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A psychological thriller revolving around two boys who are bonded inside a deadly house. |
ESCROW © FADE IN: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, LIVING ROOM - DAY An OVERWEIGHT MOM, MID-FORTIES draped in grey sweats crashes down on a half-sunken, plaid love seat. She breathes heavily, surrounded by a throne of carefully hoarded ANTIQUE RUBBISH. She gnaws away at a molded turkey sub complimented by potato chips. Large crumbs trickle onto her stained attire. A prehistoric TUBE TELEVISION rests uncomfortably close to the couch. The black glass replicates her unappealing reflection. She lunges at the remote - CLICK. As the screen fades in, her image dissipates. CUT TO: INT. TV SET, NEWS BROADCAST - DAY A YOUNG ASIAN FEMALE sits with her hands folded neatly at a contemporary desk - a NEWS ANCHOR. FEMALE NEWS ANCHOR And this just in. A manhunt is underway for two Clinton men who have been linked to seventeen home invasions and thirteen murders throughout April. No arrests have been made, and police say the suspects are notorious for breaking into the homes of susceptible targets. CUT TO: INT. NEWS BROADCAST, CLINTON STREET CORNER - NIGHT A gaggle of reporters surround the CLINTON POLICE CHIEF. He hovers around three other officers, addressing them in confidence. Several reporters interrupt the Chief’s huddle with their intrusive microphones. They inquire obnoxiously. MALE REPORTER How do you plan on catching these murderers? FEMALE REPORTER Chief Hudley, have you implemented a perimeter strategy? Is the FBI involved? The meeting is over. Chief Hudley directs his men to the adjacent street corner. He approaches the media for a PRESS REPORT - CHIEF HUDLEY We are doing the best we possibly can with the limited resources we have. As you all know, Clinton is a busy city and we must continue with business as usual. We can’t allow two men to bring an entire city of hard working American’s to their knees, now can we? CAMERAS FLASH! MICROPHONES SHAKE! MALE REPORTER Chief Hudley, is the FBI assisting in this matter? CHIEF HUDLEY (addresses the question) We have received word that the FBI will soon aid us in the hunt for these two suspects. We’ll send updates as we acquire new information. The mob of reporters shout their synchronized inquires in concert. CHIEF HUDLEY (CONT’D) I have time for one last question. FEMALE REPORTER Are the murders isolated to the city of Clinton? Have the men been spotted anywhere else? Chief Hudley looks out to the crowd. CHIEF HUDLEY As far as we know, all reports are concentrated within the perimeter of Clinton. Curfew begins tonight. 2. The Chief EXITS. Police block off the aggressive gaggle as they attempt to follow. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, LIVING ROOM - DAY The woman tosses her plate on the coffee table - insignificant crumbs remain. A black and white TV GUIDE pokes out from under a large stack of assorted diet magazines. She retrieves it - UGH! The front cover reads - SUBURB LIVING: A GUIDE TO COMFORT IN WEBWOOD! She smirks, recognizing the spacious gap between Webwood and Clinton. She feels immune to the danger of becoming a victim and tosses the guide. She switches TV channels and increases the volume. A commercial pitches its’ flawless dating algorithm - CUT TO: DATING COMMERCIAL: CONNECT U A Caucasian couple, MAN and WOMAN, hold hands. They walk across the screen, followed by an African American couple - TWO MALES. Both couples EXIT O.S. - TWO FEMALES poke their heads out from either side of the picture. They approach one another, and - KISS. The company logo FADES IN - CONNECT U. FEMALE NARARRATOR (O.S.) Try our patented dating method for thirty days, and we promise to connect you! CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, LIVING ROOM - DAY The woman SNORTS in rebuttal. 3. OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Does it force em’ to pay child support? Scum bags! CUT TO: EXT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, BACK PATIO - DAY A SMALL PATIO housing a BROKEN SCREEN DOOR drowns in rustic, PATRIOTIC EMBELLISHMENT . As the wind picks up, the crooked screen taps gently against the backdoor. An UNIDENTIFIED MALE - his face O.S. - steps onto the patio. DIRT has accumulated on his BLACK BOOTS. His BROWN KHAKIS are stained and faded. He drops an empty bottle of JACK DANIELS over the railing. A WIND CHIME sings, cloaking the intruder’s movements. The man carefully opens the screen and twists the door handle- It’s unlocked. