“How much longer will I have to fight myself over what to do when the deadline is dying closer to abort what's not even formed?”
(We start with a close-up of a birthday cake with the numbers “5” and “0” on them. Kimberly’s hand takes a fireplace lighter and lights both of them. Zoom out to see Mr. McKeller in front of the cake, surrounded by Kimberly, Rob, Mr. Kissick, Mr. Litwak and Mr. Passamano in the boardroom)
ROB: I’ll start the Birthday song. (Singing) Good morning to you, good morning to you-
KIMBERLY: Rob, that was the song that inspired the Birthday song, it’s weird that you know that one better, but anyway, I’ll sing it. We’ll all sing it.
ALL OF THEM EXCEPT MR. MCKELLER: (Singing) Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mr. McKeller, happy birthday to you!
(Mr. McKeller blows out the birthday candles and they all applaud)
MR. MCKELLER: Thank you, guys. I really appreciate this, you guys. (Tearing up) And…I know that everyone here will be there for me…through thick and thin…I’m sorry.
KIMBERLY: No, it’s fine.
ROB: (Whispering) Who gets emotional at a birthday party?
KIMBERLY: (Whispering) Pussies.
MR. MCKELLER: Let’s make…(sniff) the next fifty years…(crying at this point) even better than the last! I’ sorry.
(Mr. McKeller leaves the room)
ROB: Um…I’m probably not going to know him for the next fifty years.
KIMBERLY: Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I mean, I’d be like, 95 years old, he’d be 100 and Rob would be-
MR. PASSAMANO: I know, he just gets overly-attached and emotional.
MR. KISSICK: Anyway, will that client base be developed by Monday?
KIMBERLY: You know it!
MR. KISSICK: Great. Thanks for throwing this little shindig in this boardroom which always seems to make itself readily available for whatever use is convenient at the time, even though I’m not sure where it is or how I got here.
KIMBERLY: Yeah, it’s kind of bizarre. Anyway, thanks for coming.
(They all shake hands and Mr. Kissick, Mr. Passamano and Mr. Litwak leave)
ROB: Oh my God…
KIMBERLY: We have to complete the development of our client base by tomorrow!
ROB: We can do it, don’t worry. We just need a miracle.
KIMBERLY: We can do it or we need a miracle?
ROB: What’s the difference?
KIMBERLY: One implies that we could do it if we tried hard enough the other one implies that our chances of success are completely subject to the whims of probability.
ROB: I think we might need a miracle.
(Cut to TJ Donovan in a court room with a grand jury of 20 people and Judge McGlynn. Behind him sit Dirk’s Warriors, all in orange jumpsuits and Detective Zimmerman)
TJ DONOVAN: Your honor, with the indulgence of the grand jury, we would like to file criminal complaints against Ethan Marcus Donahue and Timothy Thomas Sessions for bribery, extortion and misuse of public funds, your honor.
JUDGE MCGLYNN: What is your evidence, counsel?
TJ DONOVAN: We have sworn testimony from the Vice Chair of the Hansbay City Council Ms. Laura Edelman saying that she was bribed by Mr. Donahue to keep quiet about an incident in which Mr. Sarandon flashed her. We also have an entry from Mr. Donahue’s personal journal indicating that said action took place and we have documentation indicating that the trip to the Cayman Islands was Mr. Donahue’s idea and that Mr. Sessions approved of it as Treasurer of Hansbay, Vermont. I present before the jury Exhibits A-C. (Two women in burlesque enter holding a framed piece of paper) That is the sworn testimony in question. (The two women leave and come back holding an inflated picture of a journal entry by Ethan, reading “Wednesday, June 6, 2012- Today was my son Ryan’s 17th birthday. Plus, Mayor Sarandon flashed the Vice Chair of the city council. That imbecile should not be the Mayor, I should be! Anyway I had to give Ms. Edelman a little somethin’-somethin’ to keep the whole thing under wraps. Signing off for now”) That’s pretty clear. He must’ve taken calligraphy or something in college, that handwriting is dazzling. (The burlesque women leave and come back with a blown up picture of a document reading “OFFICE OF THE TREASURER, TIMOTHY P. SESSIONS, HANSBAY, VERMONT. Monday, April 30, 2012. Mr. Ethan Donahue, Chief of Staff to Mayor Brian Sarandon, has put in a request for public funds for official governmental business in the Cayman Islands. The trip has been described as pertaining to vaginal research.”) Clearly not a legitimate reason for a Governmental trip. So, I will let the grand jury deliberate.
JURY MEMBER: LET’S HANG HIM!
(The jury cheers and the Judge bangs his gavel several times)
JUDGE MCGLYNN: Order in this court! We will not have a witch hunt on our hands, ladies and gentleman of the grand jury. Decide based on reason, not emotion.
