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Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:15 AM

October 2019 Contest + results
 
Here we go folks. A nice 8 entries.

I've had to reformat most of these and Yahoo mail had a hissy fit. I hope I have done you justice. Any errors let me know ands I'll try to fix.

To anyone and everyone. Vote to shanecameron65 (at) yahoo dot co dot nz please before the 31st


PLEASE NOTE I MISSED ONE SCRIPT - THE CHEMIST POSTED LAST. PLEASE READ BEFORE VOTING

Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:16 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
Body in the woods

Code:


DARKNESS!

A car engine, changes pitch, not volume.  We are in the car.

It stops.  Car doors slam.

Mumbled conversation.

MOONLIGHT

Reverse shot out of a car trunk.  It opens.  Two guys peer
in.  Silhouettes, two, one tall, the other squat. 

Someone laughs.

SOMMERVILLE.  An immense man.  Shaved head. 
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            ****ing Bert and Ernie!  Kidnapped by
            Bert and his little buddy.  Je-sus H.
            ****ing cornholing Christ what a
            shitty low point in my life I have
            reached!
                       
                        BERT
            Shut up.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Get out.

EXT. WOODS CARPARK - CONTINUOUS

Both men are armed.  Bert with a shotgun.  Ernie with an
automatic 45.

They step back.

Oh and they definitely look like Bert and Ernie.  For real.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Get the **** out!

He waves his pistol.

With a heartfelt groan their prisoner starts moving.  And
moving.  And moving.  He's huge.

He steps out of the trunk, the car rises on its springs. 
They creak.  He's huge.  His hands are cuffed in front of
him.  He rolls his shoulders and neck.  His neck cracks.  He
sighs.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Now what?
                       
                        BERT
            We go for a little walk.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            To a bar?  I've got the first round.
                       
                        BERT
            Funny.
                    (points)
            Into the woods.

Sommerville nods curtly.  Strides off.  The other two have to
trot to catch him.

They do.
                       
                        BERT (cont'd)
            What the ****?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Going for a walk.  You parked the car
            beside this path.  I figured...
                       
                        ERNIE
            Well yeah.  Wait.  Okay?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Why?  Scared of the dark?
                       
                        ERNIE
            Me?  You're the one in shitstreet!

Sommerville snorts.  Pauses.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Are we going or not?
                       
                        BERT
            This way.  There's a clearing or
            something.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Right lets get this done.

Ernie gets in his way.
                       
                        ERNIE
            I don't think you understand.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            You sound like you're scared.  What's
            up?  Can't face what's coming?

Ernie thumps him with his shotgun muzzle.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Get moving! 
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
                    (to Bert)
            I don't think your friend's ever
            killed anyone before.  I reckon he's
            up to it?

Bert refuses to answer but he glances at his accomplice.
                       
                        ERNIE
            I can do it.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            We'll see.

EXT. WOODS CLEARING - MOMENTS LATER

The moon has fully risen.  They emerge.  Bert and Ernie
lagging behind Sommerville.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Don't you run.  We'll gun you down.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Isn't that the plan?
                       
                        ERNIE
            When we're ready.
                       
                        BERT
            Louie the rat texted he'd leave a
            shovel here.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Louie?  You haven't dug the hole yet? 
            ****ing amateurs!
                       
                        ERNIE
            Listen...
                       
                        BERT
            No.  Actually we are professionals. 
            we don't dig holes.  You do!

He pokes Sommerville with his shotgun.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            **** is that a cliche or what?  Dig
            the hole.  we don't dig holes, we're
            professionals.
                       
                        BERT
            Just do it.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Or what?
                       
                        BERT
            I'll shoot you now.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            **** it.  then you'll have to dig the
            hole.
                    (pause)
            **** it!  A few more minutes on this
            stinking planet I guess.
                       
                        ERNIE
            You don't seem very surprised.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            You know Louie the Rat, I know Louie. 
            We are not buddies.  In fact after
            last week...
                       
                        BERT
            There!  The shovel.

In the clearing is another clearing.  Bare dirt.  Only a few
spotted weeds.

He kicks the shovel to Sommerville.  He catches it.

Wordlessly he starts digging.

The hole gets deeper.  The pile of earth grows.

Time passes.
                       
                        BERT (cont'd)
            Okay, okay that's big enough.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Nah I'm a big lad.  Needs more foot
            room for my big sleep.
                       
                        BERT
            Big sle... Really trying to eck out
            that last few minutes?

Sommerville keeps shoveling.
                       
                        ERNIE
            What the **** is that smell?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Nature.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Bullshit!
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Could be.  But nah.  That is mother
            nature at her finest.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Doing what?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Composting I'd say.
                       
                        BERT
            Like it's going to do to you?

Sommerville keeps digging.
                       
                        ERNIE
            God that smell's getting really bad.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Have you buried anyone else here?
                       
                        ERNIE
            Don't be ****ing stupid.  Why would
            you bury someone in the same place?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Convenience?

He taps something with the shovel tip.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE (cont'd)
            Dunno about you, but someone's buried
            someone here.  This here, is a body.
                       
                        BERT
            What?  who?  Where?  Get out of there!

Sommerville clambers out.  Holds the shovel ready to swing. 
But they're ready.

He drops it.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            See, that's a jacket.
                       
                        ERNIE
                    (amazed)
            What are the ****ing chances?
                       
                        BERT
            Who is it?  You!  Back in the hole and
            drag that carcass out of there.

Sommerville jumps back in the hole and swears.
                       
                        ERNIE
            What?
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            Jumped on him.  he dead farted.
                       
                        ERNIE
            Jesus!
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            He didn't feel a thing.
                       
                        BERT
            Lift him the **** out of there you big
            bastard!

Sommerville squats over the muddy body.  Grabs the jacket
lapels.  Strains.  Grabs the jacket differently.  Strains
again.  Lifts.
                       
                        BERT (cont'd)
            Get it over here.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            It's a him.
                       
                        BERT
            Get "him" the **** over here then. 
            Throw him.

Sommerville does.  he is that big.  He is that strong.

The body flops between the two henchmen.  A small man,
pinched rodent like features.  Smeared with fresh mud.  A
bullet hole in his forehead.
                       
                        ERNIE
            The Rat.  Louie the Rat...
                       
                        BERT
            What the...

CLICK.

The slide on an automatic pistol.

They turn.

Sommerville has a cell phone in his left hand.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE
            The Rat texted you?

Sommerville has a very muddy pistol pointed at them in his
right.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE (cont'd)
            Dumb!

They both try to react.

Too late.
                       
                        SOMMERVILLE (cont'd)
            A twofer!

Boom!  Boom!


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:17 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
BURY ME DEEP

Code:



INT. FUNERAL HOME FOYER - DAY

Front door opens, SADFACE CLOWN enters.  He wears a blue
curly wig, a purple stripe clown outfit and big red shoes.


INT. FUNERAL HOME GATHERING ROOM - DAY

Sadface Clown peeks into the room.

At the front, a coffin on display, the top half open.  We
don't get to see who's inside yet.

Sitting in the front row, all alone, a sobbing WIDOW in
black, her face hidden by a veil.  Good legs, though.

                      FUNERAL DIRECTOR (O.S.)
          What do you think you're doing?


INT. FUNERAL HOME FOYER - DAY

Sadface Clown turns, FUNERAL DIRECTOR doesn't look happy. 
He gestures, indicating the clown make-up, the big shoes.

                      FUNERAL DIRECTOR
          This is highly disrepectful towards
          the deceased.  I'm afraid I'm going
          to have to ask you to leave.

Sadface Clown pulls out a huge goddamn revolver.  Funeral
Director holds up his hands and steps back.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Gimme 5 minutes.  Then you can
          call the cops.  5 minutes, hear?

Funeral Director nods quickly.

Sadface Clown opens the door, enters the gathering room.


INT. FUNERAL HOME GATHERING ROOM - DAY

Sadface Clown waddles his way down the aisle to the front.

The Widow becomes aware she's not alone, she turns her
head to look at Sadface Clown.  Her sobbing dries up, she
takes a hankie from her purse, blows her nose.

                      WIDOW
          Who the hell are you? 

Sadface Clown steps up to the coffin.

The occupant is a man in his 40s, might have been handsome
once, looks kinda waxy now.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          You might want to look away.

The Widow stands up, shoves her veil up on top of her hat,
she ain't ugly, her face is streaked with teary mascara.

                      WIDOW
          The ****?

Sadface Clown blocks her view with his body, and just as
well, he's doing something to the body.

CRASH-WHAM a chair explodes over his shoulders, he staggers
to one side, stunned.

A microsecond's glimpse of the corpse's face, his now-open
mouth twisted in a rictus of grinning teeth.

The Widow throws away the remains of the chair, picks up
another one, gets ready to hit him again.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Wait!

He steadies himself against the coffin.

The Widow hesitates, ready to let him have it.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I had to make sure.

                      WIDOW
          You're a sick piece of ****, get
          your ass out of here.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          This isn't him.

The Widow swings the chair wildly, Sadface Clown retreats
just in time to avoid having his face rearranged.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          It's not him!

                      WIDOW
          You don't even know him!  Get out!

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Sylvester Krinkle, right?

                      WIDOW
          Anyone could have told you his
          name!  His obituary's in the
          newspaper!

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I know, I saw it.

She shouts to whoever might be outside,

                      WIDOW
          Help!  This freak's trying to ****
          my dead husband!