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, LIVING ROOM - DAY The woman’s eyes are glued to a tacky sitcom. The back-door cracks open near the far end of the room. She CHUCKLES! OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Ridiculous! She pays no mind as the unidentified male ENTERS - CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, KITCHEN - DAY A trail of DIRT litters the floor as he paces across the room, disappearing into the next. The door hangs open - the screen kisses it gently. The television’s thunderous volume distorts any and all background clatter. CUT TO: 4. INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, STAIRCASE - DAY The mysterious intruder ascends a WOODEN STAIRCASE. With only the rear of his head observable, He reaches the top and opens the closest door - INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, UPSTAIRS BATHROOM - DAY He ENTERS a filthy bathroom. The bright WHITE TILE makes it simpler to spot clusters of accrued MOLDING. The counter is invisible under a sea of BEAUTY PRODUCT. Its’ adjacent mirror is clouded with a coated film from the shower’s mist, leaving an insignificant section for one to examine themselves. With his face remaining O.S. - the man steps onto a grimy bath towel (a beat). Kneeling down, he clutches the moist fabric in his hands. GREEN and YELLOW stains taint the cheap bathroom artifact - an accumulation of mildew and stripper make-up. He slowly rises, bringing the towel with him. CUT TO: INT. MIRROR REFLECTION - DAY The intruder suffocates the towel to his face. His facial features protrude through the thin cloth. INHALING DEEPLY, his head vibrates. He basks in the scent of his soon-to-be victim. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL LIVING ROOM - DAY The crumbs from the plate have vanished. The large woman licks at her salted fingers. The TAPPING of the screen door amplifies. This time, she hears it. She twists her neck - OVERWEIGHT FEMALE MATTY? I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN YOUR ROOM! No reply. Heaving her heavy body off the couch, she stands to find the back-door sitting ajar. It mocks her as she struggles to stand up straight. CUT TO: 5. INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, BATHROOM - DAY The towel halfway hangs down a putrid sink. The man removes a large HUNTING BLADE from his back pocket. With the towel now in hand, he cuts two EYE HOLES into the white fabric. He wraps the towel around his head and ties it snugly - a perfect fit. INT. MIRROR REFLECTION - DAY He admires his new look, running his callused fingers over a series of different lipstick colors. Several roll off into the porcelain sink. He retrieves a dark red shade and TWISTS - painting a crooked mouth onto his unconventional mask. (A beat)... Content with his image, he EXITS into - INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - DAY A battered, off-white BEDROOM DOOR covered in KICK MARKS sits across the bathroom. A child’s WHIMPER bellows underneath. It captures the intruder’s attention. He approaches the door, close enough to view CLAW MARKS embedded in the wood grain. He ENTERS - CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, CHILD’S BEDROOM - DAY The trace smell of ROTTEN FECES runs foul. A SMALL CRIB rests under an even SMALLER WINDOW - the glass is covered with BLACK TAPE, blocking out any trace of sunlight. A NEGLECTED MALE CHILD, no older than four, stands in the center of the room wearing a STAINED T-SHIRT and WEEK OLD DIAPER. Bruises run down his feeble arms. A large WELT protrudes from the side of his fragile head. He weeps quietly, reaching his tiny fingers toward a broken dresser. House flies swarm a paper plate atop the largest drawer. A rotten ham sandwich summons them. The child, starving, is too short to reach. The masked intruder tilts his head, analyzing the horrid abuse. He approaches the child and kneels until he’s eyelevel. He wipes away a tear from the child’s eyes. 6. He places his finger to the boy’s tiny lips. A DOLL rests on the floor, seams ripped. The man hands it to the child, and EXITS - CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, BACKDOOR - DAY The large woman TROUBLESHOOTS the broken screen. The hinges are warped and rusted, preventing it from closing properly. The backdoor, however, shuts with ease. OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Son of a bitch! She gives up, closing the interior door and locking the dead bolt. She notices the trail of dirt! OVERWEIGHT FEMALE (CONT’D) MATTY! LOOK AT THIS MESS! WAIT UNTIL I COME UP THERE! I’M GONNA GIVE YOU A BRUISIN’ YOU WON’T EVER FORGET! The plaid couch beckons her - the show’s almost over! CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, DINING ROOM - DAY A room filled with potential lacks any sign of decorative ambition. Surprisingly, the BARE WALLS encompass minimal useless relic. A GRAND PIANO rests in the center, a place where a standard dining table might have once existed - It feels naked. The masked man stands behind the musical instrument. He props open the lid to find a plethora of BROKEN HARDWARE and PIANO WIRE, most of which have been destroyed by rodents. He withdraws a lengthy piece of wire and shuts the lid, quietly. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, LIVING ROOM - DAY Lounging awkwardly, the woman suddenly feels a sense of remorse. She looks to her collection of DIET MAGAZINES, regretting her present physical state. 7. OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Get your lazy ass off the couch. You’re goin’ for a run. She powers off the television. The screen reverts to its’ SHINY BLACK. She rests in the reflection, alone and out of shape. She pulls herself off the couch, EXITING into the FOYER. CUT TO: INT. COLONIAL FOYER - DAY A small CLOSET sits on the far right wall near the front entrance. She opens the miniature door, obstructing her view of the FOYER and exposing - A tiny space lined with SHOES and JACKETS to accommodate every season. She squeezes into a pair of old RUNNING SNEAKERS. She closes the closet, revealing the FRONT DOOR - DING - DING! The doorbell! She approaches. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, FRONT DOOR - DAY She opens the door, revealing - NO ONE. DING! It resonates through the DINING ROOM. She freezes in terror, leaving the front door cracked to inspect the noise. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, DINING ROOM - DAY The woman looms closer to the GRAND PIANO. No perpetrator in sight. She shrugs it off - OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Degenerate band of exterminators. I’ll sue your asses into bankruptcy! She EXITS to the FOYER. 8. INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, FOYER - DAY The front door is SHUT and LOCKED. She’s impervious to it. OVERWEIGHT FEMALE Let’s stretch it out! She bends over, reaching to her toes. She bobs up and down, unable to achieve a full extension. She settles for her shins - OVERWEIGHT FEMALE (CONT’D) One, two, three (a beat) fuck it, TEN! She stands. The MASKED MAN shadows behind her - piano wire wrapped tightly around both hands. He wraps it around her thick neck - violently CHOKING her. She SPITS and GAGS. Her feet dangle as she fights to breathe. She reaches toward the front door! OVERWEIGHT FEMALE (CONT’D) (gagging) ECK...HELP! She’s inches away from the doorknob. The intruder removes his KNIFE - it flicks outward. He STABS her in the chest repeatedly. BLOOD drenches her sweat suit. He drops her onto the cold hardwood floor - PLOP! The masked murderer leaves her for death, unreceptive to his crime. He EXITS into the kitchen. JUMP CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, KITCHEN - DAY A TALL FIGURE stands opposite the backdoor, peering through the window. The masked man unlocks the dead bolt, and the door cracks open - A TOWERING MAN ENTERS, carrying a black duffel bag. He brushes away a mop of thick, brown hair, and turns to the masked man - exposing a LARGE EYEBALL tattooed on his neck. BRUNETTE MALE Nice mask. What took you so long? The masked man looks over his shoulder, revealing the foyer. 9. INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, FOYER - DAY The large woman lies face down, bleeding out. Blood SEEPS into the hardwood cracks. CUT TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, KITCHEN - DAY BRUNETTE MALE I see. Here’s the list. She’s got a couple antiques in the upper dollar range. I noticed a rare vase on the stake out. He hands his partner a piece of paper. The masked man is distracted - the KITCHEN TABLE catches his eye. BRUNETTE MALE (CONT’D) You listening? The brunette shoves him. The masked man shifts his gaze to brunette - his glare threatening through the serrated eye holes. MASKED MAN It’s time we abandoned Webwood. We’re pressing further. BRUNETTE MALE Further? We just got here. The cops still think we’re in Clinton. Fuck you sayin? The masked man treads past brunette, stopping by the kitchen table. A strong odor of WHISKEY fills brunette’s nostrils. BRUNETTE MALE (CONT’D) (frustrated) You been drinkin again? I agreed to partner with you contingent on your sobriety. I’m not gonna let you drag us down. It takes ONE slip up, and we’re finished. MASKED MAN There’s nothing here for us. We’re leaving. 10. BRUNETTE MALE You just killed that bitch, and now we’re not gonna take anything? The fuck’s up with you? I swear - The masked man hurls a MAGAZINE at brunette. He catches it, awkwardly, examining the FRONT COVER - BARTON TREE FARMS: A CITY OF GOLD? A BALD MAN clenches a GOLDEN EMMY STATUE underneath the booming headline. Brunette fumbles through it, stopping at a two-paged article. (a beat) He nods, as the two men EXIT through the backdoor! FADE TO: INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, FOYER - DAY The dead woman floats in a crimson pool. The screen TAPS (O.S.), and we pan back, exposing - INT. AMERICAN COLONIAL HOME, STAIRCASE - DAY The NEGLECTED TODDLER stands on the staircase, his tiny head poking through the wooden railing. He watches as blood expands around his mother. He hops up and down, clapping his hands! He GIGGLES! SMASH TO BLACK: TITLE SCREEN - ESCROW (a beat) FADE IN: INT. OFFICE BUILDING, MEN’S PUBLIC RESTROOM - DAY A classic PUBLIC RESTROOM divulges TWO URINALS opposite TWO STALL ENCLOSURES. The familiar fragrance of neglected custodial effort lingers. A TEENAGE BOY, DANNY, stands at the nearest urinal below a rapidly flickering light panel. He boasts a COLLARED SHIRT and TAN SLACKS. His black hair is gelled neatly. 11. A transparent FRAME rests above the steel handle - it contains an assortment of advertising material. Through the transparent glass, A MAGAZINE COVER reads - BARTON TREE FARMS: A CITY OF GOLD? Danny studies it closely - his urine trickles. DANNY Gold? Bronze, maybe. A cell phone VIBRATES in his pocket - he ignores. He finishes and zips - disregarding a flush. INT. OFFICE BUILDING, RESTROOM MIRROR - DAY He approaches a sink below a large mirror - SIGH! He rinses his hands, stopping to examine his reflection. He notices a ZIT on his chin. He’s frustrated. DANNY We meet again. He splashes water on his face and winces. A nearby hand dryer DISCHARGES hot air - Danny’s STARTLED! He twists the metal rig upside down, marinating his wet face inside the warm breeze. INT. OFFICE BUILDING, MEN’S PUBLIC RESTROOM The door opens. A SHORT MAN in a BLACK SUIT ENTERS quietly... He sneaks up behind Danny, grasping him by the shoulders. DANNY (frightened) AYE! Danny notices the man’s wrist. A GOLD WATCH sparkles under the fluorescent lighting. He smirks, turning to face - MIKE! MIKE Danny boy! How are ya? DANNY (annoyed) I’d be better if you weren’t such a dick. Mike WHACKS Danny’s arm! 12. MIKE Hah! Speaking of dick. (a beat) Mike approaches a defiled urinal. MIKE (CONT’D) Is your mother seeing anyone? Danny smiles, shaking his head. DANNY And you’re an asshole. So why don’t (a beat) well, you know - connect the dots. Mike is smitten by Danny’s wit. MIKE Smart ass. Danny swings the air blower downwards and dry’s his hands. Mike turns his head, locking his peripherals on Danny. MIKE (CONT’D) (yells) You really should hydrate better! This isn’t healthy for a kid your age. The noise subsides. DANNY Worry about YOUR dick, and stop using it in context with my mom. That type of luck doesn’t exist. MIKE I don’t need luck, Dan. I’ve got a Porsche. She needs a man in her life, not a boy. Danny shakes his hands. The overhead lights flicker unusually harsh, emitting a DULL BUZZ. They peer up collectively. DANNY She has a man. MIKE He’s dead. Move on. Danny’s cheeks burn - he grits his teeth. Mike is oblivious. 