BRIAN V.O. (CONT'D)
Who the fuck is that?
Loony turns to look back at the car, like maybe he's never noticed them before.
LOONY
Oh. That's Jimmy and his split tail, Angela.
Brian sighs.
BRIAN
And who the fuck are Jimmy and Angela? I let you drive the car, and you start putting people in it. What the fuck is wrong with you?
LOONY
They're these two want in. They been letting us stay with them. Got their own place. I thought maybe you wanted some new blood, some help.
BRIAN
They know about us? What we did?
LOONY
Sort of. Jimmy, he's just a patsy. He likes what we're about. And his old lady, she's with him. She'll do what he wants.
BRIAN
Let's have a look.
LOONY
You don't like him, I'll waste him myself. Suck the girl's eye out like a grape.
JIMMY AND ANGELA
They get out of the car before the gang gets to them, stand by it, waiting as the boy's walk up to the car.
BRIAN
Love birds, huh? You a spic?
ANGELA
I guess.
BRIAN
You two want in? You sure?
We play hardball here. You do what you're told when you're told to do it. And don't even think about flaking out.
They never get a chance to answer. They just look baffled.
BRIAN
(To Stone)
Get 'em back in the car.
As they are ushered back into the car with little shoo-shoo waves of Stone's hands. He closes the door shut after they slide in, goes back to stand by Brian and Loony.
BRIAN
(To Loony)
Watch 'em. Anything happens, it's your balls.
(beat)
I don't want to see you guys till three days from now. And get a shotgun and some blades.
Brian takes the razor from his pocket, pops it.
BRIAN
I'm going to cut that goddamn teacher's heart out and eat it. She isn't getting away this time. Now, get out of here. Tempus Fugit.
INT. CAR
It's pulling away and we're focused on the backseat. Angela. She turns, looks out the window. And what does she see but a shadow. Out of nowhere, sliding darkness over the walkway where Brian stands watching them depart. It is a thick shadow and falls over him and hangs there like an ornament. Angela blinks hard. When she does. The shadow is gone.
ON BRIAN
Brian looks after the car. Hears something. And we do too. A whisper. Brian's face is amazed at first. He cocks his head like a curious spaniel, then breaks into a smile.
BRIAN
What? Fuck, you listening in? It's going to be fine, Clyde. You got my word on that…
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BRIAN'S HOUSE–BEDROOM–SOME TIME LATER
The place is sleazy to begin with, now it's covered in blood, everything turned over, stuff ripped up in anger. The TV is on, in the middle of a dumb daytime quiz show. Brian's mother is dead in her bed, cut to pieces. Scrawled on the wall in blood is a note:
GOOD NIGHT, MOMMY. GONE TO HELL
WON'T BE BACK.
YOUR LOVING BABY BOY.
A SOUND: SCRATCHING OF A PEN
CAMERA ROAMS
out of the bedroom and down a gloomy hallway with little sentiment plagues on the walls. Shit like: IT TAKES A MOTHER TO MAKE A HOME. A verse from the Lord's prayer.
CAMERA finds the source of the scratching as it dollies into the kitchen and hangs over the head of Brian, writing away.
BRIAN V.O.
I am Clyde and he is me and the Lord of the Razor is all of us, if we will just let him come over. He brings not the blood of the lamb, but the blood of the world.
Brian drops the pen, sits there, and we–
SLOW DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. LOT–BECKY'S APARTMENT–NIGHT (DRIZZLE)
The Black Chevy gliding in like some hungry beast searching for prey.
INT. CHEVY
The gang, including Angela and Jimmy. It's tight in there, and Loony is sliding his hand over to touch the jean-wearing leg of Angela, just a bit. She notes it and moves her knee, but says nothing.
BRIAN
Jimmy, you're going in with us. Bring the knife and bring your balls. Angela, you'll stay in the car. Be ready to honk, anything comes down we ought to know about.
Don't be fucking napping and keep your hand out of your pants. I want you alert. Shit comes down, crank up and get over to the stairs quick. We don't want no repeat. Everybody got it?
Angela turns to look at Jimmy. The look she gives says much. She doesn't like this.
ANGELA
What…are you going to do?
BRIAN
Why, we're gonna take care of business.
