Who At The Door?

Billy:  The winter harvest is dread, and the harvest is sure to be fruitful

Gale:  Souls and fear, fear and souls.  Blood, blood, rivers of blood.

Billy:  Yes, Gale.  And I offer you this decapitation proclamation:  Death approaches at various speeds, but always too fast. 

Gale: I agree.  When will Death arrive?  No one knows, but he only visits once.

Billy:  The unwelcome guest that bears the gift of nothingness, flavored with regret.

Gale:  I enjoy our conversations, Billy.

(doorbell rings)

Billy:  As do I.  But say no more - I heard the doorbell!

Gale:  The doorbell rang just as we were talking of death approaching?  What if it’s Death, Billy?!  Don’t open that door!

Billy:  Well…let me just take a little look out the peephole.

(Billy looks through the hole)

Gale:  Well who is it?

Billy: Nobody.  No one.  Somebody just put a coupon for pizza on our porch.

Gale:  Did you see anybody walking away?

Billy:  No.  Death is the unseen visitor.

Gale:  Oh I don’t want to start that again.  Can we talk about someone other than Death?

Billy:  I thought you said that you enjoy our conversations…

Gale:  I do, but when the doorbell rang right after we were talking about Death, I got kinda creeped out.

Billy:  Fine.  If you think death is too near to-

(doorbell rings)

Gale:  Oh my God, Billy!

Billy:  Oh come on, Gale.  It’s probably just more pizza coupons.

(Billy looks through keyhole as Gale tenses with fear)

Billy:  Ah ha!  What did I tell you?  More pizza coupons.  Man, those guys are hitting the neighborhood hard today!

Gale:  I guess so.  Anyway, what were you saying? It wasn’t about Death, was it?

(doorbell rings and Billy looks again)

Billy:  (somewhat scared) Pizza coupon again.  This is getting weird. 

Gale: I think it’s Death, Billy.

Billy:  So what then?  It’s death?  Death is coming to our house and –

(doorbell rings)

Billy:  Fucking doorbell!  - and leaving pizza coupons just to mess with us?

Gale:  Would that really be so weird, Billy?

Billy:  Yeah it would, Gale.  I can’t exactly picture death just walking around pranking people with coupons.

Gale:  So you’re an expert on death? 

Billy:  It’s a concept!  It’s not a person.  We were just personifying it to seem edgy!

Gale:  I wasn’t.  Death is real and Death is a person.  I’ve been capitalizing the D the whole time.  I’ve met him!  That’s why it creeps me out with all these pizza coupons!

Billy:  You have?  You…what did he look like?

Gale:  Scary.

(doorbell rings)

Billy:  What if it’s not a prank, Gale?

Gale:  What do you mean?

Billy:  What if Death is telling us to order pizza?  What if we need to order pizza to live?!

Gale:  But Billy, what if Death is telling us that ordering a pizza will kill us?

Later:

Gale:  I’m not eating this pizza, Billy, and I don’t want you to either.  I don’t want you to die!

Billy:  And I don’t want you to die either!  Eat the pizza!

Death:  I’m not gonna say what you should do, but I’m glad you used the coupons.

11:34

Tagline: It’s 11:34. Hope you’ve said your prayers!

Scene: 5^th grade classroom. Math class is in session. Hunter Sterlington, a 10 year-old boy with an odd angel-shaped birthmark on his forehead, is working with his solar-powered calculator, as Hunter, even at 10, is environmentally conscious. His shirt has an upside-down tree on it.

Hunter: So if I have 1000 apples and I buy 100 pears, 30 oranges, and 4 cherries, I’ll have a total of –

(Suddenly, a bully throws a spit-wad at Hunter, causing him to drop his calculator. Hunter picks the calculator up upside down, but as he does he slows and his mouth opens in a silent scream. The film freezes as the camera rotates from Hunter’s eyes to the upside down calculator. The readout on his calculator quite plainly reads “hELL.” He turns the camera right-side up and the number reads 1134)

Hunter: (whispering) 1134 is upside-down hell! 1134 is hell! So….?!

(Hunter’s eyes widen, growing larger and more beautiful as the realization hits him. We see the fear in his eyes and our heart just fucking breaks.)

Hunter: At 11:34, the devil! The devil and hell!

(Hunter’s eyes shoot to the clock. It is currently 8:30am. The teachers, in a scene to be included in the Blu-ray extras, previously decided that in the afternoon, kids are tired and are much less likely to pay attention during math. “Why not teach it early?” asked Mrs. Timple, an actress playing a rookie 2^nd grade teacher. In the year since this was implemented, higher test results have already indicated that when taught early in the day, children tend to retain much more of the math they learn. Fortunate for the kids, but extra fortunate because it gives Hunter 2 hours and 4 minutes before hell o’clock. He’ll need every goddamn minute.)

Mrs. Bolton: What was that, Hunter Sterlington? Did you say something?

Hunter: Mrs. Bolton! Look! Loooooooook…..(He shows Mrs. Bolton the upside-down calculator).

Mrs. Bolton: Why your calculator says “hell”!

Hunter: It does. Now let me turn it right-side up (he does so, gracefully and dexterously, his nimble fingers expertly moving the calculator back into right-side-upsville). 1134. Put a colon in the middle and it’s 11:34! Mrs. Bolton, the devil and hell are going to be here at 11:34!

Mrs. Bolton: Hunter Sterlington! No. The separation of church and state!

Hunter: Mrs. Bolton, excuse my harsh language, but that is horseshit. The devil doesn’t care about the constitution! He’s the devil! He cares about souls, Mrs. Bolton. Souls. Yours and mine and everybody else’s. He feeds on them like they’re greasy fried chicken legs. He licks at them with his forked tongue. “Mmmmm,” he says. “This soul tastes like teardrops on pillows!” Then he chomps at them ravenously, breaks them apart with his teeth, and digests them with his demon intestines like you taught us about in Health last week. And just like digested fried chicken, Mrs. Bolton, after each soul goes through his evil and twisted intestines, the devil takes a huge soul poop in the metaphorical toilet of Hell’s wasteland. But he’s never done, Mrs. Bolton. His hunger is eternal! And at 11:34, the devil and hell will march their way up to Nevaeh Elementary, and they will feast on a buffet of the innocent!

Mrs. Bolton: I see. But Hunter…? What if…what if we’re not so innocent?

Hunter: Mrs. Bolton? It’s okay. You can tell me.

(Hunter looks up at her, his eyes understanding. In that second – that instant – we understand that Hunter Sterlington has that rare magic seen in people where he can care about them and listen, truly listen, to what they are saying. Hunter has the kind of compassion that’s really…well there aren’t even words for it. If there was a word, it would have to be a mix of compassion and non-judgementalism. [compassanojudgalism?]).

Mrs. Bolton: (crying) I…I… sell heroin to my students!

Hunter: I know. I buy it back from them and throw it away.

Mrs. Bolton: Thank you.

Hunter: You can thank me by getting a gosh darned priest in here STAT. And Mrs. Bolton?

Mrs. Bolton: Uh-huh?

Hunter: Start praying.