JURY MEMBER: Emotion is for homos!
JUDGE MCGYLNN: Just go deliberate.
(The jury exits their seating booth and go into a room. Cut to Ryan, Jacob and Preston sitting together in study hall on Friday, November 16, 2012. Preston is showing Ryan and Jacob a video, and they appear dumbfounded)
RYAN: …Are you fucking kidding me?
JACOB: You filmed your speedometer while getting up to 110 miles per hour in a 55 miles per hour zone?!
PRESTON: Yep! It was sick, I posted this on YouTube and it got like, a bunch of comments.
RYAN: How the fuck are you still alive?
PRESTON: I don’t know! But I impressed a lot of people on YouTube; I’ve gotten like, 4,000 dislikes.
JACOB: How does that mean they’re impressed?
PRESTON: They dislike because it’s not something they would do themselves, but they respect me for my bravery.
RYAN: I doubt that.
(A teacher walks over)
TEACHER: Preston, get back to the computer and work on those definitions!
PRESTON: Speaking of definitions, oops! (He slides his finger across his iPhone to flip to a picture of himself shirtless in the mirror and shows it to Ryan and Jacob) Sorry about that!
JACOB: Why would you show THAT to us?
TEACHER: Preston, get back to work!
PRESTON: Sorry, Mrs. Lackey.
(Preston goes back to his computer)
JACOB: (Whispering) Hey Ryan.
RYAN: (Whispering) What?
JACOB: You see that kid over there?
RYAN: What kid?
JACOB: The one with the books.
RYAN: Yeah, what about him? (Cut to that kid, an awkward looking kid with a bunch of books about Hitler surrounding him. He is also reading “Mein Kampf” by Adolf Hitler) Oh, I see what about him.
JACOB: Yeah, look at that. He is obsessed with Hitler.
(Suddenly, “Pumped up Kicks” by Foster The People is heard)
RYAN: Where is that coming from?
(The awkward kid takes out his phone and turns it off)
KID: Sorry, that was my ringtone.
MRS. LACKEY: Okay, just make sure it’s on silent.
JACOB: Ryan, that song is about a kid shooting up a school!
RYAN: Yeah! And look at that flower he has in his hand! (Cut to him holding a Columbine Flower) Motherfucker’s holding a Columbine flower!
MRS. LACKEY: So who’s excited for Thanksgiving break? I know I am.
KID: I can’t wait for the Monday after Thanksgiving break.
MRS. LACKEY: Why’s that?
KID: Um…because then I can look forward to Christmas break! Heh.
MRS. LACKEY: Oh, very positive attitude. I like it.
JACOB: Ryan, he hesitated! That’s not the reason he’s excited for the Monday after Thanksgiving! That kid’s going to come here on the 26th and put a bullet through all of our heads!
RYAN: Fuck, you may be right. I mean, he’s obsessed with Hitler, he can’t wait until the 26th, he looks weird, he has a Columbine flower and he has “Pumped up Kicks” as his ringtone! Plus, look at how he likes weird music and violent video games!
(Cut to him listening to loud metal on his iPod and rocking out to it while wearing a “Mortal Kombat” t-shirt)
JACOB: Wait, but you like that music.
RYAN: Well, you like violent video games, but we’re not sociopathic, sadistic, murderous social outcasts!
JACOB: You tried to scam money from people at homecoming a month ago.
RYAN: Yeah and you conspired to beat up my best friend, we’re both assholes, I know, but this guy is going to make sure we “run better run, out run his gun”.
JACOB: You’re right. But what should we do?
RYAN: We need to learn his name and report him to the principal.
JACOB: What is his name?
RYAN: I don’t know. (Cut to his name on his backpack, which is “Dylan Harris”) Oh, come on!
(Cut to Ryan and Jacob sitting in Principal Maxell’s office across from his desk. He comes in holding a cup full of Chex Mix with feathers and googley eyes on the cup, as well as a beak made out of candy corn. He then sits down)
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Thanks, Marsha for the Thanksgiving treat!
RYAN: The door’s closed, she can’t hear you.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Look at this cute little turkey cup.
JACOB: That’s really something; anyway, we have some-
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: I think it would be cool if they genetically engineered a turkey with a cup for a body, but with regular turkey legs, wings, eyes and gobbledy noises. And I’d want it to be filled with Chex mix as well!
JACOB: That would be really something, anyway sir, we have some suspicions about a student named Dylan Harris.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Oh?
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: I said “oh?”.
RYAN: Right, but you can just say like, “please elaborate” or “what suspicions?” Nobody really says “oh?” like that unless you’re in a 19th century novel.
