EXT. STREET - NIGHT
A middle-aged, schlub man, LOUIS DAVIS (46), walks down the street at night, in a city like Detroit. He passes a chemical disposal facility while on the sidewalk, shuffling beneath the glow of streetlights.
Louis nervously checks his analog wristwatch.
CLOSE ON WRISTWATCH: the time is “11:23 PM.”
LADY (O.S.)
Stop that man! He has my purse!
Louis looks behind him and sees a THIEF running towards him.
Louis carelessly steps back against the chainlink fence.
Louis tightens up as the Thief runs past, to avoid him.
The Thief easily runs past Louis, and Louis’ eyes follow the Thief as he runs down the sidewalk; the Thief gives a wave with the back of his hand to Louis, without turning around.
Louis looks down the other end of the sidewalk, at the LADY (31), who stands 500 feet away and is exasperated -- she looks upset towards Louis as she holds her hands out with shock and disappointment.
Louis looks at the Lady sheepishly -- he spins around and ducks his head down, and he quickly walks away.
INT. HOUSE/BEDROOM - NIGHT
Louis, in his cramped and messy bedroom, takes off his coat and tosses it on the unkempt bed. He promptly sits on his coat and puts his head down in his hands.
SERIES OF SHOTS -- RUMMAGING IN BEDROOM
Louis rummages through his bedroom in search of a wooden box.
1. Louis lifts up a loose blanket’s corner and peeks under his bed, scanning back and forth in search.
2. Louis opens the bedside table drawer and mills his hand around in it. The clock on the bedside table reads “11:51 PM.” He looks in the space beneath the drawer.
3. Louis flings open the closet doors and checks the area on the floor behind a row of hung-up shirts and pants.
4. Louis looks at and behind the items on the top shelf in his closet. His hand slides over and a wooden box is knocked down from the shelf.
The wooden box falls on Louis’ head and tumbles to the floor.
Louis recoils backwards and stumbles back against his bed; he clutches his forehead with his hand. Louis checks his hand, which is wet with the same blood that drips from the wound on his forehead onto his eyebrow.
Louis wipes the blood away from his eyebrow, puts his hand on his head again, and CURSES UNDER HIS BREATH. He carelessly kicks the wooden box that lies on the floor, sending it tumbling across the room.
He immediately regrets doing this, and he exasperatedly chases after it, picking it up.
INT. HOUSE/HALLWAY - NIGHT
Louis staggers into the dark hallway: one hand clutching his bleeding forehead and the other hand holding a wooden box.
INT. HOUSE/KITCHEN - NIGHT
Louis hits the light switch with the back of his hand as he enters the dingy kitchen. He tosses the wooden box onto the kitchen table. He goes to the freezer and opens the door.
He pulls out a Rubbermaid Blue Ice pack (the ones meant for lunchboxes) and he slaps it to his forehead; he winces at the sudden application of cold.
He closes the freezer door and walks away. As he exits the kitchen, he snatches the wooden box off of the table.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Louis plops into a worn chair in a living room, which resembles the 1970’s with its bland furniture, shag carpet, green/brown/mustard color scheme, and wooden television set.
The wooden box sits in his lap. He is disgruntled as he tries to undo its metal clasp while using his only free hand.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the digital clock on the end table next to him reads “11:56 PM.”
Louis opens the wooden box’s lid and reaches inside.
CLOSE ON WOODEN BOX: from amongst a bunch of mementos, souvenirs, ticket stubs, and sentimental knick-knacks, Louis pulls out an old picture. The picture depicts Louis with a beautiful-yet-homely blonde woman. He flips it over to read the back, which has text (in a female’s cursive handwriting) that reads “married on June 6, 1991!”
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ FACE: he is overcome with sadness. His eyes shift to look elsewhere than at the picture.
CLOSE ON WOODEN BOX: Louis shoves the picture back into the box and covers it up with the knick-knacks and mementos. The topmost memento that ends up above it is a slick paper bracelet from a hospital visit.
Louis closes the lid of the wooden box and reapplies the clasp. He sets the wooden box on the end table next to the digital clock. With great unhappiness, he looks at the blank screen on the television set across from him...