Mrs. Bolton: I will. I will pray forever (starts saying the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, a language she spoke growing up because her Dad taught Latin).

(Hunter rushes off, quickly reaching his elementary school gym. Once there, he kicks the doors open with his boot)

Hunter: Boo-yah. This is where I will train the army of exorcist child soldiers

Whole Different Scene:

Hunter: Here they come, everybody! Ready…on my mark…..Now! Start dancing now! Do the Angel’s Kissyboo!

(The kids start doing this dance move, all to the terror of Satan’s army)

Sgt. Demon Firecles: No! They’re not supposed to know that dance! Quick! Cut off their legs!

(Although the Angel’s Kissyboo dance causes Satan’s Army unspeakable, paralyzing pain, one of the demons is able to cut off the legs of one of the children. With one less child dancing, the pain is slightly less intense, and other demons are able to summon the strength to cut the legs off of other children. This gets easier for them with each legless child. Hunter narrowly evades losing his legs as he backs up towards the door)

Hunter: Retreat!

Children: We…we can’t!

Hunter: Oh no! I forgot about your legs! (runs out of gym)

(As Hunter runs through the hallway, we see children and teachers fighting a losing battle because Hell’s wrath is eternal and undying)

Hunter: If only this had happened tomorrow! I’m THIS close to finishing my .38 caliber demon neutralizer!

(Hunter hides in the teacher’s lounge, which has so far been miraculously spared from the battle. Suddenly, a ghostly translucent man appears with a flat square hovering above his head. He’s got a greenish color around him)

Hunter: Be you angel or devil, spirit?!

Triumverant: There are more choices than those, human Hunter Sterling.

Hunter: Spirit, you’re going to have to explain yourself quickly. Legless children depend on it.

Triumverant: What if I told you that sure there were demons and angels, but that there was also a secret species of spirit.

Hunter: Unbelievable!

Triumverant: Believe it, human Hunta Sterla. Equate it to the fact of this: Your human society has within it secret societies, am I not correct? For example Skull and Bones, Illuminati, The Priory of Sion, etc.? These groups are known of vaguely, but most information is based on rumors?

Hunter: That’s true!

Triumverant: Well, human Huntel Sterlel, my spirit species is like your secret societies; Angels and demons know of us only in legend, yet we exist all the same. Through infiltration and whispers, we influence each spirit faction and guide them towards the ultimate purpose of the Triumverant.

Hunter: So then….you’re responsible for this big ol’ mess at my school!

Triumverant: Bingo. We hate schools.

Meanwhile:

Girl: My legs! Where are my legs?!

Demon: I have urinated on them and then eaten them, child.

Later:

Hunter Sterlington: Even if I could beat the demons, I’d still have to beat the Triumverant. And, if I can beat both the demons and the Triumverant, my soccer team will never win the championship without any legs!

Later:

Soccer Referee: Goal!

Piano Played

Bully: Hey Tad! Have fun at your piano lessons, you stupid prissy girl!

(Tad Newton looks at the Bully. For a moment they truly understand each other)

Later:

Male Piano Teacher: Tad, are you being bullied at school?

Tad: Forget about it.

Male Piano Teacher: No Tad… I never forget. Never…

Tad: Right. Ah yes. Bring it back to your days with the Vietcong. Strange how that’s coming up again. Hey, is that what my parents pay you for? Being a shell-shocked loser? Because I thought they were paying you to make me a maestro. My mistake.

Male Piano Teacher: You know, I’m allowed to remember things during these lessons, Tad. I’m a Male Piano Teacher, but I’m a person too. I…I can’t help what I remember.

Tad: I know, I just-

Male Piano Teacher: -you’re just upset. You’re being bullied, I get it. Are they saying you’re a girl? Are they calling you a girl for taking piano lessons?

Tad: I do NOT want to talk about it, ok?

Male Piano Teacher: Listen, you’re not a girl for playing the piano, Tad.

Tad: …

Male Piano Teacher: You’re not. You’re a girl for not playing it well.

Tad: !!!! What…what do you mean?

Male Piano Teacher: Name me some famous piano players.

Tad: This is stupid.

Male Piano Teacher: Go on, do it.

Tad: Fine! I will do it! Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Joel

Male Piano Teacher: Dudes. Name me a famous girl piano player.

Tad: …I….I can’t!

Male Piano Teacher: Girls can’t play the piano, Tad. Well… they can, just not very well.

Tad: I never thought about it that way before.

Male Piano Teacher: There are a lot of things girls can’t do, Tad.

Tad: You’re right!

Male Piano Teacher: Now stop playing the piano like a girl.

(Tad plays a beautiful and heart-wrenching melody, as he comes into his manhood and maestro’s the shit out of the piano noun)

10 Years Later

(Tad is 27 and his trail-blazing fingers are running across the piano as if they are filled with octane and cigarettes. He is on stage by himself in a sold out square garden surrounded by devotees. He wears a crown made entirely out of piano keys. As he finishes his song, the crowd is stunned and there’s a beat of silence before they start clapping their hands off and cheering like they’ve witnessed whatever it is they most wanted to see in life – proving conclusively that Tad’s music means different things to different people)

Tad: Ladies and gentlemen!

(the crowd goes seriously wild)

Tad: Ladies and gentlemen! I have something to say!

(crowed LOVES that he has something to say)

Tad: Ladies and gentlemen! (Tad holds up his hand and the audience immediately quiets) THAT, is how you play the (swear)ing piano.

(Tad walks of stage, not looking back)

(1st of 4 Sequential Montages. We see Tad grow more famous and even wealthier. Shots of bigger sold out arenas, people getting Tad Newton tattoos where he’s giving a thumbs-up, but maybe his thumb looks like a piano key, newspaper headlines declaring Tad the Champ, and shots of Tad shaking the hand of a Presidents and Kings. Shots of Platinum records on the wall that have been arranged in the shape of a Grand Piano.)

(2nd Montage, appearing directly after 1st Montage. We see Tad start doing drugs and spiraling out of control, and then there are shots of him getting his act back together and becoming a better piano player and realistically, a better person as well. Shot of Tad throwing away his cigarettes and returning a case of energy drinks to the Safeway, and then a shot of Tad finishing the composition of an amazing piano symphony that, in an implied and unseen montage, he had started and had trouble finishing)

(3rd Montage, right after 2nd Montage. References other montages, but focuses mostly on how Tad’s family feels about his success. Shots of people who are likely related to Tad looking fondly at a picture of an art project that Tad may have made in elementary school.)

(4th Montage, right after 3rd Montage. Headlines of ANOTHER piano star growing famous, who is a WOMAN. Her name is Melody, and through a series of shots showing her fingers rocking keys, we know that somehow, despite her gender, she is the real deal. At this point, the montage would pause, and the audience would be given a quick survey and mini-pencil, with the question, “Girl Piano Player? Can you believe it?” and then a “Yes” and a “No” box for the audience check. When at least 75 surveys are completed [some people may need to take the survey more than once, depending on attendance and theater size], the montage song would end just as Melody would finish playing the song on the piano.)

(Camera cuts to a gigantic pink mansion. Tad is banging on the door furiously while wearing his piano vest. A butler named Derek opens the door.)

