitchen on one side
and out the other over and over again. Andrew grabs loaves of
bread and bagels and bananas to hurl at his attacker in a
last ditch effort at self defense.
TODD
Stop throwing things at me!
ANDREW
Leave me alone!
TODD
You're going in my belly, you!
PHIL
...Cause I'm pretty sure Todd still
eats people.
Andrew runs over to the couch in a blind panic.
ANDREW
Somebody do something! HELP!
PHIL
Hey, man... we're gonna need our
200 bucks back.
Todd finally catches up to Andrew and bashes him over the
head with the mallet. Andrew falls to the ground, bleeding
and unconscious. Everyone else stares in aghast silence. Todd
wraps his hands around Andrew's ankles and begins dragging
him away. He pauses. Looks at the group.
TODD
You guys can chill if you want. I
was about to start the first season
of Lost.
Todd pulls Andrew across the living room floor, around a
corner and in to the kitchen. The gang all watches from the
couch. Andrew's head wound leaves a streak of blood across
the tile. The gang can see him going through kitchen drawers
and cabinets retrieving various cooking utensils.
PHIL
I've never seen Lost.
Tony lights up the pipe. Todd walks out of the kitchen and
addresses the group, holding a can of paprika in one hand and
a meat cleaver in the other.
TODD
I'm about to have some dinner in a
minute, too.
He shrugs, turns around and gets back to his food
preparation.
TONY
...paprika...?
CUT TO BLACK
[
INT. POLICE STATION - DAY
ANDY sits in a harshly lit room. It's cramped, despite the
sparse furnishing. Nothing but Andy's chair, another opposite
him, a small waste basket and the metal table he rests his
arms on. Andy passes several moments staring at his lap in
silence before the doors open, and in walk Detectives Paxton
and Fitzgerald.
Andy continues to look down. Paxton and Fitzgerald position
themselves on either side of him. Paxton puts his hands on
the table and leans over until his face is a few inches from
Andy's. Andy finally looks up.
PAXTON
Have you ever seen The Shield,
motherfucker?
Andy shakes his head, 'no'. Paxton pauses for a moment.
PAXTON (CONT'D)
Fuck! Great, you'll have no frame
of reference. Now I'll have to
start from scratch.
FITZGERALD
I keep telling you; you can't base
all of your interrogation
techniques on the assumption that
everyone has seen The Shield.
PAXTON
Why do you have to kick me when I'm
down, man?
FITZGERALD
I'm just saying, I like your
enthusiasm, but you need to hone
your tools. Right now all you have
in your repertoire is drawing
parallels between yourself and Vic
Mackey from The Shield.
PAXTON
I am pretty good at that, though.
FITZGERALD
Are you kidding me? You're the best
at that.
PAXTON
Thank you. That means a lot.
Paxton pats his chest. He and Fitzgerald look at each other
and smile. Andy looks from one to the other. Fitzgerald looks
over to Andy.
FITZGERALD
So, why'd you murder all those
prostitutes?
ANDY
I didn't!
FITZGERALD
Just murder prostitutes? I know.
You had quite an extensive
collection. Usually serial killers
aren't so eclectic in their
selection of victims. I guess your
blood-lust knows no bounds.
PAXTON
Yeah, you fuck-shit!
FITZGERALD
Please don't punctuate, the silence
is there for a reason.
PAXTON
Sorry.
FITZGERALD
It's okay, man. You're getting
better.
PAXTON
Thanks, bro.
Fitzgerald and Paxton bump fists.
ANDY
Look, I'll tell you what happened,
but you're not going to believe me.
I know that this is going to sound
crazy-
FITZGERALD
Friend you've killed nearly two
dozen people.
PAXTON
Isn't that a bakers dozen?
FITZGERALD
No, that is absolutely not a bakers
dozen.
PAXTON
Sorry, I'm bad at math.
FITZGERALD
Knowing how much a baker's dozen is
really doesn't even have that much
to do with-you know what, fuck it.
It's cool. Uhh...back to the
murders....yeah, I was going to
say, you've killed two dozen-
PAXTON
How much is a bakers dozen?
Fitzgerald sighs. He sinks his head, raising his hand to
pinch the bridge of his nose.
FITZGERALD
Sweet Jesus, can you shut the fuck
up right now? Just shut the fuck
up. Keep your goddamn mouth closed.
You're a shame to the police force,
you're a shame to your parents, and
you're a shame to me. Every day
knowing I'm partnered with a shit
spewing sack of ass-holes like you,
every goddamn morning when I'm
forced to relive the waking
nightmare of arising from my
slumber only for the first thing to
permeate my new-found consciousness
to be the knowing that you are a
detective and I am your partner is
like Prometheus on the rock, being
eviscerated and having his flesh
devoured only to be made whole
again to relive that punishment day
after day. I fear falling asleep at
night, knowing that I will wake the
next morning.
Silence.
ANDY
Wow.
Paxton starts crying. He runs out of the interrogation room.
Fitzgerald watches him leave. He breathes deeply, shakes his
head, then turns his attention once more to Andy.
FITZGERALD
So why'd you murder all those
people, buddy?
ANDY
I'm trying to tell you.
FITZGERALD
What're you trying to tell me,
Andy?
ANDY
I'm trying to tell you-
FITZGERALD
What are you trying to tell me,
Andy?
ANDY
I'm trying-
FITZGERALD
Tell me, Andy. Tell me what you're
trying to tell me.
ANDY
Can you stop inter-
FITZGERALD
Don't ask me not to interrupt you,
Andy, I'll just keep doing it.
ANDY
It was the CAT!
Fitzgerald stoically stares at Andy. Andy stares back.
FITZGERALD
Your cat...tortured, murdered and
dismembered 23 people?
ANDY
Yes.
FITZGERALD
That's-
ANDY
I know it sounds insane, but it's
the truth!
FITZGERALD
Andy, don't interrupt me, it's
rude. And, no, it doesn't sound
insane. You sound insane.
ANDY
I know.
FITZGERALD
What kind of cat are we talking
about here?
ANDY
I don't know, man. It's like
a...greyish one? I guess.
FITZGERALD
Don't even know what kind of cat
you have?
ANDY
Who cares? It probably wasn't even
a cat. But evil, personified in a
cat's adorable, furry, body.
FLASHBACK:
INT. ANDY'S HOUSE - DAY
Andy on his living room couch watching Cartoons on his TV and
eating a bowl of cereal. Sun shines through open windows. A
beautiful afternoon.
ANDY (V.O.)
It started out innocently enough.