13. Danny takes a deep breath, and EXITS. CUT TO: INT. OFFICE BUILDING, HALLWAY - DAY Danny passes through a BRIGHT HALLWAY adjoined by dozens of CHEAP CUBICLES. Tacky MOTIVATIONAL POSTERS border the sheet wall. A TEENAGE GIRL passes by. He stops, pacing backwards in her direction and ENGAGES HER - DANNY How’s the internship? TEENAGE GIRL Great! Learning a lot. Thanks again! The girl tries to escape the awkward conversation. Danny doesn’t allow it. DANNY No problemo! Let me know if I can be of service. I’d have no issue sharing my expertise. I’m a real estate mogul. These wolves will rip you to pieces if you let ‘em. An ELDERLY MAN hunches past them, using a cane to maintain his balance. He nods politely. DANNY (CONT’D) That guys a snake! TEENAGE GIRL I’ve gotta get going! Danny WINKS at the intern and continues down the hallway. He approaches a closed door at a corridor. It reads - REGIONAL MANAGER - BECKY. Underneath the label a sticker brags - LIST IT WITH US, YOU’LL NEVER FUSS. CUT TO: 14. INT. OFFICE BUILDING, EXECUTIVE SUITE - DAY Danny bursts in - obnoxiously. A MIDDLE-AGED SINGLE MOTHER, BECKY, sits at a DESK across the suite. With her back to Danny, she cracks away at a laptop. Across the room, a larger OAK DESK sits flush under a BAY WINDOW. A multi-line business phone blinks its usual RED and GREEN. BECKY (stressed) Man the phones, I’m busy. Danny rolls his eyes, dragging his feet to the vacant desk. A PICTURE FRAME rests atop the cherry oak: DANNY, BECKY, and DANNY’S LATE FATHER pose casually inside the portrait. His father, draped in HEROIC DRESS BLUES. Danny lifts the picture and stares into it blankly. DANNY He would’ve hated seeing you work like this. Becky spins around in her swiveled chair and steals the photo - she slams it back on the desk. The glass CRACKS! BECKY If your dad was around, I wouldn’t have to. She returns to her digital correspondence. Danny shakes with disbelief. DANNY How can you say that? BECKY (distracted) This isn’t something I care to discuss at the moment. Get to work. The office phone RINGS! Danny stands frozen, his eyes glued to the picture of his deceased father. He ignores the rings that follow. Becky RUBS HER TEMPLES. BECKY (CONT’D) Please get that. My head is throbbing. DANNY Good. 15. Danny ANSWERS - DANNY (CONT’D) (obnoxiously) Dreamscape Real Estate, how can I make your dreams a reality? (a beat) DANNY (CONT’D) Oh, Becky. Yea she’s a handful! Becky turns her head and gawks - she’s flustered. DANNY (CONT’D) Haha, yes. I completely understand. Six a.m. tomorrow - got it! I apologize for the inconvenience. (a beat) DANNY (CONT’D) Well you know, they get all emotional. I like to think of women as giant, destructive volcanoes - but instead of lava, they spew out hormones. Either way, it burns. (a beat) DANNY (CONT’D) Well, I like you too, sir! You have a wonderful day! And don’t forget, if you’re not using Dreamscape - it’s probably a nightmare! Danny hangs up the receiver and fidgets with his cell phone. Becky’s shocked. BECKY What the hell was that!? Probably a nightmare? DANNY Wrong number. BECKY DANIEL! Danny’s phone VIBRATES - INCOMING CALL: MAX. He ignores it a second time. 16. Becky SIGHS, fixing her eyes on the family portrait (a beat). She approaches Danny - sweetly EMBRACING him from behind. BECKY (CONT’D) I miss your dad too. It’s been a rough day. A rough life. She PINCHES his cheeks, lovingly. BECKY (CONT’D) I love you Daniel Hugo Lancey! Danny squirms - DANNY Cut it out! That was Charles Coleman - he wanted a call-back regarding a house on Chapel. Danny kicks his feet up on the desk. His shoes rest on the delicate wood finish. Becky SWATS his feet and slams a MAGAZINE onto the desk. He peers down at the cover: An all too familiar image of the BALD MAN holding a GOLDEN STATUE. DANNY (CONT’D) Why must this magazine follow me everywhere? I can’t take a leak without this guy staring down at my junk. BECKY Do you know how long I've been waiting for that call? Danny tosses the magazine into a nearby TRASH BIN, ignoring his mother’s inquiry. DANNY Hustler magazines would be much more effective in the bathroom. They’d boost morale - BECKY That’s CHARLES! The producer of Barton Tree’s new reality series. He’s using one of our prestigious listings to shoot season one. Becky PACES the room nervously. Danny removes the magazine from the garbage and holds it up - 17. DANNY You mean to tell me the guy that I JUST got off the phone with - is the SAME guy that’s been