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Jesus, lady, I'm not trying to
          **** anyone, what is wrong with
          you?  Anyway, it's not your husband.

                      WIDOW
          You are deranged.
              (shouts)
          Need some help in here!

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Sylvester's got a gold tooth, right
          here.

He lifts his top lip, points to his own upper gum.

                      WIDOW
          He's being cremated!  They take
          gold teeth out.

Sadface Clown gestures to the coffin.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          That guy's got all his teeth.  He
          could be in a toothpaste ad!  He
          looks kinda like Sylvester, but it
          ain't him.

The Widow side-eyes the guy in the coffin.

                      WIDOW
          You're an idiot.  Of course it's
          him.  You think I wouldn't recognize
          my own husband?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          It could be Bette Middler under
          all that makeup.  Look again. 
          Check his teeth.

                      WIDOW
          Step the **** back.

Sadface Clown holds up his hands and retreats a little.

The Widow approaches the open coffin... looks at the dead
guy... leans in closer and inspects his teeth.

She straightens, tries to figure this out.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I knew it.  I knew that rat bastard
          would try to screw me.

The Widow looks from clown to corpse to clown.

                      WIDOW
          Why are you made up like a clown?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I'm in disguise.

                      WIDOW
          You look like an idiot.  This is a
          supposed to be a funeral service.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          For Sylvester, who isn't the guy
          in the coffin.

                      WIDOW
          How do you know my husband?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          It's a long story.

                      WIDOW
          I got time.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I don't.  Cops are gonna be here
          soon.

                      WIDOW
          You got wheels?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Yeah.

She puts down the chair.

                      WIDOW
          Let's go.

Sadface Clown jerks a thumb at the coffin.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          What about him?

                      WIDOW
          What about him?


INT./EXT. CLOWN CAR (MOVING) - DAY

The smallest car imaginable.  Sadface Clown and the Widow
are squeezed shoulder to shoulder inside.

                      WIDOW
          We got married in June.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Congratulations.

The Widow looks out her side window, ensaddened.

                      WIDOW
          Everything he told me was a lie.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          You believed him because you wanted
          to.

                      WIDOW
          You don't know anything about me.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I've seen him in action, he could
          charm the pants off Rosie O'Donnell.

                      WIDOW
          And what about you?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I never was much of a ladies' man. 
          Sylvester was always the Lone
          Ranger.  I'm just the horse, no
          one even noticed me.

                      WIDOW
          I think you're getting your
          metaphors mixed up, you're the
          Dumb and Dumber of thieves.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          That's not very nice.

                      WIDOW
          You went and got yourself caught
          while Sylvester took off with the
          money.  He feathered himself a
          tidy little nest while you rotted
          in prison.
              (puzzled)
          The hell did you get out?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          The circus came to town.  The warden
          thought it would be nice if they
          put on a performance for us
          prisoners.  He's one of those
          progressive types.  So he invited
          them inside.

The Widow looks him up and down with disbelief.

                      WIDOW
          So you...?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Punched out one of the guards and
          put on his uniform.  I didn't hurt
          him none.  I slapped make-up on
          him and stuffed him into the clown
          fire truck.  When the guards found
          him they thought he was a prisoner
          trying to escape.  While they were
          running around blowing their
          whistles, I walked out the gates.

                      WIDOW
          None of that makes sense.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I know, but it's what happened.

                      WIDOW
          How'd you get this car?  And the
          clown stuff?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Borrowed them from the circus, how
          do ya think?

The Widow points ahead.

                      WIDOW
          Over there.


EXT. HOUSE - DAY

The clown car pulls up.  The doors open and Sadface Clown
and the Widow squeeze themselves out.  They straighten and
tilt their heads this way and that and rotate their hips
to get the kinks out.

The Widow indicates the car sitting in the driveway.

                      WIDOW
          I don't recognize that car.

They hurry up the driveway and enter the house.


INT. HOUSE FOYER - DAY

Sadface Clown and the Widow pause, looking around and
listening.

Footsteps upstairs -- they hurry to conceal themselves.

SYLVESTER comes downstairs, whistling happily and carrying
a suitcase.  He looks similar to the guy in the coffin,
but he's alive of course.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Hey buddy.

Sylvester nearly jumps out of his skin.

Sadface Clown and the Widow confront him.

                      SYLVESTER
          How in the what now?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          It's good to see you alive and
          breathing, partner.  Hell, I heard
          you were dead.

                      WIDOW
          That's funny, I heard the same
          thing.

                      SYLVESTER
          Clearly there's been a
          misunderstanding here.

                      WIDOW
          If I look in that case, am I going
          to find my jewelry and the money
          from my safe in there?

                      SYLVESTER
          Darling, you're loaded, you won't
          even miss them.

                      WIDOW
          You bastard.

                      SYLVESTER
          Aw, is that any way to talk to
          your husband?

Sylvester pulls out a gun.

                      SYLVESTER
          Wish you hadn't showed up.  Now I
          gotta do this.

Sadface Clown pulls out his huge revolver.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          Mine's bigger'n yours.

Sylvester chuckles, it turns into a laugh.

                      SYLVESTER
          You think I'm stupid?  You think I
          don't know that's a clown gun?  Go
          on, pull the trigger.  I want to
          see the BANG!  Right after, I'm
          gonna shoot you, and then the little
          lady.  Sorry darlin'.  Needs must.

BANG!  The huge revolver bucks.  When the smoke clears
Sylvester's lying there with a big hole in him.

                      WIDOW
          Jesus Christ, you killed him.

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          I couldn't let him shoot you.

                      WIDOW
          What do we do with the body?

                      SADFACE CLOWN
          You're not going to call the cops?

                      WIDOW
          What did they ever do for me? 
          They never even caught the bastard
          who murdered my husband.

Sadface Clown thinks hard.


EXT. CEMETERY - DAY

A coffin is lowered into a hole in the earth.

Only two mourners by the graveside, the Clown and the Widow.

                      WIDOW
          At least he'll have company.

FADE OUT


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:19 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
Digging up bones PtI

Code:

Music from a car radio fades up over black.
                     
                      RANDY TRAVIS (V.O.)
          I’m diggin’ up bones,
          I’m diggin’ up bones,
          Exhuming things that’s better left
          alone.
          And I’m resurrecting mem’ries,
          of a love that’s dead and gone.
          Yeah, tonight I’m sittin’ alone,
          diggin’ up bones.

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY SLUM BACKSTREET - NIGHT

A full moon lights the night. A dim street lamp crackles and
pops. Amid the dim glow of city light pollution, it imitates
lightning as it shines an intermittent bright light to the
dead street below. Wayward trash tumbles across the street.

On the sidewalk, a bearded, shaggy old HOMELESS MAN, dressed
in a stained winter hat and heavy coat, shuffles along the
cracked and broken city sidewalk. He pushes a grocery cart of
black plastic trash bags, each one full. His breath condenses
in the air when he huffs and grunts to make the cart go
forward over the cracks and bumps of the sidewalk.

EXT. PARKED SEDAN ON STREET - NIGHT

The silhouette of a man in the driver’s seat blinks in and
out of view each time the streetlamp becomes brightly lit.

INT. PARKED SEDAN ON STREET - NIGHT

DAVID WAYNE SPENCE — his face illuminated by the light of the
car radio and the dim dashboard — swivels his head to search
the street for activity other than the Homeless Man.

Nothing.

The song “Diggin’ Up Bones” begins to end as David Wayne
Spence reaches over to power off the radio. The RADIO DISC
JOCKEY talks over the song’s end to introduce the next song.
David Wayne Spence hesitates and listens.
                     
                      RADIO DISC JOCKEY (V.O.)
          That was Randy Travis with “Diggin’ Up
          Bones” here on K-O-R-N Country Radio’s
          Halloween weekend special.

The next song transitions into play on the air.
                     
                      RADIO DISC JOCKEY (V.O.)
          And now, with another song of the
          season, here’s Johnny Paycheck with
          “Pardon Me, I’ve Got Someone To Kill.”
                     
                      JOHNNY PAYCHECK (V.O.)
          I know you’ll excuse me
          if I say goodnight
          I’ve got a promise to fulfill.
          Thank you for listening
          to my troubles
          Pardon me,
          I’ve got someone to kill.

CLICK. David Wayne Spence turns off the radio. He grins a
malevolent grin, STARTS the engine, and shifts the car into
“Drive.”

David Wayne Spence spins the steering wheel away from the
curb, GUNS the engine, and steers toward the Homeless Man and
his grocery cart.

EXT. CITY SLUM BACKSTREET - NIGHT

When he hears the sedan’s engine gunned to life and the car’s
approach, the doddering Homeless Man turns around.

The car’s headlights bear down on him and grow brighter by
the second.

Eyes opened wide and paralyzed with fear, the Homeless Man
freezes.

EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

In an alleyway across the street from the Homeless Man,
tucked around the corner of a building, a pile of trash sits
in a heap. AMOS MOSES — another homeless man —  sits buried
in the pile of trash.

From the top of the heap, the sullen eyes of Amos Moses peer
out from beneath the visor of a frayed and tattered baseball
cap.

He watches the action unfold between the Homeless Man and
David Wayne Spence.

EXT. CITY SLUM BACKSTREET - NIGHT

SERIES OF SHOTS: David Wayne Spence Kills the Homeless Man

Intercut with EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT to show Amos Moses.

