Short Scripts Collection One: Thirteen Short, Original Screenplays

"SHORT SCRIPTS COLLECTION ONE"

  Thirteen short, original screenplays

  by

  Richard Alexander Hall

  Copyright 2004-2014

  Property of the author

  https://earthbound.io/contact

  ISBN 9781311288004

  Cover design, art, and all interior artwork by the author

  Copyright 2014

  Table of Contents

  THE END (1 page)

  A PERFECT WORLD (~3 pages)

  CHERISH THE BACON (~2 pages)

  GREATER MINDS (~3 pages)

  IN THE FOUL SACRILIGE OF THY OATH (~2 pages)

  TIME TRAVEL MOUTH (~2 pages)

  FLAVOR ARCHEOLOGY (~5 pages)

  THE FOOD TRILOGY, EPISODE I: TACO (~2 pages)

  THE FOOD TRILOGY, EPISODE II: HAMBURGER (~2 pages)

  APPLICANT TO HELL (~12 pages)

  THE OTHER (~4 pages)

  THE CRIME OF PASSION (~2 pages)

  THE DARK LORD SINGS, EPISODE I: THE SWIPED AIRS (~13 pages)

  AUTHOR'S GREETING

  THE END

  CUT IN:

  EXT. EATERY WALKWAY--DAY

  A PROPHET, white, thirty, hasty, high-energy and frantic, stands on a chair over a table where sit THREE TOUGH WHITE MEN, each in their twenties.

  PROPHET

  THE END IS NEAR!

  MAN ONE

  Um, shut up?

  PROPHET

  IT'S CLOSER NOW!

  The man throws his styrofoam drink cup at the Prophet. It ricochets off his elbow.

  EXT. SPACE--EARTH

  Earth explodes.

  CUT TO BLACK:

  THE END

  A PERFECT WORLD

  FADE IN:

  INT. OFFICE COMPLEX HALLWAY--DAY

  This is your typical, bland, office hallway. NAD, twenty-five, a tweedy, drifty geek, crosses and exits through a doorway into an office.

  INT. OFFICE COMPLEX--DAY

  This is your typical, bland, cubicle-partitioned office.

  Nad programs at his workstation. His cubicle is shared by TWO MALE COWORKERS, functional equivalents of himself.

  Thirsty, he contorts his dry mouth and lips. They smack.

  NAD

  Water. We have water?

  He turns to his coworkers, who both turn around in their chairs, look at him blankly, shrug, and turn back to their workstations.

  NAD

  Right. The fountain way down the hall. Too far...wait, you guys do remember the drinking fountain down the hall, right?

  He turns back to them. They turn to him again, offer him blank stares, and then each shrugs and turns back to their workstations again.

  He squishes his nose. He furtively glances back at his coworkers. Both type busily. He pries the inside of his nose and dislodges a few small dryly gooey and crusty boogers. He searches his desk for tissues, finds none, and surreptitiously moves his fingers toward his mouth.

  EXT. OFFICE COMPLEX HALLWAY--DAY

  A loud alarm BLARES and red lights strobe the ceiling.

  INT. CONFERENCE ROOM--DAY

  MANY EMPLOYEES are seated around the table of this bland room. The BOSS, a huffy, stoic bulwark of a man, positively fumes, stares down Nad, and stands and shouts at him.

  BOSS

  You think you can just go doing that?! Like no one will notice?! Think what goes on in your cubicle doesn't affect what anyone else does? We're all a big happy family here though, aren't we?

  He glares, furiously, around at everyone. Everyone meekly cowers. A few timidly nod.

  BOSS

  But really, think about this, Nad, Son. What happens when that green stuff is absorbed on your tongue? I mean really, do you get it all off? I gotta tell you, we've done some experiments with that of course. It never comes off unless you freaking GO DOWN THE HALL and WASH YOUR HANDS! But you should be picking your nose IN THE BATHROOM! That green tint to your keyboard?! Where do you think that comes from?! Ever thought about that before?! Ever even NOTICE it? When I help you with your code--which I do way more that I should have to--I get this wonderful present of a boogery keyboard from a namby-pamby nose-picking word-a-minute coder! And that's when I'm not trying to do my own code while I overhear your idly chattering bimbo-bamboozling prattle!

  NAD

  Uh, our office is actually rather silent. Too much so.