My cat had died a few months ago,
it was a little early for me to
start thinking about getting a new
one, but then there was a ring from
the door bell.
The doorbell rings, Andy looks over from his cartoons. He
puts his cereal down and walks to the front door.
FITZGERALD (V.O.)
The cat rang your door bell?
ANDY (V.O.)
In retrospect, yeah, I think he
did.
Andy opens the door and sees THE CAT sitting on his welcome
mat, looking up at him intensely. A cute, healthy, Asian
shorthair with a friendly, kind of retarded look on his face.
It MEOWS. Andy wears a quizzical expression, he looks around
to see who might have left the cat at his doorstep and sees
nothing. He looks back down at the cat. It MEOWS.
ANDY (CONT'D)
Uhh...hey.
The cat welcomes itself into Andy's home.
ANDY (CONT'D)
Alright, I guess.
ANDY (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So, I took him in.
SERIES OF SHOTS:
Andy feeding the cat
Andy messaging the cat
Andy playing with the cat
Andy changing the cat's litter
END SERIES
Andy walks over and puts a collar with a tag reading, BARRY,
around Barry's neck.
ANDY (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I named him, Barry.
He pets Barry.
ANDY (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It wasn't long until I realized.
Realized there was
something...wrong...with Barry.
Something terrible and foul and
twisted.
END FLASHBACK
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY
Fitzgerald and Andy sit at opposite ends of the table.
Fitzgerald's eyes are squarely upon Andy. Andy appears tired,
jaded, indifferent to the world around him.
FITZGERALD
So, what convinced you-
Paxton bursts into the room.
PAXTON
Thirteen!
Fitzgerald and Paxton stare at one and other.
PAXTON (CONT'D)
It's thirteen. A baker's dozen.
FITZGERALD
I know that.
PAXTON
Well I wanted you to know that I
knew.
FITZGERALD
I appreciate you taking the
initiative to educate yourself.
PAXTON
Thanks, man.
FITZGERALD
Why don't you go pick us up a pack
of smokes. You smoke, Andy?
Andy nods.
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
Go pick us up a pack of smokes,
pal.
PAXTON
Will do, partner!
Fitzgerald flinches at the word 'Partner'. Paxton leaves,
shutting the door behind him.
FITZGERALD
So, what convinced you your cat was
a serial killer, Andy?
Andy ponders the question.
ANDY
Well, I started to get really
suspicious when I found that face.
BEGIN FLASHBACK:
EXT. OUTSIDE OF ANDY'S FRONT DOOR - DAY
Andy is holding a human face, barely pinching it between a
thumb and forefinger, trying to make as little contact as
possible. He holds it, stares at it, grimacing, expression
contorted in horror. The face hangs from his faint grip like
a bundle of wet paper towels, dripping blood, swinging gently
back and forth.
A MEOW is heard, Andy looks down to see Barry sitting at his
feet. Sitting directly under the face, allowing the droplets
of blood to descend into his mouth.
ANDY (V.O.)
I mean, my old cat would bring me
mice and birds and lizards it had
killed. And that's all it was with
Barry at first. But it kept getting
worse each time.
SERIES OF SHOTS:
EXT. OUTSIDE OF ANDY'S FRONT DOOR - DAY
Andy holding a dead mouse. A MEOW.
Andy holding a dead pigeon. A MEOW.
Andy holding a dead human finger. A MEOW.
Andy holding a pair of deer antlers, with some skull and
brain attached. A MEOW.
Andy holding a bloody crucifix. A MEOW.
Andy holding a severed goat leg, with a human hand sewn to
the other end. A MEOW.
Andy holding the face.
ANDY
Yeah, this is starting to seem kind
of fucked up.
Andy carries the face to his kitchen, drops it down his
kitchen sink, and turns on the garbage disposal.
EXT. STREETS - DAY
DETECTIVE DANIALS pulls up in a sedan and parks at the curb
outside of GEORGE'S house. Danials is wearing a cheap suit
and BADASS AVIATOR SUNGLASSES. He exits his car, and walks to
the front door. He takes off his sunglasses, badassily.
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
George and Detective Daniels stand across from one and other
in George's living room. George is silk robe and slippers.
The room is a mess. It looks as though it has been ransacked,
but was once plain and unassuming. It only houses a cabinet,
a muddy couch and a TV.
Danials has a note-pad and pen in his hands, he is quickly
jotting things down as they converse.
DANIALS
So the man knocked on your door,
put a gun to your head and forced
his way into your house?
GEORGE
That's right. He told me he'd blow
my brains out if I tried anything.
I was terrified.
DANIALS
I'm sure you were. What happened
next?
GEORGE
Then he poured a whole box of
Wheaties down his mouth.
DANIALS
The whole box? Jesus.
GEORGE
Started knocking things off
shelves. Rubbing mud all over my
couch.
DANIALS
I see...
Danials writes down the information before pursuing the line
of questioning.
DANIALS (CONT'D)
What did your assailant look like?
GEORGE
He was wearing brown Dockers and
Reeboks, he had a crucifix tattooed
on his right arm, yellow eyes, he
was green on top, and sort of off
white underneath.
DANIALS
His shirt?
GEORGE
Hmm?
DANIALS
His shirt was green and white?
GEORGE
No, his scales.
DANIALS
Pardon?
GEORGE
His scales. They were dark green on
top and then tapered off into an
off-white around his belly.
DANIALS
Uhh...
GEORGE
I'd say he was a good...oh, 9 feet
long, including the tail.
DANIALS
He had a tail?
GEORGE
Of course he did.
DANIALS
And scales?
GEORGE
Yep.
DANIALS
Sir, I'm confused.
GEORGE
What about?
DANIALS
It sounds like you're describing
some sort of...reptile...
GEORGE
Sure am.
DANIALS
I'm interviewing you about the man
who broke into your house.
GEORGE
And?
Danials flips closed his notebook and pockets it along with
his pen.
DANIALS
I feel like there's a little bit of
disconnect we're having here.
GEORGE
Did you forget me telling you he
was a crocodile?
DANIALS
You told me that?
GEORGE
First thing I said when you walked
through my front door. I ran up and
screamed: "Crocodile!" right in
your face, How could you have
forgotten that?
DANIALS
No. No, I remember that. I thought
you were just in shock.
GEORGE
Of course I was in shock, how many
times does a man find himself
burgled by a goddamn crocodile?
DANIALS
Burgled?
GEORGE
He burgled me!
DANIALS
Burgled.
GEORGE
It means: to burglarize. I'd think
a cop would know that.
