The Donahues Episode 243

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Kimberly is concerned about Ryan’s new living situation and she and others try to rope him back to them. Meanwhile, Catherine and Ryan find a Rat king on her farm, and see it as a way to fund her farm through the summer. Jacob’s Basic Training friends celebrate his 22nd birthday by recommending him for an unsavory position in the U.S. Armed Forces

Submitted: May 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 19, 2016









“You can freeze, like a 30 century man. Like a 30 century man. I’ll save my bread and take it with me, ‘til a hundred years or so. Shame you won’t be there to see me, shaking hands with Charles De Gaulle”

  • Scott Walker


(We start with Ryan and Alan packing up their dorm room for the summer)


ALAN: So you’re telling me that Trump and Hillary are TIED in Florida and Pennsylvania?


RYAN: According to the latest Quinnipiac poll.


ALAN: What about Ohio?


RYAN: Oh, they’re not tied there.


ALAN: Thank God.


RYAN: Trump is leading by four points.




RYAN: Uh-huh. That’s what happens when you see a candidate with high unfavorable numbers and put him up against a candidate whose unfavorable are only SLIGHTLY better. Why would you expect a landslide there?


ALAN: I guess because it’s Donald Trump?


RYAN: That really should be Hillary’s campaign slogan. “Hillary 2016- It’s Donald Trump. Think about it”.


ALAN: People must really hate Washington insiders.


RYAN: Yeah, no shit. That’s why by this time next year we might have to be waving to onlookers in the monthly “Dear Leader Donald” parade.


(Alan sits down)


ALAN: This shit is getting too real. (Pause) Do you really think he’d become a dictator?


RYAN: His convention manager is Paul Manafort, who lobbied on behalf of despots like Ferdinand Marcos, Jonas Savimibi and Viktor Yanukovych.


ALAN: I don’t even know who those people are but their names are really scary.


RYAN: And as he slowly unites the party, this shit only gets scarier and more plausible. Paul Ryan said he wasn’t “ready” to endorse him, but Trump and him had a chat this morning, and it looks like he’ll come around.


ALAN: Something tells me their “productive conversation” Paul Ryan waking up to a horse’s head on his pillow.


RYAN: Probably.


ALAN: So we’re going to be living at University Inn next semester. When we watch the election coverage, what do we do if Trump gets elected?


RYAN: …Hey, Canada’s only an hour away.


ALAN: So we pack up and head to Canada? Just drop out of school? With what money?


RYAN: We’ll have a little over two months from Election Day to the Inauguration where we can plan all that out.


ALAN: Okay, well that’s assuming Trump doesn’t invade Canada. Which, knowing him, is a possibility.


RYAN: Shit, you’re right.


ALAN: But before we get to our plans for November, let’s focus on the before Trump times. Are you really staying with Catherine over the summer?


RYAN: I really am. Dude, we banged. It was such a beautifully engrossing experience.


ALAN: Dude, you can’t describe that shit poetically when you just called it “banging”.


RYAN: Well, I’m in love with her. I need to help her save that farm.


ALAN: Can we at least hang out over the summer?


RYAN: Yeah, of course. But I’ll be spending most of my time at Bowie Farm.


ALAN: Alright. Well, I’m about done packing here-


(Alan zips up his suitcase)


RYAN: Me too. I guess we should let Zak know we’re ready to check out. (Ryan steps outside the dorm, and sees Zak walking over) Hey, Zak, we’re ready.


ZAK: Cool, man. I’m ready for you.


(Zak comes in, and Ryan closes the door)


ALAN: How’s it look?


RYAN: How does it look.


ALAN: I will end you, dude.


ZAK: It looks pretty good. You need to wipe down the window, though. (Zak opens the bathroom door) I’m gonna need you guys to scrub down some of that mold, too.


(Zak takes a note on his clipboard)


RYAN: That was here when we got here.


ZAK: Yeah, it’s been there for thirty years, but you should still try. Besides that, I’m pretty sure this floor used to be carpet.


ALAN: No, it was definitely always hard wood.


ZAK: I’m gonna need you guys to put the carpet back, and then I’m gonna need you guys to mop it. (Zak smiles) Then you’ll be good. I’ll be next door.


(Zak leaves. Ryan sighs. Cut to Kimberly, Luke and Ethan speaking with Ryan in their living room)


KIMBERLY: I can’t believe this, Ryan, you fail one of your classes, and now you’re going to live on a farm with a woman ten years your senior for THREE MONTHS!?


RYAN: Mom, I love her.


LUKE: You don’t know what love is.


ETHAN: Neither do you-sorry, I couldn’t help it.


KIMBERLY: I don’t even know this woman, she could be using you! For, for, tax purposes! Or something! Claiming a dependent!


ETHAN: Kim, you’re a smart woman, but that makes no sense. What we should be saying is, Ryan, you need to spend time with your family. And prepare for the Spanish class you’re taking, starting in July.


RYAN: I’ll be able to drive from the farm to the Spanish class. I’d actually closer to it than if I stayed in Hansbay.


(Pan up to the kitchen, where Fiona is looking through Kimberly’s pantry)


FIONA: The kid makes a good point-do you guys have any Nutella here?


KIMBERLY: Did you have to bring your girlfriend?