Tad: Where’s Melody?!

Derek: You’ll never find her!

Tad: But I must! Don’t you see?! I’ve got to make her love me! She’s the only one who comes close to understanding me, even though objectively I’m still a better piano player!

Derek: So this isn’t about the makeup bill?


Later:

Tad: Hey Melody! Look at this bumper sticker! It’s so funny!


Later:

Melody: That’s such a cool finger move you do in that piano song you play.

Tad: I call that move “Melody’s Twinkle.”

Melody: After….me?

Tad: Count on it.

Melody: I have a move too. It’s called… “I love you Tad Newton.”

Tad: ;-)


Thursday:

Melody: That sidewalk reminds me of my days in the Vietcong.

Tad: Melody?! You’re….you’re MALE PIANO TEACHER?!?!

Melody: Shit.

Warlock Computer

Thursday:

Ricky is alone in his room with a computer, which is rectangularly shaped. The very saddest warlock song is playing in the background.

Ricky: I’ve got to believe I’m doing the right thing. I will not be a warlock if they continue to racially segregate their schools. After 10 years of persuasion spells, I’ve finally come to realize that the League of Warlocks is never going to change. If they won’t change and I’m going to be a responsible 20-something, that means it’s up to me. I’m going to have to be Ricky the ex-warlock. But powers don’t just disappear. Hmmm…maybe if I transfer my powers…

(Ricky looks at his computer with those eyes of his.)

Ricky: That’s right, computer. I just might make you the most powerful computer ever. MAGIC!

(Ricky slowly puts on his warlock pants as he begins chanting an incantation. We are unable to make out all of the words he says, but we watch as Ricky cries blood tears and his sparkle blood drips onto the computer. The blood is like a delicious potion to the computer, and the computer laps it up greedily with a state-of-the-art circuit tongue. Looking at the circuit-tongue closely, it appears to be pierced and has a Pentagram stud. It did not originally have this)

Computer: (hard drive whirring)

Ricky: Oh no! I change my mind! Segregate the schools!

Computer: (same hard drive whirring)

Ricky dies because of the computer. Even though he had studied computers through books, it was not safe for him. The power and mystery of the computer’s hard drive, combined with the power and mystery of the Warlock Powers was simply too much. The computer kills Ricky. The computer now has warlock powers and a pentagram is etched into it by the serial number.

TWO THOUSAND YEARS LATER
Outside the ruins of Ricky’s house

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: (stoops over and tastes the dirt, pensively) There’s something buried underneath all this rubble, Mecha-Watson. Something with a taste I have not tasted before (Eats more dirt).

Mecha-Watson: I am thirrrrrr-sty!

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: (picks up some of the dirt with his hands, compacts it into a dirtball, and licks it) Yes… Yes. By George, this is where we need to dig! I’m sure of it, Mecha-Watson!

(Together, Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones and Mecha-Watson dig. Just as night is falling, they uncover what they have been searching for. The iconic silhouette of Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones removes his whip and walks towards the warlock computer. He stoops down and rests a hand on the computer and then tries to gnaw on it a bit. The computer immediately powers on, startling Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones.)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Quickly, Mecha-Watson! They’ll soon be here!

(Mecha-Watson quickly grabs the computer. Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones and Mecha-Watson are about to escape, when suddenly they are surrounded by a neo-militia armed with waterboard-guns. They are outnumbered 200 to one, meaning that there are exactly 400 neo-militia soldiers – 200 for Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones and another 200 for Mecha-Watson. One of these 400 soldiers, clearly the leader, emerges and saunters a bit. He is wearing a belt that is non-martial arts in nature.)

Ripple Crush: I’ve been following you for a long time, Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones. I’ve been following you since your first case, which we all know was extremely exciting with those mummies and I will not go into detail about it now. Anyway, I’ve certainly been following you long enough to know how long you’ve been looking for the warlock computer.

(Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones pupils possibly dilate mildly)

Ripple Crush: What’s this? Have I surprised the non-surprisable Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones? Yes, I’m afraid I know all about the warlock computer, Inspector Doctor Holmes Jones. And now, of course, you’ve led me straight to it, and I can confiscate it for myself.

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: (stops licking dirt out of anger) Maybe you know about the warlock computer, but I’m telling you, you obviously don’t understand it!

Ripple Crush: Nope. Where was I? Oh, I’m sorry, Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones - I’ve been rude. You should know exactly who it is that will kill you and your beloved Mecha-Watson. You’ve certainly earned that right. Allow me to introduce my name: It is Ripple Crush.

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: I already deduced your name.

Ripple Crush: You say that now.

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: I do. And, I must congratulate you. Our situation certainly seems dire.

Ripple Crush: It certainly is. I must say, Inspector Doctor Holmes Jones, I’m very impressed by your bravery. I’ll let it be known that your last moments on Earth were not cowardly ones.

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: My dear Mr. Ripple Crush, I’m afraid that’s where you and I must differ. You see, I feel quite strongly that these are not, in fact, my last moments.

Ripple Crush: Well I’m sorry to tell you that I --!!

(Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones solves the mystery of how to escape from 400 neo-militia)

Ripple Crush: (screaming to the empty night) Sherlock Indiana Holmes, Jones, I will have your head!!!

Scene: HOUSE OF SHERLOCK INDIANA HOLMES JONES

(Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones sits in antique leather chair, his hands cupped under his chin. He is staring at the Warlock Computer, which is still humming quietly. He is suddenly interrupted by the ring of his doorbell. He opens the door [no one stops him from doing so] only to find a large woman carrying a present with a big orange bow on it. The large woman may not be Ripple Crush in disguise).

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Hello?

Rachelle America: Hello? Inspector Doctor Homes Jones? I’m sorry - A man paid me 80 pence dollars so that I would deliver this package to you.

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: This man! What did he look like?! Tell me everything you remember!

Rachelle America: Why I never saw him!

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: I therefore deduce that he contacted you via holo-mail and left the money on the doorstep.

Rachelle America: He did indeed! How did you ever figure that out! I hadn’t told a soul!

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: (shaking his finger teasingly) Ah, ah, ah! An Inspector/Doctor of archeology never reveals his secrets. However, I will tell you how I know where this orange-ish bow was purchased. If you lick this bow, you’ll notice a particular taste.

(Rachelle America’s eyes open very wide and, sticking out her tongue, she presses it against the bow and holds it there for a little while although certainly time is relative)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: I’m sure you’ve now noticed taste of rust and earth. I can smell it from here with my great nose. As one might deduce, this orange bow is actually metal that was buried, oxidized, unburried, and finally twisted into a lovely bow. The sender must know that I’m an archeologist and inspector and thus would appreciate such fine craftsmanship. I mean look at it. It really is just a beautiful bow.

(Rachelle America removes her tongue from the bow and hands it to Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: And I mean if the bow is this pretty, the gift inside must be –!!

(Inside the box is Mecha-Watson’s grotesque and severed head)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Horror!!

(Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones drops the box and dashes away, not prancing. He runs to his room, where he slams the door and can be heard man-moaning in grief and terror. The camera follows Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones and somehow goes through the door [although it’s quite obviously a solid door and made of the mecha-oak] and we see Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones with his head cradled in his hands. Even grown men cry sometimes)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Oh, Mecha-Watson… How I wish that U2 could have solved the mystery of escaping from 400 neo militia. (Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones stops and thinks, arguing with himself over something mysterious) But then…but…maybe…what if I could…no, it’s too dangerous…but if I could then….but….but…so maybe if I…. of course I’d have to be careful…but….LET’S DO IT!

Another Thursday:

(Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones is found in his basement. He has a warlock cap over his deerstalker and fedora hats. At his feet is the warlock computer and guess what it’s in a pentagram)

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Warlock Computer! I command you to bring Mecha-Watson back from the dead!

(a Status Bar suddenly appears on the monitor, and we watch as the task slowly completes. Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones eats some dirt, nervously. The camera suddenly cuts to Ripple Crush’s eyes opening just as suddenly. He is wearing face-paint and a bone through his nose, and guess what, he knows what Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones is doing)

Ripple Crush: Yes! Yes, Inspector Doctor Holmes Jones... Resurrect your friend! Everything is going according to my secret plan!

Later:

Sherlock Indiana Holmes Jones: Well I'm not piercing that! Gross!

The Danger of Delicious: A Gerard Reinstein Story

Danny Vermont has just baked the world's best pie. Its crust is almost imaginary it's so good. It's filling is almost imaginary too. Take the best pie you have ever had and multiply that pie by an almost imaginarily high number. Divide by two. That is the pie that Danny Vermont has just baked. But the pie is more than the world's best pie - it is the most scrumptious and delectable morsel of food that the universe has known throughout its entire long and imaginary history. Such a pie should bring joy to the world. This pie may just well bring the end of humanity.

The pie becomes baked around the world. It's success is beyond imagination.

No one is eating their vegetables. They are eating pie. No one is is taking their medication. They are taking their pie. These people- the world - are pie-dying. For as almost imaginarily good as the pie is, it is not nutritious. It is made with preservatives and empty calories and some of my favorite toppings. But while delicious, it was never, ever, meant to sustain a healthy and balanced diet.

People forgo their health to eat this pie. Breakfast, brunch, lunch, linner, dinner - it is always Danny Vermont's pie. There is no time for aerobics or spinning classes when you have to spend that time in line for yet another succulent piece. Soon, everyone is super fat. Like, total cottage cheese butt fat.

Procreation is wasted pie time. The earth's population takes a nose dive like an imaginary contestant in a pie-eating contest.

One man, Gerard Reinstein, isn't going to take this shit. Gerard Reinstein is a celebrated space hero who lost his sense of taste and smell after trying to drown his space war memories in a 5-year coke binge. But that's all behind him. Gerard Reinstein is now a man who can take in his surroundings and process what is going on. What he has found is this - People are so CRAZY for this pie! The pie is an epidemic, and Gerard Reinstein is the epidemic's pandemic.

On a lonely yet noble mission, Gerard goes into pie factory after pie factory, shooting every pie he can find with an automatic shotgun laser. Pie filling splatters the walls as the greedy fat pie lovers desperately try to lick it off.

Let's get this straight: Gerard Reinstein blows up A LOT of pie factories. And even though he's doing it to save mankind, he becomes #2 on Earth's most wanted list. And #1 is the pie itself, because that's the kind of delusional pie lust the world has.

Soon, word starts to spread that Gerard Reinstein is part vampire, like in those Twilight books. It's not true, but it adds to his Joe Rogan's Fear Factor. Also, as a result, people try to stop Gerard with garlic and bottled sunshine. But Gerard just shoots those fools with his shotgun laser and moves on to shooting the next pie.

At the end of the movie there is just one pie factory left, but man is it a doozy. Maybe it's pie shaped. It is. Security around the pie factory is air tight. Nobody can break through - not without dying with a stake to the heart. Gerard, after feasting on the blood of a security guard, whips out the best and most realistic pie costume you have ever seen. Because why break in, when the pie gluttons can deliver him to their doorstep personally.


Sure enough, Gerard is soon discovered in his pie costume by the pie factory ITSELF. Scientists built the factory using human DNA, and so it's part alive and it sort of poops out the pies. Unnoticed in his pie costume, Gerard is brought to the explosive part of the factory, where he then bursts out of the best pie costume and starts shooting EVERYTHING. The pie factory blows up, but not before Gerard Reinstein gets hit on the head with a mallet by the factory. Gerard gets 4 things from the mallet. A concussion, his sense of taste, his sense of smell, and despair.

The movie ends tragically because sure enough, Gerard LOVES the pie. LOVES it. But he blew it all up. Plus he has no friends because people are mad and still think he's a vampire.

Thine Football Dreams on the Sunrise of Reality

(Scene: High school football field at night. The camera circles around the football field, spending extra time on each pole of the two uprights. Slowly it pans down to reveal Ritchie Jernsen and Tom Newsome alone and passing the football. Ritchie is sparkling with manly sweat. He works hard and he plays hard. Tom Newsome is overweight and predictably jolly.)

Tom: So. State champions, huh?

Ritchie: Yeah, I guess so. I don’t feel any different.

Tom: But you are different, Ritchie. You’re different than all of us. You’ve got this amazing gift and you’re going to go pro. The whole town knows. And woah-boy! when you do, the world had better watch out. Seriously, the NFL will never be the same.

Ritchie: But I have a secret that nobody can know, Tom.

Tom: Well, whatever it is, nobody in town will care. You’re a god damn saint in this town.

Ritchie: Yes they will care, Tom. They will and I’m SO DAMN SCARED that they’re going to find out.

(Zoom in on Ritchie’s tattoo. It is of a football beating up a baseball, a basketball, and a swimmer. The tattoo shows Ritchie’s love of football. That is the point.)

Tom: Geez, Tom. What is it? What’s the problem? What’s so bad you can’t tell nobody?

(Ritchie is silent and scared)

Tom: Hey. It’s okay, Ritchie. I won’t tell anybody. I swear to Christ I won’t.

Ritchie: (struggling) Okay. Okay. Tom…I have four…I have…Damn it…You know how most people have to buy a jock strap to play football?

Tom: Yeah…Why? What, you don’t wear jock straps?

Ritchie: No. (quietly) No. I’m saying have to wear four, Tom. (begins crying) I have to wear four.

Tom: What? Because your thing is too big?

Ritchie: No...

Tom: Why else would you wear four? Hey... Wait a minute… you’ve got….Oh, I see. You’re pulling my leg. That’s funny, Ritchie, but seriously. You can tell me. Friends till the end, isn’t that what we used to say?

Ritchie: Yeah…yeah. Friends to the end. Yeah I was joking before. So…my real secret is that I had sex with a prostitute once.

Tom: A prostitute? That’s fine, Ritchie! Nobody cares. Hell, after a few drinks, my mom won’t shut up about how my dad once rang up a $1500 tab with a “lady of the evening.” Who cares? You’re not married! If anything, this just makes you more cool.

Ritchie: I guess you’re right. I don’t know what I was so worried about. Hey, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head home.

Tom: See you later, whore-in-ator.