DANIALS
I don't work for Scotland Yard.
This isn't 18th century London,
alright? It's fucking Fairfield.
And I don't like your back-talk.
Danials retrieves his badge from a pocket and shows it to
George.
DANIALS (CONT'D)
Now from here on out, I'm gonna
need you to respect this, you got
that?
He points at the badge.
GEORGE
I think you need to respect the
fact that It's your job to arrest
this son of a bitch and find my
Playstation!
DANIALS
Playstation? He took your
Playstation? That's what I'm doing
here? Looking for a Crocodile with
a stolen PlayStation?
GEORGE
Stuffed it in a burlap sack and ran
off down the street.
DANIALS
Didn't you say he was wearing
dockers?
GEORGE
Yep.
DANIALS
I was unaware that dockers catered
to the crocodile demographic.
GEORGE
He had the legs of a man.
Danials raises an eyebrow, and stares at George in
bewilderment.
DANIALS
The legs...
GEORGE
Of a man. Yep.
DANIALS
Man legs?
GEORGE
Indeed.
DANIALS
On a crocodile.
GEORGE
That is correct.
DANIALS
So it was like a part man...
GEORGE
Part crocodile.
DANIALS
Legs of a man...
GEORGE
Body of a crocodile.
DANIALS
And his arms?
GEORGE
They were kind of in between.
Danials takes a deep breath, and nods to himself as though
coming to a conclusion.
DANIALS
I think-
GEORGE
It was like a...Man-o-dile...
DANIALS
I think we're done here.
Danials turns to walk toward the door. George leaps in front
of him, barring the exit.
GEORGE
What about my PlayStation?!
DANIALS
Nobody gives a shit about
PlayStation's. There have been two
PlayStation's since PlayStation, do
you realize that?
GEORGE
None of those PlayStation's have
Spyro.
DANIALS
They do, actually.
GEORGE
Original Spyro.
DANIALS
You can play Playstation 1 games on
Playstation 2.
GEORGE
I don't have a Playstation 2!
DANIALS
You don't have a Playstation.
GEORGE
I did until that crocodile stole it
from me!
DANIALS
You mean burgled it from you?
GEORGE
I want my goddamn Playstation back!
DANIALS
PlayStation's don't even cost money
anymore, just get a new one.
GEORGE
What kind of cop are you? Would you
tell a man who'd just been stabbed:
"Well, why don't you just get not
stabbed?"
DANIALS
What?
GEORGE
I've been wronged, and you have to
do something about, or I'll call
the police station and-
DANIALS
Tell them a Crocodile with human
legs stole your PlayStation?
GEORGE
A manodile.
DANIALS
What?
GEORGE
A manodile.
Danials stares.
GEORGE (CONT'D)
That's what we're calling it.
DANIALS
A manodile?
GEORGE
Get it?
DANIALS
Yeah. Yeah, I get it.
Danials shakes his head and sighs deeply.
GEORGE
So, like I was saying, he grabbed
my PlayStation, bit my dog in half,
pulled his dockers down and took a
shit on my floor before he ran off
out the door.
DANIALS
Oh, so that's what that's doing
there.
Danials gestures to pile of shit plopped on the living room
floor a few feet to their side. George looks to the shit,
turns back to Danials, and nods.
GEORGE
Yep.
DANIALS
That is a tremendous pile of shit.
George shrugs.
GEORGE
It was a big manodile.
DANIALS
Let's stop using the word
"manodile", shall we?
GEORGE
Well that's what we're talking
about.
DANIALS
That's what you're talking about,
but in reality there are no
manodiles.
GEORGE
Then who bit my dog in half?
DANIALS
Dog in half?
EXT. BACK-YARD - DAY
A half a dog lays in the grass in George's back-yard. Small,
white. Like a corgi poodle mix. It would have been adorable
if it had its other half. And wasn't dead.
The dog's guts are spilled out, flies buzzing around it,
blood stained tufts of fur gently sway in a slight breeze.
Danials and George stand and look.
DANIALS
...Gross...
GEORGE
See! I told you!
DANIALS
Sir, I'm willing to turn a blind
eye to your apparent bisecting of
your dog on the condition that you
just drop this manodile business
once and for all and never contact
the police for any reason ever
again, whatsoever. Okay?
GEORGE
It was the manodile!
DANIALS
There are no manodiles! How could
there be a manodile?!
GEORGE
It could have escaped from the zoo.
DANIALS
There are no zoo's nearby that
house Manodiles, of that I am
certain.
GEORGE
Probably because they've all broken
free.
DANIALS
Doubtful.
GEORGE
They're very resourceful.
DANIALS
They don't-
GEORGE
Always bet on manodile!
DANIALS
Exist.
GEORGE
Hmm?
DANIALS
You made them up.
GEORGE
I-
DANIALS
I think none of what you said
happened. You know why? Because I
can actually see a PlayStation over
in that cabinet over there, through
the door.
Danials points at the PlayStation through the glass doors. It
sits under the TV, two controllers lying on the floor in
front of it. George turns and looks at it for a moment, then
turns back around to face Danials.
GEORGE
That's my back-up PlayStation.
DANIALS
I also think you shit on your own
floor.
GEORGE
You think I bit my dog in half too?
Look at the jaw radius!
DANIALS
Sir, I want you to take a look at
my face, and tell me how many fucks
you think I give?
George squints, intently studying Danials' disdainful
expression.
GEORGE
Four?
DANIALS
None. Not one. Good day, to you,
sir.
GEORGE
But-
DANIALS
I may be taking measures to have
you institutionalized. Just FYI.
Danials turns and walks away. George shouts after him, waving
his fist in the air.
GEORGE
That scaly, green, hoodlum is
probably playing Kingdom Hearts on
my PlayStation in some manodile
crack den in the bayou, and I'm not
gonna stand for it!
DANIALS
Kingdom Hearts wasn't on the
original Playstation.
EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY
Danials has exited the front door of the house and walked
down to the side-walk where his car was parked and is now not
parked. He looks up and down the street, but it is nowhere in
sight.
DANIALS
What the fuck?!
A man runs over to Danials from the house next door.
NEIGHBOR
Hey, man, was that your car?
DANIALS
Yeah, did you see what happened to
it?
NEIGHBOR
Someone took it.
DANIALS
What did they look like?
NEIGHBOR
Well, I couldn't tell from the
distance I was at, but he looked
like he was wearing Dockers.
DANIALS
Dockers?
NEIGHBOR
Yeah. And a reeboks.
DANIALS
Dockers and reeboks?