JACOB: Ryan, let’s focus. Dylan Harris is obsessed with Adolf Hitler, he loves heavy metal and violent video games and he has stated he is excited for the Monday after we get back from break. All this leads us to believe that he is going to shoot the blood out of us on November 26th.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: My God. All of these facts are extremely indicative of a mass murderer. What do you suggest we do?
RYAN: That’s kind of why we came to you about this, what do you suggest we do?
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Well…we could hire a private eye to tail him over the break.
RYAN: Sir, I think we’d be tremendously qualified to be private eyes for you over the break.
JACOB: Anything to stop this mad man…or mad kid.
RYAN: Like, crazy mad.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Do you guys have any experience in the private eye business?
RYAN: I have a vague understanding of film noir. I can put on a fedora, take up smoking and bring along a leggy dame named Sarah. That’s more than I can say for Jacob though.
JACOB: I don’t need a leggy dame. I prefer a nice pair of toned arms, like Michelle Obama.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: I like big tits.
RYAN: Wow, didn’t see that coming.
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: I’m going to put you two on the case. Tail Dylan Harris, see what and if he’s planning.
JACOB: Yes sir, we’re on the case.
(Ryan and Jacob get up and shake Principal Maxell’s hand one at a time)
PRINCIPAL MAXELL: Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go walk around and look important.
(Principal Maxell leaves the room. Cut to Rob talking on the phone with somebody in the Donahue office while Kimberly sits at another computer in the same office)
ROB: We can sell you racquetball equipment at a reasonable price for your gym, sir…you are Quinn Powell, right? Owner of 247 (pronounced two-hundred and forty seven) fitness gym in downtown Hansbay? Of course it’s pronounced 2/47 gym, two hours a day, 47 days a week. That’s not what you said? Well it’s not what I said either. Hello? He hung up.
(Rob hangs up)
KIMBERLY: Jesus Christ. You are a terrible salesman, let me show you how a real maestro does it. (Kimberly picks up the phone and calls somebody) Hello, Mrs. Alosa, my name is Kimberly Donahue from the Altmire Racquetball Supply Company and I was wondering if South Burlington High School needed any affordable, high-quality racquetball equipment for when the kids return to school on November 26th…how did I get this number? How did you get this number? Exactly, because I called you. I got this number from the yella books. Some people call them the yellow pages, I call them the yella books. Well, we can offer you eleven racquets and eleven balls for the reasonable price of 970 dollars. That is a good deal. Okay, sounds good. Where shall we meet? Your house? Today at two? Sounds terrific. Thank you. Bye.
(Kimberly hangs up)
ROB: You got us a meeting?!
KIMBERLY: Yes I did!
ROB: Yes! That sale will sure up our client base for sure!
KIMBERLY: I think we might need to focus on selling to schools rather than gyms at all, actually. We could sell to South Burlington High School, Burlington High, Shelburne Regional, even Hansbay high! You name the school, we can sell to them. Because our equipment is cheap, and let’s be honest, not that high quality.
ROB: Yeah, and while adults at a gym might expect the best out of their racquets, nobody really cares if some kid cuts his hand on cheap-ass wire racquets.
KIMBERLY: Exactly, they’ll rub some dirt in it and move on. We have a meeting with Mrs. Alosa at her house at two o’clock and wee need to prove our client base by five, so call Hansbay High while I call Shelburne Regional.
ROB: Yes m’am.
(Rob picks up the phone, as does Kimberly. Cut to Ethan watching the news in the living room)
PATRICK WHITE: Israel and Palestine are now swapping in heated words for heat-seeking missiles as they wage holy war in the Middle East. Both Israel and Gaza have been bombarded in recent days by airstrikes and bombings with many civilian casualties. Moving on to a more contentious conflict, President Obama and Congressional Republicans are kicking of preliminary meetings to decide on a deal to resolve the looming fiscal cliff.
(Ethan’s phone rings and he answers it)
TIMOTHY: (On the phone) Don’t look now, but I think we’re in trouble.
ETHAN: Look where? Also, who is this?
TIMOTHY: It’s the reasurer-tay of ansbay-Hay, aye?
ETHAN: Don’t speak pirate pig latin at me, just tell me who this is.
TIMOTHY: It’s Tim Sessions, Treasurer of the City and I think we’re in it, deep.
ETHAN: What do you mean?
TIMOTHY: I think Mayor Sarandon are feeding us to the wolves as patsies.
TIMOTHY: Rumor is, both of us have been indicted for bribery, extortion and misuse of public funds.
ETHAN: WHAT? Are you fucking kidding me?
TIMOTHY: No. Sarandon doesn’t have our back anymore and he’s going to feed us to the hogs.
ETHAN: That son of a bitch.
TIMOTHY: I know!
ETHAN: Are you going to quit?