Ritchie: Right. Good one.

(Ritchie walks away)

Ritchie (to himself): Think, Ritchie! I have to be careful. I have to keep this secret forever. (Ritchie throws the football into the end zone. Touchdown.) FOREVER!!

Different Scene: (Ritchie is with his girlfriend Melinda. She is undressing, revealing a tattoo of a volleyball kissing a football. This shows her love, respect, and attraction to football. That is the point)

Melinda: Ritchie? Please. I want to do this.

Ritchie: I do too, Melinda, but I told you when we started dating that I can’t until I get married.

Melinda: Come on, Ritchie! What is with you?! You’re the town hero, the football star. You’re going pro and everybody knows it. You’re getting out of this town, so why can’t you just take me with you, Ritchie? Aren’t I pretty enough?

Ritchie: You’re beautiful, Melinda.

Melinda: What then? You like boys?

Ritchie: No, Damn it! I just have four -- …I just can’t tell you why. I want to fuck you, Melinda. I want to very badly. Please. Can you just trust that I love you and that one day I’ll tell you why? Just – not today. But don’t worry. I promise, if I get out of this town…you’re coming with me.

Melinda: Okay Ritchie. Okay.

Ritchie: ….

Melinda: Ritchie? Ritchie? Hey, are you crying? I didn’t mean to upset you, Ritchie.


Another Scene:

(Ritchie is alone in his room. He’s been drinking and his eyes are red from crying. In his hands he holds a knife.)

Ritchie (to himself): I’ll just…I’ll cut the extras off. Cut them off. There’s no NFL without the physical, and there’s no way I’m going to the physical like this. I’ll just cut them off.

Ritchie’s Mom (from downstairs): Ritchie honey? Are you coming to dinner?

(the camera leaves Ritchie’s room and travels downstairs to meet Ritchie’s mom, who is starting to come upstairs to check on Ritchie. Suddenly we hear Ritchie scream. The camera then follows Ritchie’s mom as she quickly runs up to Ritchie’s room as she knocks on his door. The door is football shaped)

Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? You alright?

(no answer)

Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? Honey, I’m coming in.

(Ritchie’s Mom opens the door, and sees her son lying face-down on the floor, bunched up in a ball. Ritchie’s mom starts towards him, but then he gets up with a grimace on his face.)

Ritchie: I’m…coming mom. Just give me a second.

Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? You look like you’re in pain, honey! What happened?

Ritchie: Nothing mom. I just fell. I’m fine. Let’s eat dinner.


Thursday:

(Ritchie is again by himself in his room. He sits on his bed, looking numb.)

Ritchie: I’ve asked God for three things in my life. I wanted to be the best football player the world has ever seen. I’m not. Not yet. But I’m close. I know in my heart that God heard me and he answered me. Then I asked for God to make sure Trichelle never told anybody about what I did to her. I was kind of sorry she got hit by that car, but she’ll never talk again. God made sure. But for my entire life I’ve asked God to make me normal, make me like everybody else. 18 years. It was the one prayer He wouldn’t answer, He couldn’t hear. For 18 years He ignored me and today I finally took them into my own hands and I did what God wouldn’t do.

(Ritchie starts to cry)

Ritchie: God, I know why You didn’t listen. Please. Please. Put them back. Make them grow back.

Different Thursday

Ritchie: I’ve never trusted a sunrise, Melinda. The oranges and reds in the sky, they make it look like it’s on fire, burning away. Like it’ll burn until there’s nothing left but cold and dark and ashes.

Melinda: What are you talking about, Ritchie? Just enjoy it for what it is. Whatever happens for the rest of the day, there was at least one moment of beauty.

Ritchie. You don’t understand.

Melinda: Than teach me. I’m listening. Damn it Ritchie, I’m not just here for you, I’m H-E-A-R for you. You asked me once to trust you. Now trust me.

Ritchie: You know, everybody thinks they know what they want. Everybody’s so goddamn sure about it. People pray and wish and struggle and sacrifice to get whatever it is, and sometimes that’s great. Sometimes it works out. But not always. Sometimes it makes you cry and it makes you change suddenly you’ll never be what made you special again. Sometimes it makes you less than what you were.

Melinda: Are you talking about football, Ritchie? Do you want to stop playing football?

Ritchie: No. No I love football. That’s the only thing that makes me forget about the emptiness.

Melinda: Good. Because we need to get out of this place, Ritchie. There’s nothing here but lost chances. And crime, too. Did you see the paper yesterday? Other than the state championship, it’s the most exciting thing to happen in this town for years. It’s sick though. Cops found a baggie containing, quote, body parts from three human males. They’re looking for the killer, but they’re also trying to figure out who got murdered. So far nobody’s been reported as missing.

Ritchie: What?

Melinda: Yeah, I guess they’re sending in the body parts for a DNA analysis.

Ritchie: I’m doomed.


Later:
(Ritchie is walking by himself by the river)

Ritchie: I’ve been signed by the Colts. This should be the happiest day of my life. But it’s just a matter of time. I was so careful, I did so much to hide my secret, and in a couple of days it won’t matter. Trying to rid myself of the problem just made it 10 times worse. Any day now, they’re going to come to my door and everyone will know. Everyone. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Should I just throw myself in the river and end it all, spare myself the shame?

(Ritchie looks at the rushing river which seems to be calling him, begging for his soul)

Ritchie: No. That river is haunted.

Finny Land

Fin: Hey Gloria. What if I told you that I was the original creator of Mickey Mouse?

Gloria: I’d laugh. Walt Disney created Mickey Mouse. It’s common knowledge. Come on.

Fin: I knew you wouldn’t believe me.

Gloria: Well look at the facts. I mean, yes you are very old, and you’re an EXCEPTIONAL cartoonist, and I know you’ve never been to Disneyland, but really Fin? Mickey Mouse?

Fin: … Gloria? Did I ever tell you about when I first came to America?

Gloria: Why…no Fin, I don’t think you ever have.

Fin: I was, new to this country. I was as poor as I was naïve. Instead of a hand, I had a tentacle.

Gloria: (interrupting) Then why do you have a normal hand now?

Fin: Gloria, please. Close that ignorant mouth of yours. It’s an incredibly ignorant mouth, and whenever you talk, you just reveal your own stupidity.

Gloria: …

Fin: It’s sad.

(Gloria nods her head)

Fin: I lived on the streets. I had only two friends and they were both as poor as I was. One of them was a mouse. The other one…was Walt Disney. Instead of a hand, Walt Disney had a tentacle.

Gloria: But you said –

Fin: -We BOTH had a tentacle hand, Gloria. Could you please just try and follow along here?

Gloria: …

Fin: Because I don’t want to TALK about the tentacles, Gloria. What I WANT is to tell you about how I was the original creator of Mickey Mouse. But is that too much to ask? Is that going to be a problem for you?

Gloria: No.

Fin: It was Walt Disney who taught me how to draw. He had so much talent and a tentacle hand, but still, he lacked creativity and he needed a partner. Every day, Walt would attempt to teach me how to draw. Unfortunately, I was a slow learner. Slow like you’re slow, Gloria, and Walt had no patience for me. But I took his beatings; I understood. His genius was unmatched, and with genius comes eccentricity.