NEIGHBOR
Yeah...and he was a crocodile. That
struck me as a little odd.
Danials looks away from the neighbor and stares down the
road, a grim look upon his face.
DANIALS
Motherfucker.
[
INT. ROOM - DAY
Brian sits on his couch in his cramped living room, smoking
MARIJUANA from an empty can of SPRITE. He is seated on a
couch situated across from a desk holding a lap-top and
television. There's a forceful knock at the front door. From
outside ROGER's voice can be hear shouting.
ROGER
I'm a fucking werewolf, bro!!
BRIAN
Roger?
ROGER
Yes it's fucking Roger, let me in!
Roger begins frantically pounding on the door. Brian shakes
his head in disapproval and frustration. He takes his time
getting up to answer the door. When he does Roger rushes past
him into the room holding a bundle of rope. Roger is haggard
and filthy. He's covered in bruises and scrapes, his hair is
a mess and his clothes are shredded.
ROGER (CONT'D)
I'm a fucking werewolf, bro!
Brian stares at Roger, who stands panting, panicked and crazy
eyed. Brian's face is a mask of incredulity.
BRIAN
I have a hard time believing that,
Roger.
Roger begins darting from direction to direction, pacing back
and forth. He violently shakes his head and grabs at clumps
of his hair.
ROGER
No, dude, you don't understand!
BRIAN
Look-
ROGER
No, you look! I was smoking with
some friends the other night, and
as I was walking home I
I...changed...
BRIAN
Changed?
ROGER
Everything went black. I can barely
remember a thing. Just thirst. An
ungodly thirst for...murder...
BRIAN
The preferred beverage of
werewolves...
ROGER
When I woke up I was in an alley. I
was covered in cuts and scrapes and
my clothes were destroyed...
BRIAN
Come on, dude. You probably just
smoked laced weed like those other
times.
ROGER
One time!
BRIAN
Several times. Remember when you
were on the roof trying to cut
pigeons in half with an oar?
ROGER
So like four times, but not this
time! Listen, this morning I read a
newspaper.
BRIAN
That is unusual.
ROGER
No, dude, there was a story about a
murder!
BRIAN
People are murdered every day.
ROGER
But where I woke up was like right
where they went missing.
Brian gazes at Roger.
ROGER (CONT'D)
Or like 9 miles away-
BRIAN
Come on, man!
ROGER
A werewolf can cover 9 miles in
minutes on foot!
BRIAN
On foot? As opposed to what? A
segway?
ROGER
Why would a werewolf ride a segway?
Werewolves are way faster than
segways...
BRIAN
Maybe it's crippled.
ROGER
Werewolves can't be crippled, they
have a supernatural healing factor.
Brian, these are basic facts, I
can't believe I need to explain
these things to you.
BRIAN
This is fucking retarded.
ROGER
Plus, the corpse was covered in
shit!
BRIAN
What the fuck does that have to do
with anything?
ROGER
Everyone knows werewolves shit on
fresh kills.
BRIAN
You're just making this up!
ROGER
You can't make up the truth, bro.
That's impossible. Now hold onto
your dick, cause I got even more
proof.
Brian runs out the door only to return almost immediately,
now holding a bulbous garbage bag in one hand.
ROGER (CONT'D)
I woke up in an alley surrounded by
these.
Roger upturns a garbage bag full of dead half-eaten fish and
empty fried chicken receptacles.
BRIAN
What the fuck is wrong with you
dude! Don't just pour trash on my
floor!
ROGER
It's not trash! Or, it is...how do
you not understand what this
means?!
BRIAN
You smoked angel dust and spent all
night eating trash in alleyways
across town? It's a miracle you
weren't robbed, or murdered or
raped.
ROGER
That's insane. Who would rape a
werewolf? Who could rape a
werewolf?
BRIAN
Another werewolf could, or a yeti,
or a Minotaur, chupacabra.
ROGER
Two of those things are imaginary,
the only way a chupacabra could
ever rape a werewolf would be
through subterfuge and trickery,
and counting me there are probably
only like 15 werewolves in the
whole of the Americas, and
therefore it would be very unlikely
for there to be another in the same
proximity.
BRIAN
But it is possible you were roofied
by a chupacabra?
ROGER
Start take this shit seriously,
dude!
BRIAN
For fucks sake...
ROGER
Dude, I woke up covered in blood.
This shit is for real.
BRIAN
Could it have been from all those
cuts you have all over your body?
ROGER
No, I must have killed someone. If
I concentrate really hard I get
flashes. I keep remembering this
old homeless guys face...I think I
ate him.
BRIAN
Or maybe you just got your ass
kicked by a hobo crack-head.
ROGER
I've had it up to here with your
wild theories, Brian. Stop trying
to cloud the issue, my being a
werewolf is what we need to be
focusing on.
Brian glares at Roger.
ROGER (CONT'D)
Alright man, I'm done trying to
convince you, just humor me.
Please. Tie me up. If I don't turn
into a werewolf you can untie me
and I'll go. I promise.
Roger puts his hands together as though petitioning for mercy
Brian continues to glare at him for several more seconds, but
finally relents.
BRIAN
Fucking fine.
Roger sighs in relief.
INT. BRIAN'S ROOM - DAY
Roger is now roped securely to a wood chair across the room
from Brian who fiddles around on his LAPTOP.
ROGER
So, hypothetically, if my scrotum
were to start itching-
BRIAN
You'd be on your own.
Brian takes a hit from his SPRITE pipe and continues messing
around on his computer.
ROGER
Hey, man. Do you think I can get a
hit of that?
BRIAN
Yeah, fine.
Brian takes another hit before getting up and walking over to
Roger.
BRIAN (CONT'D)
Hold still.
Brian puts the SPRITE CAN WHICH IS A PIPE to Roger's mouth
and lights. Roger inhales for a few moments before abruptly
coughing, and spewing the contents of the pipe into the air
in a puff of weed crumbs and ash. Brian forlornly watches the
contents of his can-pipe slowly drift to the groun.
BRIAN (CONT'D)
Come on, man!
Roger coughs a few times.
ROGER
I'm sorry, bro!
BRIAN
It was my last bowl!
ROGER
I said I was sorry!
BRIAN
You owe me a bowl.
ROGER
I swear I'll get you back.
BRIAN
That's what you always say.
ROGER
Sorry.
BRIAN
Whatever.
Brian tosses the can and sits back down at his desk. With a
few clicks starts a movie. From across the room Roger strains
to fix his eyes to the inconveniently located monitor. He
gazes at Brian for a moment.