-- The sedan arrives at the Homeless Man and stops short of
driving up on the sidewalk. The trunk pops open.

-- The Homeless Man digs furiously among his possessions.

-- David Wayne Spence hurriedly exits the car with a piece of
galvanized pipe in hand.

-- The Homeless Man desperately yanks on a large bag. It
comes up, snags, and falls halfway over the side of the cart.
A small hole tears open at the snag.

-- David Wayne Spence’s first blow strikes the Homeless Man.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Goddamn homeless piece of ****!

-- The Homeless Man turns and raises his arms in self-
defense, crossed to protect his head.
                     
                      HOMELESS MAN
          Please! I’m a disabled veteran!
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          So what? Who cares? Get some of this!

-- David Wayne Spence strikes a second blow to the Homeless
Man’s face. A third blow. A fourth blow. More.

-- Amos Moses winces from beneath the visor of his cap as
each blow rains down on the Homeless Man.

-- David Wayne Spence beats the Homeless Man into a heap of
rags on the sidewalk.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Useless son of a bitch!

-- Amos Moses closes his eyes and slinks farther down into
the pile of garbage that surrounds him.
                     
                      AMOS MOSES
          Lord help him!

-- David Wayne Spence picks up the body of the Homeless Man
and places it in the trunk of the sedan. He gets in the sedan
and drives away.

-- The SOUND of the SEDAN ENGINE dies away.

END SERIES OF SHOTS

EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

Standing now, Amos Moses peers out from the corner of the
building. He checks both ways, then quickly scurries across
the street to the abandoned grocery cart full of bags.

EXT. CITY SLUM BACKSTREET - SIDEWALK -  NIGHT

The weight of the part of the bag halfway over the side of
the cart causes the hole to tear open more. A few pieces of
crumpled, wadded “trash” tumble from the open hole.

The hole stretches open a little more. More pieces of “trash”
dribble out.

Amos Moses comes up to the cart. He sees some of the
crumpled, wadded “trash” hit the sidewalk. It begins to
tumbleweed down the sidewalk. Amos Moses’ eyes grow wide.

He scoops up all the nearby “trash” and raises it to eye
level. Cash bills of various denominations fill his fists.
                     
                      AMOS MOSES
          Whoa. Thank you, Jesus! Won’t He do it?
          Won’t He will! Amen! Whoa.

Amos Moses stuffs what he holds into the hole in the bag of
cash, then grabs the hole in the bag to seal it. He lifts the
heavy bag back into the grocery cart.

Amos casts furtive glances left and right as he trundles the
rattling, clattering grocery cart back to his alleyway.
                                 
                                  DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD CUL-DE-SAC - NIGHT

David Wayne Spence turns his sedan onto a cul-de-sac street.

Signs for Real Estate firms with “Foreclosure” riders stand
planted out in front of all but the two corner-lot houses
that face one another.

One vehicle sits parked in each of the driveways of the two
facing corner lot homes. On one mailbox the name says A.
STILLMAN IV, and on the other mailbox the name says F. B.
DEEMING V.

David Wayne Spence drives past these two homes to a house
with boarded windows at the end of the cul-de-sac.

EXT. ABANDONED FORECLOSED HOME - NIGHT

David Wayne Spence pulls into the driveway of a home with
boarded windows at the end of the cul-de-sac.

The car’s headlights glance past a Real Estate sign with a
“Foreclosed” rider on top.

He parks behind the home, out of sight from the road.

Under the trees that grow along the fence, the headlights
illuminate a broken split-rail fence in a corner at the end
of the overgrown yard. David Wayne Spence turns off the
sedan’s engine.

EXT. SUBURBAN LOT - NIGHT

David Wayne Spence emerges from the area of the broken split-
rail fence out onto a large, undeveloped tract of land, a
vacant open lot. He wears a headlamp turned off.

He carries a shovel in one hand and the body of the Homeless
Man over his shoulder. He walks a short distance along the
shadows created by the trees, then scouts the lot area.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Light’s just right. Perfect.

David Wayne Spence allows the dead man’s body to slide from
his shoulder. The body hits the ground with a dull WHUMP.
David Wayne Spence takes up his shovel and begins to dig.
                                 
                                  DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. SUBURBAN LOT - GRAVE SITE - NIGHT

David Wayne Spence stands waist-deep in the fresh grave and
shovels dirt. He throws shovelfuls of dirt over his shoulder
with the rhythm of a character in a television cartoon.

On the next thrust of the shovel into the dirt, it makes a
THUD sound. David Wayne Spence turns on his headlamp’s red
light. He peers down, then sweeps away some dirt with one
hand.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          What the — is that a — what!? No way!

By the red light of the headlamp, David Wayne Spence finesses
the shovel to dig around the object, then reaches down to get
it. He casts his shovel far from the grave, then turns off
his headlamp.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          No way, man!

He reaches down to lift a human skull. He brushes away dirt
clods to better examine the skull by the moonlight.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Whoa.

Behind David Wayne Spence appears FREDERICK B. DEEMING, who
holds a length of galvanized pipe.

Frederick B. Deeming raises the pipe to strike David Wayne
Spence. His clothing RUSTLES and gives him away.

David Wayne Spence turns in time to catch the pipe’s blow to
his forehead. He reels and crumples into the freshly dug
grave, still conscious but in great pain.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          Found my private cemetery, did you?
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Ohhh. Ow. I — I didn’t mean to, man.
          C’mon. Don’t hurt me, bruh. I mean, it
          looks like we’re in the same line of
          work, y’know what I’m sayin’? Unh.

Frederick B. Deeming kneels beside the freshly dug grave to
be closer to David Wayne Spence’s face.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          So I see. Yes, it does appear to be
          that way, now, doesn’t it?
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Ouch! Ohhh. My head. Ow. Man.

Frederick B. Deeming tilts his head toward the crumpled heap
of a body near the grave.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          And just who is it that you brought to
          MY killing field this evening, rookie?
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Unh. Homeless. Homeless guy. I whack
          homeless pukes in the city for kicks.
          Worthless scumbags. Ow. Damn.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          Hmph. Easy pickin’s. Doesn’t seem like
          much of a challenge, now, does it?

David Wayne Spence inhales a breath through clenched teeth.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Some of ’em. Sometimes they’re high on
          meth, and they fight back pretty hard.
          What about you? Whoever you are. What’s
          your specialty?

David Wayne Spence adjusts his headlamp to massage his
forehead.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          The name’s Frederick Bailey Deeming the
          Fifth. Hollywood types are my game. I’m
          better known locally as the Hollywood
          Killer.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          What? Did you say “Hollywood types”?
          What do you mean by that?
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          Producers, agents, screenwriters — the
          whole kit ’n’ caboodle of ’em. There’s
          far too many of ’em, and they’re more
          of a challenge. Crafty devils, those
          screenwriters, though. Harder to kill.

Frederick B. Deeming turns to spit, then looks down on David
Wayne Spence.
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          It’s like me huntin’ wild lions
          compared to you and those defenseless
          kittens that you knock off.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Damn. But... why? I mean, why them in
          particular, the “Hollywood types”?
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          Why not them? Probably for the same
          reasons as you have — the herd’s too
          big, so you have to thin ’em out; the
          less of ’em, the better; society and
          the world are better off without ’em.

David Wayne Spence rubs his aching head.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          Wow. Man. Yeah, I dig that. Cool. Hey.
          So, are WE cool, man? You and me?
                     
                      FREDERICK BAILEY DEEMING
          I’ve introduced myself. Your turn.

.


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:20 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
Digging up bones PtII

Code:

Frederick Bailey Deeming extends his hand. David Wayne Spence
extends his hand.
                     
                      DAVID WAYNE SPENCE
          David. David Wayne Spence.

Deeming grasps the hand as if to shake it. At the same time,
with his other hand, he strikes Spenceís head with the
galvanized pipe. David Wayne Spence goes down.

Deeming slides into the grave and straddles David Wayne
Spence to bludgeon him. The headlampís white flashlight
accidentally turns on and illuminates Frederick B. Deemingís
face. With each stroke, blood spray spatters all over him.

Frederick Bailey Deeming pauses to catch his breath.

Behind Deeming stands DETECTIVE ARCHY STILLMAN, the cast off
shovel in hand. He raises the shovel and brings it down
repeatedly on Deemingís head until he kills him.

Detective Archy Stillman takes out his cell phone and dials.
                     
                      DESK DUTY OFFICER (V.O.)
          Police. What is your emergency?
                     
                      DETECTIVE ARCHY STILLMAN
          Detective Stillman here. Caught the
          Hollywood Killer. Yes, Iím fine. No, no
          shots fired. In the field behind my cul-
          de-sac. Iíll wait here. Bring four body-
          bags. Yes. Thatís right. More if youíve
          got íem. All right. Bye.

Detective Archy Stillman looks down at his cell phone and
taps it. The phone plays a country song.
                     
                      CORB LUND (V.O.)
          Dig, dig, Gravedigger.
          Dig, Gravedigger, dig.
          Work that shovel with vigor,
          Gravedigger.
          Before rigor mortis sets in, dig.
          Dig, dig, Gravedigger.
          Dig, Gravedigger, dig.
          That big old hole just keeps gettiní
          bigger,
          So dig, Gravedigger, dig.