watching me pee for two weeks now? Charles’ glossy face beams at the youngster. Danny surfs through the pages. BECKY YES! I mean NO! But yes, that’s him. Danny LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY. DANNY (laughing) Oh! Oh my! Now that, is EMMY worthy! Becky GRUNTS, threatening him with her gaze. Danny stops at a colorful pull-out. CHARLES poses in front of a Hollywood style backdrop. He’s surrounded by a MOB OF WOMEN, most of whom possess fresh scarring from cosmetic plastic surgery. Danny notices an ADDRESS - It’s highlighted in midst of Charles’ listed accomplishments: 1551 CHAPEL DRIVE - COLEMAN’S NEXT CINEMATIC GOLD MINE! DANNY (CONT’D) Relax! The dude loved me! He said he’d swing by the house tomorrow to give you his John Hancock - Danny points his finger toward his mother. DANNY (CONT’D) 6 o’clock sharp. Better not be sexual. BECKY (excited) Are you serious? Becky THRUSTS her arms high. BECKY (CONT’D) YES! Danny skims the article further. The section lists details of the new reality series: 18. AND THE BIGGEST SURPRISE YET! BEFORE THE CONTESTANTS ENTER, ALL OF THEIR POSSESSIONS WILL BE TAKEN AND HIDDEN WITHIN THE HOUSE. A VICTORIOUS CHALLENGE EARNS BACK A SINGLE POSSESSION. LET’S SEE HOW WELL THEY PLAY THE GAME WITHOUT THEIR “COACHES”... WHO WILL UNLOCK THE MASTER BEDROOM? BECKY (CONT’D) A sucker born every minute. DANNY Real ethical. Why the hell would anybody wanna film a reality show out here anyway? There’s nothing for miles. BECKY That’s precisely it! He said it was the perfect setting to capture the show’s underlying theme. A documentary revolving around a hoard of snobby, entitled women within a real suburb setting. Picture this (a beat) Desperate Housewives meets Survivor. Becky pulls her hands apart - a grand gesture. BECKY (CONT’D) BURB-VIVOR! DANNY Sounds educational. BECKY I think it’s pretty intriguing. Check out the teaser trailer! Becky sits down at the cubicle excitedly - The chair almost topples. Danny approaches his mother, hovering over her shoulder. She clicks open a window displaying her E-MAIL, then opens a link sent from Charles highlighted: BURB-VIVOR TRAILER. She maximizes the video - CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, SUBURBAN HOME - DAY MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) Ten wealthy women will soon embark on a very unique quest. 19. (MORE) A challenge that will remove each contestant from their comfort zone and thrust them into a world of unrelenting CHAOS! The trailer pans through the mug shots of ten GORGEOUS, MIDDLE-AGED HOUSEWIVES. MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) These ladies have no idea that they will soon face their struggle within the confines of a SUBURBAN HELL-HOLE! Danny gawks the screen, animated with confusion. A montage of the house’s INTERIOR and EXTERIOR flash through briefly: A modern, SINGLE FAMILY HOME boasting cheap, middle-class technology at best. MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) There will be no more maids, gardeners, cooks, or chauffeurs... and worst of all, the contestants must play nicely or (a beat) THEY’LL BE SENT HOME IN A CAB! CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, SMALL KITCHEN - DAY Two of the FEMALE CONTESTANTS argue inside a dull, poorly decorated KITCHEN. CONTESTANT 1 clutches an empty MICROWAVABLE DINNER BOX in front of a dirty microwave. A PANINI sits atop the counter - it’s CHARRED! FEMALE CONTESTANT 1 (upset) The directions said thirty minutes! FEMALE CONTESTANT 2 (angry) Um, it said thirty seconds, bitch. FEMALE CONTESTANT 1 ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR? FEMALE CONTESTANT 2 Yea, your tits are faux. 20. MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) (CONT'D) Contestant 1 SLAPS the dinner box against the face of contestant 2. Contestant 2 holds her cheek. They CLAW and PULL HAIR. CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, GENERIC LIVING ROOM - DAY CONTESTANT 3 stands on a wooden COFFEE TABLE in the center of a basic living room. The walls are burgundy, garnished with nothing more than a cheap painting of a BROWN HORSE. She reaches high, shaking her cell phone like an ETCH-ASKETCH. CONTESTANT 3 NO BARS? She pitches a fit, stomping on the fragile wood. The legs give out - she FACE PLANTS. CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, GUEST