ROGER
Hey, man. You think you could turn
the screen my way a little?
BRIAN
You're still asking for favors?
ROGER
It'll only take you a second.
BRIAN
Will you shut up if I do?
BRIAN (CONT'D)
Yes. I promise.
Brian turns the monitor toward Roger.
Roger and Brian watch the crocodile related movie for several
silent seconds before Roger throws his head back and moans.
ROGER
This movie sucks, bro!
Before Brian can retort there's a knock from his front door.
A voice is heard through the door. The voice of BAMBELJACKS.
BAMBELJACKS
Yo, it's Bambeljacks.
BRIAN
Come in.
Bambeljacks opens the door and steps into the room, his eyes
immediately fixing to Roger, bound in a chair on the other
end of the room.
BAMBELJACKS
Holding someone for ransom?
BRIAN
No.
BAMBELJACKS
Is it a sex thing?
BRIAN
NO!
ROGER
I'm Roger.
Roger nods at Bambeljacks.
BAMBELJACKS
That's rad, bro.
BRIAN
What do you want?
BAMBELJACKS
I was actually hoping I could pick
up some tree...
BRIAN
Not a good time. Come back later.
BAMBELJACKS
Later like...?
BRIAN
From now. Later from now. In the
future, relative to the
present...get the fuck out of here.
BAMBELJACKS
Right.
Bambeljacks leaves. Brian turns to Roger.
BRIAN
You're fucking up my whole day, you
know that?
ROGER
Dude, will you stop giving me shit?
I'm sorry that I spoiled the 2 hour
masturbation session and X-files
marathon you had scheduled, but I'm
dealing with serious issues here!
BRIAN
What the fuck are you talking
about?
ROGER
The psychological torment of
knowing you've been stricken with
the curse of lycanthropy is
unfathomable to you!
BRIAN
You're what's unfathomable to me.
ROGER
That's bull-shit, dude. I'm hella
fathomable.
Brian sighs deeply in exasperation and briefly massages his
forehead.
BRIAN
So, when the fuck are you supposed
to turn into a werewolf anyway?
ROGER
As soon as the moon rises.
BRIAN
The moon rises? It's fucking 3:30
in the afternoon!
ROGER
3:30? You mean I'm gonna be tied in
this chair for two more hours?!
BRIAN
I guess.
ROGER
What if I have to piss?
BRIAN
This was your idea!
ROGER
But it's only mid-day, when have
you ever heard of anyone turning
into a werewolf at 3:30 in the
afternoon? On a Sunday, no less.
BRIAN
If you didn't have such a poor
grasp of the day night/cycle and
had a little more foresight, you
wouldn't even be asking that
question.
ROGER
Well just untie me and re-tie me in
a couple hours.
BRIAN
You are just determined to piss me
off, aren't you?
ROGER
It'll take you 30 seconds, dude,
come on! Stop being such a drama
queen.
BRIAN
Me a drama queen? You're the one
who ran in here screaming that he
was a werewolf, bleeding and
throwing trash everywhere!
ROGER
This is a legitimate emergency,
it's more than reasonable for me to
be a little flustered.
BRIAN
A legitimate emergency?
ROGER
People don't turn into werewolves
every day!
BRIAN
You're not a werewolf! You're a
suggestible, simple-minded, stoner
with an inferior ability to not
smoked laced pot, and a generally
deficient sense of the difference
between fantasy and reality.
ROGER
It will be easier for you if you
just untie me. I won't bother you
again until sundown. Honest.
Brian shakes his head.
BRIAN
Fine. Whatever.
Brian grudgingly walks over to the chair and begins straining
at the knots, but failing to undo them. He grows increasingly
agitated before finally throwing his hands up.
BRIAN (CONT'D)
Fuck this! I can't untie this shit!
ROGER
What? What kind of knot did you
use?
BRIAN
There are different kinds of knots?
ROGER
Yeah, bro, there's like a million
knots! What kind did you use?
BRIAN
I don't know...custom?
ROGER
There's no such thing as a custom
knot! You gotta get me out of here,
man. I'm gonna piss.
BRIAN
Are you fucking serious?
ROGER
Wait, I know what we can do...do
you have any bottles?
Brian stares at Roger, face twitching with the sheer force of
annoyance.
BRIAN
You know what, man...fuck this. I'm
going to get something to eat.
ROGER
Oh, sweet. Were you thinking like
fajitas...?
BRIAN
You know what, fajitas sound
awesome.
ROGER
Yes! Just get back quick so I can
eat them before I turn into a
werewolf. I still have to pee,
too...
BRIAN
Oh, did I give the impression I was
getting you something?
ROGER
What?
BRIAN
Yeah, fuck you, Roger.
Brian walks out the front door, giving Roger the finger.
ROGER
You're gonna look like an ass-hole
when I turn into a werewolf!
EXT. OUTSIDE BRIAN'S ROOM - NIGHT
Bambeljacks lies in a pool of blood, covered in claw marks,
outside of Brian's front door, which has been busted open.
The chair inside has been crushed and the rope ripped apart.
Brian stands over Bambeljack's corpse with a bag of left-over
fajitas.
BRIAN
...Balls...
A distant, unearthly, howl echoes through the night.
INT. SUNDAY MULDOON'S GARAGE - DAY
SUNDAY MULDOON wears pajama pants and a Hawaiian shirt. He
stands next to a make shift kitchen consisting of a hot
plate, a pot, a pan and wood spoons. SHOES holds the camera
in a wavering, rocky grip.
The room is messy. Pot paraphernalia, cigarette butts and
liquor bottles are littered across it and a tent with a
mattress inside of it fills out one corner.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Hey everybody, I'm Sunday Muldoon,
and this is "Cooking on a Budget
with Sunday Muldoon". Who is...me.
And on the camera we have Shoes.
Shoes, hand me the camera so you
can introduce yourself.
SHOES
Right on.
CUT TO
Shoes stands in frame. He claps two mismatched shoes together
and nods to the camera.
SHOES
Word.
CUT BACK
Shoes again holds the camera with Sunday on screen next to
his kitchen.
SUNDAY MULDOON
So, today our meal will be an egg
sandwich and mashed potatoes. We're
still waiting on the bread, but in
the meantime let me take you on a
little tour of my kitchen.
Sunday motions to the table to his side.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
This is my kitchen. I have a
variety of cook-ware... wood
spoons. My spice library is
constantly changing, but I find I'm
never without paprika, or crushed
waffle-cone.