He looks down at the television remote that sits on his armrest. He goes to reach for the remote, but instead flicks it off the armrest and onto the floor. He looks at the digital clock.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:59 PM.”
Louis hangs his head in sadness and scowls with depression.
He switches the hand with which he holds the ice pack; in the transition, a droplet of blood trickles down to his eyebrow.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes from “11:59 PM” to “12:00 AM.”
Louis, still unhappy, opens his eyes in curiosity. He removes the ice pack and feels his head, growing concerned.
INT. HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Louis flips on the bathroom light and quickly approaches the bathroom mirror; looking into it, he studies his forehead. In disbelief, he wipes the blood away from his forehead to find that the wound is no longer there.
Louis takes a step back from the mirror and stares at his reflection in disbelief; he lightly touches his forehead where the wound was. His demeanor resorts to calmness, and he resigns to figure out the mystery, tosses the ice pack in the sink, shuts off the light, and leaves the bathroom.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT, LATER THAT WEEK
Louis flings open the front door and steps into the house with an unfortunate demeanor. Louis has a black eye.
He removes his coat and tosses it onto the back of his chair as he walks towards the kitchen.
INT. HOUSE/KITCHEN - NIGHT
Louis opens the freezer door and pulls out a bag of frozen peas. He gingerly applies it to his eye, wincing.
INT. HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Louis flips on the bathroom light as he enters the bathroom and approaches the mirror; he removes the bag of peas to review the damage: he has a bluish shine around his eye.
He is slightly repulsed and saddened by the black eye.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
He shuffles into his living room and sits in his chair, and pulls a beer coaster out of his coat pocket. He looks at it and tosses it forward in defeat. He looks at the digital clock with expectation.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:59 PM.”
Louis waits to watch it turn from “11:59 PM” to “12:00 AM.”
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:59 PM.”
Louis waits to watch it turn from “11:59 PM” to “12:00 AM.”
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “12:00 AM.”
Louis slowly pulls the bag of peas off of his eye. He gingerly pats the area under his eye with two fingers, expecting to wince, but doesn’t. He sets the peas on the armrest and gets up from his chair.
INT. HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Louis looks at his reflection in the mirror and sees that the bluish shine around his eye is gone. He is curious...
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Louis reenters the living room as he strolls over to his chair; he grabs the bag of peas off of the armrest when the clock on the end table catches his eye.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “12:01 AM.”
After a moment of inner deliberation, Louis turns to walk into the kitchen, bringing the bag of frozen peas.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT, LATER THAT WEEK
Louis uncomfortably writhes in his chair with a stomach ache -- he clutches his belly and disapprovingly utters a soft exhale of a BELCH. He glares at the partially-consumed tin foil-wrapped burrito that rests on the end table.
Louis clenches his face with pain and forces himself to stand up and walk out of the room.
CLOSE ON BURRITO: it’s sloppy and downtrodden. Behind it, the digital clock changes from “11:58 PM” to “11:59 PM.”
INT. HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Louis rummages around in the medicine cabinet, looking for antacid. He finds the bottle, pulls it towards him, frantically opens it up, and tries to shake some pills out.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “12:00 AM.”
INT. HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Louis shakes out two antacid tablets into his hand and begins to raise his hand to his mouth, when he suddenly feels no more pain and his face unclenches, expressing relief.
He is pleased, and replaces the antacid tablets into the bottle. Suddenly, however, he is very curious and paranoid...
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Louis slowly, hesitantly, walks into the living room, towards his chair, and stares at the digital clock on the end table as he circles around the chair to get a better view of it.
The digital clock slowly comes into his view as he stares at it with a slack-jawed curiosity, approaching it.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “12:00 AM.”
Louis’ curiosity is piqued and he finds himself in disbelief as he stares down at the digital clock...
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT, THE NEXT DAY
Louis (curious yet uncertain) sits in his chair; the clock is set on the coffee table in front of him.
Louis holds a piece of paper in one hand and readies his thumb with the other. He anxiously waits.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:58 PM.” After a beat, it changes to “11:59 PM.”
Louis gives himself a papercut with the piece of paper against his thumb. He winces at the slight searing pain.