Far below, from the foot of the hillside, the WAIL of
approaching SIRENS wafts through the air


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:21 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
PANDEMIC

Code:

EXT. HILLSIDE URBAN STREET - DAY

Empty.  Leaves and litter blow by. 

We hear a strange, almost sexual, grunting.

Uh- uh- uh  uhhhhh!

Finally...

Simon Nixon staggers into sight.  The grunting isn't sexual. 
He's straining, pushing a wheel barrow.  Draped over the
wheel barrow in an unconscious blond.

We close on Nixon.  He's looks special.  Ahhhhhh **** the PC
world, the guy's clearly a drooling retardo.

Otherwise though, average height, solid build, looking quite
raggedity around the edges.  Dirty looking, 3-4 days beard. 
Hair unwashed. 

He pauses.  Almost spills the girl.  lowers the barrow. 
Eases the cramp from his hands.

He eyes the girl.  There's a whole lot of cleavage and leg
showing.

Licks his lips.

Stretches out a hand, trembling.
                       
                        NIXON
            No, no, no, nononononono!

Hit's himself in the temple.  Hard.  Then again.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            Keep moving.  Gotta keep moving. 
            Move!  Move!

Takes the handles again.  Hint of panic.  Grunts.  Moves. 
Further up the street.  Step by step.  Zigzagging.

EXT. WESTSIDE CLINIC - CONTINUOUS

Nixon reaches the car park.  A single car is parked there. 
Badly.  Sideways, across three spaces.  It's dented front and
back, scratched down the sides.  Late model Mercedes.

Nixon reaches it.  Rests.  He caresses the car.  Scrabbles
through his pockets, like a kid.  Finds keys.

Presses the remote.

The clinic door unlocks.  An expression crosses his face. 
Momentary there's a sense of clarity.  A brief surge of IQ.
                       
                        NIXON
            Yeah, yeah yeah.  Clin-ic.  Yep-yep-
            yep.  Delivery.  Good boy.  Good boy.

He trots towards the door.  Hits his palm to his head.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            DELIVERY!

Returns to the wheel barrow.  Lifts it.  Up the handicapped
ramp.  Enters the clinic.

INT. WESTSIDE CLINIC - CONTINUOUS

Blood smears the wall.  A shoulder smudged along two meters. 
Hand prints.  A bullet hole.

Someone has sprayed arrows on the wall in fluorescent orange. 
He follows them. 

Other people though - zero.

INT. LAB - CONTINUOUS

Nixon wheel the barrow to the middle of the room. 

There's a while enamel bath.  Splattered and stained. 
Awkwardly he lifts the woman from the barrow.  Half drops her
into the bath.  Thud!
                       
                        NIXON
            Sorry lady, opps sopps dopps.

We see a pressure switch under the the bath.  It's triggered.

A TV flicks on.  A man appears.  Nixon, maybe a fortnight
earlier.  Cleaner, shaven, tidy.  Recorded.

He fixes his future self with a steely gaze.
                       
                        DR NIXON
            Good you've found someone.  Hope it
            didn't take too long.  Jesus what a
            ****ing mess.

The recorded figure takes a huge breath.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            There's a block and tackle rigged to
            the ceiling... 
                    (there is indeed)
            Loop their feet in the noose and
            elevate them. 

The recording goes static for a moment then starts repeating.

Nixon fumbles repeatedly.  Finally the woman's feet are
secured.  He hauls on the rope.  She's lifted over the bath. 
Swinging slightly.  Starting to come around.

We see a knot in the rope pass through another switch.  The
recording blips, the changes.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Good man, good.  You're doing very
            very well.  Good man!

Nixon beams at the praise.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Now comes the hard part.  Cut her
            throat. 
                    (Nixon whimpers -
                    wide eyed)
            Common you can do it.  Common you have
            to do it.  Mister Nixon, take the
            scalpel and cut her throat.  Mister
            Nixon, now!  Do as I say!

Nixon holds the scalpel like a three year old clutches a
crayon.  He strikes.  Blood jets out.  He strikes again.  The
woman wakes, gurgling, trying to scream, dying.

The cascade of blood is caught by the tub.  Two-three liters
gush out.  It's pumped to a machine.

Nixon huddles crying, watching, not fully understanding.

The blood going into the drain triggers another switch.

The video blips. 
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            You did what you had to.  You are our
            only hope.  You have to do as I say. 
            Do you understand?  Do you?
                       
                        NIXON
            Feel bad.
                       
                        DR NIXON
            Good, good-good.  Now you must wait
            while.  Take a seat.

The seat is right beside the bloody bath.

Nixon shakes his head.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Take a seat.  Rest.  Common.  I'll
            find some sweeties.

Nixon sits.  The seat traps him.  Straps around his chest. 
More secure his arms and legs.  He wriggles but this trap was
thought out.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Don't Panic.  Just be calm. 

Nixon is anything but.  A spray mists his face.  He calms
down.  Passes out.

Beside him the woman's blood is purified.  Fresh glisten red
blood into a tube, creamy yellow sludge into a phial.  The
blood is centrifuged to plasma.

Robotic arms secures his arms.  Needles extrude.  He has
crosses tattooed over veins.  Heavy bruising over the veins. 
Like a junkie.  Automated needles find the veins.  Stab
through the crosses.  Thick dark blood comes out.  Filtered
and mixed with plasma.  Reintroduced.

TIME PASSES.

Another spray mists his face.

He wakes.

The needles slide out.

The straps loosen.

He stares at the inverted woman.  Dead and bled dry.
                       
                        NIXON
            Oh ****.

Rubs his arm.

He staggers out of the chair.  Reaches to the woman.  Doesn't
touch her.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            ****!  ****!  ****!

A sensor clicks.

The video resumes playing.  The new Dr Nixon is somewhere
between the first image and the man now viewing it.
                       
                        DR NIXON
            You'll recall this in time but we have
            to move fast, get us up to speed. 
            Plague, North Korean, we think.  It's
            clogs the blood.  Reduces cognitive
            function.  Drastically.  If untreated
            permanently.  Oxygen starvation.

The video image seems to peer at the man.  Inspecting him.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            God knows how many IQ points we've
            lost.  I don't know how long you...
            we've been infected.  This is simply a
            recording.  But if you seeing this
            video **** has gotten real.  Your body
            can't replenish what's being filtered
            away, if you're seeing this you've had
            to kill to make up the shortfall with
            compatible blood, more likely plasma.

Nixon closes his eyes and lets the voice continue.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Even with the very best filtration you
            might have five or six days.  Cold
            symptoms will come first, weariness,
            fatigue followed by... we what can
            only be described as mental
            retardation.  It seems to stabilize at
            an IQ between 40 and 70.  Ideal
            cognitive function for a slave worker
            in a socialist state.

Nixon catches his reflection in a dead computer monitor. 
Wild haired, grubby.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            My advice work fast.  Review the data,
            work towards new tests with all
            expediency.  Follow the filtration
            regime and in a few days you're going
            to need a fresh transfusion.  Maybe
            you'll luck upon the right blood type,
            otherwise plasma. 

He pauses again, looking really old.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            I'm sorry future me, I'd love to offer
            you more hope but you are hope.  I
            have the skills to find a cure,
            hopefully you do to.

The video image points towards the viewer.
                       
                        DR NIXON (cont'd)
            Work fast now.  Dispose of the body,
            for your own sake.  There's no such
            thing as a functioning state out there
            now.  Dispose of the body and start
            work.  Work hard, Work fast and be
            ruthless.  Whatever's left of mankind
            needs you.

Nixon glances at the stack of folders next to him.  Idly
leafs through one.
                       
                        NIXON
            I don't remember.  The fate of
            mankind...

He glances at the dead woman.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            You first.  I can't think with you
            there.

He lowers the body.  She flops back into the wheel barrow.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            I'm a killer.  But I can be the
            savior.  God, I just wish my brain
            would kick start.

He takes the handles of the barrow.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            Where do I hide a body?  Where the
            **** do I...  Ahhhh I guess at this
            stage...  Yeah.

He wheels the body through the clinic.

He stops at a water cooler.  Gulps a glass.

Crumples his fists into his eyes.  Stretches.

He thumps his head, heal of his palm against his forehead.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            Think Goddamnit!

Looks blank.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            You have to save the world you dumb
            S.O.B.

His gaze falls on the dead woman again.  Dead blank eyes seem
to stare at him.
                       
                        NIXON (cont'd)
            Please don't look at me.  I'm just
            trying to save everyone... else.  ****
            I have to get you out of here first!

INT. CLINIC - CONTINUOUS

He wheels her down the corridor and into a vacant lunchroom. 
Its a mess.  Tables and chairs knocked over.

Someone has sprayed paint on the wall.  DON'T!

The far side of the room the doors are open to a deck.

He doesn't stop.

He trundles across the wooden deck.  Wheelbarrow wheel THUDS
across each plank.

He brakes.  Suddenly.  The woman topples off the barrow,
flops onto the deck, rolls under the balcony, and over.

SPLOT!

Nixon frowns.

He edges closer to the balcony.

Peers over.

Mouths the word ****.

EXT. BELOW THE BALCONY - CONTINUOUS

The dead woman lays akimbo.  Beneath her lies a slightly
older body.  And another. 

And another.

And another.

Eighty or ninety bodies lay there.

The woman is the freshest.  Progressively, they get older. 
The oldest several months old.

Nixon staggers back so he can't see.