ETHAN: Did you have to bring your husband?


LUKE: This is OUR house!


ETHAN: Honey, they have no Nutella, just sit down.


FIONA: Ugh, okay. (Fiona sits behind Ryan on a bar stool) Honestly, kid, I say “do you”.


RYAN: Thank you, Fiona.


ETHAN: You’re not helping, Fiona.


FIONA: I have my own goddamn opinions!

KIMBERLY: I just don’t understand it, Jacob ran off to join the army, Madeline is staying in Warwick and now you’re eloping with a 30-year old on a farm.


RYAN: We are not getting married, for the record-mom, dad, stepdad, um, Fiona, I don’t expect you to understand-except for you, Fiona, you’re the best. (Ryan holds up his hand and Fiona slaps it. He then puts it down) I have strong feelings for this woman. I’ll visit, but I need to cleanse my spirit.


ETHAN: Perfect. She’s a hippie too.


RYAN: We eschew your labels. (Ryan stands up) Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go beg a farm creditor, hat-in-hand, for mercy. And then probably make two goats fuck.


(Ryan leaves. Ethan sighs)


KIMBERLY: …We’ve lost control of the kids again.


ETHAN: Did we ever have it?


(Cut to Fiona eating Nutella off her hand)


FIONA: Doesn’t seem like it.


LUKE: Where did you find Nutella?


FIONA: I remembered I had some in my purse.


(Cut to Ryan and Catherine sitting around the table at her farm house)


RYAN: So what’s the plan to keep the farm solvent?


(Catherine takes out some pieces of paper)


CATHERINE: Well, the loss of the chickens was a big hit. But, I think if we get the goats to screw enough, we could try to make up for the lack of income from big egg.


RYAN: I voted for Bernie Sanders, I thought I was supposed to be free of this corrupting influence.


CATHERINE: Let’s go see how the goats are doing.


RYAN: Alright.


(They both get up. Cut to them walking into a barn full of goats just laying around)


CATHERINE: Yeah, they’re in serious need of Viagra.


RYAN: Are there any aphrodisiacs that goats have?


(Catherine takes a deep breath)


CATHERINE: …Evolution?


RYAN: Yeah, that’s…I guess it.


CATHERINE: Let’s see if a newly born runt is waddling around here somewhere.


RYAN: Okay.


(Ryan and Catherine start looking around. Eventually, Catherine looks behind a hay bale and screams)




RYAN: What?!


CATHERINE: Come over here.


(Ryan runs over)


RYAN: Did you find one?


CATHERINE: No, look behind the bale of hay.


(Ryan looks behind the bale of hay)


RYAN: What the fuck happened?


CATHERINE: That’s a rat king.


RYAN: A what?


CATHERINE: It’s this thing where a bunch of rats accidentally get their tails tangled up, and intertwined, and they can’t get them unknotted. So they just starve to death together.


RYAN: Jesus Christ, that’s awful.


CATHERINE: Super cool, right?


RYAN: Yeah, really fucking cool.


CATHERINE: You know what makes it even cooler?


RYAN: What?


CATHERINE: These are super fucking rare. Only fifty or so rat kings have been found since the 1500s.


RYAN: Holy shit, so this is like, a one-in-a-million thing?


CATHERINE: Way rarer than that. Oh my God, Ryan, this is perfect! We can simply put this extremely rare rat king on display and charge people money to see it!

RYAN: Wait, would people actually pay money to see a ball of starved, dead rats?


CATHERINE: Weirdos and creeps would. And those are my favorite kind of people.


RYAN: Same. Okay, let’s do it.


CATHERINE: We have to preserve it with something, though.


RYAN: Yep. (Ryan gags) We do.


CATHERINE: Are you a pussy, Ryan?


RYAN: Nope. Just give me a bottle of Moscato and I’ll suck it up and embalm these dead rats.


CATHERINE: Ugh. So disappointed.


(Catherine walks away. Cut to Jacob, Private Renzi and Private Matthews going through the tire portion of a Basic Training obstacle course, while Sergeant Waverly stands by, watching)


SERGEANT WAVERLY: COME ON, YOU-YOU DOOFUSES! GO FASTER! Ugh, what’s the point in insulting if I can’t be offensive?



(Jacob, Renzi and Matthews make it to the climbing wall, and Renzi and Matthews make it over pretty quickly, but Jacob lags behind)



JACOB: Sorry, sir, I’m trying! (Jacob makes it over the wall, and starts running forward. Cut to Renzi and Matthews in the latrine line. Jacob walks over to them, panting) Damn, the course was hard today, huh?


PRIVATE RENZI: No, you’re just a pussy. (Private Matthews chuckles and fist bumps Renzi) Are you sure you identify with this latrine, by the way?


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Goddamn, double clocked.


JACOB: Fine, you got me. What makes you so goddamn good at those obstacle courses?


(Renzi takes out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth)


PRIVATE RENZI: I got strong lungs.


(Private Renzi lights it)


JACOB: …You know, I don’t want to be a bitch and point this out, but it is my birthday.




JACOB: Yeah.


PRIVATE RENZI: Let me see your driver’s license.


JACOB: Why would I lie about that? I’m not trying to get laid by you guys.