CUT TO
Paprika and crushed waffle cone on the table. The waffle cone
is in a zip-lock baggy. A cough is heard off camera and a
cloud of smoke is blown into frame.
CUT BACK
Sunday has an egg in each hand.
SUNDAY MULDOON
These're eggs.
SHOES
Eggs of a chicken.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Correct. Now, I usually buy my eggs
one at a time. They go about 80
cents per egg. Due to lack of funds
I didn't purchase these eggs,
though, uh... I actually procured
these eggs from a coop my neighbor
Julio keeps in his uh...back
yard... But if you can afford to
buy eggs, I would recommend this
approach over thievery, because I
was shot during my escape.
Fortunately Julio was unable to
ascertain my identity during the
event, and I know this because had
he discovered it was me, my balls
would be ensconced within the bowl
movements of his pit-bulls and my
head would be in a dumpster right
now, because Julio is a drug
dealer. Julio is actually, uh...my
drug dealer...but just buy the
eggs.
SHOES
Eggs aren't worth your life, dawg.
CUT TO
A close-up of Sunday holding an egg out in his palm.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Egg.
CUT BACK
SUNDAY MULDOON
Now, the way you should cook these
eggs is, turn your hot-plate up as
far as you can without blowing a
fuse. Crack the protective layering
and empty the contents into the
pan.
Sunday begins cooking the eggs. He stirs them a bit as they
begin steaming.
The camera pans down as shoes notices blood pooling on the
ground at Sunday's feet.
SHOES
Dude, your bullet hole.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Ah, shit!
CUT TO
Sunday stirs the eggs for a moment before he looks up.
SUNDAY MULDOON
While these are cooking lets go
find Elbows and check the status of
our mashed potatoes.
Sunday walks past Shoes, who follows close behind as they
walk out of the front door of the shack and emerge into a
sunlit back-yard, just as messy as Sunday's garage. Sitting
with his back turned, on a rickety lawn chair is, ELBOWS.
Elbows is wearing a filthy wife beater, leisure pants and
aviator sunglasses. He has a huge mustache and a cigarette
dangles from his mouth. He robotically and monotonously
mashes a bowl full of potatoes.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
How're the potatoes?
Elbows continues mashing the potatoes, ash from his cigarette
falls into the bowl. He pays no mind.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
Rad.
Sunday looks up and nods to Shoes.
CUT TO
Back inside. Sunday is next to his cooking station once more.
He lightly prods at the simmering eggs.
SUNDAY MULDOON
So...I, uhh...yeah. Those potatoes
are actually, like, earth potatoes.
Like we just found em' out...like,
it was like a field?
SHOES
Yeah, it was like a fucking field.
Filled with potatoes.
SUNDAY MULDOON
I'm not sure why they were out
there...
SHOES
Doesn't make any sense.
SUNDAY MULDOON
But there were dozens...
SHOES
Hundreds.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Innumerable potatoes.
SHOES
Sacks of potatoes.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Sacks, buckets...
SHOES
Buckets full of potatoes.
Shoes pans down to reveal SCOOTER crouched on the ground.
Scooter is wearing only boxer shorts. He has his ear planted
next to an air-cleaner sitting on the floor. His face is
intensely focused and filled with awe. He's holding a rag in
one hand.
SHOES (CONT'D)
Hey, it's Scooter.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Scooter! Hey, Scootey! Scoots
McGoots! Yeah...Scooter...
SHOES
Do you smell...starter fluid?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Whatcha doin' down there, Scoot?
Scooter continues silently listening to the hum of the air
cleaner for several seconds before slowly raising the rag to
his face and inhaling deeply.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
Rad.
The camera pans back up to look at Sunday.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
Uhh...so back to the eggs, then.
Smoke streams into frame for a second before a cough is heard
and a massive cloud is exhaled by Shoes who begins hacking
uncontrollably.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
Shit, dude, are you cool?
Shoes continues coughing. His hand enters the frame to hand
Sunday a joint.
CUT
Sunday walks over to the hot-plate, grabs the pan and pours
the now cooked eggs onto a paper-plate.
SUNDAY MULDOON
And that's how you cook eggs!
JULIO
Yo.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Oh, fuck my balls!
The camera turns to reveal JULIO standing in the doorway.
Julio stares at Sunday with dead eyes and his hands casually
in his pocket. Both of his hands are in the same pocket. He's
dressed like a drug dealer. Like a HELLA drug dealer.
SHOES
What up, fella?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Julio! My man!
Sunday forces an awkward smile. Shoes aims the camera back
and forth from Julio to Sunday as the conversation proceeds.
JULIO
Did you guys see anything weird
yesterday?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Weird like...?
JULIO
A guy wearing panty-hose over his
head running around with about 20 -
27 eggs in his pockets?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Eggs in pockets? Rings no bells,
sorry.
JULIO
So you didn't see anything?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Nope.
JULIO
What're you cooking?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Eggsssss...chili.
SHOES
I thought we were cooking eggs?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Egg chili.
JULIO
Egg chili?
SUNDAY MULDOON
It's a...Mongolian recipe.
Julio stares blankly and un-blinking.
SHOES
Do you think he knows?
JULIO
Knows what?
SHOES
Holy shit! I thought you left.
JULIO
Why?
SHOES
Uhh...
Shoes looks to Sunday who shakes his head from side to side.
JULIO
What the fuck is that?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Is...
Julio walks over to a pair of cargo pants hanging from a nail
in the wall. The pockets are bulbous and swelling. Julio
reaches into one of them and pulls out an egg. He stares at
it, face igniting with rage.
SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
Shit...
A noise is heard from the front door, Shoes aims the camera
toward it. Elbows is standing in the doorway, staring,
smoking, and mashing potatoes.
CUT TO
Julio lies dead on the floor. Elbows sits on a stool eating
the plate of eggs. His elbows are covered in blood. Sunday
stares at Julio's corpse in aghast silence.
SHOES
Fuck, man.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Well...
SHOES
Dude, where's Scooter?
SCOOTER
I'm in the tent!
SHOES
Oh.
SCOOTER
Did Elbows just kill a guy?
SHOES
Yeah.
SCOOTER
Again!?
SUNDAY MULDOON
Uhh...
From off screen a loaf of bread flies into frame and bounces
off of Sunday's face to land on the floor.
SHOES
Breads here!
Sunday looks directly into the camera.
SUNDAY MULDOON
Did you turn the camera back on?
SHOES
....No.
CUT TO BLACK
[
EXT. PARK - DAY
A GERALD sits on a park bench as the sun pierces dimly
through an overcast sky. THE DICKINATOR approaches him.