TIMOTHY: Quit? Hell no, I need a pay check to provide for my kids!
ETHAN: He may just fire you anyway, we need to confront him!
ETHAN: Is the Mayor’s Office open this week?
TIMOTHY: No, but his house is open this week.
ETHAN: Okay then. Meet me at his house at four.
TIMOTHY: Be there.
ETHAN: I’m the one who proposed it-
TIMOTHY: Or be square.
ETHAN: Alright. Bye.
(Ethan hangs up. Ethan walks over to the computer room and peaks inside to see Rob and Kimberly dressed up nice)
ETHAN: Hey, you guys. What’s with the get-ups?
KIMBERLY: We have a meeting with a client from South Burlington High. We’re going to make it reign supreme!
ROB: It’s raining men!
ETHAN: Well, that’s…(sweating) great, really great.
KIMBERLY: Are you okay, honey?
ETHAN: Yeah, I’m…(nervous laugh) I’m fine. I have to go…sweep the…lawn.
(Ethan goes outside)
(Cut to Ryan and Jacob in Jacob’s car. It is filled with cans, wrappers and other trash. Jacob is driving on the road)
RYAN: Dude, your car is fucking filthy.
JACOB: Dude, suck a dick, it’s filthy because I don’t litter!
RYAN: Wow, great logic, Captain Einstein, where’d you get that notion?
JACOB: A Facebook group.
RYAN: Dude, how many cokes do you drink?
JACOB: This is over a period of six months, Doctor America, relax.
RYAN: I can’t relax with all this eye clutter.
JACOB: You’re obsessed.
RYAN: Do you know where Dylan lives?
JACOB: Yeah, I looked in the school directory.
RYAN: You have a school directory?
JACOB: Yeah, we buy them at the beginning of the year and I always have them on hand just in case.
RYAN: In case of what?
JACOB: Situations like this, or when I need to know where a drug dealer lives.
RYAN: Why would a drug dealer put his address in a school directory?
JACOB: Why would a psychopathic massacre-planner put his number in a school directory?
RYAN: That’s a valid question.
JACOB: Okay, here we are.
GPS: Arriving at destination, on right.
JACOB: I didn’t even put his address into that thing.
(Jacob’s car pulls up to Dylan’s house and both Jacob and Ryan recline their seats back. Ryan peaks through the window)
RYAN: It looks like a brick house, about two stories with an attic. I see a total of four windows on the front of the house, eight if you count the windows on and near the door. There could be windows on the peripheral sides of the house and there are at least three bushes with a tree.
JACOB: Why is any of this information pertinent?
RYAN: You have to get the lay of the land, Jacob. Now, school shooters usually come from broken homes, so watch out for deadbeat dads with beer bellies and goatees. Plus, the kid probably has easy access to weapons, maybe his dead hides a glock in the bathroom sink because he still thinks his kid is eight and can’t reach it without a steep stool, so watch out for hunter types. Also, watch out for a perpetually crying mom.
JACOB: These are a lot of stereotypes to watch out for, Ryan.
RYAN: Well, my preconceived notions about school shooters and their families are tantamount to the keen intuition of a detective. (Ryan takes out a cigarette, puts it in his mouth and lights it and also puts on a brown fedora. He takes a drag off the cigarette and exhales) Jacob, those are the kind of keen, stereotype-based intuitions that helped London police catch that Jew bastard Jack the Ripper.
JACOB: Jack the Ripper was never caught.
RYAN: But he was probably a Jew. So let’s wait for something crazy to happen.
(Dylan walks out of the house with a garbage bag)
JACOB: There he is! Home alone, are we?
RYAN: Why do you think he’s home alone?
JACOB: There’s only one car here.
RYAN: Does he drive?
JACOB: I think so.
(Dylan puts the garbage bag in his trunk and gets in)
RYAN: HOLY SHIT.
JACOB: Let’s tail him.
(Jacob and Ryan duck down as Eric drives away. Then, once he’s far enough away, they start the car and drive after him)
JACOB: This is such a rush!
RYAN: What do you think’s in that bag?
JACOB: It could be a body. It could be a multiple bodies.
RYAN: Do you think multiple bodies could fit in that bag?
JACOB: Maybe he killed a bunch of midgets.
RYAN: I thought we thought he was a school shooter, not the Zodiac killer for the Seven Dwarves!
JACOB: He could have guns in there, maybe he’s going to a range to try them out.
RYAN: Maybe he’s going to the school right now to do the shooting!
JACOB: But no one’s there.
RYAN: Yeah, but he could cause a lot of property damage!
(Cut to Kimberly and Rob waiting outside someone’s home in the cold with layers of clothing on)
ROB: It’s colder than the cold side of a pillow out here.
KIMBERLY: It’s much colder than that.