PRIVATE RENZI: Just fork it over. (Jacob sighs and hands Renzi his driver’s license. Renzi looks at it) Look at that, May 14, 1994. You’re twenty-two today?


JACOB: Yeah.




(Private Renzi hands Jacob his ID as someone exits the latrine. Renzi enters the latrine, so Jacob and Private Matthews are left standing there)


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Don’t take it personally, Jake. You know he doesn’t go in for caring about people.


JACOB: Yeah.


(Cut to Private Renzi smoking a cigarette outside the soldiers’ lodging later that day. Private Matthews exits the lodging and sits next to him)




PRIVATE RENZI: What’s goin’ on?


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Listen, everybody enjoys your working class Queens accent and snarky ways, but, we feel like you were a little harsh towards Jake earlier.


PRIVATE RENZI: Come on, he knows I was busting his balls.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Yeah, but, not doing anything for his birthday is not really “busting his balls”. It’s just…not doing anything for his birthday.


PRIVATE RENZI: You know what my mom did for my 22nd Birthday?




PRIVATE RENZI: She kicked my dad out of the house because of his drinking problem!

PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Did that have anything to do with your birthday?


PRIVATE RENZI: No, she forgot it.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Well, Jake comes from some pussy-ass Vermont family, so we should do something for him.




PRIVATE MATTHEWS: He seemed to be really down about his obstacle course skills. Maybe we should, you know, help him with that.


PRIVATE RENZI: No, that’s too much work. We should honestly just compliment him on one of the skills he already has.




PRIVATE RENZI: …Uhh…he memorized the combination to his locker way faster than I did.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Yeah, I still have to look it up.


PRIVATE RENZI: I mean, he really has impeccable memory.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: He really does. He remembered my full name in like, no time.




PRIVATE MATTHEWS: If the army doesn’t work out, he should really just be one of those guys who sits in an underground nuclear bunker and waits for the President to authorize a nuclear missile launch.


PRIVATE RENZI: Oh yeah, that’s a cushy-ass job. They don’t have to do anything, because a nuclear war after the wall fell is nearly impossible.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: And he would be good at memorizing codes, and turning keys.


PRIVATE RENZI: He turns keys like a pro. (Renzi takes a drag on his cigarette) You know…didn’t Jacob say he met the President once?


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: …Yeah, he did.


PRIVATE RENZI: I bet Jacob could use that to get this job.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: No sir, WE’LL use that to get him that job.


PRIVATE RENZI: For his birthday.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: For his birthday.


(Renzi and Matthews stands up and face one another)


PRIVATE RENZI: We’re the best goddamn friends ever.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: You’re right. How do we contact the President though?


PRIVATE RENZI: …He has to be in Waverly’s contacts.


(Private Matthews nods his head)


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: You’re probably right.


(Renzi puts out his cigarette and they run away. Cut to Sergeant Waverly sleeping in his quarters. Renzi and Matthews sneak in as Waverly snores. Renzi uses his phone as a flashlight and shines it on the sergeant’s bed stand, where the sergeant’s phone, keys, medication and an empty glass of scotch lies)


PRIVATE RENZI: (Whispering) This is hemorrhoid medication.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: (Whispering) Just go through his contacts, dude!

PRIVATE RENZI: (Whispering) But first, you have to acknowledge how funny that is.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: (Whispering) Yes, it’s funny, now hurry up!

PRIVATE RENZI: (Whispering) Alright. (Renzi picks up his iPhone and unlocks it) I thought that it would be harder. (He scrolls through it) Okay, I found a contact for “my black friend”.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: (Whispering) Yeah, that’s it, let me take a picture of it so we can leave.


(Matthews snaps a photo of it, and then Waverly snores louder)


PRIVATE RENZI: (Whispering) Let’s get the fuck out of here.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: (Whispering) Agreed.


(Renzi puts down Waverly’s phone and they both rush out of his room. Cut to President Obama in the Oval Office, speaking to Susan Rice, his national security advisor and the former Ambassador to the United Nations)


PRESIDENT OBAMA: And then Trump put out that taco bowl tweet, I mean, for Christ’s sake, Susan, how is this race competitive?


AMBASSADOR RICE: Maybe because Trump flip-flopped on taxing the rich and the minimum wage, but with all due respect sir, I’m here to talk about ISIS’s weakening position in Syria, not Trump.


PRESIDENT OBAMA: I’m sorry, Susan, but I just can’t stop thinking-what if people look at the history books and see that Donald Trump succeeded me? They’ll wonder what the FUCK I did to make that possible.


(Ferial, the President’s Secretary, enters the Oval Office)


FERIAL: Mr. President, Sergeant Noneya is on the line.


PRESIDENT OBAMA: Who-who is that?


FERIAL: Some Boston, sergeant. Or something. He was very dodgy about his identity, but I finally got it out of him.


AMBASSADOR RICE: Well, Ferial, the President and I are in a meeting-


PRESIDENT OBAMA: I’ll take it. (President Obama stands up) Same time next month, Susan?


(Susan Rice stands up)




PRESIDENT OBAMA: Cool. (Ambassador Rice rolls her eyes and walks out of the Oval Office while President Obama sits behind his desk and picks up the phone. Ferial closes the door) This is the President.


PRIVATE RENZI: (On the phone) What’s up, Barack?


