Escrow Part. 1

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