ROB: Sorry if my similes aren’t up to your high standards.
KIMBERLY: Sorry you’re so defensive. Also, that wasn’t a simile, similes use “like” or “as”.
ROB: You’re obsessed.
(Mrs. Alosa opens the door)
MRS. ALOSA: Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Altmire. Come in!
KIMBERLY: I appreciate it, but I’m actually Mrs. Donahue and this is Mr. Altmire.
MRS. ALOSA: So you guys aren’t married yet?
ROB: No, we’re not-
KIMBERLY: AND we never will be, because he’s my half-brother.
ROB: I was going to say that!
KIMBERLY: I know, I was just making sure.
MRS. ALOSA: I apologize.
(Mrs. Alosa shakes hands with both of them)
KIMBERLY: it’s alright.
ROB: May we come in?
MRS. ALOSA: No, I’d rather you didn’t my house is a mess.
KIMBERLY: That’s fine, Mrs. Alosa.
MRS. ALOSA: Let’s talk business out here.
KIMBERLY: Are you sure? Because I can see my breath.
ROB: And I can see my thoughts.
MRS. ALOSA: I insists, it’s too much of a mess in there.
(Mrs. Alosa closes the door and the three of them walk to the backyard where her garden is)
MRS. ALOSA: I find gardens to be a very relaxing setting in which to have a conversation.
KIMBERLY: Sure, sure, are there any chairs we can sit down in?
MRS. ALOSA: I also think standing is a very relaxing position to be in while conducting business.
KIMBERLY: About that, so do we, think that, also, too. Um, we are very much looking forward to provide the racquetball equipment you require for South Burlington High.
ROB: You are the Athletics Director, are you not?
MRS. ALOSA: I am the Athletic Trainer, and we need new racquetball equipment. He last company we bought from sold us cheap-ass equipment two years ago, it was some family company out of Cypress Creek, and the cheap shit broke easily and eventually the little start-up went out of business.
KIMBERLY: (Nervous) Huh, ain’t that some shit? Heh. Cee Lo Green. Um, well, we guarantee you, our equipment is notch-topped.
ROB: We have ratings from the Better Bureau of Business.
MRS. ALOSA: The Better Bureau of Business?
ROB: Yes, as in they’re a Better Bureau of Business than any other business-related bureaus.
KIMBERLY: He means we have high marks from the Better Business Bureau, the US Chamber of Commerce and we have gotten accolades from The New York times, unlike Guy Fieri!
MRS. ALOSA: Has the New York Times actually given you accolades?
KIMBERLY: No, I just wanted to make a Guy Fieri joke.
ROB: I’ve been like, looking for an opportunity to do that ALL day!
MRS. ALOSA: Listen, do you two even know anything about racquetball?
ROB: Yes, I do. In Junior High, I would DOMNATE at it. I would play it during gym; I would play it by breaking into white-only tennis courts-
MRS. ALOSA: How OLD are you?
ROB: It wasn’t officially white only, it was like-melanin was discouraged.
ROB: Um, anyway, I would play it with homeless people on the street; they wouldn’t even know that I was playing it with them.
ROB: Um, listen Mrs. Alosa, all my life I’ve been wanting to become good at racquetball. Now admittedly, I may not be as good a racquetball player as I make myself out to be. However, I still have always felt this very cathartic energy involved with racquetball that is very appealing. I understand how the game works and I think that the equipment we’re selling you is going to be instrumental in providing a fun, energetic learning atmosphere for your students. I use these racquets myself and they’re for no-nonsense, no-gimmicks, very practical players and I think you’ll really find them to be quite useful.
MRS. ALOSA: …Alright. I think my students will be pleasantly surprised next Monday.
(Rob smiles and then shakes Mrs. Alosa’s hand, followed by Kimberly shaking her hand)
ROB: Now, let’s get inside before I freeze a nut off.
MRS. ALOSA: Let’s stay out here and talk.
KIMBERLY: The customer’s always right.
(Cut to Ethan and Timothy standing outside Mayor Sarandon’s mansion)
ETHAN: I can’t believe I used to call this son of a bitch my friend.
TIMOTHY: Ethan, look at me. (Timothy turns Ethan towards him and Tim puts his hands on Ethan’s shoulders) Are you sure you can do this?
ETHAN: Of course.
TIMOTHY: You can march in there right now and do this?
ETHAN: I’ve done it before.
TIMOTHY: I wasn’t aware of that.
TIMOTHY: If you can do this on your own, then that’s ideal. (Timothy takes out a gun and hands it to Ethan) There you go.
ETHAN: What the fuck is this?!
TIMOTHY: This is the gun you’re going to use to shoot Mayor Sarandon, okay?