Slumps against the wall.  Slowly, rhythmically he starts
thumping his head against the wall.
                       
                        NIXON
            I'd forgotten.  I swear it.


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:22 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
Code:

THE CREDIT BUREAU
                                       
                                        FADE IN:

INT. WAITING ROOM - DAY

Outdated and barren. Chairs line the walls. The lights
flicker overhead making a BUZZ noise. An office door in one
end. The glass on the door says "The Credit Bureau".

INT. OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

A dark, not so modern office. An OVERFLOWING ashtray sits on
a beautiful wooden desk. By far the nicest thing in the room.
SHIRLEY(100's?) sits behind the desk. Smoke billows from most
parts of her body. She's old school, just like her 200 pound
monitor.

JEFFERY LAUNCHER(40's) sits across the desk on the only chair
there. He's a man of opposites. 

Big face but small eyes, eight slice toaster head but only a
few carefully placed strands of hair. Short legs and big
feet, the total package.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
                    (using his own
                    personal)
                    (sign language)
            I'm re-tired. Do... you...
            understand?
                       
                        SHIRLEY
            Listen listen listen. I need you to
            train someone. The last guy was a
            disaster.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Not my problem.
                       
                        SHIRLEY
            You can get your hundredth credit.

Launcher calms down and perks up, his feet get closer to
touching the floor.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            The all time leader.

Shirley starts hacking and coughing. She uses a shiny silver
lighter to light another smoke. Her hands shake. The flame
almost singes her eyebrows.

            LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            When?
                       
                        SHIRLEY
            Right now, the credit is time
            sensitive.

Shirley pushes a button on her desk. The door opens and
SLY(29) bursts in. He's the opposite of Launcher. Tall,
handsome and has normal sized body parts. He's dressed like a
wannabe mafia hit man.
                       
                        SHIRLEY (CONT’D)
            Launcher, this is Sly, your
            replacement.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

A van drives along a country road. The leaves have turned
colors. The sun is getting low in the sky.
The van slows and turns down a smaller country road and
parks. This is the middle of nowhere.

INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS

Launcher sits hunched over the wheel. He can barely see over
the dash.

Launcher takes a look at Sly in the passenger seat. Looks him
up and down.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            And you think you can replace me?

Launcher opens the door.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            Come on young me, we gotta get rid
            of the credit.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - CONTINUOUS

Sly gets out of the van and goes to the back doors. Launcher
heads into the bush. He comes out pushing a wooden cart.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Just where I left it. When we
            finish, make sure you put it back
            there.

Sly gets out of the way. Launcher is all business, he puts
the cart down and rips open the van doors.

A big sack is on the van floor. It looks like a giant bag of
potatoes.

Launcher grabs it and starts to pull.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            A little help.

Sly takes a side and they pull the sack out and slide it into
the cart.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D) (cont'd)
            That was easy.
                       
                        SLY
                    (Mumbles)
            Piece of piss.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            You're a pretty chatty guy eh Sly.
                       
                        SLY
            That's what your wife says.

Launcher just looks at him. One more job. He picks up the
cart and walks towards the bush ... in he goes.

EXT. WALKING PATH - CONTINUOUS

Launcher comes out of the bush and pushes the cart up a small
hill onto a long and winding path with trees on both sides.
The fall colors are impressive.

Sly stumbles out, looks around, proceeds up the hill.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Here you push this. Do something.

Launcher puts the cart down and checks his watch.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            We got five minutes. Let's go.

Sly bends over to pick up the cart. His jacket comes up a
little. A gun is tucked into his belt.

Sly starts pushing the cart. Fast. Launchers short legs are
moving like an egg beater to keep up.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D) (cont'd)
            Slow down, I said we got five
            minutes to get to the wall.

The pace slows.
                       
                        SLY
            What is this place?
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            It used to be railroad tracks. They
            took them out and turned it into a
            walking path that nobody uses.
            Shirley bought the land.
                       
                        SLY
            Lucky for us.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
                    (Looking at the sack)
            Unlucky for some.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            Listen up, I'm only going to say
            this once.

The path takes a turn. In the distance there are some fields.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D) (cont'd)
            You have to take the credit to the
            wall at exactly six pm.
                       
                        SHIRLEY
            Why six?

Launcher ignores him.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            The wall is in that field up there.
                       
                        SLY
            What happens if I'm late?
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            I don't know. I've never been late.
            Shirley doesn't mess around.

They approach a field. It hasn't been worked in years. On a
hill at the top of the field is an old farmhouse. It has seen
better days. It looks deserted.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            There were three people before you
            trying for this job.
                       
                        SLY
            Where'd they go?
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Ask Shirley.

At the bottom of the field, just off the path is an old
concrete wall. There is a round hole in the bottom.
It looks out of place. Almost tombstone shaped. Engraved in
it is "1938".
                       
                        SLY
            What the hell is that?

Launcher checks his watch.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Have the credit here on time.

Launcher starts to lift the sack, Sly comes in and helps. If
there was any doubt, this confirms it is a body.
They carry it to the front of the wall and set it down.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            And last, when we go through. Calm
            the f#$& down.

Launcher grabs the sack and pushes it through the hole in the
wall. It's gone.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D) (cont'd)
            Follow me.

Launcher gets down and dives into the hole. He's gone.

EXT. FIELD - CONTINUOUS

Sly comes through the wall. Stands up... looks around.
The wall is longer and newer looking. The field has corn in
it. The path is gone, replaced with train tracks.

The house on the hill looks alive, smoke shoots out the
chimney into the fall sky.
                       
                        SLY
            This isn't possible. How did you
            find it?
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Shirley does it all. Come on let's
            get this in the ground and then I
            never have to see your ugly face
            again.

Launcher walks to the other side of the wall. A fresh grave
sits waiting.

Above it, connected to the wall is a jimmy rigged grave
filler. Dirt is piled high on the wall. It's all held
together by a rope.

Sly drags the sack to the side of the wall. Launcher is
inspecting the grave filler. He keeps an eye on Sly.
Now's his chance, Sly reaches under his jacket and pulls out
the gun.
                       
                        SLY
            Sorry, but not really.

Launcher just grins.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Shirley's idea?
                       
                        SLY
            Just cleaning up some loose ends.
            Now, get over there so I don't have
            to drag your fat ass.

Launcher moves closer to the grave. His eyes move back and
forth rapidly.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Hope you enjoy 1938. I never told
            you how to get back.
                       
                        SLY
            Nice try.

Launcher just stands there, poker faced. He's a survivor.
Sly gets a little fidgety.
                       
                        LAUNCHER
            Go ahead, throw a rock through. It
            won't go anywhere.

Sly takes the bait. He picks up a rock, gets ready to throw
it.

In a flash, Launcher moves on Sly. Before Sly knows what's
going on the gun is out of his hand. The little creature is
fast.

They wrestle, Sly trips and falls. Launcher pulls a knife out
and jumps on top.
                       
                        LAUNCHER (CONT’D)
            You thought you could take me out?

Sly struggles to hold the knife away from his throat. A final
burst of energy and the knife retreats. Launcher gets both
hands free, raises them over his head.

Just as he's about to end it... BANG.

Launcher flinches. Blood comes out of his mouth. A FOOT
pushes him into the grave as a HAND takes the knife from him.
Sly crawls on his back. His feet push him closer and closer
to the grave. The GUN takes aim. BANG. Sly slides into the
grave.

A beautiful young WOMAN takes the knife and cuts the rope.
The jimmy rig works perfectly. The grave is full in seconds.
She drops the knife. Pulls a smoke out and lights it with the
shiny silver lighter. This time, her hand doesn't shake.
                       
                        WOMAN
            It's good to be home.

She walks towards the house.
                                       
                                        FADE OUT.:


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:23 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
THE WISH

Code:

FADE IN: (PRESENT DAY)

EXT. - NIGHT

A brisk breeze scurries clouds across the full moon. We SEE
a broken-down farmhouse that has been through better times.
Broken windows, a missing front door, and railings hanging
off the front porch.

A faint light shimmers through a side window.

INT. - FARMHOUSE - NIGHT

Four teenagers sit cross-legged around a chalk circle
encasing a pentagram drawn on the floor. A lit candle rests
in front of each young person, illuminating the symbols and
letters embossing the pentagram.

DANIEL, a nerdish fellow sporting glasses and an ill-fitting
shirt, studies a notebook, holding it close to his candle.
To Daniel’s left is NICOLE. A pretty face marred by nose and
lip rings.

Across from Daniel sits BRYAN, a chunky fellow up for
anything involving girls or food.

To Daniel’s right is PATTIE, dressed a little too proper for
the excursion.
                       
                        NICOLE
            Come on. Get this show on the
            road.
                       
                        DANIEL
            Almost there. Pentagram and
            symbols, check. Candles lit,
            check. Now for the secret sauce.

Daniel pulls a cloth bag from his pocket. He sprinkles a flaky mixture
into his hand and tosses it into the pentagram.

            DANIEL (CONT’D)
            The only thing left is to chant the
            name.
                       
                        BRYAN
            You don’t have to mutter Greek
            stuff?
                       
                        PATTIE
            Latin.
                       
                        BRYAN
            Whatever.
                       
                        DANIEL
            Here we go. GENE LEWIS, GENE
            LEWIS, GENE LEWIS.

Nothing.
                       