As his thumb slowly leaks blood, Louis stares at the clock.
He takes a quick glance back to his thumb, making sure there’s a noticeable wound. He waits...
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “12:00 AM.”
Louis quickly turns his gaze to his thumb.
CLOSE ON THUMB: there is no papercut.
Louis wipes the blood away to make sure. He is in disbelief.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/GARAGE - NIGHT, THE NEXT DAY
Louis plugs the digital clock into a socket at his workbench.
He set the wooden box on the workbench, next to it. The digital clock flashes “12:00 AM” as it begs to be set.
Louis hastily opens the wooden box and shoves his hand into the bottom, and pulls out the photo of him with his wife.
He props the photo up on a wrench hanging on the wall.
He pauses to stare at his wife in the photo, and EXHALES.
Louis pulls his wristwatch from his pocket and sets the digital clock to equal the time he sees on the wristwatch.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: Louis ticks the clock’s minute-reading closer to “11:57 PM” and sets it.
Louis pulls a hammer off of the wall, and holds it.
He EXHALES slowly... He rethinks his plan for a moment.
He slaps his other hand down onto the workbench.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “11:58 PM.”
Louis begins breathing deeply, focusing hard and trying to ignore the fear of injury and the fear of being wrong.
He glances up at the photo of his wife, for reassurance.
Louis spreads his fingers out and breathes deeper and faster.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “11:59 PM.”
Louis shuts his eyes and raises the hammer; he swings the hammer down, onto the center of the back of his hand; many small metacarpal bones CRUNCH as they break.
He recoils in agony, SCREAMING and backpedaling until bumping into the opposite wall. He tries to MUFFLE his screams as he clutches his shattered, mangled, bloody hand.
He looks to the clock with anxiety and impatience.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:59 PM.”
Louis is in agony, impatient, and upset -- he utters another WAIL and looks at a small bone protruding from his palm. He pulls the hand close to his chest and clutches it tightly as he rocks back and forth, in agony, breathing deeply.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “12:00 AM.”
Louis’ pain subsides as his eyelids unclench, he begins to breathe normally, and his face relaxes. He pulls his hand away, afraid to look at it, but chooses to look down: he sees that both hands are normal and not-broken.
A smile broadens across his face with alleviation, and he examines his hand in relief. He EXCLAIMS jolts of laughter, surprise, and faith.
He pulls the photo off of the wall and shoves it in his pocket. He runs back inside, gleefully.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/GARAGE - NIGHT, THE NEXT DAY
Louis enters the garage from the house’s adjoining door. The clock is still plugged in at the workbench, and he approaches it like it’s an acquaintance; he nods to the clock.
SERIES OF SHOTS -- PREPARING CIRCULAR SAW
Louis prepares to saw off his hand with a circular saw.
1. He removes the guard from his circular saw.
2. He plugs in the circular saw’s power cord.
3. He dons a pair of safety goggles.
4. He sets his hand under the blade.
Louis stares at the digital clock, hoping to have its trust.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “11:59 PM.”
Louis closes his eyes, scrunches his face (awaiting misery), INHALES fast through his nose, flips the switch (turning on the saw, which WHIRS loudly), and he lowers it fast, down onto his hand -- severing it.
Blood sprays like a mist all over the saw, workbench, and Louis’ own face. Louis INHALES sharply with fear.
EXT. HOUSE/GARAGE - NIGHT
Louis produces a long, horrifying SCREAM, which can be heard quite loudly even though the closed garage door muffles it.
INT. HOUSE/GARAGE - NIGHT
Louis falls down onto his back in severe agony -- he clutches at his wrist, under his bloody stump, staring at it and SCREAMING incessantly.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it still reads “11:59 PM.”
The bloody stump shows a clean cut through bone, and blood spurts and oozes from it.
Staring at his bloody stump causes Louis to pass out...
His arm falls limp beside him... Dark red blood pours from the gross stump at his wrist, slowly pooling around his limp body on the concrete floor.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. HOUSE/GARAGE - MORNING
Louis wakes up to rays of sunlight streaming onto his face, through a frosted window above his workbench. In a daze, he lifts his arms: they are caked in sticky, dried blood.