Gloria: …

Fin: Have I mentioned Walt had a tentacle hand?

Gloria: Yes.

Fin: Go to hell, Gloria. I hope you go to hell and they turn up the heat.

Gloria: You go to hell.

Fin: Baby, I’m already there.

Gloria: So…what happened?

Fin: One night while I was doodling I drew Mickey Mouse. Walt saw it, immediately recognized its commercial viability, stole it, and then sewed the drawing into his skin so I couldn’t get it back.

Gloria: He sewed it? How could he thread a needle if one of his hands was a tentacle?

Fin: DAMN IT GLORIA! I….I…Actually, that’s an excellent question. I don’t know why it never occurred to me.

Gloria: He must have had an accomplice, Fin.

Fin: But who? We didn’t have any friends.

Gloria: You had the mouse.

Fin: Gloria, you should have quit while you were ahead. You’re back to sounding like you’ve got feces slathered around your brain.

Gloria: Well he must have had somebody.

Fin: Yes….yes he must have. So it’s not too late then.

Gloria: To late for what?

Fin: Vengance, Gloria. I’m going to track down whoever helped Walt Disney, and then I’m going to kill him.

Gloria: Fin, it’s against the law to kill someone.

Fin: It’s against the law for a human to kill another human, Gloria. That’s not a problem for me.

Gloria: What are you saying, Fin?

Fin: Haven’t you figured it out by now, Gloria? I’m from Atlantis. I’m part octopus.

Gloria: All these years….it all makes sense now. Those ink stains...

Fin: Yes. I’m sorry I had to lie about those. I’ll explain more later. Right now I need to track down the mysterious villain who sewed my Mickey Mouse drawing into Walt Disney’s skin.

Gloria: But until today you didn’t know this person existed! How will you find him?

Fin: Gloria, I’m going to give you one more chance. Shut your fucking face. You don’t know shit about shit, and I’m really getting tired of you vomiting out whatever random idiocy your broken brain manages to churn up. I swear to God, if you keep this up, I will rip you apart with my part Octopus strength.

Gloria: …

Fin: …

Gloria: I’ll make you some coffee.

Fin: Smart.

Gloria: …

Fin: Now, as I was about to explain, Walt loved the Mickey Mouse sketch I drew so much that he never had it removed. He guarded it with his life, as it was the only thing in existence proving that he didn’t create Mickey Mouse. If we can get to the corpse of Walt Disney, we can examine the drawing sewn into his skin. And, if we can examine the drawing, we can examine the needlework. Needlework is like a fingerprint, Gloria. No two sewers seam or stitch the same way.

Gloria: Oh.

Fin: The needlework will tell us who Walt’s accomplice was. We just need to get access to the body.

Gloria: So we just need to find out where Walt Disney is buried?

Fin: I already know where he’s buried, Gloria. He’s in the Haunted Mansion’s graveyard in Disneyland.

Gloria: But Disneyland is notorious for its brutal security! Not to mention it’s always busy! How are we going to dig up a grave that’s right smack in the middle of Disneyland?

Fin: With a fucking shovel, you halfwit. We’re going to Disneyland - part octopus style.

Ka-Boom-Boom My Heart

KA-BOOM!

Johnny: They just blew it up!

Yvette: What?

Johnny: EVERYTHING! Run for it!

Yvette: But my house!

Johnny: Your house was part of everything! …So was mine.

Yvette: No!

KA-BOOM!

Yvette: That means…my car was blown up too?

Johnny: Yes. I’m sorry.

Yvette: Who ARE you?

Johnny: Until 15 minutes ago, I was part of the problem. Now I’m part of the solution. Name’s Johnny.

Yvette: I’m Yvette.

Johnny: RUN, YVETTE! RUNNNNNN!

KA-BOOM!

Yvette: Oh Johnny! Can’t we stop running? I’m so tired!

Johnny: Bombs don’t get tired, Yvette. So no.

Yvette: Johnny? You said you were part of the problem. What did you mean?

Johnny: I mean that before I wasn’t blowing stuff up to make you fall in love with me and now I am.

Yvette: Johnny you’re the bad guy? What?!

Johnny: I’m the only guy left. Everyone else is exploded. You HAVE to love me.

KA-BOOM!!

Johnny: I…DIE?!

Yvette: Now you are dead!

Johnny: But I did not make that bomb that killed me!

Yvette: Here is another bomb I drop: I never loved you!

Johnny: And here is the final bomb I drop: Maybe I was dead before the bomb, like my soul was dead if it thought it was okay to kill people.

Yvette: Now I love you but it is too late.

Johnny: ….

Yvette: Johnny? JOHNNY!!!

KA-BOOM!

Pick Your Poison II: Where No Roads Go

Yule: Hey Jay? Remember when you broke your arm?

Jay: Yeah. That was a while ago. Why?

Yule: It scared me. I was worried your arm would never heal.

Jay: It's fine.

Yule: Good. You know, when that happened I was also kind of scared that I'd break my own arm.

Jay: Well I hope you never do.

Yule: Thanks, Jay.

Jay: No problem.

Yule: So...Christmas is coming up pretty fast.

Jay: Yes it is. You see they're already selling Christmas lights in stores.

Yule: Consumerism, huh?

Jay: Yep. Everybody's buy buy buy.

Yule: Anything you want for Christmas?

Jay: Nah. I'm good.

Yule: I'll figure something out.

Jay: Well just so you know, you don't have to.

Yule: I know. You don't either.

Jay: You know what I don't want, right?

Yule: What?

Jay: Another broken arm.

Yule: (laughs) No! Who'd want that?

Jay: Not me.

Yule: Maybe I would...Sometimes I think that maybe subconsciously I like pain.

Jay: What makes you say that?

Yule: Well, I don't know. I guess the life decisions I make. Sometimes I do things I know aren't in my best interest.

Jay: Like what, for example?

Yule: Like I poison myself a little each day.

Jay: You poison yourself? No you don't.

Yule: I do.

Jay: Well I do to. There you go; we're both poisoning ourselves. What do you use?

Yule: My poisons are meat and dairy products.

Jay: And my poisons are non-organic foods.

Yule: Your poison slowly kills your body.

Jay: Your poison slowly kills your soul.

Both: Together, we are dead. Mind, body, soul.

Yule: I want a cheeseburger.

Jay: I want a store-bought apple.

Both: What do we do? How many nooses will we tie around our necks? Lali-ho! Two strangers approach.

Calf: I'm an orphan, but it smells like my mom. It smells like my mom in your belly!

Organic Apple Tree: Why has everyone turned their back on me? Can't you see that I provide safe and healthy food?

Calf: I'm all alone. I'm alone and hungry.

Organic Apple Tree: Come, young cow, Take nourishment in the fruit that I bear.

Yule: I wish we could be like them.

Jay: Why? They're so sad!

Yule: Jay, if we were like them, then we wouldn't be like us. That means We never would have eaten the Calf's mom. We never would have forgotten about Organic Apple Trees.

Jay: So then -

Yule: Right. They'd have nothing to be sad about.

