Carole A. Parker

SCRIPT TITLE Written by Name of First Writer Based on, If Any Address Phone Number EXT. OZARK MOUNTAINS - DUSK Fat white clouds poke the deep blue sky. Rolling green hills stuffed with pine trees out of a John Denver song. A giant white statue of Jesus stands at attention on the mountain peak, arms outstretched like he’s gonna take a dive. A narrow gravel road meanders up the mountain to an old, ramshackle cabin at the top. Cue the banjo music. A giant, brand-new red PICKUP TRUCK comes BARRELING up the road in a CRUNCH of gravel like the rural archetype it is. An ARMADILLO lazily skitters across the rocks. The truck ROARS by and SQUISHES it, CRACKING its shell with a CRUNCH. EXT. SHITTY MOUNTAIN CABIN - DUSK At the top is a shack that looks like it’d fall over if you sneezed. The gravel road runs by it, then disappears into a tunnel of trees across the mountain ridge. Dim light spills out from behind dingy curtains. The truck’s doors OPEN. Out steps the DRIVER (60’s) and a TALL WOMAN (50’s). He’s got a big gut. She’s quite the looker, with a great rack. INT. SHITTY MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT Dimly lit by a kerosene lantern. Empty except for a KID (20’s) tied to a chair. Badly beaten. Covered in blood. Mouth a ruined mess. Teeth litter the floor. Driver and Tall Woman walk in. A BIG, BALD BRUTE (50’s) with a Ducky Dynasty beard looks at Driver. Grins toothily. BIG, BALD BRUTE Finally told us. Another MAN (30’S), intense-looking with elaborate mutton chops and gnarled eyebrows eyes Tall Woman. Smacks his lips. MUTTON CHOPS Who’s the cunt. DRIVER New business associate. Driver pulls a thick wad of bills from his pocket. DRIVER (CONT'D) Five grand. Like we agreed. 2. Her eyes light up. She reaches for it -- but he snatches it away. Pulls out a GUN. Offers it to her. DRIVER (CONT’D) First you gotta shoot this piece of shit in the head. TALL WOMAN But what about -DRIVER This man stole from me. Now he needs to pay the piper. You want the fucking money or not? (off her look) You want to write my movie, you gotta be IN my movie. (holds up the cash) Go a long way round here. She looks at Bleeding Guy. Then at Gnarled Eyebrows. Then the money. Takes the gun in trembling hands. DRIVER (CONT’D) Atta girl. Walks over to Bleeding. Slowly raises it. Looks at Driver. He nods. She takes a deep breath -Takes aim -- and BANG, SHOOTS him in the head. Brains, skull and blood SPRAY the wall. Driver tosses her the wad of bills. DRIVER (CONT’D) She shoots, she scores. (beat) Londell sent you to get the dirt on me. Now you’re dirty. (nasty grin) You just did a hit for the Dixie mob. A SIREN starts WAILING in the distance. DRIVER (CONT’D) Whoops. Gotta go. (winks) Don’t spend it all in once place now, ya hear? EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD - NIGHT Tall stand at the intersection of the mountain ridge and the uphill roads. Hears the siren getting closer. Then sees the cherry top FLASHING, coming toward her. 3. She turns, RUNS into the woods -- just as a COP CAR comes RACING up the steep incline. EXT. MOUNTAIN SLOPE - NIGHT Tall DASHES through the underbrush and trees. Stops. Catches her breath. Looks around. Listens to the crickets chirping. Hears a twig SNAP. WHIRLS AROUND. Sees a FAMILY OF DEER. Momma, Poppa and two young ones. Staring at her. TALL WOMAN (whispers) Wow. They DASH OFF into the darkness. EXT. MOUNTAIN GORGE - NIGHT Tall stands at the top of a gorge. Looks down at the valley far below. A woodpecker TAP-TAP-TAP-TAPS like a machine gun. TALL WOMAN (CONT’D) SHIT. She JUMPS, startled, then TUMBLES down the hill -- and CRACKS into a tree at the bottom. Gets up. Brushes herself off. Hears a low GROWL. A BLACK BEAR appears. Flashes WHITE TEETH. Tall stiffens. Shakes with fear. This ain’t Gentle Ben. They stare at each other a long beat. The beast suddenly REARS UP on its hind legs, ROARS -- and starts CHASING her. She SCREAMS. Starts climbing the tree like she’s on fire. GRABS at a branch above her, but it SNAPS off. The beast SWIPES at her with a meaty paw. She tries to WHACK it with the branch, but it GRABS it away from her. GROWLS. GRABS another branch. Pulls herself up -- just as the bear SINKS IT TEETH into her boot. Tall CRIES OUT. Thunder BOOMS. Lightning CRACKS. It starts POURING RAIN. EXT. COASTLINE - DAY TITLE CARD reads: ‘THREE MONTHS EARLIER.’ Deep blue ocean. White sandy beach. Palm trees galore. Sunshine so bright it hurts. Another gorgeous day in paradise city where the grass is legal and the girls are shitty. EXT. COURTHOUSE - DAY 4. Your typical drab, seventies-era courthouse. But this is Santa Monica, California, so the HOMELESS PEOPLE lying on the grass outside are well-fed and sleeping peacefully. LAWYERS, DEFENDANTS and PLAINTIFFS stream in. Some smiling. Some frowning. More than a few on the verge of tears. INT. COURTROOM - DAY Small. Plain. Filled with the dregs of society. And that’s just the lawyers. Welcome to Eviction Court, where all day, every day, people find out the date they lose their home. Standing before the STERN BUT CUTE FEMALE JUDGE (40’s) is Tall Woman, who we recognize from the opening scene. Meet CATE SALINGER (50’s), rakish in a black suit and hipster glasses. Great-looking, but looks drained, stressed-out. Standing next to her is her LANDLORD (80’s), tall and skinny with a giant head like a lollipop -- and his LAWYER, a boisterous BIG GUY (50’s) clutching a sheaf of papers. STERN BUT CUTE FEMALE JUDGE You’ve agreed to vacate the premises August seventeenth. CATE Yes, your honor. STERN BUT CUTE FEMALE JUDGE Please get a conformed copy of the judgement from the clerk. Stern But Cute BANGS her gavel. Landlord glares at Cate. She fidgets. Looks down. Not her finest hour. EXT. BOUTIQUE-GALLERY - DAY A quaint shop on a steep, narrow, winding main artery filled with tiny tourist traps. A handcrafted sign reads DREAMLAND. A horse-drawn carriage CLIP-CLOPS by carrying a FAT TOURIST COUPLE, who marvel at the sights. Welcome to Echo Springs, Arkansas, AKA Little Switzerland. Population two thousand. Twenty percent gay, forty percent artists. A liberal oasis in a sea of red. 5. INT. DREAMLAND - CONTINUOUS A cozy, airy joint stuffed with paintings, furs, jewelry and high-priced art pieces. Quiet, ethereal music plays on hidden speakers. Crunchy granola ambiance, ahoy. A WOMAN (40’s) stands at the counter. Pretty, with short, curly dark hair. One long, lone tendril spins down the side of her cheek as if daring you to comment. Make art, not war. Meet KAYLA CROSS, self-proclaimed punk mountain dyke. Right now she’s making a necklace. It’s exacting work, handling the tiny jewelry pieces taking all of her concentration. The music stops. Insanely cheerful REDNECK COUNTRY starts playing, like some kinda Charlie Daniels from hell. An extremely unattractive HEAVYSET WOMAN (50’s) appears, big fake smile a counterpoint to eyes full of scared shitless. Meet VIVI TIDWELL. Quite the vision in mom jeans, gaudy cowboy boots and a baby doll dress stretched over a stained leotard that looks like it’s gonna burst any minute. VIVI Not done yet? KAYLA (softly) It’s a -- tricky piece. VIVI But you made the fifteen dollar stuff so fast. KAYLA That’s because they cost fifteen dollars. (holds it up) This sells for ninety-five. See all the detail? Takes a little longer. VIVI Well, hurry it up. I need you to dust all the glass before you leave. KAYLA But Sula asked me to make a few of these. VIVI I could give a rat’s ass what Sula wants. 6. KAYLA But she owns the store. Don’t you think I should -VIVI NO. I’M running the store -- and when I say I want you to clean, you’re gonna clean, UNDERSTAND? PUSH IN ON Kayla’s face. Terrified. EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY An old, run-down, baby vomit-colored shithole. A wide, beautiful canal runs by it on the left. To the right, across the street, is the beach. Straight ahead in the distance a sailboat glides by. Water on three sides. Welcome to the Marina Del Rey peninsula, an oasis on the outskirts of the city of devils. Paradise found. Then lost. INT. CATE’S APARTMENT - DAY It’s borderline hoarder time in what once was a light, airy room with a wall of windows, now stuffed with crap. Boxes filled with movies, books, CD’s and clothes dot the joint. Portrait of the writer as being evicted. Cate picks up a giant garbage bag. Takes it outside. IN THE DRIVEWAY She carries it to the trash. It suddenly BREAKS OPEN, spilling several dozen shoes onto the pavement. CATE Goddamn cheap fucking Dollar Store bags. Gets down on her knees. Starts stuffing them into the ripped bag. Then slowly, carefully carries it to the dumpster. A platform shoe falls out. Hits the pavement with a CLUNK. EXT. VICTORIAN HOUSE - NIGHT A faded Victorian home on a cracked mountain top road. Cheerfully painted orange with red and yellow trim. A BLACK CAT stares ominously out the window. Watches a FOX trot by. Then a faux vintage TROLLEY on wheels. A BLUE BIRD lands in the bird bath. This is your brain on rustic. 