Louis, slightly panicked, stirs on the concrete floor in a dried pool of his own blood, trying to pull himself up.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “8:13 AM.”
Louis checks his hands: both are normal-looking and attached to his arms, like they should be. He smiles, although there is still blood spatter on his face.
There’s still blood on the saw, as well.
EXT. HOUSE/DRIVEWAY - LATE MORNING
Louis carries a cinder block through his garage, across the concrete floor, whose sticky blood pool had been marginally cleaned up (although a smeared, faded coloring of the blood had soaked into the concrete and remains visible).
He carries the cinder block onto his driveway, where he props it up atop his trash can. Poking out from underneath the trash can lid is the blood-caked shirt he wore last night.
The digital clock is set up on a folding chair next to the trash can, with an extension cord running into the garage.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “11:58 AM.”
Louis waits expectantly for it to strike “11:59 AM”...
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “11:59 AM.”
Louis rears his arm back and punches the cinder block, without holding back. Louis INHALES sharply from the pain.
He holds up his hand to look at it, as his face contorts to a twisted visage of agony.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ MANGLED HAND: his knuckles are cut open and bleeding, his fingers are bent at all different angles, and his middle finger refuses to move.
Louis CRIES OUT in agony as he fights back tears. He collapses onto the ground and rolls around on his back, clutching his mangled hand and holding back VOCAL GRIEF.
Louis uprights himself and stares impatiently at the clock, clutching his mangled hand, waiting for noon...
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes to “12:00 PM.”
Louis stares at the clock, but his pain doesn’t go away.
Beat.
His agony greatens. He drops backwards while on his knees, clutching his hand and MUFFLING a scream. He arches his back and CRIES OUT with rage. He turns on his side and uprights himself by using his head as a piston.
He faces the clock and angrily grabs it, using both hands, and he begins strangling the clock while GROANING madly.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - LATE MORNING
The NEIGHBORS (adult parents and young kids) are a diverse mixture of confused, scared, disappointed, concerned, and transfixed. They stare at Louis from their lawns and from within their houses via windows.
Louis continues to GROAN madly, off-screen, as each of his Neighbors expresses themselves with contorted faces.
EXT. HOUSE/DRIVEWAY - LATE MORNING
Louis realizes that his neighbors are watching; immediately, he lightens his grip on the clock and silences himself.
He stares at them. -- They all stare at him.
Louis smiles and nervously feigns that it was all a joke (some kind of facetious performance), and he waves them away; he acts as if he is playing with the clock: shaking it lightly while MILDLY MIMICKING HIS EARLIER GROANS.
He laughs at his own actions in attempt to get them to do the same, and he meekly waves them away again.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - LATE MORNING
His Neighbors all think Louis is creepy and insane.
The Neighbors that are indoors retreat into the shadows of their homes, close their blinds, and close their curtains.
The Neighbors that are outside drop their lawn-care gear and tools and hurry inside, to the safety of their homes.
A MOTHER (35) rushes outside to usher her kids back into their house, removing them from their childish playing.
EXT. HOUSE/DRIVEWAY - LATE MORNING
Louis, now disheartened and ostracized, sighs reluctantly.
He stands still in his driveway, overlooking the now-empty neighborhood. He looks down at the clock in his hands.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “12:03 PM.”
Louis, pissed-off, flicks the clock with his good hand.
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Louis sits in his chair, and the hand he had mangled is wrapped in a bandage. He sits and waits, impatiently.
Louis glares at the clock (on the end table) with hatred.
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: the clock changes from “11:59 PM” to “12:00 AM.”
Louis tediously rips the bandage off, often looking over at the clock with anger and disappointment. He rubs his hand, making sure it feels alright.
Louis shoots the clock a glance, with a flash of raised eyebrows, expressing sarcastic appreciation.
With the hand that has been released of its bandage, he throws a quick middle finger to the clock.
He gets up from his chair and grabs his jacket. He puts on his jacket as he exits out the front door of his house.
FADE IN FROM BLACK.
INT. BAR - NIGHT, LATER THAT WEEK
In the dimly lit bar, the neon light of the Open sign casts coloration on the men by the pool table.