                        DANIEL (CONT’D)
            GENE LEWIS, GENE LEWIS, GENE LEWIS.
                       
                        NICOLE
            This is a bunch of crap.
                       
                        DANIEL
            No, they say it always works.
            Pattie, got any ideas?
                       
                        PATTIE
            Gimme the notebook.

Pattie grabs the notebook, looks it over.
                       
                        PATTIE (CONT’D)
            You dumbass. It’s a French name.
            You say it John Lou-ee, with a soft
            j.
                       
                        BRYAN
            A soft j.
                       
                        DANIEL
            I didn’t know. Okay. JOHN LOU-EE,
            JOHN LOU-EE, JOHN LOU-EE.

Nothing at first, then with a CLAP of thunder a shadowy,
robed figure appears at the center of the pentagram. The
teens jump to their feet and step back.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Who summoned the mighty and
            benevolent JOLLENE to grant their
            wish?

No one answers.
                       
                        JOLLENE (CONT’D)
            Who summoned Jollene from the pits
            of Hades?

Daniel musters his courage.
                       
                        DANIEL
            Actually, Ms. Jollene, we were
            trying to summon a fellow named--
                       
                        BRYAN
            --Shut up, Daniel. Didn’t you hear
            the wish thing?

Bryan turns to Jollene.
                       
                        BRYAN (CONT’D)
            I have a wish.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Wish carefully
                       
                        BRYAN
            I wish I was worth my weight in
            gold.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Done.

Jollene waves her hand. Bryan stiffens as his skin turns the
color of 24 karat. He wobbles and falls onto the floor with
a THUD that shakes the room.

Jollene turns to Nicole.
                       
                        JOLLENE (CONT’D)
            And yours?
                       
                        NICOLE
            I want you to turn back the time to
            before you arrived.

Jollene shakes her head.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Too, too cliche.

Jollene faces Daniel.
                       
                        JOLLENE (CONT’D)
            And what for you?
                       
                        DANIEL
            I want three more wishes.

Jollene sighs.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            I will choose for you. This will
            be interesting.

Pattie interrupts.
                       
                        PATTIE
            Wait, magnificent Jollene. I’ve
            got a wish.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Don’t waste my time.
                       
                        PATTIE
            I wish for a page one rewrite.
                       
                        JOLLENE
            Sweet.
                       
                        NICOLE
            Hey, that’s the same as--
                       
                        JOLLENE
            --Hush.
                       
                        NICOLE
            Yes, benevolent Jollene.

Jollene waves her hand.

EXT. - NIGHT

A brisk breeze scurries clouds across the full moon. We SEE
a broken-down farmhouse that has been through better times.
Broken windows, a missing front door, and railings hanging
off the front porch.

A faint light shimmers through a side window.

INT. - FARMHOUSE - NIGHT

Four teenagers sit cross-legged around a chalk circle
encasing a pentagram drawn on the floor. A lit candle rests
in front of each young person, illuminating the symbols and
letters embossing the pentagram.

DANIEL, a nerdish fellow sporting glasses and an ill-fitting
shirt, studies a notebook, holding it close to his candle.
To Daniel’s left is NICOLE. A pretty face marred by nose and
lip rings.

Across from Daniel sits BRYAN, a chunky fellow up for
anything involving girls or food.

To Daniel’s right is PATTIE, dressed a little too proper for
the excursion.
                       
                        NICOLE
            Come on. Get this show on the
            road.
                       
                        DANIEL
            Almost there. Pentagram and
            symbols, check. Candles lit,
            check. Now for the secret sauce.

Daniel pulls a cloth bag from his pocket. He sprinkles a
flaky mixture into his hand and tosses it into the pentagram.
                       
                        DANIEL (CONT’D)
            The only thing left is to chant the
            name.
                       
                        BRYAN
            You don’t have to mutter Greek
            stuff?
                       
                        PATTIE
            Latin.
                       
                        BRYAN
            Whatever.
                       
                        DANIEL
            Here we go. GENE LEWIS, GENE
            LEWIS, GENE LEWIS.

Nothing.
                       
                        DANIEL (CONT’D)
            GENE LEWIS, GENE LEWIS, GENE LEWIS.
                       
                        NICOLE
            This is a bunch of crap.
                       
                        DANIEL
            No, they say it always works.
            Pattie, got any ideas?
                       
                        PATTIE
            Gimme the notebook.

Pattie grabs the notebook, holds it over her candle. As
flames erupt, she tosses it into the pentagram.
                       
                        PATTIE (CONT’D)
            My idea is beer and pizza.
                       
                        BRYAN
            Sounds like a plan to me.
                       
                        NICOLE
            No anchovies. But black olives
            would be good.

Pattie stands.
                       
                        DANIEL
            But--

Pattie grabs Daniel’s ear, pulls him up and toward the door.
                       
                        PATTIE
            --Come on, dumbass.

The four walk to the doorway.
                       
                        PATTIE (CONT’D)
            By the way, Bryan, how much do you
            weigh?
                       
                        BRYAN
            One hundred eighty pounds of
            bristling manliness. Why do you
            ask?
                       
                        PATTIE
            Just curious.

FADE OUT


Southern_land 10-26-2019 12:24 AM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
Code:

The Wop
FADE IN:INT. MODERN APARTMENT - DAY

It's kinda like the apartment in FRIENDS except different,
there's a big couch and chairs, plus a little kitchen, all in
the one room.  On the other side, a white door and a pink
door.  The pink door has a sign, GIRLS ONLY.

The hallway door opens, and RICH enters with TOMMY.  They are
both good-looking early 20s white guys who belong on TV. 
Tommy drags a suitcase on wheels.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            So here it is, wha'da ya think?

AUDIENCE CHEERING TRACK plays, as if this is a favorite
character returning.  Tommy is puzzled, he looks around, he
looks up, where is it coming from, who's laughing?                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            What?                     
                       
                        RICH         
            This is the living room, if you         
            hadn't already figured it out.

Rich points to the white door.                     
                       
                        RICH       
            Our rooms are through there, yours         
            is second on the right, it was         
            Frankie's room.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            What happened to Frankie?                     
                       
                        RICH         
            We don't ask what happened to         
            Frankie.

Rich points to the pink door with the GIRLS ONLY sign.                     
                       
                        RICH       
            You never go through that door,         
            that's the girls' rooms, got it?                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Yeah I got it.

The pink door opens and DAISY steps out, 20s, a pretty blonde
in a fluffy dressing gown with matching towel on her head. 
She sees Tommy and puts her hand to her heart.                     
                       
                        DAISY         
            Oh, my!

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER AND CHEERING TRACK.

Tommy is wondering WTF is going on here?
Rich excitedly throws his hands at Tommy as if he's
introducing a new stage act.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            I told you about Tommy, this is         
            him, this is the guy!                     
                       
                        DAISY         
            You didn't say you were bringing         
            him here this morning, why I could         
            have been naked.

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER TRACK. 

Tommy is dazed.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            She's kidding, that's a rule, we         
            put clothes on if we're coming out         
            of our rooms, no walking around in         
            your boxers, got it?                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            I'll try to remember.Daisy moves
            daintily to the kitchen and switches
            on the coffee machine, while looking
            over her shoulder at Tommy with what
            might be interest.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            Where's Lana?                     
                       
                        DAISY         
            She's having a lie-in.  She was         
            out late last night, poor thing.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            She's out late every night, tell         
            me something I don't know.

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER TRACK.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            What is that, that noise?
Daisy beckons Rich over.                     
                       
                        DAISY         
            Can I see you a moment?

Rich smiles at Tommy, excuse me, and moves to join Daisy,
they confer quietly, their backs to the room.
Tommy just stands waiting, he looks around, nice place.

The pink door opens and LOUIS, a big Italian guy with lots of
black curly hair, wearing just his boxers, peeks out.
Louis sees Rich and Daisy talking with their backs to him and
tip-toes to the white door like a pantomine figure.
He freezes halfway with one foot raised when he notices
Tommy. 

Louis frowns thinking, who the fuvk is this guy?
Louis raises a finger to his lips, shhh!  He opens the
                       
                        DAISY          (cont'd)
            Do you have any bad habits?                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Well if I did, I'd do them somewhere         
            else, not here.  I'm not going to         
            poop in my own nest.                     
                       
                        LANA         
            That's a quaint saying, very Ohio.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            Hey, where's the wop?                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Excuse me?                     
                       
                        DAISY         
            Don't call him that, what if he         
            hears you?                     
                       
                        LANA         
            Louis's our other roommate.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            Wait till you see this guy, he         
            thinks he's really something.  The         
            Italian fvcking stallion.  He's a         
            fvcking wop, is what he is.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Dude, that's not cool.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            You one of them social justice         
            warriors, hey?

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER TRACK.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Hey whoever's doing that, it's not         
            funny.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            Lighten up, man.             
                    (to Daisy and Lana)         
                    )
            You wanna take that vote?  Who         
            says our friend Tommy gets to stay?

Daisy raises her hand.                     
                       
                        LANA         
            Maybe Louis should be here if we're         
            taking a vote.                     
                       
                        RICH         
            Louis, Louis, I'm fed up hearing         
            his goddamn name.  He shouldn't be         
            here, he doesn't belong here.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Because he's a wop?                     
                       
                        DAISY
            He's a bad person.                     
                       
                        LANA         
            He hurt me.

Lana bows her head and quietly cries.  Daisy moves to put her
arms around her and comfort her.