ETHAN: I’m not going to fucking murder Mayor Sarandon, what the fuck is wrong with you?!
TIMOTHY: You said you had done it before.
ETHAN: What I was saying is that I’d confronted someone before.
TIMOTHY: Well, I never have, so maybe just take the lead.
ETHAN: So you would’ve rather had me kill Mayor Sarandon than you have to confront him by yourself?
TIMOTHY: Now I don’t have to do either. Go get him, tiger.
ETHAN: Here’s your fucking gun back.
(Ethan gives the gun back to Timothy, who slides it into his coat pocket to where it’s unnoticeable)
ETHAN: Don’t use that gun, Tim. No matter what you do.
ETHAN: Let’s go.
(Ethan and Timothy walk toward the door. Ethan kicks in the window and the two of them step inside. Mayor Sarandon runs downstairs with a gun drawn and Ethan and Timothy raise their hands)
MAYOR SARANDON: WHAT THE FUCK?!
ETHAN: Brian, put the gun away!
MAYOR SARANDON: FINE! (Mayor Sarandon puts the gun in his pocket) Why’d you break my window?
ETHAN: You’ve broken my windows on two separate occasions.
MAYOR SARANDON: It was my BIRTHDAY!
ETHAN: Listen Brian, let’s address the elephant in the room, which is the fact that your FUCKING me over.
(Mayor Sarandon walks completely down the stairs and walks up to Ethan and Timothy)
MAYOR SARANDON: Spare me the Boardwalk Empire back and forth, Ethan, I am simply allowing the state to prosecute you for crimes you KNOW you committed.
ETHAN: While you get off easy for yours. Does that help you sleep at night? I have a wife, three kids, a dog, a fucking braggart my wife calls a half-brother, a psychopath that’s been crashing at my house for the last month and a half, my wife fucking cheated on me and I came crawling back to HER?! All my kids do drugs! One of them is in drug therapy! I get migraines, my kids don’t give a FUCK about me anymore. I’VE LOST MY CONNECTION WITH JESUS! THE SAVIOR OF THE GODDAMN WORLD! Me saying “goddamn” is further proof that I’ve lost connection with him. But then I think, was there ever a connection? I work for SHIT wages at some might-as-well be decommissioned lighthouse with some whore-mongering loafer?! And speaking of whore-mongering loafers…there’s you. You and your backstabbing cocksucker of a lawyer.
MAYOR SARANDON: There is no evidence of any proclivity of his to suck cocks.
ETHAN: Suck my cock, Brian.
TIMOTHY: Easy does it.
ETHAN: I’ve been indicted, which is just the toothpaste on the top of the Oreo, isn’t it?
MAYOR SARANDON: The toothpaste is usually in the middle.
TIMOTHY: It’s always in the middle.
ETHAN: SHUT UP! You guys sound like my kids! So what’ll it be, Brian? Either we fight this together or we go down together. You can’t feed Timothy and I to the sharks. You know why?
MAYOR SARANDON: Why?
ETHAN: Because we’ll use the sharks against you.
TIMOTHY: And put freaking laser beams on their freaking heads.
ETHAN: Wow, such an inappropriate time to be making Austin Powers jokes, right?
TIMOTHY: Sorry. Lead the charge.
ETHAN: Right. Now I want you to think of how the prosecution is possibly going to ignore the fact that you participated in that Cayman Islands poon doggle-
MAYOR SARANDON: Poon doggle.
ETHAN: I said that.
MAYOR SARANDON: Ethan, just because I went on that trip doesn’t mean I knew it was being funded on the taxpayer’s dime.
ETHAN: Do you really think they’ll trust a man who flashed the Vice Chair of the city council?
MAYOR SARANDON: We’re not going to tell them that.
ETHAN: Then how the hell are you going to make the claim that I bribed Ms. Edelman if you won’t admit to the reason behind my bribery of her?!
MAYOR SARANDON: …Fuck, I didn’t think of that.
ETHAN: Exactly. You haven’t thought this through. Let’s fight it together and not try to ruin friendships through finding patsies.
MAYOR SARANDON: Oh, so this is still a friendship?
ETHAN: Depends on your decision.
TIMOTHY: Guys, you’ve got to let me film this and post it on StumbleUpon.
ETHAN: Yeah, posting potentially incriminating evidence on StumbleUpon is a great idea, Timothy.
TIMOTHY: It’s only a bad idea if a prosecutor stumbles upon it, okay? Or, I could just put it on TumbleUpon.
MAYOR SARANDON: That’s not a thing.
ETHAN: Brian, you have to make a decision.