At the bar, Louis leans on the counter, with a glass of scotch in front of him, beside a previously-emptied glass. He stares at a photo he holds in his hands in front of him.
CLOSE ON PHOTO: it’s the same photo of Louis and his wife.
Seated in a bar stool to the left of him is a WOMAN, in her late twenties, with tousled auburn hair, a white button-down blouse, and fashionably-torn denim jeans.
The Woman, drinking a cocktail alone, looks at Louis.
Louis, looking ahead, notices and shifts his eyes to look to his left -- but the Woman turns back to face forward.
Louis tucks the photo back into his jacket pocket, and he resumes his settled slouch.
A grimy and cocky GUY (late twenties, red windbreaker jacket over grey T-shirt) walks from the collection of men by the pool tables over to the Woman, and sidles up to her.
He moves between her and Louis; he leans via his elbow on the counter, facing her, and looking to her with a raised eyebrow and a smug look of entitlement.
GUY
Hey.
The Woman pauses to look at the Guy, with disinterest.
WOMAN
(beat)
Hello.
GUY
You here alone?
The Woman doesn’t appreciate his question and doesn’t answer.
GUY (CONT’D)
(beat)
So... Wanna come back to my place afterwards?
The Woman sarcastically thinks about it.
WOMAN
(beat)
No.
The Guy isn’t pleased by this answer, and leans in further, encroaching more on her personal space.
GUY
Hey, that’s no fun.
(assertive)
I really insist that you do. It’ll be a great time.
The Guy grins.
GUY (CONT’D)
I’ll let you kiss the prince.
Louis’ ears perk up at the Guy’s disgusting line.
The Woman is also disgusted.
WOMAN
No -- I really am not interested.
The Guy’s leaning arm reaches forward and places his hand on the Woman’s. He leans his head in closer to her.
The Woman leans back as much as she can.
GUY
Don’t play hard to get, baby.
WOMAN
(nervous)
I said I’m not interested.
GUY
I’m sure I can change your mind-
Louis leans around the Guy’s own lean, attempting to barge into their hostile conversation, by piping up.
LOUIS
(interrupting)
Excuse me.
The Guy, annoyed, turns around, to glaringly look at Louis.
GUY
What do you want??
LOUIS
Do you have the time?
The Guy, irate, looks down at his watch.
GUY
(beat)
It’s Eleven Fifty-Three.
Louis is assured.
LOUIS
Ah. -- Is that AM or PM?
The Guy, irate and perplexed, points to the bar’s window.
Outside, it is pitch black -- nighttime.
Louis looks out and turns back, feigning as if he realized his idiotic mistake.
LOUIS (CONT’D)
Thank you.
The Guy feigns a sharp smile, and turns back to the Woman.
GUY
Do you work tomorrow?
The Woman, perplexed, slowly nods her head Yes.
GUY (CONT’D)
I hope talking isn’t a big part of your job.
Louis leans forward on the counter, clutching his glass with both hands, and leaning on his elbows. He thinks intensely.
GUY (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Because you’re going to have a
sore throat after all the moaning
you’ll do tonight. -- Wink.
Louis breathes slowly, EXHALING outwards. He unclasps his left hand from the glass and slides it over to the Guy’s shoulder, which he taps lightly.
The Guy, more irate than before, spins around impatiently.
GUY (CONT’D)
What do you want now?!-
Louis interrupts him by smashing the glass against the left side of the Guy’s head.
The Woman jumps away from her bar stool.
Louis expected the Guy to get knocked out, but the Guy merely stumbles backwards from the counter and touches the side of his head, where glass and blood mingle.
Louis is disappointed and surprised that the Guy wasn’t knocked out, but resigns to accept his lost expectations.
The Guy, very unhappy, readies himself and puffs his chest.
The Guy swings three punches at Louis, landing on Louis’ face and head, knocking him back and forth.
The Guy grabs Louis by the shoulders and bends him forward -- the Guy then knees Louis in the stomach.
Louis crumples to the floor.
The Guy spits on Louis and exits the bar.
The grateful Woman bends down to kneel next to Louis.
WOMAN
Oh my God -- are you okay??