  BOSS

  THAT IS ENOUGH! It would be enough that I make exceptions for the three hours everyone has to waste at the start of their work days--

  COWORKER ONE

  Boss, I gotta vouch for the utter silence of our office.

  The Boss glares at Coworker One.

  BOSS

  Don't push it.

  (to Nad)

  That's just human nature! But YOU HAVE LEFT CIVILIZATION! I might not even mind if you just stared at a blank wall like your Cave Man Uncle--but you do this with the added bonus of hourly booger delights! Do you think everyone just yanks those things out of their noses and shoves them into their mouths?! YOU ARE INSANE! AND THAT'S THE FIRST AND LAST BOOGER FOR YOU!

  INT. OFFICE COMPLEX--DAY

  At Nad's former desk is a functional equivalent of himself, COWORKER THREE, who stands up.

  INT. RESTROOM--DAY

  In a bland, stalled bathroom we hear a toilet flush, and Coworker Three emerges from a stall, and crosses straight to the door and exits.

  A sign is prominently posted on the door: "WORKERS: WASH YOUR HANDS."

  EXT. OFFICE COMPLEX HALLWAY--DAY

  A loud alarm BLARES and red lights strobe the ceiling.

  FADE OUT:

  THE END

  CHERISH THE BACON

  FADE IN:

  EXT. THE SKY--MORNING

  We soar down through SKY, CONTINENTS, ROLLING WILD HILLS, and FARMLAND, to a FARM.

  EXT. FARM--MORNING

  A FARMER, thirty, white, plucky, tweedy and happy, sits in a lawn chair outside a farmhouse. He

  cooks bacon over a camp stove. JIMMY, white, twenty-seven, and like a good friendly dog, meek, silent, and keenly observant of those he loves, comes and sits in a lawn chair opposite.

  The farmer speaks in a southern United States drawl.

  FARMER

  Mornin' Jimmy, how ya doin'?

  Jimmy emotes pleasantness.

  FARMER

  Beautiful morning, isn't it?

  He pauses.

  It's a hard cold winter comin' on, Jimmy--I can feel it in ma bones.

  So I up and slaughtered the pig, so we could have some bacon for the long, hard winter ahead.

  Jimmy whimpers.

  FARMER

  It was hard to do, but I had to do it. I sure am gonna miss that pig.

  He offers Jimmy some bacon, and Jimmy takes it.

  They eat.

  The farmer laughs with a memory.

  FARMER

  I remember, he used to poop in his trough when he was a piglet!

  He laughs hard. He cries.

  FARMER

  Oh I sure DO miss that pig, Jimmy! But that's over now and, well we're here, and...Cherish the bacon with me, Jimmy. Cherish it.

  They eat.

  We soar up, up, and away from the farm into the sky.

  FADE OUT:

  THE END

  GREATER MINDS

  FADE IN:

  EXT. MEGALOPOLIS WASTELAND--DAY

  Ruins which could only have been caused by nuclear apocalypse span a dead horizon. The sky is dark and overcast.

  INT. RUINED WAREHOUSE--DAY

  Computers line cubicles and stalls of a dust-caked, forsak
en place. Walls are crumbled or partly toppled. Heaps of ash and debris are everywhere.

  HUNDREDS OF CREATURES like bipedal octopi with partly robotic limbs float through the ruin. The ends of many of their limbs have electronics receptacles.

  CREATURE ONE, male, five-hundred, inquisitive and sprightly, reaches back behind a forsaken computer at a standing desk, and unplugs the cables: the power adapter at the wall, the monitor, USB mouse and keyboard, and ethernet cables. He fondles the cables and corresponding receptacles. He changes his appendages to pass-through cables, and reattaches the cables through these new receptacles. He plugs the power adapter into one of his own receptacles, and starts it with a blue spark. The computer makes a BEEP sound as it boots and its fan spins up.

  CREATURE ONE

  Ooooh.

  Five other creatures see what he has done, and do the same thing with other available computers.

  A LARGE CREATURE, female, five-hundred, tall and sturdy, finds a rack of many network switches and routers. She adapts hundreds of her appendages into pass-through sockets, plugs several power cables and hundreds of network cables, etc., and powers it up. It makes a lot of fan noise and blinking lights.

  LARGE CREATURE

  Wow! Wow! Wow!