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER TRACK.                     
                       
                        TOMMY         
            Jesus will you stop that, whoever's         
            doing it?

AUDIENCE LAUGHTER TRACK GROWS LOUDER.

Tommy claps his hands over his ears.                     
                       
                        TOMMY          (cont'd)
            Quit it!

INT. THE TRUNK OF A SEDAN - NIGHT

Dimly seen movement... a shifting body groans...
The trunk suddenly opens!  Louis shines a flashlight.
Tommy lies tied up and gagged.  Light reveals he's sharing
the trunk with Lana, they're eye to eye, he's lying on top of
her!  But Lana isn't protesting because she's been shot
through the head.  Tommy has a moment of horror as he
realizes this.

Louis sticks the flashlight in his mouth and reaches in and
rolls Tommy off her.  He drags Lana's corpse out of the
trunk.Tommy lies there, helpless, listening.

The unmistakable sound of a SHOVEL moving earth.
Between panting breaths, as he digs, Louis talks.                     
                       
                        LOUIS (O.S.)         
            Fvcking stupid bitch...         
            Couldn't keep your mouth shut...         
            Couldn't keep your nose out my         
            fvcking business...  Now I gotta...         
            Kill 'em all... Fvck!

Tommy half-rolls over in the trunk and suddenly he's staring
at Rich, whose swollen face bears marks of extreme violence. 

Rich is only wearing boxers. He's unconscious... or dead.
Tommy closes his eyes and whimpers at this nightmare.
THUMP.  The shoveling stops.                     
                       
                        LOUIS (O.S.) (CONT'D)         
            Jesus Christ, what the fvck?

Some more shoveling, and scraping.

                    LOUIS (O.S.) (CONT'D)         
            Frankie!  You son of a bitch!  I         
            never thought I'd see you again!

Louis laughs, hard and loud.                     
                       
                        LOUIS (O.S.) (CONT'D)         
                        (cont'd)
            I never realized I was right on         
            top of ya, sorry man.  It's a sweet         
            spot.  Plenty room for more, hey?           
            You like some company?  This is         
            Lana.  You'll like her, she's got         
            a great ass.

Tommy can't take it any more, he screams through his gag and
kicks and kicks, making a hell of a racket.                     
                       
                        LOUIS (O.S.) (CONT'D) 
            Hey hold up, we got a screamer         
            here.  I mean Jesus, like my night         
            isn't sh!t enough already.

Louis's footsteps thump back to the car. 
He shines his flashlight in Tommy's face, causing Tommy to
screw up his eyes.                     
                       
                        LOUIS         
            I never got your name, pal, but         
            you know what?  Doesn't matter.           
            You were in the wrong place at the         
            wrong time.  C'mere, a$$wipe.

Louis grabs Tommy and lifts him out of the trunk.

EXT. NEW JERSEY PARKLAND - NIGHT

Louis has been busy, there's a big hole, about to become a
mass grave.

Dead Lana lies alongside the hole, ready to be rolled in.At
the bottom of the hole is a man-size bundle wrapped in black
plastic.

Louis drags Tommy up and just chucks him into the hole.  AT
THE BOTTOM OF THE HOLE CRUNCH!  Tommy falls onto the black
plastic bundle.  He groans and squirms in pain.
Louis looks down at him from above.                     
                       
                        LOUIS          (cont'd)
            Say hello to Frankie.  Me and him         
            were like brothers.  Until he stole         
            from me.  Tell him about it,         
            Frankie.  Tell him how I waited         
            till you was taking a wizz, and I         
            put a bullet into the back of your
            dumb head.

THUMP! 

Dead Lana lands beside Tommy, just missing him.
Louis moves out of sight, back to the car.
Tommy lies there helplessly.

He frowns, his eyes swivel, he tries to look over his own
shoulder, it's awkward, it's dark, but...

A tear in the black plastic... a glimpse of a collar and
shirt and tie, worn by a rotting corpse.

Tommy's wrists are bound but he reaches inside, feels around. 
His expression conveys his deep disgust. Ewww.Louis comes
into view again, dragging Rich to the hole.                     
                       
                        LOUIS          (cont'd)
            Incoming!  Ha ha!

He drops Rich down, Tommy rolls onto his side to avoid being
struck, and--BLAM!

Louis is puzzled, he looks down at his chest.  Sees a dark
spot in his shirt, like spilled ink, spreading.
He pitches forward into the hole like a felled tree.CRUNCH! 
Louis just misses Tommy, lands on other bodies.

He stares at Tommy with unseeing eyes.

Tommy lies there, crying.  In his hand, a smoking pistol he
must have taken from Frankie's corpse.  One shot, with his
hands tied behind his back.

Tommy rubs his face against his shoulder until the gag
finally rolls away from his mouth and he can shout.

EXT. NEW JERSEY PARKLAND - NIGHT

The open grave, seen from the sedan.                     
                       
                        TOMMY (O.S.)         
            Help?  Somebody?  Anybody?  Help?
                                       
                                        FADE TO:

INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT

Daisy, hunched up in a blanket, big bruise on her face, she
looks up as someone offers her a mug of coffee.  She accepts
it with shaky hands, takes a sip.                     
                       
                        DAISY       
            Thanks.                     
                       
                        POLICE DETECTIVE (O.S.)         
            You said this guy's name is Louis?
                       
                        DAISY         
            That's right.  He's a wop.                     
                       
                        POLICE DETECTIVE (O.S.)         
            Excuse me?
                                       
                                        FADE OUT:
THE END


Southern_land 10-26-2019 04:34 PM

Re: October 2019 Contest
 
The Chemist
Code:

 
                                      FADE IN:

EXT. MOUNTAIN HILLTOP CLEARING - DAY

SUPER: EASTERN KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS, 1936

Sunlight dapples the ground in a clearing. Destroying Angel
mushrooms grow from leaf litter at the base of oak trees.

Nearby in the clearing, a patch of freshly turned earth sits
in stark contrast to the clearingís plants and leaf litter.

ADA LOUELLA KETCH, mid 40ís with frizzy gray hair, wears
gardening gloves to pick the wild Destroying Angel mushrooms
into a small wicker basket with a handle and lid.

Ada startles when she realizes that she stands close to the
freshly dug earth. She frowns, goes to it, stamps her foot on
it with a GRUNT, then spits on the ground. She leaves and
waddles down the hill back to her mountain shack home.

EXT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

JOHN ďJACKĒ KETCH, a neatly-dressed young man in his middle
20ís, wrangles a steering wheel. He pilots a bouncing 1930
Plymouth Roadster uphill on a rough dirt road. The car pulls
up to the Ketch family home, a crude shack with a tin roof.
He cuts the engine, exits the car, and hurries to the door.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

At the kitchen counter, Ada wears an apron and makes
biscuits. Flour dust covers her work area. She flattens dough
with a rolling pin, then cuts biscuits with an empty tin can.
The wicker basket sits to the back of the counter.

An open cupboard door reveals three shelves: a lower shelf
for salt, pepper, and everyday cooking spices; a middle shelf
for Crisco shortening, Karo syrup, and items used less often;
and an upper shelf for powders and chemicals.

On the upper shelf near other powders sits a can of Bergerís
Paris Green rat poison, its label shouts ďPoisonĒ warnings.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

Jack enters the main room of the house.
                   
                    JACK
          Iím home, Mother!
                   
                    ADA
          In the kitchen!

Jack passes through the main room.

A bed of a burlap sack stuffed with straw in a corner of the
family room offers TUCKER, a young Bluetick Coonhound, some
comfort as he MOANS and GROANS in pain.

Jack goes over to him, then kneels to pet him.
                   
                    JACK
          Whatís wrong with Tucker?

Ada calls out from the kitchen.
                   
                    ADA (O.S.)
          Donít rightly know. He et somethiní
          he oughtnít tí have, I reckon.

Jack goes into the kitchen. Ada hurries to put the biscuits
in the oven. A pot of gravy bubbles on top of the stove.
                   
                    JACK
          Hope heís all right. Biscuits and
          gravy? My favorite! Whereís Father?

Ada brushes the flour dust from her apron. She smooths the
apron against her body, gives Jack a look, and walks away.
                   
                    ADA
          Come. Set down. Thereís sumpín I
          need tí tell ye. Ye need to know.

Ada leads the way to the dining table. Jack follows her.
                   
                    JACK
          Tell me? What? Is he ... dead?

They take seats across from one another at the four-place
dining table made from rough-hewn lumber.
                   
                    ADA
          Ye know that we cainít read nor
          write. So, we had the church piano
          player tí come over on Sundays after
          church to read to us from the Bible
          and tí read yer letters. Well, your
          father, cuss him, done run oft with
          that lady.
                   
                    JACK
          What?! Thatís -- itís -- difficult
          to swallow. Iím so sorry, Mother.

Ada SNIFFLES. Her voice QUAVERS.
                   
                    ADA
          They got to likiní each other so
          much, they done run oft together!
          Thatís all there is to it! They
          ainít noí more to it than that!

Ada cries. Jack frowns. He shakes his head.
                   
                    JACK
          Mother. Please donít cry. Weíll get
          by. Now that Iíve graduated as a
          chemist, Iíll drive over to
          Prestonsburg to see if thereís any
          work for me there.

Ada nods. Jack looks at Tucker. Ada eyes Jack through her
tears. Jack looks to Ada. She lowers her eyes.
                   