Louis clutches his gut, but gets on all fours.
He tilts back and sits, then leans against the bar.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Uh... thank you. Very much.
Louis is bloody and bruised, but appreciates it.
Unable to muster the energy to speak, he resigns to holding up his left wrist and tapping on it with his right forefinger, as if to ask what time it is.
Realizing what he means, she quickly checks her watch.
WOMAN (CONT’D)
Um.
(beat)
Eleven Fifty-Nine?
Louis nods approvingly. He closes his eyes and smiles gently.
He holds up a finger as if to say “hold on one moment.”
The Woman sits and anxiously watches Louis.
Louis is in pain, but tries to EXHALE smoothly.
The Woman looks down at her watch again...
CLOSE ON WOMAN’S WATCH: the second hand ticks, and ticks, and ticks, until it aligns with the minute hand, and the clock strikes midnight.
Louis INHALES deeply and easily.
Feeling much better, Louis leans himself upright and stands up. The Woman eagerly stands up with him.
Louis faces the Woman. He brings his arm up to his forehead, as if grabbing the lip of an invisible hat -- and he pretends to tip his hat to her, while bending forward slightly.
He resumes his upright position, turns, and leaves.
The Woman stands there, unsure of how to react.
EXT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE - AFTERNOON, LATER THAT WEEK
Louis walks from the parking lot towards a large sports department store.
INT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE/OUTDOOR-WEAR - AFTERNOON
Louis peruses the racks of slick running shirts.
Louis can’t find anything, so he turns to look at the racks of bathing attire that are behind him.
He notices an alarmingly-revealing woman’s bathing suit, and he picks it up to curiously examine it.
Whilst holding the bikini and studying it, he turns his gaze to realize that a MOM (40) and DAUGHTER (12) are both staring at him with very confused, concerned expressions.
Louis slowly lowers the bikini. He hastily places it back on the racks, turns, and walks away speedily.
INT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE/SPECIALTY-WEAR - AFTERNOON
Louis peruses the racks of wet suits.
He is intrigued by them, and he ponders...
INT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE/CHANGING ROOMS - AFTERNOON
Louis is inside of a changing room, and can AUDIBLY be heard struggling with putting on clothing.
The sounds of struggling stop, and the door slowly opens.
Louis steps out of the changing room and is revealed to be wearing a full-body, orange spandex suit, that showcases his various curves and bulges.
He walks over to the floor-length mirror, in order to observe his appearance.
He strikes a few heroic poses in the mirror, like the Hercules victory pose, the Usain Bolt pose, the Heisman trophy pose-- but he believes something isn’t right...
He looks at his shapely appearance, and his unnatural curves and bulges, and the way the spandex hugs those curves.
He pinches his gut fat, and wiggles it.
He grips his gut fat with both hands, and wiggles it.
He holds onto his gut fat, and rocks back and forth with uncaring silliness, like a palm tree in the wind.
This evolves into him hopping back and forth between his legs, and wiggling his arms like an ocean wave.
Something catches his eye off-center in the mirror, so he halts and stiffens up. Perplexed, he turns to look in the direction of the origin of the reflection...
The Mom and Daughter are standing a few dozen feet back, behind a rack, and are staring at him with gross disturbance.
Louis stares back at them, emotionless.
Beat.
Louis casually walks back to the changing room, and enters -- closing the door behind him.
INT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE/CHECKOUT - AFTERNOON
As Louis approaches the checkout aisle, he drops the orange spandex suit in the return bin.
He continues to walk towards the store’s exit, when he notices that he’s passing a merchandise stand that displays various kinds of watches.
He backpedals to come back to the watch stand.
Intrigued, he begins to peruse watch options.
EXT. SPORTS DEPARTMENT STORE - AFTERNOON
Louis walks away from the sport department store, through the parking lot. His hands fumble to remove a price tag and attach something to his wrist.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WRIST: a new digital watch, whose glowing face resembles the digital clock he has at home. The time on the watch reads “1:31 PM.”
MATCH CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER THAT DAY
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:31 PM.”
Louis strolls down the sidewalk, in the industrial district of the city, bundled in his jacket. He is holding the photo of his wife, and looking at it fondly, sorrowfully.