MAYOR SARANDON: …Ethan…you know what I’m going to pick. I don’t like it, but…I have to watch out for myself. It’s only fair, Ethan. You and Tim committed the most crimes and I only participated in one-
(Ethan punches Mayor Sarandon in the face, sending him to the floor)
ETHAN: THE BRIBERY, THE EXTORTION AND THE POON DOGGLE, I DID IT ALL FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! SO THE PUBLIC WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR WHORE-MONGERING OR DRUNKEN FLASHING!
(Ethan kicks Mayor Sarandon in the ribs, causing him to moan in intense pain. Sarandon gets up and punches Ethan in the face, causing him to bang against the wall, but Ethan punches Sarandon and puts him up against the wall, choking him. When suddenly, Ethan notices Timothy standing with a gun pointed at them out of his peripherals. Ethan lets go of Sarandon and raises his hands while Mayor Sarandon gets out his gun)
TIMOTHY: You two need to calm the fuck down.
ETHAN: You’re pointing a gun at us and WE need to calm the fuck down?
TIMOTHY: Sarandon’s pointing a gun! Everybody’s doing it!
ETHAN: If everybody jumped off a cliff, would you do it?
MAYOR SARANDON: Put the gun away, Tim. You don’t know what you’re doing.
TIMOTHY: I think I do. YOU, Mr. Mayor, are planning on fucking over two of your most loyal employees and YOU, Ethan Donahue, are too much of a puss wagon to just kill the guy who’s fucking you over.
ETHAN: Maybe I have too much of a moral compass to do that.
TIMOTHY: Oh is that why you’re being indicted for bribery, extortion and misuse of public funds?
ETHAN: No, it’s why I’m not being indicted for MURDER!
TIMOTHY: Well, it appears as though you’re both problems. Problems that need to be taken out along with the trash. I’m gonna-I’m gonna throw you guys out like yesterday’s refuse. You guys are going to wish you were garbage when I’m through cleaning you out, you trash bags.
ETHAN: You’re so bad at this.
MAYOR SARANDON: Plus, I wouldn’t act so confidently when I’m still pointing a gun at you.
ETHAN: Just for the record, I don’t want to die.
TIMOTHY: Well, that’s understandable. Humans fear what they cannot know. When left up to the imagination, humans can conjure images of flames and suffering in the afterlife, when really, it could be anything.
ETHAN: Please stop acting like what you’re saying is breaking any new ground in the field of psychology.
TIMOTHY: Well, I know who I’m going to kill first.
(Timothy points the gun at Ethan, but Mayor Sarandon shoots Timothy in the heart, causing him to fall lifeless to the floor. Ethan and Mayor Sarandon look shocked at what just happened)
ETHAN: Oh my God…
MAYOR SARANDON: He’s…dead.
ETHAN: …He is. But don’t worry, you were just utilizing self-defense.
MAYOR SARANDON: Well, of course.
(Ethan and Mayor Sarandon start crying profusely)
MAYOR SARANDON: (Crying) Why is this happening?!
ETHAN: (Crying) I DON’T KNOW!
MAYOR SARANDON: WHY CAN’T EVERYTHING JUST GO BACK TO NORMAL?!
ETHAN: I DON’T KNOW!
(Mayor Sarandon and Ethan hug each other)
MAYOR SARANDON: Ethan…(sniff) I think we have to work together to survive.
ETHAN: (Sniff) I agree.
(They stop hugging and look at each other)
MAYOR SARANDON: Now. Your indictment cannot be reversed. But, my case can be. We’ll both try to get each other off, and vice versa.
ETHAN: Do you have experience getting people off?
MAYOR SARANDON: Plenty.
ETHAN: Okay. Let’s call the coroner, give the police our stories and then figure out what the hell we’re going to do.
MAYOR SARANDON: Alright. Oh! Like “getting” people off.
ETHAN: Yeah, exactly. Little joke.
(Cut to Ryan and Jacob pulling up to a gun store called “Uncle Gunny’s Guns, Guns and Firearms”, where Dylan also pulls up to. Dylan gets out of his car, pops the trunk and takes the garbage bag out)
JACOB: Shit, dude. He’s at a gun store. This must be the gun store loophole.
RYAN: That’s not what it’s called, dude. Are you sure we’re not just being paranoid here?
JACOB: Ryan, he just entered a gun store with a bag of dead midgets!
RYAN: Ugh, fine, but we better not just be chasing waterfalls!
JACOB: (Singing) Don’t go chasing waterfalls.
RYAN: Let’s go inside.
JACOB: Okay. Wait, won’t he recognize us?
RYAN: I have an idea.
(Cut to Jacob and Ryan walking into the gun store wearing each other’s clothes. Plus, Jacob’s hair has been haphazardly straightened and Ryan is wearing a beanie and his hair is out of the way. You see Dylan standing behind Timothy Sessions, who is purchasing a gun at the gun counter where a gun salesman is processing his purchase)
JACOB: Your jeans are so tight, bro.