PRESIDENT OBAMA: Nigga, I don’t even know you like that.


PRIVATE RENZI: Sorry, Mr. President. Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase. Do you know Jacob Donahue?


PRESIDENT OBAMA: Uhhh, I believe so. I rescued his brother from terrorists a few years back, right?


PRIVATE RENZI: Yes. Well, he’s currently in basic training here at Fort Devens and man is he making an ass out of himself. He runs like Elton John and he climbs like, well, you know, how you would expect Elton John to climb.


PRESIDENT OBAMA: So what is your point? Should I put him in solitary confinement?




PRESIDENT OBAMA: Drone strike? Do you need a drone strike?!


PRIVATE RENZI: Relax, Mr. President. He’s expressed interest in becoming a nuclear key-turner guy. Dude.


PRESIDENT OBAMA: No need to use the technical term. Listen, any Donahue is a friend of mine. So sure, I trust him to launch the nuclear weapons on Iran.


PRIVATE RENZI: Wait, what?


PRESIDENT OBAMA: OR any, nation. Hypothetically.


PRIVATE RENZI: …I’ll let him know. Thank you, Mr. President.


PRESIDENT OBAMA: You’re welcome, Sergeant. (President Obama hangs up. He then sighs and sits down. He pulls out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth) That orange fascist better not replace me.


(President Obama lights the cigarette. Cut to Michael, Eric and Brennan sitting in Eric’s apartment, smoking weed. Brennan is taking a hit)


MICHAEL: So I’m basically like a wage slave at this point.


ERIC: But you chose that.


MICHAEL: Well, I want to go back to college at some point.


ERIC: Maybe next semester?


MICHAEL: No, I’m probably gonna take a semester off.


ERIC: You’ve taken the last THREE semesters off!


MICHAEL: Yeah. Well. Fuck.


ERIC: I’m just glad I’m finally out of school for the summer. It’s been exhausting.


MICHAEL: Where the hell is Ryan? Shouldn’t he be off too?


BRENNAN: I just assumed he died of an overdose in February.


ERIC: …I don’t think so. I would’ve heard about that. Although I don’t go on Facebook very often anymore.


MICHAEL: Let’s call him.


(Brennan hands Eric the bong)


ERIC: You do it.




(Michael takes out his phone and dials Ryan’s number. Cut to Ryan and Catherine in Catherine’s farm house’s living room. There is a pedestal in the middle of the room now, with a preserved rat king displayed prominently atop it. There are velvet ropes surrounding the pedestal. Catherine is admiring the rat king as Ryan’s phone begins to ring)


RYAN: Hold on. (Ryan answers) Catherine’s Rat King Bed and Breakfast and Museum, this is Ryan, how can I help you?


(Cut to Michael on the phone. He puts the phone to his chest)


MICHAEL: This doesn’t sound good. (Michael puts the phone back to his ear) Ryan? What are you talking about?


RYAN: Oh, hey Michael. Did you get a new number?


MICHAEL: Yeah. Creditors and shit. Anyway, do you work at a bed and breakfast slash museum called… “rat king” now?


RYAN: Yeah, kind of. My girlfriend Catherine found a rat king in her barn and now we set up this tourist trap around it. My father would be proud. Except he’s not, and he hates I’m here.


MICHAEL: You have a girlfriend named Catherine? Do you realize you haven’t updated us on your life at all since you left for SUNY Plattsburgh?


RYAN: Have I not? I didn’t tell you about the 30-year old girl I like?




CATHERINE: Who’s on the phone?


RYAN: (To Catherine) Oh, it’s my friends from back home.


CATHERINE: Tell them to come to see the rat king!

RYAN: (To Michael) You guys should come see the rat king, we only charge 40 dollars a pop to see it!

MICHAEL: (To Ryan) So wait, are you not coming home for the summer?


RYAN: Nah, man, I’m staying here.


MICHAEL: Really? That kinda sucks man, we really wanted to see you.


RYAN: Sorry man, maybe I’ll visit in a few weeks or months, oh shit, I have to go, a mob of angry people are here demanding the head of the rat king. We should’ve been more specific in that flier.


(Ryan hangs up)


MICHAEL: Hello?! Hello!? (Michael hangs up) He hung up on me.


ERIC: Wow. What’d he say? What’s going on with him?


(Eric hands Brennan the bong)


MICHAEL: He says he’s living on a farm with his 30-year old girlfriend.




MICHAEL: He “may” visit us in a few weeks of months.


BRENNAN: Yeah, that dude’s moved on with his life.


(Brennan takes a hit)


MICHAEL: That sucks, man, I thought we were friends.


ERIC: …Why don’t we go visit him?


MICHAEL: Maybe someday.


(Brennan hands Michael the bong, and he takes a hit. Cut to Ryan standing by the Rat King on the pedestal. A pale man wearing a trench coat, beanie and a rabbit’s foot around his neck walks over)


PALE MAN: Is this her?


RYAN: Her? Uh, yes, this is the rat king. Notice how much they struggled to gain freedom from their doom.


PALE MAN: Oooh, that’s always a losing fight.


RYAN: Yes, it is.


PALE MAN: Could I get one of the feet for my necklace?


