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.