  The five creatures connected to computers turn to look at the large creature with awe, then back and forth between her and themselves, and the blinking lights on the network adapters of their computers. They all make "Ooooh!" and "Aaaaah!" sounds.

  All the other creatures do the same thing with many other computers and network hubs.

  Creature one brings up an email client on the monitor of the computer, and a web browser. Thirty messages and web sites per second flash over the screen, and he reads them.

  CREATURE ONE

  Ooooooooh!

  EXT. SPACE--DAY

  The night side of Earth over North America is very dark. City lights emerge and spread across Canada, North America and South America. The same happens over visible edges of Europe and Africa.

  INT. RUINED WAREHOUSE--DAY

  The creatures read thirty pages per second on the hundred computers they have connected to. They swoon, sigh, croon, laugh, cry, and exult in the messages.

  The lights on the switches where the Large Creature is connected all blink a lot.

  LARGE CREATURE

  WOWWWW!

  Overwhelmed, she weeps.

  Creature one creates a new web page, captioned: "WE DISCOVERERS FORUM." He posts a message, which reads:

  ": I sympathize with the plight of the Democrats."

  CREATURE TWO, five thousand, a spiteful, hot-headed male, replies:

  ": I hate you."

  They scowl at their screens.

  FADE OUT:

  THE END

  IN THE FOUL SACRILIGE OF THY OATH

  FADE IN:

  EXT. HIGHWAY--DAY

  A traffic jam extends the visible length of the road.

  RICHARD, white, thirty-five, burly and a bit haggard, waits.

  And waits.

  And waits.

  The car in front of him advances five feet. He accelerates forward five feet and stops.

  RICHARD

  (sarcastic)

  Woohoo! Five feet!

  He sighs with impatience.

  RICHARD

  Jesus Christ!

  VOICE

  Yes?

  Richard starts. A regal yet ordinary white-robed MAN, Jewish, thirty-three, plain, with shoulder-length auburn hair and a full beard, who is the very image of happiness, stands five feet out from the side of Richard's car. The man smiles munificently, and looks kindly and deeply into Richard's eyes, Richard's soul. Fear flashes through Richard, but it is overcome by the complete harmlessness of the man, as evidenced by his open, kind smile. A rapture of divine recognition overtakes Richard. He becomes like a child who sees Santa Claus.

  RICHARD

  Jesus?

  The man answers with his smile.

  Richard's conscience strikes him. He silently mouths the words: "I'm sorry."

  MAN

  We all have reasons to be.

  They stare fondly into each other's eyes.

  MAN

  Well, I must be off. So many others are calling me.

  The car behind Richard loudly honks. It startles him, and he glances in his rear view mirror, then looks ahead to see a ten foot gap between his car and the car in front of him. He sighs. He glances back out his window to where the man stood, but the man isn't there.

  He looks around for the man.

  The car behind him produces two long honks.

  RICHARD

  Oy! Oy. Okay. Sorry.

  He accelerates five feet forward and looks around for the man.

  The man isn't anywhere in sight.

  FADE OUT:

  THE END

  TIME TRAVEL MOUTH

  FADE IN:

  INT. WHITE SCREEN--DAY

  The head of a bored MAN, thirty, gaunt and white, is before us. A woman's hand reaches in from his left and rotates an imaginary dial on his ear, which robotically opens his mouth.

  We hear the voice of a NARRATOR, thirty, and probably white. He speaks 50's-broadcaster style: cheeky, officious and hyper.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. Turn that dial. Travel back through time.

  The hand goes off-screen. A fuzzy glowing blue light screen shimmers in the man's mouth, then fades. He mechanically smacks and licks his chops. He goes somewhat stale.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  The flavor of dust. It tastes like 1952!

  He rotates the unseen dial on his own ear, and the shimmering blue mouth light fades in, then out. He licks his chops still mechanically but a bit more vigorously.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  (happy)

  The Nintendo Entertainment System you cleaned with your tongue in 1988. Turn that dial again!

  He rotates the imaginary dial, slack-jawed. It shimmers, settles and fades.

  He has a pleasant expression.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Ahh. Hummus of Ancient Egypt. Circa 2000 B.C. Turn the dial again!

  He extracts a plastic tub of hummus from his mouth and licks his chops. He dials his ear, slack-jawed, and the "time-travel" effect fades in and out over his mouth again.

  He has a sour expression.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Bratwurst. OctoberFest, 1992. Mis-dial! Dial on!