RYAN: …Uh, no. Sir. Is that a real rabbit’s foot?


PALE MAN: Damn right.


RYAN: Oh God.


(Catherine comes over)


CATHERINE: Could I speak to you in private?


RYAN: I don’t know if I should leave this guy alone with the rat king. He’s undressing it with his eyes.


CATHERINE: Fine. Move along, weirdo.


(The pale man nods and walks away)


RYAN: What’s up?


CATHERINE: Bangor Local News wants to interview us.


RYAN: Oh my God, perfect. Good luck.


CATHERINE: What? What do you mean?


RYAN: What?


CATHERINE: We’re both going to do the interview.


RYAN: Come on, Catherine, you know I don’t crave the spotlight. Unless it’s negative attention.


CATHERINE: Well, just so you understand, we’re getting our fifteen minutes because we found what is essentially the remains of an accidental mass suicide of rats.


RYAN: …Good enough for me! Let’s go.


(Ryan kisses Catherine’s forehead and they walk off together. Cut to Ethan on his laptop, watching a clip of Ryan and Catherine being interviewed outside her farm by a Bangor 5 reporter)


REPORTER: I’m Delano Bravada of Bangor 5 News. I’m here with Catherine Bowie and Ryan Donahue, who recently made a stunning discovery.


(Delano points his microphone at Catherine)


CATHERINE: That’s right, we found a rat king. We’re the first people to have found a confirmed rat king since 2005.


RYAN: Doesn’t mean we deserved a reality show.


CATHERINE: But it could.


RYAN: It’s up to you guys.


DELANO: Explain to our normal viewers what a rat king is-


(Ethan closes the laptop)



(Fiona comes in)


FIONA: What is it?


ETHAN: We have to do something about Ryan and Catherine. And I think I have an idea.


(Cut to Ryan and Catherine sitting in their kitchen, counting money)


CATHERINE: Jesus, we’ve made five hundred dollars already! Who knew weirdos had so much money?


RYAN: Yeah, and as long as “the King of Debt” Donald Trump doesn’t default on the dollar as President, we’ll be able to thrive with this business.


CATHERINE: I just realized though, I haven’t made breakfast for any of these motherfuckers.


RYAN: Just make them some eggs-oh yeah, we have no chickens.


CATHERINE: Damnit, I’m gonna have to go buy some chickens.


(A man in a suit with a comb-over comes in)


MAN: Excuse me, Ms. Bowie and Mr. Donahue, there is a news team out of Vermont here to see you.


RYAN: Who the hell are you?


MAN: I’m your PR guy. John Miller. (John hands them two of his cards) It’s a pleasure.


CATHERINE: I don’t believe you.


JOHN MILLER: Fine. I lied to you. I’m John Barron. Sorry for the deception.


RYAN: No, I still don’t believe you.


JOHN BARRON: Fine…want to know the truth? I’m you.


(A reporter from Hansbay 5 comes in and pushes John Barron over)


REPORTER: Hi, I’m Lewis Pearlman from Hansbay 5, would you mind if we did an interview?


(Ryan and Catherine stand up)


RYAN: Why would you come all the way to Plattsburgh for this story? This isn’t really “local” news for you, right?


LEWIS: Oh, please. (Lewis’ camera man walks over with his camera mounted on his shoulder) You’re a native son of Hansbay. How could we resist a story about you and your mother finding a bunch of rats who can play the piano?


RYAN: The rats can’t play the piano, dude, they’re rats who died of starvation because they were bound together at their tails!

CATHERINE: And I am NOT his mother!

(Lewis turns to his cameraman)


LEWIS: What the hell, Jerry?! I thought this was a cute fluff piece! Ugh. (Lewis turns back to Ryan and Catherine) Let’s just get this over with.


RYAN: Fine.


(Ryan and Catherine walk over to the rat king display, as do Lewis and Jerry. There are still a bunch of shifty, creepy onlookers. Jerry points the camera at Ryan, Catherine and Lewis as they stand in front of the rat king)


LEWIS: This is Lewis Pearlman, and I’m here in Bangor, New York with Hansbay native son Ryan Donahue, and his cougar mistress Catherine Bowie.


CATHERINE: Okay, somewhat more accurate.


LEWIS: So, Ryan, what kind of songs do the rats-shit, Jerry, give me the questions I’m supposed to ask them. (Jerry hands Lewis a stack of note cards) Thank you. (Lewis clears his throat) So where did you find this elusive rat king?


CATHERINE: We found it in my goat shed. It was behind a bale of hay. At first I thought it was one of the usual rat orgies, but no, it was something much more special.


RYAN: I think we want to make it into a wreath to ward off carolers at Christmas time.


(Catherine giggles)


LEWIS: What do you serve at the B&B portion of the museum?


RYAN: We serve pancakes, sausage, bacon and coming soon-eggs.


LEWIS: How do you respond to accusations that goats have been tainting your food supply?



LEWIS: People have said goats are, you know, defecating in the raw ingredients you use for your breakfasts.


(Half of the room goes “ewwwww”)


RYAN: What in God’s name are you talking about!?


LEWIS: Notice that only half the room groaned in disgust-


CATHERINE: What “people” are saying this nonsense?!


LEWIS: You know. People. It’s in the ether. We talk to the same people FOX News talks to.