BEDROOM - DAY Inside a guest bedroom, CONTESTANT 4 sits on the edge of a twin bed draped in hideous brown linen. While flipping rampantly through the City Guide, she STOPS (a beat) - She SCREAMS to the heavens. CONTESTANT 4 (loudly) Thirty minutes to the closest Gucci? THERE IS NO GOD! CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, DINING ROOM - NIGHT CONTESTANT 5 pulls apart a pair of curtains, exposing a circular bay window. A LARGE BUCK with colossal antlers stares through the glass pane. A laced bra hangs from its ear. It faces the contestant and LICKS ITS LIPS. The contestant SCREAMS! We PAUSE on the woman’s GAPING ORIFICE - 21. MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) And one more thing. (a beat) NO - MEN - ALLOWED! CUT TO: TEASER TRAILER, FRONT PORCH - DAY CONTESTANT 6 stands on a wooden porch. It looks out to the FRONT YARD. Blades of grass stand tall - abandoned from regular maintenance. CONTESTANT 6 (screams) TAXIIIIII! CROSSFADE: We FREEZE on the exterior! MALE NARRATOR (V.O.) Only one contestant will be crowned... Burb-Vivor. BACK TO: INT. OFFICE BUILDING, EXECUTIVE SUITE - DAY Becky turns to her son, searching for a reaction. BECKY So, what do ya think? DANNY I think they should drop those women on a real island. With no cameras - and no food. She ignores her son’s comment. BECKY Well I think it’s got real potential! Everything Charles touches turns Emmy gold! DANNY (annoyed) At least somebody’s happy. BECKY C’mon! This is gonna help us out a ton. 22. (MORE) The bills have been piling up - especially after your father... The commission’s gonna bump us outta the red. This is it! Finally, a chance to spoil ourselves! He doesn’t believe her. DANNY You mean yourself? Becky turns away from her son, quickly growing silent. Danny places his hand on her shoulder. He’s concerned - DANNY (CONT’D) Mom? Tears trickle down her eyes. Her mascara runs. DANNY (CONT’D) What’s wrong? Why are you crying? BECKY Ever since your father died... I haven’t been much of a mother to you. DANNY What? No! You’re an amazing mother, stronger than most men. You’ve got a ton on your plate - I understand. He wipes away her tears. BECKY No, Dan. This is unacceptable. When you lost your father, it was up to me to fill his role. Instead, I’ve been trying to fill a personal void. I’ve realized... all along, this job has been my cowardly escape from reality. She looks up to Danny, his eyes glossy and weak. DANNY Mom... 23. BECKY (CONT'D) BECKY No... I’ve been thinking. Once this sale is complete, you and I are gonna take a long, much needed vacation. We have a lot of catching up to do. They smile. DANNY I’d like that a lot. Becky stands, filing paperwork away in a drawer. BECKY Also, I didn’t wanna speak too soon, but I’ve been shopping around. DANNY Oh, yea? Becky removes a MAGAZINE CLIPPING from her desk: The brand new FORD MUSTANG CONVERTIBLE! The glossy photo glimmers as she places it in Danny’s hand. He raises an eyebrow. Becky moves to a filing cabinet and sorts through a series of colored folders. DANNY (CONT’D) Whoa! It’s amazing! But you told me you hated convertibles. BECKY I do. But you don’t. He’s stunned. His dream car... DANNY But.. but how’d - BECKY I overheard you talking to Max last week. I might be out of touch with most of the progressive trends, but I know a sweet ride when I see it! He runs over and HUGS her tightly. DANNY Are you sure you can afford this? 24. BECKY We’ll figure it out. Interest rates are low. You deserve it. DANNY I love you, mom. She smiles, but it’s back to business. BECKY So let’s get through this and then we’ll talk details, okay? Becky removes a LOCK BOX from the cabinet. Danny hops down on the executive leather chair. He’s overwhelmed with happiness. BECKY (CONT’D) I’m gonna need a favor. She drops the box on the table. It lands directly in front of Danny. His happiness fades. DANNY I knew there was a catch! I thought I was done cleaning! She paces back to her laptop. BECKY Oh, c’mon! Give it a chance. The house is astonishing. Come look! He TRUDGES over. Becky scrolls through a slide-show montage of the listed home. His eyes grow wide, but he conceals his interest. DANNY It’s okay I guess. [POINTING] Go back to that picture - that one. She pauses on the living room thumbnail. A large FLAT SCREEN TELEVISION, two LEATHER COUCHES, and