THE GANG
gets out of the car and Angela slides in up front, behind the wheel, and now our gang is–
MOVING
across the lot, up the stairs. At the door, Brian works his pocketknife between the edge of the door and the lock. The others are crowded behind him.
Pop. The door gives.
INT. BECKY'S APARTMENT
They burst inside, ready for action. Brian with the razor. Stone and Jimmy with knives. Loony has a shotgun.
A cat, lying on the couch, lifts its head and looks at them.
BRIAN
Shit. Nobody's here.
Jimmy breathes a sigh of relief.
BACK TO SCENE
Brian sees a note on the refrigerator. He goes over and looks at it.
Brian reads the note in an angry, sarcastic manner.
BRIAN
DEAR DON AND EVA:
JUST THROW WILBUR'S LITTER BOX OUT ONCE. FRESH LITTER UNDER THE SINK. CAT FOOD IS THERE TOO. THANKS AGAIN FOR THE LOAN OF THE CABIN.
Brian looks up, pained.
BRIAN
Fuckers have gone camping or something.
Loony has picked up the cat and is petting it.
LOONY
They'll be back, man.
BRIAN
You gonna wait in the fucking closet? Pack you a lunch?
Loony doesn't respond. Brian has opened an address book on the kitchen bar.
BRIAN
We're not waiting for them to get back, asshole. We're going to find them…
Brian smiles as he puts his finger on a name.
BRIAN
Eva Beaumont, Safford Drive. 306. Let's go ask Eva where her cabin is.
He drops Becky's address book on the floor.
SAME SCENE–EMPTY ROOM–MOMENTS LATER
The cat is dead. The address book on the floor. The apartment door SLAMS shut, and we–
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BEAUMONT APARTMENT
and horror, as the SLAM sound carries over and the THEME strikes up, and what we see is seen as if through a smoky distorted lens. Blood everywhere. Walls. Floor. Glimpses of slashing, plunging knives and gagged faces. Eva and Dean Beaumont.
Voices seem to be coming from another room as the gang talks over their work, like butchers at a slaughter house, and gradually, everything becomes clear and the sound becomes sharp, and what we see is–
Brian hovering over Jimmy, who is scared and horrified, as he is forced to mutilate Eva's corpse. The body of Dean is in the background. The other guys stand around, laughing. This is a sadistic initiation of Jimmy.
LOONY
Cut her, Jimmy. You didn't do shit. You didn't do nothing. Cut her, and we'll go do the other one.
BRIAN
Not tonight we won't. It'll be daylight soon.
LOONY
Who gives a shit.
Brian slaps Loony on the back of the head. Loony starts to turn, has his knife in his hand, but when he sees Brian's face, he stops. Brian is, at this point, not someone to fuck with.
BRIAN
We go when I say.
Loony no
ds. Jimmy tries to stand up from the corpse. He looks hysterical. Stone's hand comes down on Jimmy's shoulder. His other hand points at the already very messed up corpse.
BRIAN
He wants you to finish. We all do.
Brian holds out his razor so that the handle can be seen.
BRIAN
Cut these symbols into her forehead. Cut them to the bone.
Jimmy looks as if he might rebel, but he knows better. He swallows, turns back to the corpse, leans forward with his knife, and–
FLASH BACK ENDS, and we–
DISSOLVE TO:
LOGO APPEARS BRIEFLY: OCTOBER 31ST, HALLOWEEN
INT. OFFICER TED OLSEN'S BEDROOM–MORNING
ON LOUD ALARM
going off on bedside table.
WIDEN TO INCLUDE BED
TED OLSEN, scruffy, leans over to turn it off. He gets up, plods toward the bathroom in his boxer shorts. His gun belt is hanging over the back of a chair, his badge pinned to it. He leans in and turns on the shower, and as he starts to slip out of his boxer shorts we–
DISSOLVE TO:
OLSEN KITCHEN
ROXANNE OLSEN, Ted's wife, in a worn brown robe, is standing at the stove, frying bacon. Eggs are all ready on a plate. She is an attractive woman, mid-thirties.
Ted, dressed in his Highway Patrol uniform, wearing badge and gun, trudges into the room.
ROXANNE
Breakfast is almost ready.
TED
(groans)
Mmmmhhhhuh….
Ted falls down in a chair at the kitchen table. He turns and looks at Roxanne who is shaking bacon in a pan, and this movement shakes her behind. Ted smiles. He thinks she looks good.
