Tag Archives: mismatched shoes

Cooking on a Budget with Sunday Muldoon

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

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