Jay: I wish we could change it. I wish we could undo what we have done.

Yule: Jay, I once had the power to go back in time. I could have changed this. But I lost that power when I ate my first cheeseburger.

Jay: If you'd never eaten that first cheeseburger, we wouldn't need to go back in time anyway.

Yule: That's technically true.

Jay: Hey Yule?

Yule: Yeah.

Jay: I know what I want for Christmas now.

Yule: What's that?

Jay: A new car.

Yule: A new car? Why?

Jay: So we can drive away from all of this poison. So we can drive away from all the sadness we've caused.

Yule: Ain't no roads that go that far, Jay. Ain't no roads.

Praint

Yvonne: Hey Ronald? Want to go to a party?

Ronald: Damn it! No! Get the F out of my way! I'm going to paint this house! Hey…where'd all my paint go?

Elsewhere…

Barnaby: Hey Mike. You know, if we didn't paint these yellow lines on the road I bet cars would drive right the F into each other. You ever think about that?

Mike: I do think about that, Barnaby. I think about that all the time. I think about it and I think about it but now matter how much I think and no matter how much I worry, the danger is still there. It's real and it's there. Like old bastard time himself, it is relentless. Because if we don't do our jobs… people die. I cannot think away the danger; it is immortal. I cannot ignore it either. It is in-your-face. And so…I must accept it. I must face the danger and conquer it with dash-after-dash of painted yellow line. And so must you. Now stop jerking me around, Barnaby and hand it over. How are we going to conquer this danger if you keep hiding all the paint?

Barnaby: (whispering in a scared tone) Um…Mike?... Mike… I…I didn't hide any paint.

And on the visual TV...

Reporter: We have some breaking news. Where'd all the paint go?

At a High School:

Corbin Mantruck: And so class, if you look outside, you'll see rain clouds. Rain clouds are part of our weather system.

Madison Street: Oooh! They're so pretty!

Corbin Mantruck: For today's lab on weather, I'd like you all to paint the clouds outside, using the materials provided.

Tommy Johnson: Ain't no paint, Mr. Mantruck.

Corbin Mantruck: But that's… impossible! Unless…. Class, you're dismissed. Read pages of the book for your homework tonight.

(the class leaves)

Corbin Mantruck: (mumbling to himself) When I theorized about this…nobody believed…..thought I was crazy….I thought I was crazy…

(Corbin Mantruck does some equations on the dry-erase board, using both hands to write, just like Leonardo Da Vinci used to)

Corbin Mantruck: Weather…has evolved.

Four Hours Later

(Corbin is on the phone)

Corbin Mantruck: No! It is not okay to put me on hold! I've been on hold for 3 hours! You've got to listen! Weather has evolved! It's not just water that evaporates anymore! Don't you see? Paint is evaporating too!

(Corbin is put on hold)

Corbin Mantruck: G DAMN it!

(Corbin slams down the phone. Just then, a doorbell rings. Corbin answers the door)

Walt Van Shorn: Mr. Mantruck? Hi. It's Walt Van Shorn? I called last week about doing a teacher profile on you for the school paper?

Corbin Mantruck: Right. Get the F inside, Walt. I've got something to tell you.

Walt Van Shorn: Alright. So…my first question-

Corbin Mantruck: No no no. Forget the questions. I like your jacket. I've got something urgent, Walt. I've got the biggest story since ever.

Walt Van Shorn: EVER?!?!

Corbin Mantruck: You watch the news, Walt? You hear about the disappearing paint?

Walt Van Shorn: Yeah, I heard about it. Why?

Corbin Mantruck: The sky.

Walt Van Shorn: Ummm…

Corbin Mantruck: I know. You think I'm crazy, right? But look outside. See those rain clouds? I was just talking about them in my class today. See how with the sunset, they look so beautiful with the oranges and reds and purples?

Walt Van Shorn: Yes….

Corbin Mantruck: Well tell me how the F that's possible, Walt, since the sun set FIVE F'ING HOURS AGO!!!

Walt Van Shorn: !!!! But…But it's supposed to rain tomorrow!

Corbin Mantruck: Bring your paint thinner!

Walt Van Shorn: But what do we do?

Corbin Mantruck: We die.

Walt Van Shorn: There's got to be something we can do.

Corbin Mantruck: Did you know, Walt, that humans are almost 62% water? Water. Not paint, Walt. Water.

Walt: So…so what's going to happen?

Corbin Mantruck: Paint rain. Paint rivers and lakes. Diluted paint oceans. Lead poisoning. Ruined houses. Drinking water becomes paint water. Huffing becomes yet a greater epidemic. An entire color spectrum of destruction.

Walt Van Shorn: Well we can't just give up!

Corbin Mantruck: Then don't. Me? I think I gave up a long time ago. Walt, I'm not a perfect man. I've struggled with drugs, extreme sports, alcohol, violence... I've fought all of those demons, and I've won. I'm still here. But I don't have another fight left in me, Walt. I'm tired. This raining paint thing is going to kill me. I just want to warn the public, sit back, and let the paint color me away.

Walt Van Shorn: With all due respect, Mr. Mantruck: Go to hell.

Corbin Mantruck: Goodbye, Walt. Please, make sure people know. Give them a fighting chance.

Walt Van Shorn: Goodbye, Mr. Mantruck.

Later:

Eve: My umbrella! It's ruined!

Ian: Paint fumes?! We're getting high on paint fumes! Quick run to the house!

Eve: I don't like this! I don't do drugs!

Ian: I said get to the house!

Later:

Walt (voiceover): On September 15^th, 2008, weather evolved. We weren't ready. Nobody was. Around the world, paint began to evaporate. In response, the world made more - more of the same poison that would soon change the face of this world forever, more of the wet, liquid killer. But the first praint storm didn't kill everyone. Like me, some found shelter. Now, we live our lives searching for streams and indoor pools with a fresh water supply. Water is our God now. But there are others, too. Those that couldn't find shelter quickly grew intoxicated by the praint fumes. Now, these paint-stained savages stumble and stagger throughout the streets, living in the daze of praint, they are hungry and violent. With a lazy and methodical rage, they attack anyone that gets near them. So we hide. We hide from the praint, hide from the Huffers, hide from the grim reality that comes in every thick and sticky color. Sometimes I think that maybe Corbin Mantruck was right to give up. He wasn't alone. People give up every day, walking into the praint and embracing its fumes. Me? Most days I still have hope. That hope keeps me fighting. One day, maybe we can analyze the DNA of weather. And maybe, if there are enough scientists left, scientists that haven't given in to the praint or the huffers, maybe we can find a way to take that DNA and take out the paint evaporating gene. I live for that day

O Positive

LARS VONSON: I've always been different.

(INTENSE Flashback. 3-year-old LARS cuts himself on a piece of glass. A black substance oozes out from his injury.)

LARS' DAD: Are you okay, son? Wait… what is this? What kind of blood is this?! You're a freak, Lars! My kid is a freak! Lars, you get the hell out of my sight! I can be poor and abusive without you! I ain't never wanna see you again!

(Cut to PRESENT TIME. LARS is in a WHEELCHAIR)

LARS: But people don't like it when you're different.