GERALD
Can I help yo-
Gerald is cut off mid-sentence by The Dickinator's shooting
of his dick with a gun. Blood spills from Gerald's crotch. He
falls off of the bench and screams in agony.
OPENING CREDITS
EXT. PARK - DAY
Gerald is still lying in front of the park bench. He rolls
around and groans, soaked in blood. Detectives BACON and POOP
stand over him.
BACON
The annihilation of this mans
entire crotchial region is-is
staggering in its magnitude. I
mean, look at this. There's
nothing. There's nothing left. It's
ground beef. It's...it's catfood.
POOP
It's kinda fucked up, huh?
BACON
This poor SOB might as well slap on
a pair a tits and start calling the
entry wound a vagina, cause...his
dick is...it's a write off.
POOP
Dicks don't grow back.
BACON
Dicks do not grow back.
Bacon and Poop nod in concurrence.
GERALD
I can hear everything you're
saying. I'm laying right here. This
is me, laying three feet away from
you, bleeding to death with no
dick.
Poop and Bacon remain unresponsive toward Gerald's pleas.
BACON
Get word to HQ, we need the meat
wagon down here with a fresh body
bag, stat. And tell em' I can't
shake the feeling we're gonna go
through quite a few of those
today....the smell of dick-blood is
in the air, getting stronger by the
minute. Can ya feel it, Poop?
There's a storm a-brewin'.
GERALD
What the fuck, guys?!
EXT. STREETS - DAY
MONTAGE - SLOW MOTION
The Dickinator walks down a sidewalk, lighting his cigarette.
He's wearing a brown leather jacket, aviator sunglasses and
he has a mustache.
Two hooligans, REGINOLD and PATRICK, smoking a joint in an
alley-way look over as The Dickinator walks toward them.
END MONTAGE
THE DICKINATOR
You fellas look like you got two
too many dicks.
REGINOLD
Uhh....
PATRICK
What?
The Dickinator pulls his gat and blasts both these fools
dicks off. They keel over, bleeding and crying in pain.
The Dickinator eyes them both in disgust. He tosses his
cigarette onto the ground and walks away.
EXT. OFFICE - DAY
Detective Bacon stands around eating a sandwich in an office.
Poop enters the office.
BACON
Hey, Poop.
POOP
Hey, Bacon. There was a break on
The Dickinator case.
Bacon throws his sandwich across the room.
BACON
A BREAK ON THE DICKINATOR CASE?!
POOP
Yup. Apparently somebody witnessed
the dick-shooting this morning.
Central command wants us to go pick
him up and take him in for
questioning.
BACON
Sounds like a job for Bacon and
Poop.
POOP
Word.
Bacon and Poop perform a perfectly synchronized secret
friendship hand-shake and a high-five.
BACON
Let's go find this witness, before
someone else does. Someone with a
much harsher disposition toward not
shooting people's dicks off.
POOP
You're talking about that guy that
shot that dudes dick off earlier?
BACON
The very same.
POOP
You think he knows someone saw him?
BACON
Listen to me, Poop, I've been on
the job a lotta years and never
have I seen something like this.
Oh, sure, you get your random
firearm inflicted de-dickifications
from time to time.
Husband cheats on a wife, she
snaps, budda-bing, she shoots his
dick off. Hippy college kid drops
too many acids, takes off all his
clothes, looks down, holy shit a
snake! Budda-boom, and he shoots
off his dick. Eight year old boy,
finds his old man's .38; accidentally shoots his
dick off, shoots his dads dick off,
shoots his dogs dick off, I mean
sometimes things just get outta
hand. But those cases all made
sense in their own way. There's a
rhyme and a reason to em'. Our guy,
running and gunning through the
streets of our fair metropolis,
iron-sights fixed to the dick of
every man, woman and child in the
city. He's a mad dog. A dog mad
with a thirst. An unquenchable
thirst for blood. The blood of
dicks.
POOP
It's pretty fucked up.
Bacon walks across the room and picks up the shattered
remnants of what was once his ham sandwich.
BACON
I'm gonna finish this, then we can
go.
EXT. STREETS - DAY
BOBOWL strolls down a side-walk. The Dickinator drives up and
shoots his dick off and drives away.
BOBOWL
Shit!
INT. CAR - DAY
Bacon and Poop cruise down the road. They see Bobowl lying on
the side-walk.
EXT. STREETS - DAY
Bacon and Poop rush out of their car to the fallen man on the
sidewalk.
They stop short of stepping into an ever growing pool of
crotch-blood. Bacon looks down at the crotchless man with a
pained expression.
BACON
This mother-fucker! He's always one
dick ahead of me! I can't stop him,
he's too smart. Every time I think
I'm closing in, he shrivels away.
BOBOWL
Can one of you guys please call me
an ambulance? Somebody shot my dick
off, and I'm losing a lot of blood.
BACON
Another innocent's blood spilled on
the streets. My streets! Another
man's life ended before its time.
BOBOWL
I actually think I'll be OK if you
get me to a hospital.
BACON
All hopes. All dreams of living a
rich, happy life. A life abundant
with still having a dick. All those
dreams....now flowing in a crimson
stream, seeping into the asphalt,
and spilling into the
sewers....like a tear....in the
rain.
BOBOWL
What the fuck are you talking
about?
POOP
Bacon, get a grip. I've been your
partner for 18 years and we always
get our perp. It's just a matter of
time.
BACON
You're right, Poop. I let my
emotions get the best of me. Let's
go find this dick.
A voice sounds from Poop's radio, he reaches into his car and
grabs it.
POOP
What is it HQ? We've got another
body, here.
BOBOWL
Ambulance?
POOP
Holy shit, Bacon. Someone's seen
The Dickinator, we gotta roll!
Poop and Bacon gaze at each others determined faces. They get
into the car, clasp their hands together and peel out, never
looking away from one and other. They leave Bowbowl for dead.
EXT. STREETS - DAY
Bacon and Poop's ride pulls up and stops in an empty lot.
Bacon and Poop exit the vehicle and begin looking around.
POOP
This is where gunshots were
reported.
Bacon spies a shady looking character making his way into an
alley across the lot.
BACON
Over there.
Bacon motions toward where he saw the figure. They look at
each other, unholster their weapons and begin walking.
EXT. ALLEY - DAY
Bacon and Poop make it to the mouth of the alley in time to
see The Dickinator approaching a homeless man sleeping in a
pile of garbage. The Dickinator aims his gun at the homeless
man's dick.
BACON
Stop!