                    ADA
          Donít know why he done it. I was
          gittiní too old fer íim, mebbe.
          Donít know why he done it. No,
          indeed. Donít know why. Donít know.

Jack pats his mother on her back. He gets up from the table
and goes to the fireplace mantle. A Gilbert clock TICKS the
time. Jack looks at a framed B&W photograph of his parents.

INSERT - PARENTS PHOTOGRAPH

The father and mother smile. The fatherís smile shows one of
his front teeth broken off halfway.

BACK TO SCENE
                   
                    JACK
          Twenty-four years. Who would have
          ever guessed he would do this?

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - THE NEXT DAY

Jack watches a restless Tucker. The dog WHIMPERS, then
stiffens into a sawhorse position, and exhales a death
rattle. Jack pets him and sheds a tear.

INT. BARN - DAY

Jack hoists the burlap-shrouded dogís carcass to his
shoulder, then picks up a shovel. LUKE, a 5-year-old dark bay
draft horse, NICKERS to Jack. Jack leaves the barn.

EXT. MOUNTAIN FARM - DAY

On the way up the hillside toward the pond, Jack sees dog
tracks on a new trail. The trail veers away from the pond to
a stand of trees on the hilltop.

EXT. MOUNTAIN HILLTOP CLEARING - DAY

Jack tracks the dogís trail to the patch of freshly dug earth
where Ada picked mushrooms. He lays the dog gently to the
ground. Jack pokes his shovel into the fresh dirt. The shovel
goes in deep without difficulty. Jack digs there.

Jack Ketch uncovers his fatherís body. The ashen face and its
open mouth full of dirt makes Jack stare.

Jack finds a small stick. He lifts the corpseís lip to reveal
its broken front tooth. Jack pulls the body by its feet from
the shallow grave and drags it out of the way.

Jack takes up his shovel to dig a deeper grave.

EXT. MOUNTAIN HILLTOP CLEARING - DAY

Jack drags his fatherís body over to the grave and rolls it
in. It lands with a DULL THUD. He picks up the dead dog and
drops it on top of the dead man. It lands with a DULL THUD.
                   
                    JACK
          Now, Father, you and Tucker can go
          ícoon huntiní again. Rest in peace.

Jack takes up his shovel and casts dirt into the grave.

EXT. MOUNTAIN FARM - DAY

Jack passes near the farm pond. The sunís angle plays on the
pondís surface. A glint from beneath the waterís surface
catches Jackís eye. He stops.
                   
                    JACK
          What on earth is that?

EXT. MOUNTAIN FARM POND - DAY

Jack goes to the pondís edge. He maneuvers himself until the
sunlight catches the glint again. Jack squints to see.

The light strikes through the pond water. It reveals a car
rooftop and glints from the glass of its rear window.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

Ada prepares vegetable beef stew in a cast iron pot. The
diced Destroying Angel mushrooms sit in a pile on the cutting
board with other chopped vegetables. More of the toxic
Destroying Angel mushrooms remain in the open basket.

Ada closes the basket lid, picks up the cutting board, then
uses a knife to sweep the cut vegetables into the stew pot.

INT. BARN - DAY

In the barn, Jack hitches a harness to Luke. He coils a rope,
throws it over Lukeís harness, and leads the horse from the
barn. As he walks the horse up to the pond, Jack sweats. He
clutches and presses his gut.

EXT. MOUNTAIN FARM POND - DAY

Luke stands still, the rope tied to his harness. Jack pays
out the rope as he wades out to the car. Jack goes under the
water to pass the rope around the bumper. He stands up, ties
the rope in a bowline hitch knot, and tests it.

Jack hauls himself out of the pond back to Luke. Dripping
wet, Jack stands next to Luke and pats his shoulder twice.
                   
                    JACK
          Good hoss, Luke. Now, Giddup!

Luke pulls forward. The rope becomes taut. Luke strains to
pull the car from the pond. The back of the car rises slowly
from the water as it rolls into shallow water. Jack watches.

An arm dangles from an open window. A snapping turtle clings
to it as it rises from the water.

The decayed, torn, turtle-eaten arm of the unseen corpse
tears from its socket, splashes into the pond, and
disappears, turtle and all. Jack clutches his gut.
                   
                    JACK
          Whoa, Luke!

Luke stands still. He strains into his harness to hold the
weight of the car in its position. Jack bends at the waist
and vomits. Jack stares at the car. He shakes his head.

Jack takes out his pocket knife, steps carefully to the edge
of the pond, and cuts the rope. Luke NICKERS to Jack.

Jack watches the car roll back into the pond and disappear.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

Ada smokes a corncob pipe and fidgets in her rocking chair.
She dabs a damp dishtowel on her face and neck to keep cool.

Jack returns. In silence, he washes up at the kitchen sink.
                   
                    ADA
          Stewís ready, but I ainít. Not
          feeliní hongry. Help yíself.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

At the table, Ada has no stew. She sips from her coffee mug.
Ada feigns illness and holds her hand to her head.
                   
                    ADA
          Donít feel none too good, fer some
          reason. Still not hongry. Goiní tí
          bed without any supper. Donít waste
          the stew. Heíp yerself.
                   
                    JACK
          Sure, Mother. Thanks for makiní it.

As she shuffles to her bedroom, Ada glances at Jack to see
him eat. She smiles and trundles off to her bedroom.

Jack searches the kitchen cupboard. He finds the one-pound
can of Bergerís Paris Green powdered rat poison. Two skull-
and-bones images flank its label name. The word ďPOISONĒ
appears beneath each skull-and-bones image.
                   
                    JACK
          Yes. This must be it.

Jack takes the rat poison from the cupboard. He mixes the
poison powder with some water and uses a spoon to coat the
inside of his motherís coffee mug.

Jack makes hot coffee, pours a mug, and takes it to his
mother. Ada drinks it heartily before going to sleep.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - THE NEXT DAY

Jack poisons Adaís first mug of coffee, then hands it to her
at the dining table. He prepares breakfast for himself.

Ada becomes more ill. She sweats. Jack notes her symptoms.
                   
                    JACK
          Mother. Go lie down. Iíll bring you
          another coffee in a little while.

Coffee mug in hand, Ada shuffles back to her bedroom.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

In the kitchen, Jack adds more rat poison to another mug of
hot coffee to take to his mother.

INT. ADAíS BEDROOM - DAY

Ada sweats in her bed. As the dog did, Ada WHINES and GROANS.
Jack hands his mother a fresh mug of hot coffee.

More slowly than before, Ada sips the coffee. Jack takes a
seat in a chair. He lights an oil lamp on a table and waits.

Ada sweats and GROANS. Jack leaves. Ada labors to breathe.

Jack returns with the one-pound can of rat poison. He hides
it from Adaís view as he pulls up a chair to her bedside.
                   
                    JACK
          Took Tucker up on top of the hill to
          bury him, right where heíd been
          layiní for days, leastaways ítil he
          got so sick. When I went to bury
          him, do you know what happened? I
          dug up Father! Thatís right. I found
          Father dead and gone in a hole right
          up there on the hilltop. I thought
          to myself, ďHow in the world did he
          get here, I wonder?Ē

Jack thrusts the can and its label in his motherís face. Wild-
eyed, Ada tries to move. Jack drops the can. He grabs Adaís
arm to stop her. Ada GROANS, her eyes fixed on Jack.
                   
                    JACK
          After I buried Father and Tucker
          together, I walked past the pond.
          And donít you know that the Lord
          played His sunlight just right so
          that I could see a car under the
          water? A car, Mother! Well, I got
          Luke and pulled out that car. Until
          I saw that poor dead womanís arm
          fall off. Turtles had eaten her up,
          Mother! So, I cut the rope, and back
          into the water she went.

Ada breathes hard and fast. Sweat streams down her temples.
                   
                    JACK
          What is wrong with your mind!? Why
          did you kill them, Mother!? Why did
          you kill them!? Tell me!

Weak and sick, Ada GRUNTS between phrases as she speaks.
                   
                    ADA
          I ... I reckon I got jealous of íem.
          Allus haviní fun with one another,
          readiní the Bible and yer letters
          aní writiní to ye. They fairly shut
          me out of all of it.
                   
                    JACK
          So, did you poison Tucker, too?

Ada nods. Tears roll down her cheeks.
                   
                    ADA
          I was mad at your father!
                   
                    JACK
          Damn you, woman! We LOVED that dog!
              (he fumes)
          As ye sow, so shall ye reap. Isnít
          that right, Mother?

Wild-eyed and breathless, Ada nods to appease Jack.

Jack lunges forward face to face with Ada. With both hands,
he clutches her by the throat and chokes the life from her.
The light fades from Adaís open eyes until they become dull.

EXT. MOUNTAIN HILLTOP CLEARING - DAY

Sunlight dapples the ground in the clearing. Beside his
fatherís grave, Jack digs a grave for his mother. Adaís body
lies nearby in a burlap sack. Her white legs stick out.

INT. THE KETCH FAMILY HOME - DAY

Jack eats some stew. Suddenly, he stands. His nose bleeds and
drips on the table. He clutches his gut and vomits.

Jack stumbles to the kitchen. Frantic, he overturns the
basket of toxic mushrooms. Jack realizes his predicament.
                   
                    JACK
          Oh, no! Mother! DAMN YOU, MOTHER!



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