Roxanne sets a plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him.
ROXANNE
You okay, baby?
TED
Sorry. Thinking about that dumb shit Larry. One day, and I already got an ulcer. He's racist. He's stupid. And strangely enough, I think he's a pretty good cop. But, I wish he were dead.
Roxanne pouring two cups of coffee.
ROXANNE
Sorry, hon. But the dead part. That's a tough wish.
TED
You ride around with him, you'd kill him yourself. I mean, it's Bad enough Jim Trawler getting killed like that, I got to chase the bastards down while Larry's spoutin' off about whoever else he's got it in for today.
Roxanne takes a seat at the table with their coffee.
ROXANNE
We've been over it. You want out, I think that's what you ought to do.
TED
Oh, I am getting out. Isn't any doubt in my head about that. Just as soon as I can figure what to do next. Harry was talking about this private cop deal. We'd maybe have to move, but I'm thinking it–
HONKING OUTSIDE
TED
Well, shit. Guess who's here?
Ted looks down at his breakfast.
TED
I'm sorry, hon. Don't have time.
ROXANNE
All right. Be careful. And when you get home, I'll let you touch my butt, which is what's on your nasty little mind.
Maybe I'll touch something, too.
Ted is up from the chair, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
TED
That's an offer worth coming home to.
EXT. OLSEN YARD
Ted is walking toward the car. Larry is outside the car, leaning against it. He has a toothpick in his mouth, working it from one side to the next. Roxanne comes to the doorway to wave at Ted. Larry waves too.
LARRY AND TED
sliding into the patrol car, Larry behind the wheel. As Larry fires the engine and starts out of the drive–
LARRY
I don't like waiting, Ted. It isn't professional.
TED
Waiting…You call that waiting? What was it…thirty seconds?
LARRY
I was here five minutes before I honked the horn.
TED
Honk sooner.
LARRY
What you doing in there? Knocking you off a piece? You should be standing in the goddamn yard when I show up.
TED
Just shut the fuck up, Larry. Don't get started on me today.
EXT. PATROL CAR
As the car leaves the drive and hits the highway, and we can hear–
LARRY O.S.
You drive me crazy. You're the damndest person I've ever known.
TED O.S.
Me? Me, you're talking about me?
INT. PATROL CAR
LARRY
You got weird ideas, you act weird. You like niggers and communists and–
TED
That's enough, Larry. I'm going to tell you this one more time–last time. That nigger stuff doesn't cut any ice with me. And in case you haven't been paying attention, the Soviet Union is long collapsed.
LARRY
They got Cuba…Are you a Catholic?
TED
What?
LARRY
I just asked. Are you a Catholic?
TED
You trying to find something else to fight about?
LARRY
You are one, then.
TED
I didn't say that.
LARRY
Didn't have to. Your Catholic person, he'll give himself away every time. You can fucking tell.
TED
How?
LARRY
Their eyes. They got those pope-eyes, you know. You can tell…
TED
Jesus…I'm an atheist, Larry.
LARRY
Ah, there's your problem. Jesus don't like atheists…
INT. THE CABIN–MORNING
Monty in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, shaving cream all over his face, a towel slung over his shoulder. He slips a blade into his razor, speaks as if someone is nearby.
MONTY
Seems like you slept pretty good, didn't you? Didn't seem like you were dreaming or anything.
Monty waits a moment for an answer. Doesn't get one. He puts down his razor and walks into the bedroom, shaving cream on his face. Becky isn't there.
From here he can hear a TV going. He enters-
THE LIVING ROOM
Becky is in her robe, sitting on the couch in front of the TV, hunched over with her coffee. She doesn't look up or acknowledge his presence in any way.
MONTY
I was looking for you.
BECKY
(Cold voice.)
Where would I be, Monty? Floating face down in the lake?
Monty's confident expression disappears. He goes back into his wimpy mode.
MONTY
Didn't see you…thought you might be outside or something…
She looks up at him a moment, then looks away.
MONTY
I, uh…wondered if we could talk, Becky.
He wipes the shaving cream off his face with the towel.
MONTY . (CONT'D)
I'd like to straighten this out if we could.
BECKY
Doesn't matter.
Monty makes a wimpy face. He's disappointed.
MONTY