(Cut to LARS in high school. He gets punched in the mouth from a bully)

LARS: Pfffha! My mouth!

Bully: I ain't never punched nobody with blood like this! What a loser! Take his freak wallet!

(Cut to PRESENT TIME. LARS gets up from the WHEELCHAIR. He was just PLAYING with it and DOESN'T NEED it.)

LARS: But some people…some people, when they find out you're different…some people try and steal what makes ya special.

(BULLETS rip through the walls and LARS DUCKS behind a couch.)

LARS: Never let them take it.

(Quickly, LARS takes out a POCKETKNIFE and cuts his hand. Instead of blood, BLACK DROPLETS fall to the floor. LARS makes a trail of his black blood that leads to a stack of FIREWORKS. BULLETS whiz by him. LARS JUMPS back behind the couch and pulls out his ZIPPO LIGHTER.)

LARS: Happy 4^th of July, dickweeds.

(LARS lights the trail of black droplets on fire, which easily ignite and quickly set the fireworks aflame. LARS uses the distraction and ESCAPES out the BACK DOOR)

LARS: My name is Lars Vonson. I bleed oil.

(Opening Credits)

LARS: They found me again, Todd. They found me. Don't call it a safe house if it isn't safe! Who knew I was there?

TODD: Nobody knew!

LARS: Somebody knew, Todd. Somebody knew and it almost killed me. Listen. You know how you have blood that keeps you alive?

TODD: Yes, yes. We've been through this! –

LARS: – Well I have oil! I have an unending supply of a precious fuel resource, and it flows through my veins like it was the most natural thing in the world!

TODD: But it isn't the most natura–

LARS: I KNOW IT ISN'T! That's why the government wants me! That's why they'll stop at nothing to catch me! I'm worth untold billions to them, Todd, and it doesn't matter if they catch me dead or if they catch me alive. They're going to clone the hell out of me either way.

TODD: Wow. Well maybe I told my girlfriend.

LARS: Then your girlfriend is a spy.

TODD: Don't say that!

LARS: It's true!

TODD: Nobody says that about my girlfriend!

(TODD pulls out a GUN like he's going to shoot LARS. LARS PUNCHES HIMSELF hard in the face and quickly HOLDS his lighted ZIPPO LIGHTER to his mouth.)

TODD: I don't care how much you're worth. Nobody calls my girlfriend a spy and lives!

(Before Todd can pull the trigger, LARS uses the OIL-BLOOD that has been accumulating in his MOUTH and by SPITTING it through the ZIPPO LIGHTER. LARS becomes a human FLAME THROWER and he lights TODD on FIRE. TODD screams and fires wildly into the air.)

LARS: Happy 4^th of July, Dickweed.

(LARS looks at a CALANDER and it is STILL the 4^th of JULY)

TODD: I'm….I'm sorry.

(TODD DIES)

LARS: No, I'm sorry Todd. I'm sorry she's a spy and I'm sorry it broke your heart. And I'm sorry I burned you to death. Please know that even if your spirit can forgive what I've done, know that I can never forgive myself.

(Cut to: A Government OFFICE at nighttime. LARS is breaking in. He HEARS two SECURITY GAURDS talking and LARS HIDES in the SHADOWS)

SECURITY GUARD 1: I feel like our job is too easy. With doors this squeaky, we can hear intruders coming from a mile away.

SECURITY GUARD 2: I know! It's enough to wake up a sleeping security guard!

BOTH: LAUGH!!

SECURITY GUARD 1: Let's go sleep.

(LARS, from the shadows, thinks for a minute and then looks at the DOOR HINGES and then looks at his HANDS and then looks at his POCKETKNIFE and then looks at the DOOR HINGES again.)

(Cut to: THE RAIN FOREST. LARS has smeared his own Oil-blood all over his body, and he is perfectly camouflaged against a muddy cliff)

FRANK: I know you're out there, LARS! Do us all a favor and either turn yourself in or shoot yourself! There's no way out of here! Freaks don't win, Lars! Freaks never win! You're nothing more than a human oil factory!

(LARS steps away from the muddy cliff and it turns out he's RIGHT BEHIND FRANK. But FRANK HEARS LARS and he turns and puts LARS in a CHOKE-HOLD. FRANK gets OIL all over his NEW SUIT. It is RUINED.)

LARS: ARGH! But… there's one thing… about oil factories.

FRANK: What's that?

LARS: They're extremely flammable.

(LARS lights himself on FIRE. The pain is unbearable, but FRANK also catches on FIRE.)

FRANK: I'm on fire! The burning! The burning!

(LARS pours BAKING SODA all over himself, dousing the oil fire. FRANK Continues to burn to death.)

LARS: Blood type "O" Positive. "O" for Oil.

(Cut to: A NURSERY HOME. An OLD MAN is in a wheelchair)

OLD MAN: And that's the story of Lars, the man whose blood was made of oil.

NURSE: Where do you come up with these stories? Come on. It's time for your bath. Your skin is looking dirty and oily.

OLD MAN: Yes. It does that.

(The OLD MAN WINKS at the camera and then gets up from his WHEELCHAIR. He was just PLAYING with it and DOESN'T NEED it.)

CREDITS.

The Point .08 Killer

HARRY: My hot rod is crashed because of that stupid wall.

JACK: No it is because you DRUNK DRIVE!

HARRY: Shut up! I’m a good driver and if I have a drink it is okay!

JACK: That is crazy! You almost died in the car reck! Open your eyes and see!

HARRY: Shut up!

JACK: No I won’t shut up until you realize that sooner or later your going to KILL somebody when you drink and drive.

HARRY: If you won’t shut up then I am going to kill you in your sleep!

JACK: Well you won’t be able to because I won’t sleep until you are dead!

HARRY: It is impossible to not sleep forever. If you wait until I die you will accidentally fall asleep and when you do I will know and I will kill you

JACK: DON’T YOU SEE?! YOU WILL DIE SOON BECAUSE YOU DRUNK TOO MUCH!!

HARRY: I AM NOT TO DRUNK TO FIRE THIS GUN IN YOUR FACE!

JACK: HA! You can’t. I am not asleep yet.

HARRY: But when you do sleep I will kill you then.

JACK: Agreed.

**when HARRY walks away it is revealed that JACK is also carrying a gun and he shoots HARRY in the back with it**

HARRY: You shot me. But I thought you were going to wait.

JACK: HAHA. I did wait. I waited for you to turn around. And then I did shoot you.

HARRY: Why did you murder me?

JACK: Because don’t you now? My grandpa was killed by a drunk driver! Now I kill drunk drivers.

HARRY: Your vigilante!

JACK: Yes I vigilanteed your ass. Now go to hell, drunk driver mother effer.

**HARRY dies and JACK laughs**

JACK: HAHAHA! That is one less drunk drive for the world to worry about. But what is sad is that I also am alcholholic.

**JACK leaves and goes to a tavern and gets drunk**

BARTENDER: Hello JACK. Where is HARRY?

JACK: I don’t know. Maybe he was trying to drive home drunk and he died.

BARTENDER: Like when you drove drunk home and killed your GRANDPA?!!!!