RYAN: This interview is over. Get out.


LEWIS: You clearly have something to hide. (Ryan and Catherine shake their heads and go back into their kitchen. Lewis turns to the camera) We may never know what hideous things lurk in Ryan and Catherine’s continental breakfasts. But if you’re into this rat king stuff, maybe you just don’t care. Coming up, Donald Trump refuses to release his tax returns. What lurks in those? Is it goat shit as well? Stay tuned.


(Cut to Jacob on his cell phone behind the soldiers’ quarters at night)


RENEE: (On the phone) Happy Birthday, baby.


JACOB: Thanks, nee nee. Are you gonna read an erotic bible passage to me for my birthday?


RENEE: No, not with Kyle around. He’ll learn that part of the bible when he’s older.


JACOB: Fine…speaking of which, his 1st Birthday is coming up soon, huh?


RENEE: Yeah, next Wednesday.


JACOB: Oh my Gosh, it’s been one year. Can you please bring him by?


RENEE: Of course.


JACOB: I love you, Renee. If it were the end of the world, I would want to spend my last moments with you.


RENEE: Watch TV, Jacob, it is the end of the world.


(Renzi and Matthews comes up from behind him)


PRIVATE RENZI: Speaking of the end of the world-


JACOB: Hold on one second. (Jacob puts the phone to his chest and turns to Renzi and Matthews) I’m trying to have a conversation with someone who actually gives a shit about my birthday, do you mind?


PRIVATE RENZI: That’s the thing, we felt bad about dismissing your birthday-


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Hey, Marcus, at least let him finish his conversation-


PRIVATE RENZI: No, fuck that, this is important.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: But then you’ll just have another thing to apologize for!


JACOB: Hold on. (Jacob puts his ear to the phone) I gotta go, babe.


RENEE: Okay, soldier boy.


JACOB: Love you. Tell Kyle I love him.


RENEE: I’ll try to remember this time.


JACOB: Bye. (Jacob hangs up) What do you want?


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: We felt bad about dismissing your birthday, so we got you a present.


JACOB: Really? What is it?


PRIVATE RENZI: The easiest job in the military.


(Jacob furrows his brow. Cut to Jacob sitting in front of a nuclear control panel in an underground control room, next to a mustached skinny dude)


JACOB: Ho-ly shit.


NUCLEAR WORKER: Pretty rad, dude?


JACOB: No, not rad. These are-this is-nuclear weapons?!


NUCLEAR WORKER: Damn straight. I’m Warner, by the way.


JACOB: Warner, I am afraid to move at all in this room. I don’t wanna accidentally launch a nuclear warhead.


WARNER: Don’t worry, we can only do that if the President’s voice comes through that speaker.


JACOB: Okay, well-


PRESIDENT OBAMA: (Voice over speaker) Attention.




PRESIDENT OBAMA: Relax, relax, relax, I’m just fucking with you. Welcome aboard, Jacob.


WARNER: Good morning, Mr. President.


JACOB: Mr. President, please I can’t-


PRESIDENT OBAMA: Sorry, I have to go, I’m having poker night with Jamie Dimon and the boys from JP Morgan. Good luck!

JACOB: NO, PLEASE! (President Obama hangs up) Goddamnit.


WARNER: Speaking of poker, do you want to play?


JACOB: …Wait, we can do that?




JACOB: We don’t have to do, I don’t know, training exercises or anything?


WARNER: I pretty much told you everything you needed to know. Obama comes over the speaker with a code, we both write it down, compare notes, enter the code, turn our keys at the same time and bam-we break for lunch.


JACOB: During the nuclear holocaust?


WARNER: Oh yeah, I never thought about that part. Well, whatever, basically our job is to sit around waiting for something that will probably never happen.


JACOB: Huh. Well. Sure, let’s play a hand.


WARNER: Sounds good to me. (Warner unfolds a folding table and some folding chairs and pulls out a deck of cards. Jacob and Warner sit across from each other. Warner deals two cards to Jacob, two cards to himself) The President told me you prefer Jake. True?


JACOB: How did HE catch wind of that? No, it’s Jacob.


WARNER: Oh. Okay. Sorry, Jacob.


(Jacob smiles)


JACOB: It’s cool.


WARNER: This game is called “turnover”. We turn over our cards and whoever has the best hand wins.


JACOB: …There’s really nothing more to it?


WARNER: Oh yeah, I forgot, we bet money before we turn over the cards. And before we look at them.


(Cut to Ryan and Catherine sitting at their dinner table)


CATHERINE: …This is fucking bullshit.


RYAN: I know, we’ve hardly had any customers since that Hansbay 5 hit piece! Only the weirdest ones among them, and those people don’t have money.


CATHERINE: What would be their motive to do something like this?


RYAN: …I think I have an idea about that. (Ryan stands up and grabs his jacket) I have to go.


(Catherine stands up)


CATHERINE: (Southern accent) Where you goin’?


RYAN: …To solve a problem.


(Ryan turns his back and runs out the door)



(Catherine holds a cloth to her head and sits down dramatically at the table. Cut to Ethan and Fiona speaking in Ethan’s apartment)


ETHAN: What the hell was that shit that your friend pulled?!