several expensive ART PIECES line the alluring interior. DANNY (CONT’D) I thought it was supposed to appear “middle-class”? BECKY Apparently the contestants petitioned otherwise. But check this out! 25. (MORE) I let Charles’ production crew install the cameras early, so he gave me special access to the hidden cameras. Becky double clicks a folder exposing the camera feed. She opens HIDDEN CAMERA [LIVING ROOM] NIGHT VISION - the couches and TV rest comfortably in the darkness. Danny steps back and plays with his phone, falsely losing interest. The phone’s HOME SCREEN is littered with notifications - MAX! BECKY (CONT’D) So... do a good job for me. Spotless, Daniel! DANNY Why aren’t the maids doing it? Isn’t that why we pay them? BECKY They left home for the day. I’m not trying to demote you, I know you’ve served your time. If you wanna climb the ranks, sometimes you’ve gotta make sacrifices. DANNY I guess... Becky eyeballs her son suspiciously. Danny reaches for the key box on Becky’s desk. Becky swats his hand down like a mosquito. BECKY Hold on. You need instructions. DANNY Step one... push broom. Step two... kill myself... BECKY Step three... Don’t go in the basement. There’s a ton of junk left and it was recently fumigated for termites. It still needs work. DANNY Termites? The previous owners left the house like that? Classy... 26. BECKY (CONT'D) BECKY Actually, I’ve heard nothing but good things. The former owners ran a foster home. They helped underprivileged kids... runaways and kids who were subjected to abuse. I admire that. DANNY Yea, that’s cool I guess. BECKY Yea. Great neighbors too. One of them offered to fix the basement, free of charge. Gotta love it! Becky opens the lock box and sorts through. She extends the MASTER KEY outward. Danny attempts to grab it - she yanks it back. BECKY (CONT’D) Don’t ruin this, or you can kiss your piece of shit car goodbye as well as any hope for a new one. DANNY Whoa. Swear jar. BECKY Well I hope that illuminates the gravity of your circumstances. DANNY Illuminates? Gravity? What are you, a broken light bulb? BECKY I’ll be a broken record until you do as I say, wise ass! Danny grabs the key and shuffles to the door - attempting to open it. Becky, following behind, slams it shut! He’s startled! BECKY (CONT’D) One last thing. DANNY What? BECKY (looking into his eyes) I know about the parties. 27. Danny CLEARS HIS THROAT. DANNY (nervously) What? What par - BECKY (interrupting) Did you really think a couple bucks would buy Esmerelda’s permanent silence? I pay her fuckin’ salary. DANNY (smiling) I knew she couldn’t be trusted. Becky walks back to her desk. BECKY I want you to erase any notion regarding the hosting of a gathering. I’ve got eyes everywhere. She gestures to her computer. DANNY Okay, jeez! Danny EXITS. Becky HEAVES a sigh of relief. She doesn’t enjoy the added stress. The magazine rests on the desk. Charles face stares blankly, as we - FADE TO: EXT. OFFICE BUILDING, PARKING LOT - LATE AFTERNOON Danny moves swiftly through the PARKING LOT, passing an abundance of COMMUTER CARS of various style and color. He carries an assortment of CLEANING SUPPLIES, and wheels a CARPET STEAMER. It bumps over several potholes. He passes Mike’s PORSCHE BOXSTER, Danny drops everything and approaches, stealthily. CUT TO: 28. EXT. PARKING LOT, PORSCHE BOXSTER - LATE AFTERNOON Danny removes a bumper sticker that reads: SUPPORT ANAL. He presses it against the bumper. DANNY Oh, you dirty ole’ perve’! He grabs the cleaning equipment and carries on, approaching a white FORD FOCUS. Its’ rusted paint has chipped significantly. EXT. PARKING LOT, FORD FOCUS - LATE AFTERNOON Danny opens the back door, tossing the equipment inside - he ENTERS the vehicle - driver side. CUT TO: INT. FORD FOCUS - LATE AFTERNOON A GPS UNIT hangs off the WINDSHIELD. Danny powers on the device and examines the key tag for the address: 1551 CHAPEL DRIVE The GPS BEEPS as he enters the coordinates. Danny’s phone RINGS - he answers on speaker. DANNY Yo! Danny struggles to start his car. The engine SPUTTERS. MAX (O.S.) (excitedly) What’s up, man? You’ve been ignoring me all day! Wanna hangout? DANNY Maximus, do I have a surprise for you! Recklessly, Danny reverses out of the parking space. The car JOLTS forward. MAX (O.S.) Well, spit it out baby! Don’t make me beg! DANNY Patience. 29 |