1st things 1st… a FLASHBACK!!!
EXT. DAY. EMPTINESS.
a tumbleweed the size of paris rolls by
then… time-lapse footage of the brick wall (pictured above) being built, one brick at a time, way back when. by roman soldiers. then by druids in dreamcoats. then by carpenters in sandals and beards and man buns. jesus chic. eventually the wall is complete but is missing doors.
ONE JESUS SAYS TO THE OTHERS: how the frig will we keep out the wind and the weather?
one of the jesuses rips himself down off his cross. the other jesuses do the same. they dismantle their crucifixes with power tools and reshape them into two front doors.
THEY ALL SAY IN UNISON: et voila!
word art then comes twirling in at 100mph, strobing purple and yellow in comic sans.
it reads:
1 MILLION YRS L8R
(approx)
…the present day…
…the PRESENT day…
EXT. DAY.
a brick wall with 2 doors in it. (pictured above)
enter Hitchcock, doing his cameo. he mugs at the camera. his skin droops off his skeleton, from 40 years in the grave. when he gets to the centre of the screen he opens his mouth to tell an ancient jerkoff joke. the punchline is “i dunno what just happened but it sure beat pissing!”
Hitchcock doesn’t make it that far though, cause he gets all tongue tied and fumbles the set up.
so a vaudevillian hook flies in from stage left, and yoinks him out of the frame.
Sound FX: in the left channel we hear the clattering of pots and pans. followed by “footstep footstep footstep… door slam.”
the sun sets and then rises.
enter a Parcel Force delivery chap in a red uniform and hi vis. he whistles while he walks.
Sound FX: his whistle is the howl of a hurricane… way too much noise for the whistling of a mere mortal. should imply this dude has godlike powers.
he pauses between the two front doors, looks both ways to verify he is alone, scratches his rump and covertly lets one rip.
Sound FX: a nascar engine backfiring. once again… should imply godlike powers.
he wafts his emission towards the camera and the camera lens cracks!
he approaches the right hand door. it is labelled “Cell No 1” (closeup on that)
he knocks.
and knocks.
and knocks.
no answer.
eventually the *other* door opens a crack. it is labelled “Cell No 2”. Dwayne, a prisoner, pops his head out. his is a kind plain face with no distinguishing marks.
DWAYNE: no one lives in that cell.
PARCEL: but i’ve got a delivery to this address.
DWAYNE: no one lives there.
PARCEL: really?
DWAYNE: really. it even says so right on the door… No 1.
PARCEL: oh… well, maybe this package is for you then?
DWAYNE: nope.
PARCEL: maybe you ordered something and typed your address wrong?
DWAYNE: i didn’t order anything.
PARCEL: well, maybe it’s a gift.
DWAYNE: from who?
PARCEL: dunno. a friend?
DWAYNE: doubt it. i don’t know anyone. i’ve never left this cell.
PARCEL: huh. well this is a mystery.
a tumbleweed the size of paris rolls by.
DWAYNE: what do you think is in the package?
PARCEL: could be anything.
the Parcel Force fella shakes the box and puts his ear up to it.
Sound FX: the sound of a salt shaker or maraca.
PARCEL: sounds like a powder to me. definitely not a liquid or a solid.
he tears the side of the envelope. white powder pours out.
DWAYNE: could be MSG. could be laundry detergent. could be the ashes of the man i killed.
PARCEL: i think it’s sugar.
the man from Parcel Force swipes a finger thru the powder and tastes it. his face turns green and his eyes inflate like balloons. cuckoos fly in and do spirals around his head.
chopin’s funeral dirge plays. the grim reaper enters from the righthand side, bony fingers outstretched. he takes a step forward and timpani start pounding.
a bolt of lightning flies up from hell and impales the grim reaper. his body emits a crimson mist then dissolves against the background.
the birdies stop singing and exit.
our heroes eyes deflate and wither back into their sockets. his flesh turns healthy and normal again.
DWAYNE: phew! that was a close one!
PARCEL: i’ll say.
DWAYNE: well…. what was it?
AMAZON: anthrax, i think.
a tumbleweed the size of paris goes by.
PARCEL: say, tell me. if Cell No 1 is called that because No One lives there, then why is your cell called Cell No 2?
DWAYNE thinks for a long-ass time, then speaks.
DWAYNE: cause in here there is No 2 people. it is only me. always has been.
PARCEL: well, what happens if i come in? then there would be 2.
DWAYNE: please. don’t do that.
PARCEL: why not eh? why not? gimme one good reason!
the Parcel Force agent moves towards the door labelled “Cell No 2”. as he does a somber cello plays and the bricks start to quiver and the sun blinks on and off on and off on and off in a herky jerky rhythm, like it’s filament is on the fritz.
DWAYNE: please! stop!
PARCEL: live a little!
there is a struggle. the man from Parcel Force kicks Dwayne hard in the chest and forces his way into “Cell No 2″.
the door slams shut before we can see what becomes of Dwayne.
Sound FX: the cello music stops abruptly. then the sound of the cellist having his fingers pounded flat by a meat cleaver. then the sound of an orchestra being thrown down a flight of stairs.
the bricks in the wall stop vibrating. the sunlight turns from black to yellow again.
the sun sets and then rises.
a tumbleweed the size of paris rolls by.
then: a new Parcel Force Delivery Person walks onto the set. a woman. in the same uniform and hi vis and everything. she approaches Cell No 1 and knocks and knocks and knocks. no answer. she starts to fill out the “sorry we’ve missed you” card when she realizes this door has not got a mail slot. so she goes to the *other* door, the one labelled “Cell No 2”, and she knock there. after a time the door opens and the Parcel Force Delivery guy from yesterday is there. he is dressed up in Dwaynes clothes and is wearing parts of Dwayne’s face. the Parcel Force Lady turns to the camera and gives us a look that says “you know i’m really a detective, right? and i am gonna get to the bottom of this.” and under her hi vis and uniform we can see that she is wearing a tan colored trench coat and a sherlock holmes hat.
roll credits!