  He does a slack-jawed dial, with the time-travel-mouth effect.

  He beams with delight. The sound of a baby's hungry, angry, loud cry is heard V.O.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Yes, something from your future! Far sweeter than you could have ever imagined, no? Dial again!

  He does a slack-jawed dial, with the time-travel-mouth effect.

  He looks bitter and disillusioned.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  (consoles)

  Well, everyone has their bitter mistakes of the past...Dial again.

  He does a slack-jawed dial, with the time-travel-mouth effect.

  He smacks his chops, looks puzzled for a moment, and smiles a smile so sentimental and cheeky it is ridiculous.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  It tastes like today! Your journey is through! Dial back to TODAY, baby!

  He beams and nods vigorously and happily.

  FADE OUT:

  THE END

  FLAVOR ARCHEOLOGY

  FADE IN:

  INT. NONDESCRIPT WHITE SPACE--DAY

  A KID, male, 3, sits at a nondescript table with two casserole dishes. Each dish has chunks of rot, dust and mold. He takes a bite from one, hastily chews and swallows, then takes a bite from another.

  We hear the voice of a NARRATOR (V.O.), thirty, probably white. He speaks 50's-broadcaster style, cheeky, officious and hyper.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Are you able to distinguish chicken from tuna casserole years after their expiration?

  The kid nods.

  INT. W
HITE SCREEN--DAY

  We see various images of world spectacles as the NARRATOR (V.O.) speaks, with sounds from foreign and ancient places; Venetian ruins accompanied by the sounds of the fuss of a street market, a great pyramid accompanied by the rush of waters and the thresh of harvested grain, the Great wall of China accompanied by the sound of a Mongol horse stampede, etc.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Do you also long to travel to faraway flavors?

  The kid perks up.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Taste the wonder and excitement of ancient spectacles? Lick strange and marvelous places for the treasured flavors of forgotten years?

  The kid nods vigorously.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  You may have a future career in the distinguished field of Flavor Archeology!

  Note: all scene transitions "magically" transport the kid with cheesy wipes and fades, etc. These may also be accompanied by e.g. cheesy and unreal, choppily-animated, cartoony collages of "ancient" and "distant" places. Also, throughout his interviews with the NARRATOR (V.O.) he variously nods, considers and responds.

  EXT. VENETIAN RUINS--DAY

  The kid lies in the dirt among crumbled pillars and walls. He licks the dirt, stands, places his finger over his cheek, and turns his mouth over and around in his mouth as he considers the flavor.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. The fine lamb skin dust rubbed off the shoes of ancient travelers. A hint of rotten, ripe wine spilling from the tables of long forgotten markets. And do you also detect an edge of sweat dripping from the manure--stained coats of long-dead beasts of burden?

  The child goes wide-eyed with a realization.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  So it is! You've had a taste of ancient Rome! "...es quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris." What's next in store, Flavor Archeology?

  EXT. JUNGLE RUINS--DAY

  The kid pulls a machete out of the ruins, and tosses it aside. He does the same with a stone idol, broken pottery, rocks, tatters of filthy fabric etc.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. Clearly this borders between early eras of Parangaraqutinimiquado, but which era exactly, young Archeologist?

  KID

  Three.

  The kid looks at us, as the narrator says nothing for a moment.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Wisdom, indeed. Where else can your taste buds take you?

  EXT. DESERT GROUND--NIGHT

  Eerie lights swarm and flash over the ground. The kid finds something small and metal, and puts it in his mouth.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. This one has a very alien flavor. And--

  The kid enters a trance, levitates and utters indecipherable babble unaware.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  ROSWELL!

  EXT. WILDERNESS--DAY

  The kid emerges from a river, gasps for air, and flails to the bank. He spits out water, then licks his chops, and turns his tongue around with his mouth closed.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. Too many flavors in the water, but...

  The kid licks the river bank.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  That's it, hoof gelatin, the finger oil of decomposing arrow fragments...leather.

  We hear the "Wilhelm scream."

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  WILHELM!

  KID

  Westward Ho!

  EXT. SNOWY GROUND--DAY

  The kid lies on the ground and eats snow.

  NARRATOR (V.O.)

  Hmm. Is that the remains of spittle from polar explorers dining on age-frozen mammoth meat?

  The kid nods.

  ZOOM OUT:

  Our view