He looks up while shoving the photo into his jacket pocket.
He looks around for signs of trouble, but remains discreet.
Further up the sidewalk is an OLD-TIMER, who is shambling down the street, shuffling as quickly as he can (which isn’t that quick, due to his feeble old legs and his cane).
Louis notices the Old-Timer and watches, uninterested.
The Old-Timer passes two thugs (mid-twenties, with tattoos): one wearing a FLANNEL button-down and the other in a SLEEVELESS wife-beater shirt. Both thugs are leaning against a chain-link fence, loitering menacingly.
After the Old-Timer passes the thugs, they both spring off of the fence, with a metallic TWANG. The thugs follow the Old-Timer, gaining closer in his footsteps.
Louis’ intrigue with the Old-Timer is renewed when he realizes that the thugs are gearing up to mug him.
As adrenaline enters Louis’ system, he checks his watch...
Confirming he has plenty of time until midnight, he breaks off in a sprint towards the two thugs.
The Old-Timer shuffles down the sidewalk, unaware of the thugs, yet still nervously moving as quickly as possible.
The two thugs gain on him with a slow and impending swagger.
Louis, sprinting, jumps on the back of Flannel, which hurtles them both to the ground. -- Sleeveless jumps to the side.
Louis punches Flannel a couple times, in the back and sides of his head. Louis slams Flannel’s face into the cement sidewalk a couple times, spurting blood.
The Old-Timer, unknowing, shuffles away.
Sleeveless pulls out a switchblade and dives into Louis, knocking him off of Flannel.
Sleeveless attempts to plunge the switchblade into Louis, but Louis holds Sleeveless’ wrist at an equal force, so that the struggle between the two results in a shaking lock of arms.
Flannel slowly gets up, and looks down at the Old-Timer.
The Old-Timer is very far away now -- still shuffling.
Flannel, face bloody, turns back to Louis. He swaggers over to Louis, rears his leg up, and kicks Louis in the face.
Louis keels over, and Sleeveless gets the upper-hand.
Sleeveless pins Louis down and shivs him with the switchblade numerous times in the gut.
Louis is helpless to stop him, and takes each stab gracefully, although each one causes him great pain.
Flannel kicks Louis in the head, and Louis goes unconscious.
Seeing this, Sleeveless stops and gets off of Louis.
Sleeveless pockets his switchblade. He and Flannel, unhappy, turn away from Louis and walk home, in the opposite direction that the Old-Timer was going in.
As Flannel and Sleeveless leave, Louis lies on the sidewalk, beaten and bloody, internally bleeding and unconscious, leaking precious bodily fluids onto the cement...
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:36 PM.”
Louis’ limp and bleeding body remains on the sidewalk.
Time passes, and the streets are eerie and empty, with orange streetlights lighting the foundry landscape.
Louis’ limp body lies in a small, messy pool of blood.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “12:19 AM.”
Louis stirs, awakening.
Louis slowly sits up, attempting to remember what happened.
He yawns a bit -- then he quickly remembers all the stabbing.
His arms spring to his chest and he unzips his jacket, which has numerous stab holes. He anxiously pats himself down, feeling for holes in his skin -- but he finds none. Although, his shirt beneath the jacket is torn and bloody.
He is relieved, and he is pleased with himself. He grins.
Beat.
Louis feels stickiness beneath him, and looks down.
He realizes he’s in a pool of his own coagulating blood.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER THAT WEEK
Louis walks down a sidewalk in the industrial district.
Bundled in his coat (whose stab holes have been duct taped over), he is alert for signs of danger.
He notices a YOUNG ADULT FEMALE leaving a bar, and walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. She walks in the same direction as he does, at the same speed.
As Louis walks down the sidewalk, he keeps his eyes on her, as if knowing she would make a great target for predators.
His eyes notice that ahead of her are a gang of thugs standing on the sidewalk. He predicts trouble.
He looks back at the Young Adult Female.
She walks with her head down, trying to avoid eye contact with the thugs in an attempt to not be noticed.
The Young Adult Female picks up the pace as she walks towards them. The thugs notice her.
