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.
LOUIE enters and seats himself next to Randall.
What are up to?
Were you about to jerk off, cause I
can come back in a couple minutes.
No, this isn’t jerking off porn.
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.
Yeah. Its pretty badass.
If that joint were a woman, I would
have an erection.
You do have an erection.
Touche, my friend.
So are we gonna burn this fucker,
I say we get through about half.
Think again, guy. We’re taking this
one all the way. Are you with me?
My God, man? Do you have any idea
what you’re asking?
I’m asking you to get really, very,
dangerously high with me right now.
Well when you put it that way, I’m
Never give up. Never surrender.
Louie strikes a bic lighter.
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.
Randall sits up.
I’ve never coughed like that
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.
Holy shit. That’s blood, dude!
Where did that come from?
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
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.
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.
My throat is fucked, dude.
Randall takes the joint from Louie.
We have to go on. You quoted
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
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.
God. I’m so high.
Randall’s eyes close. He breathes his last breath. The joint
goes out. JAMAI walks into the room.
Ya’ll smokin’ weed?
CUT TO BLACK
Lieutenant Dick-Fist is like a detective, but with the super-power that his dick is a fist that can thrust itself forth from his crotch and strike things within an immediate distance and that are located in front of his crotch. The Lieutenant’s dick-fist would mostly punch other people’s crotches, some dogs or midgets in the face. Maybe he’s developed a style of martial art which revolves entirely around positioning his crotch into position to maximize the destructive potential of his dick-fist. ? The finale is him and the villain’s dick-fists arm wrestling. That’s not gay is it? Treatment and sketches coming soon.