RYAN: Don’t get a boner in those, by the way.
JACOB: Trust me, nothing in here is going to give me a boner. God, I’m tired. Oh, there it goes.
RYAN: Yeah. Oh, there he is!
(Pan to Dylan, still holding his bag, at the gun counter while Timothy leaves)
DYLAN: I’d like a rifle, please.
GUN SALESMAN: Can I see some identification?
DYLAN: This is America, ain’t it? But yeah.
(Dylan hands him his license)
GUN SALESMAN: Yep, you were born on November 18, 1994. Happy shooting, new eighteen year old. (The Gun salesman gets a rifle from the rack and puts it on the counter) That’d be 550 dollars.
(Dylan and the gun salesman look at Jacob and Ryan)
GUN SALESMAN: Can I help you, emo faggot?
JACOB: Sir, you can’t sell to this kid! He’s obsessed with Hitler, he’s obsessed with Foster the People, he likes violent video games and not in the right way and we have reason to believe he’s going to shoot up our school a week from now!
DYLAN: WHAT?! No I’m not!
JACOB: Oh really? Then why are you obsessed with Hitler, just like the Columbine shooters were?
DYLAN: I like history!
JACOB: Oh, I see. What about the heavy metal, huh?
RYAN: In his defense-
JACOB: Shut up, faggot.
GUN SALESMAN: You’re calling him a faggot?
JACOB: I don’t usually dress like this, it’s just that-we switched clothes in the car.
GUN SALESMAN: Okay, so you’re both faggots.
DYLAN: Listen, I have no plans to shoot up the school! Jesus, I was excited for November 26th because…well, because I don’t have a great family life and as hard as it is sometimes, I prefer to be at school.
JACOB: Oh. So that family life hasn’t made you a sociopathic killer then?
DYLAN: No, I just find catharsis in violent video games and heavy metal, there’s no way I would ever shoot up anyone, so don’t worry.
RYAN: Wait, then what’s in the bag?
DYLAN: Clothes. The Gun Shop is holding a charity drop-off of clothes for Hurricane Sandy relief.
GUN SALESMAN: We sell the clothes and use the proceeds to help out the relief effort.
RYAN: Wow, so Jacob, we tried to catch a sadistic sociopathic Hitler-loving metal head that was going to pierce the medulla oblongatas of a dozen school children and instead we found a socially awkward, love-depraved, misunderstood but good-natured kid who likes guns.
JACOB: Wait, yeah, why are you buying a gun?
DYLAN: I go hunting with Beckett sometimes. Abused teens have to stick together.
JACOB: Well, I’m sorry I misjudged you. But just out of abundant caution, sir, aren’t you going to do a background check or something?
GUN SALESMAN: Um…no.
RYAN: But this is Vermont, we’re a state so liberal that even our ice cream is gay.
GUN SALESMAN: Right, but Vermont has some of the loosest gun laws in the country. You can openly carry a firearm without a permit if you want. In fact, there are no gun permits.
JACOB: Wow. What a trigger-happy conservative policy for such a liberal state.
GUN SALESMAN: You said it. In fact, there’s a gun store/gay bar across the street called “Go Ahead, Make My Gay”.
GUN SALESMAN: Anyway, pay for your gun.
(Dylan gets out his wallet. Cut to Kimberly, Rob, Mrs. Alosa, Principal Maxell and a woman in a suit sitting across from Kimberly’s four investors)
KIMBERLY: Gentleman, these are our three largest clients. Mrs. Alosa, the head of athletic training at South Burling High School, Mr. Maxell, the Principal of my son’s school Hansbay High and don’t call it a comeback, Principal Mary Manning of Shelburne Regional High School.
ROB: Why would they call it a comeback?
ROB: Do you know what that’s a reference to?
KIMBERLY: Shh. So, I think it’s fair to say we’ve developed a pretty adequate client base, gentleman. High Schools seem to be our main base of business, but expansion is an opportunity we’re willing to exploit in the near future.
MR. KISSICK: I have to say, we were skeptical about this at first, but this is a rather impressive client base you have been able to amass, Mrs. Donahue and Mr. Altmire.
ROB: Thank you, sir.
KIMBERLY: Thank you.
MR. KISSICK: You are very welcome and we will get you the rest of your money as soon as humanly possible.
KIMBERLY: Thank you, this makes me very proud and I do wish this feeling of hope persists, because it is very intoxicating.
(A secretary comes in)
SECRETARY: Mrs. Donahue, Mr. Donahue has been calling your cell phone repeatedly and has now tried our office phone, he’s on the line and he says it’s urgent.
KIMBERLY: Oh, Jesus.
(Cut to black)
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