FIONA: What? I thought you wanted to guilt trip Ryan into returning to Vermont!


ETHAN: Yes! Exactly! But your friend Lewis slandered my son and his girlfriend’s small business.


FIONA: How did you expect that news team to guilt trip Ryan and Catherine?


ETHAN: The reporter was supposed to interrupt the interview to report on the death of two parents in a car wreck and the son who last saw them three months ago! That was the plan!

FIONA: They decided to go a different way with it. I can’t control them.


ETHAN: Of course you can!!


FIONA: Ethan, they fired me. I’m surprised I got them to do this at all.


ETHAN: Fair point. (Someone knocks at the door) Who could that be?


FIONA: Maybe it’s those love cuffs that I ordered?


ETHAN: Come on, I told you I want to take it slow with your fetish stuff.


FIONA: I AM taking it slow.


(Ethan rolls his eyes and looks through the peephole, and then turns to Fiona with a panicked look)


ETHAN: (Whispering) It’s Ryan.


FIONA: (Whispering) Open it.


(Ethan sighs and opens the door)


ETHAN: Ryan, what a pleasant surprise!


RYAN: I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear the last half of you guys’ conversation.


(Ryan walks in)


FIONA: You don’t have to. You can watch, if you want.


ETHAN: Fiona!

FIONA: You have no idea how sexually liberated I am.


ETHAN: To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?


RYAN: Did you have Fiona send those asshole reporters to Catherine and I’s farm?


ETHAN: Okay, I can explain-



FIONA: No, I was just bored.


ETHAN: Ryan, let me explain! This got WAY out of hand!

RYAN: No, it worked. You destroyed my girlfriend and I’s business, congratulations. Why don’t you go back to Russia?


ETHAN: Ryan, I didn’t intend for the reporters to sabotage your guys’ business, I wanted them to guilt trip you, but they went rogue.


RYAN: Oh, so you wanted to emotionally manipulate me, not destroy our business, well that makes me feel a lot better.


ETHAN: I’m sorry, but your mom is very broken up about this.


RYAN: I guess she doesn’t care what I want to do with my time and what will make ME happy, finally.


ETHAN: I don’t know if you’ve heard, but happiness requires money. And-


RYAN: What? I don’t accept that premise-


ETHAN: AND your mom tells me she’s gonna pull your ass out of school if you don’t move back home.


(Ryan scoffs and flips his hair)


RYAN: Tell her if she does that, that’ll just extend my stay at the farm past August.


(Ryan leaves. Ethan sighs and sits down. A gimp then comes in the room)


GIMP: Did somebody order a gimp?


(The gimp quivers)


ETHAN: Okay, that is NOT taking it slow.


(Cut to Private Renzi and Private Matthews sitting on the bottom bunks of their respective bunk beds. They are playing cards)




PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Shit, have we really been playing “Go Fish” for an hour?


PRVATE RENZI: I guess so. I just spaced out.


(Private Matthews throws down his cards)


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: Uggh, I wanna go smoke weed in the woods.


PRIVATE RENZI: I don’t have any weed.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: I know, Jake would always have the weed.


PRIVATE RENZI: And we would get high in the forest, and Jake would say stupid things, and we would tell him to shut up. Goddamn, I miss that.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: …What, do you miss him though?


PRIVATE RENZI: What? No. That’s ridiculous. I don’t miss him. The only person I miss is my pops. He died from black lung.


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: He was mining coal…in Queens?


PRIVATE RENZI: The point is, I don’t miss Jake.


(Sergeant Waverly comes in, so all the soldiers in the room, including Renzi and Matthews, shoot up and stand at attention)




PRIVATE LOWELL: Come on, guys. You know there’s no smoking allowed indoors.


PRIVATE RENZI: Shut the hell up, Lowell.


(Sergeant Waverly gets in Renzi’s face)














(Sergeant Waverly puts the pack in Renzi’s pocket)


PRIVATE RENZI: That is just cruel.




PRIVATE RENZI: Yes, sir. (Sergeant Waverly marches out, all the soldiers relax and start laughing at Renzi, who is rolling his eyes) Yeah, I DO miss Jake.


(Cut to Ethan on the phone with Kimberly. Ethan is at work, at his desk, and Kimberly is at her work, at her desk)


KIMBERLY: Can I help you?


ETHAN: Well, I tried to help you, and I think it backfired. Ryan’s resolve has only grown stronger. He says if you pull him out he’ll just spend…the rest of his life, I guess, at that farm.


KIMBERLY: Shit, he called my bluff.


ETHAN: Yeah. And I feel really bad for trying to sabotage his…life. So, I think there’s only one thing we can do to make up for it. And luckily, it kills two birds with one stone.


KIMBERLY: Are we killing some of their animals?


ETHAN: No, get out of the sabotaging mind frame, okay?!


KIMBERLY: Okay, sorry.


(Cut to Jacob and Warner sitting around, relaxed, shooting the shit)


JACOB: I lost my virginity when I was fifteen, to a girl named Paulie.


WARNER: That doesn’t sound like a very attractive name.


JACOB: Yeah, it wasn’t and she wasn’t. She was this girl who would just follow me around everywhere, freshman year of High School. I would open my locker sometimes, and she would be in there just smiling.