The Dickinator notices Poop and Bacon standing at the end of
the alley. He looks right into Bacon's eyes.
BACON (CONT'D)
Don't you shoot that man's-
The Dickinator shoots the homeless man's dick off.
BACON (CONT'D)
Ah, Fuck! He shot his dick off!
Poop and Bacon hurdle down the alley-way at top speed. The
Dickinator fires a few rounds, forcing them to duck for
cover, then takes off. Poop and Bacon are quickly hot on his
heels.
EXT. EARTH - DAY
Poop and Bacon furiously pursue The Dickinator who fires
rounds wildly over his shoulder. Bacon is struck in the leg.
He falls. Poop stops and kneels down next to Bacon.
BACON
No! Leave me! Go get that
motherfucker!
POOP
I'll come back for you.
Poop stands and hesitantly begins chasing after The
Dickinator once more. Bacon retrieves his radio from his
jacket and tries to radio for back-up.
BACON
This is officer Bacon, I need back
up at-
A gunshot is heard from the distance. Bacon looks up in
horror.
BACON (CONT'D)
Poop...
Bacon throws his radio away and fights through the pain of
his bullet wound to stand. He begins limping toward the sound
of the gunshot.
EXT. COURTYARD - DAY
Bacon rounds a corner entering the courtyard. Buildings on all
sides, criss-crossed with paths and walk-ways. Bacon's eyes
fix to something, filling with horror. He sees Poop. On the
ground. Shot in the dick. Poop writhes in pain. Bacon drops
to he knees and screams to the heavens.
BACON
FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!
Bacon punches the ground.
BACON (CONT'D)
You shot Poop's dick off!
POOP
He shot my dick off, bro.
BACON
Shit!
POOP
You think you could, like, put it
back together?
THE DICKINATOR
Detective.
Bacon looks up and sees standing across the courtyard from
him, The Dickinator.
THE DICKINATOR (CONT'D)
I believe you've been looking for
me.
Bacon stands up. He walks around Poop and squares off with
The Dickinator.
BACON
I've been waiting for this moment.
Your days of terrorizing dicks are
over!
THE DICKINATOR
That may be, but not before I've
terrorized your dick.
BACON
Hey, fuck you, guy!
THE DICKINATOR
I'm about to make you wish your
dick hadn't been shot off.
The Dickinator slides his jacket back, revealing his gun
holstered at his side. Bacon removes his jacket to reveal his
holstered under his shoulder. They mean-mug each other for an
extended period of time, then draw. Then simultaneously shoot
each others dicks off.
They both fall to the ground, clutching their groins. They
hit the floor across from one and other and bleed to death.
INT. RANDALL’S ROOM – DAY
RANDALL is sitting on his couch reading his lap-top. A knock
comes from the front door.
RANDALL
Come in.
LOUIE enters and seats himself next to Randall.
LOUIE
What are up to?
RANDALL
Watching porn.
LOUIE
Were you about to jerk off, cause I
can come back in a couple minutes.
RANDALL
No, this isn’t jerking off porn.
LOUIE
Alright, well put your porn away
and take a look at this.
Louie retrieves a joint from his breast pocket. It is
immaculate. Packed so full of weed it looks pregnant, but
everywhere, and not just in its uterus.
RANDALL
Holy scrotes!
LOUIE
Yeah. Its pretty badass.
RANDALL
If that joint were a woman, I would
have an erection.
LOUIE
You do have an erection.
RANDALL
Touche, my friend.
LOUIE
So are we gonna burn this fucker,
or what?
RANDALL
I say we get through about half.
Maximum.
LOUIE
Think again, guy. We’re taking this
one all the way. Are you with me?
RANDALL
My God, man? Do you have any idea
what you’re asking?
LOUIE
I’m asking you to get really, very,
dangerously high with me right now.
RANDALL
Well when you put it that way, I’m
down.
LOUIE
Never give up. Never surrender.
Louie strikes a bic lighter.
RANDALL
Galaxy Quest.
INT. RANDALL’S ROOM – DAY
Enough time has passed for Randall and Louie to have smoked
about half of the joint. Randall is knee-deep in a gnarly
coughing fit, face buried in hands. Louie pats him on the
back. Louie has blood droplets on his shirt and face.
LOUIE
You alright?
Randall sits up.
RANDALL
I’ve never coughed like that
before.
LOUIE
What is that shit all over your
fucking hands, man?
Randall holds his hands out and looks at them, they both have a healthy coat of blood.
RANDALL
Holy shit. That’s blood, dude!
LOUIE
Where did that come from?
RANDALL
Look in my mouth, do I have blood
in my mouth.
Randall opens his mouth and turns his head toward Louie.
Louie peers inward to see all kinds of fucking blood in
there.
LOUIE
Yeah dude. That’s full of blood.
You got it all over your mouth, and
your hands and…and the couch and
my shirt and face.
Louie stares around the room while taking a hit off the mega
joint, just now noticing the blood spattered all over.
LOUIE (CONT’D)
Where did all this blood come from?
Did this all come from inside your body?
Louie takes another hit, exhales and immediately starts going
into a coughing fit of his own. Blood is ejected out of his
mouth. Globs of it violently clash with the floor and walls.
Louie turns toward Randall and accidentally coughs a splash
of blood right in his face. Randall barely even takes notice.
LOUIE (CONT’D)
My throat is fucked, dude.
Randall takes the joint from Louie.
RANDALL
We have to go on. You quoted
Galaxy Quest.
Randall takes another hit.
SLOW-MOTION MONTAGE (SOUNDTRACK NOTE: KASHMIR – LED ZEPPELIN)
Randall coughs more blood. He takes a hit. Holds it. Exhales.
Coughs even more blood.
Louie tries to hold in a cough, but the blood just starts leaking
from his nose, ears and eyes.
Randall falls to the floor, heaving and spazming with joint
in mouth.
Louie takes a hit and coughs so hard he accidentally hurls
the joint through the air. It lands, still burning. Randall
collapses onto the couch.
Louie crawls toward the joint. Dead-set on burning it to
the very end. He squirms through his own blood, still
violently coughing and choking. He stops halfway to the
joint, arm reaching out toward it. He goes still.
His eyes staring at nothing.
END MONTAGE/CUT MUSIC.
Randall lies on the couch. His blinking the only sign of life.
RANDALL
God. I’m so high.
Randall’s eyes close. He breathes his last breath. The joint
goes out. JAMAI walks into the room.
JIMMY
Ya’ll smokin’ weed?
CUT TO BLACK
Content pending.
Scripts I Wrote High 