7. A CHUBBY RETARDED GIRL (20) wearing thick glasses and a tiara stands in the gravel driveway. Slowly spins in a circle, arms outstretched, smiling like some demented Eraserhead outtake. Kayla trudges up the front walk. Goes to the door. Looks at Chubby Retarded. Winces. Goes inside. INT. CATE’S APARTMENT - DAY Cate sits at an old workstation working her laptop. BOBBY, a black spaniel-retriever mix sleeps at her feet. ON THE SCREEN We see a social media website. A conversation scrolls down: Kayla: How was court? Did you get the time you want? Cate: Yeah. Landlord gave me a month. Whoo-HOO. (Found out they usually only give you a week.) *Does crazy dance* Kayla: That’s great! How’s the trailer hunt going? Cate: Looking at one in Malibu at three. Wish me luck. *sings* ‘Trailer for sale or rent -- ‘ Kayla: You better get going. ‘Your date with destiny ... ‘ Cate: Yeah. Just wanted to give you the good news. Will report back later, skipper. Kayla: I’ll be here. Waiting for YOU. CATE Smiles. Starts typing. The lights flicker, then GO OUT. CATE Aw, c’mon. Not again -- 8. EXT. MALIBU BLUFF - DAY A small TRAILER parked at the top of a bluff in the dirt. The view of the ocean is breathtaking. The trailer, not. A mobile home would be a mansion in comparison. Whee-doggie. A FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE PICKUP TRUCK climbs up the hill and parks. Cate and a SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY get out. Walk over to it. CATE This is -- really high up. SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY Hauled it up from the other side. No problem getting it down. Acne-Scarred opens the door. They go in. INT. SHITTY TRAILER - DAY Beyond sad. A tiny, threadbare couch in the ‘living room’ area with a chipped table and a tiny, ancient TV. The stained, ripped rug completes the picture of domestic shame. SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY TV goes with me. Cate nods. Goes to the ‘kitchenette.’ Grimy would be a compliment. Looks at the hose coming in through the window. SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY (CONT’D) Water’s not hooked up. Run that from the house down the way. CATE Parking it in a friend’s driveway. Guess I could do that. INT. SHITTY TRAILER - BEDROOM - DAY Just big enough for a small bed and night table. Cate squats down below the low ceiling. Examines the filthy carpet. SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY You can have the table. Cate nods. Goes back down to the kitchenette. Opens a door on the other side, looks into -- 9. INT. SHITTY TRAILER - BATHROOM - DAY Beyond crappy. Pun intended. A stack of junk is piled up in the shower and on the tiny toilet. A fly BUZZES around the brackish water in the clogged sink. SCARY, ACNE-SCARRED GUY Gotta commode outside. (off her look) Don’t worry. I’ll clean all that stuff out. PUSH IN ON Cate’s face. In shock. EXT. VENICE BUNGALOW - DAY Sunlight dapples a tiny house on a leafy avenue full of similar beige blocks of stucco. KIDS play across the street. An oldish red Toyota convertible is parked in the narrow driveway. Bumper sticker reads EAT, PRAY, FUCK. Welcome to Venice, California. Not the hot chicks rollerblading on the boardwalk in short-shorts version as seen on TV. David Duchovny never stayed here. INT. VENICE BUNGALOW - KITCHEN - DAY Cozy and cluttered with a big, crude wood table. Sink and counter tops filled with dishes. Oversized primitive art on the walls. A tiny stereo plays French pop music. Cate sips a glass of wine, watching ROBERTA (50) cook. She’s a sturdy Italian with a shock of dark hair and an attractive, lived-in face. Salt of the earth, with a dash of pepper. ROBERTA So it was also no good? CATE Well, it was an RV, much bigger than the trailer in Malibu, but it was pretty disgusting. And when he showed me how to hook up the water, electric and propane, I realized how complicated it is. I can’t hook all that up in your driveway. ROBERTA About that --` (off Cate’s look) (MORE) 10. ROBERTA (CONT'D) Roberto’s coming home from Italy after his surgery, and things aren’t going to be the same. CATE He’s gonna be convalescing -ROBERTA I’m sorry. Cate takes a big hit of wine. Fighting back tears. ROBERTA (CONT’D) Why don’t you go stay with your online girlfriend until the money from the script comes in? Then you can both move back here together. CATE You mean -- move to Arkansas? ROBERTA You said she invited you -CATE Yeah. I thought it was crazy -(thinks, then -- ) But that was before she came to visit. (thinks) I WAS gonna move her out here -(considers it) You know what? That’s fucking brilliant. ROBERTA It makes sense. CATE I just pack up the car and drive there with Bobby. ROBERTA A fresh start. Cate beams. It lights up her face like we haven’t seen. CATE A fresh start.