JACOB: Eventually, she wore me down enough that I had sex with her. And goddamn, it was amazing. I came back for more every week until the men in white coats took her away. And even one attempt after that, if I remember correctly.


WARNER: That’s incredible. I lost my virginity, no joke, to my wife. Only woman I’ve ever had sex with.


(Jacob laughs)


JACOB: You’re one of those people?


WARNER: No, it was just a cruel twist of fate that I got it right the first time. No fun experimentation.


(Jacob laughs, and a voice comes over an intercom)


INTERCOM: You have visitors, gentlemen.


JACOB: What the fuck does that mean?!


WARNER: Relax, it just means people are here to see one of us.


JACOB: What?! (Warner walks down a corridor, and Jacob follows. Warner punches a code into a wall-mounted keypad and a door slides open to reveal Renzi, Matthews and Renee, who is holding Kyle) Whoa, what the hell are you guys doing here?!


RENEE: It’s your son’s birthday, that’s what we’re DOING HERE.


JACOB: Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I lost track of the days-


RENEE: You took a job in launching nuclear weapons?


JACOB: Yeah, and it’s a well-paying, easy gig.


RENEE: It also entails potentially killing me. And your son. And these two pricks.




RENEE: So it’s mostly bad.


JACOB: Renee, come on, it’s never gonna happen. Unless Trump wins, which is only you know, a thirty percent possibility- how the fuck did you guys find this place?!


PRIVATE RENZI: It should not have been as easy as it was.


JACOB: What are you guys doing here anyhow?


PRIVATE MATTHEWS: We want you to come back.


JACOB: To Fort Devens? No way, this place is great, Warner is great.


(Jacob puts his hands on Warner’s shoulder)


WARNER: I like Jacob too.





(Kyle starts crying)




(Jacob sighs)


JACOB: I’m sorry. But I like where I am.


PRIVATE RENZI: Come on, man. You’re hanging back in this cushy job because it’s easy? (Renzi puts his hand on Jacob’s shoulder) The Jake Donahue I know would never take a job because it’s easy! He would take a job because it’s HARD! Even if it’s not that hard and he still can’t do it.


JACOB: You want my weed, don’t you?


PRIVATE RENZI: That is a very small part of it.


(Renzi lets go of Jacob’s shoulder)


RENEE: Here’s all I’ll say, Jacob. Jesus is supposed to bring the end times, not you. All I’m gonna say.


(Jacob sighs)


JACOB: …I do miss smoking weed in the forest with you guys.


PRIVATE RENZI: Yeah you do, buddy!




RENEE: Do you also miss your son?


JACOB: Of course, come here, birthday boy! (Renee hands Jacob Kyle, and Kyle quiets down) Shhhh…it’s gonna be okay, Kyle…wanna go see the nuclear equipment, Kyle?




JACOB: Okay, sorry. (Jacob turns to Warner) Yeah, sorry Warner, I think I gotta bounce.


WARNER: Hey, you wouldn’t be the first. Or even the fifteenth.


(Jacob extends his hand)


JACOB: Good luck, man. Hope you never have to do your job.




(Jacob and Warner shake hands and Jacob walks out of the building as Warner punches a keypad and the door closes behind him)


PRIVATE RENZI: You’re so pussy whipped, dude.


JACOB: Fuck off, Renzi.


(Renzi and Matthews laugh. Cut to Ryan and Catherine lying in bed together upstairs at Catherine’s farm)


RYAN: I don’t know why I’m surprised that my parents still don’t understand me.


CATHERINE: Not to sound cliché, but, parents don’t really ever truly understand. Mostly because we don’t want to hang out with them. Or tell them anything.


RYAN: I do get secretive. I’ve lied to my mom about where I was going when I was just, going to Chipotle.


(Catherine chuckles. They hear knocking downstairs)


CATHERINE: Could it be?


RYAN: Customers? Oh, thank God! (Ryan and Catherine jump up and starts putting their clothes on. Cut to Ryan and Catherine running to the door. They open it up to see Ethan, Fiona, Kimberly and Luke) Oh, what the hell?! Are you here to take a look and write a bad Yelp review?!


KIMBERLY: No, Ryan. We feel bad for disrespecting your wishes. So we’re going to stay here for a night.


LUKE: And I’m excited about it, I mean, this place looks-what the bloody hell is that thing?


(Catherine looks at the rat king)


CATHERINE: That’s the main attraction.


RYAN: Yeah, you should come next week, we’re hoping to catch a Jinmenken and display it here.


ETHAN: A what?


RYAN: A Jinmenken, it’s a dog with a human face-


CATHERINE: You’ll see, it’ll be great.


RYAN: Yeah, I don’t want to give too much away. Uh, anyway, yeah, you guys can stay.


(They all walk in and Kimberly hugs Ryan, and then turns to Catherine)


KIMBERLY: Hi, I’m Ryan’s mother.


CATHERINE: Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Catherine.


(Catherine shakes Kimberly’s hand)


KIMBERLY: You’ve heard a lot about me? Like what specifically?


RYAN: Let’s go upstairs!


(Everybody starts walking upstairs)


ETHAN: (To Catherine) I’m Ethan, by the way.


CATHERINE: Never heard of you.


(The camera pans over to the rat king as we fade to black)



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