The thugs start YAMMERING about her to themselves; they HOOT and HOLLER, and WHISTLE -- catcalling her.
YOUNG ADULT FEMALE
(under her breath)
Pigs.
One of the thugs, with a BANDANA on his forehead, hears her, and is not pleased by her comment. His face twists sour.
He swiftly, angrily grabs her arm as she passes -- gripping it tightly and turning her towards him.
Louis notices this and grows concern.
BANDANA
What did you call me??
The Young Adult Female is frozen with fear.
LOUIS (O.S.)
(commanding attention)
HEY!
The thugs all turn their gaze to across the street, where Louis, in his bundled jacket, stands alone.
Louis stares back, and has absorbed all of their attention.
Louis pauses, nervously unsure of what to do next...
Beat.
Louis gestures with his hand in front of his crotch a jerking-off motion, wildly up and down, while BLOWING RASPBERRIES.
Beat.
He stops.
Beat.
Bandana releases the Young Adult Female’s arm. The cumulative reaction for the gang of thugs is a collective attitude of “aw, hell no.” They swagger, angrily, towards him -- and they begin to cross the street, like a swarm of swaggering rats.
Fear replaces the concern in Louis’ eyes.
The gang of thugs are readying to kick his ass. The Young Adult Female is left in their wake, unsure of what to do.
Louis looks to the Young Adult Female.
She looks at him, with great concern.
Louis mouths the word “RUN” to her.
Her eyes flutter as she snaps out of her trance, and she mouths the words “THANK YOU.”
Louis stands still, and stares at her as the gang of thugs approach him. His eyes follow her as the thugs surround him.
The gang of thugs pounce on him.
FADE IN FROM BLACK.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER
Louis lies on the curb, unconscious, bloody and beaten. His eyes are swollen, and his cheeks are scraped and bruised.
He COUGHS as he comes back into consciousness. He knows he is in terrible condition: possibly near-death.
He writhes as he attempts to move, but it proves too painful, so he merely lies down on the cement.
He drags his arm in front of his face, despite the pain to do so. He looks at his wristwatch.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:48 PM.”
Louis SIGHS, regrettably. -- He rolls his eyes.
Louis relaxes his fragile body and waits for midnight...
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER THAT WEEK
Louis, a lone wolf in a damaged jacket, walks the sidewalk.
Confident and alert, his arms sway coolly beside him.
His suspicious and wary eyes scan the fences for trouble.
DAMSEL (O.S.)
Help!
Louis’ ears perk up, and he looks behind him.
Down the road, back from whence he came, a DAMSEL (mid-thirties) pursues limply after a black-shrouded BANDIT who runs away from her (and towards Louis) with a snatched purse.
DAMSEL (CONT’D)
That guy just took my purse!
Louis looks at the Bandit; their determination is equal.
The Bandit runs towards Louis, expecting to barrel past him.
Beat.
Louis holds out his arm, clotheslining the Bandit, who flips onto his back and falls to the ground.
Louis picks up the purse, as the Damsel arrives on the scene.
Pleased, she daintily leans forward and plucks the purse from Louis’ grip. She smiles sweetly with renewed confidence.
DAMSEL (CONT’D)
Thank you.
Louis nods, proud and gracious.
The Damsel leans forward and plants a tiny kiss on his cheek.
Louis feels triumphant, and grins ear to ear.
Louis turns to the Damsel, and brings his arm up to his forehead, as if grabbing the lip of an invisible hat -- and he pretends to tip his hat to her, while standing tall.
With great, robust confidence, Louis strides down the street, away from the Bandit and the Damsel.
The Damsel watches Louis walk away, and is lightly infatuated. Louis walks triumphantly.
Beat.
The Damsel turns to look down at the Bandit, who lies dazed on the ground. She kicks him in the side, as hard as she can.
Louis looks down at his wristwatch.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:20 PM.”
Louis is pleasantly surprised at how young the night still is, and takes a few breaths of victory air.
Full of redemption, he stops at the corner of the street.
Standing on the curb, still triumphant, he keeps an eye out.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:28 PM.”
Louis still stands on the corner of the street, waiting for something to happen. -- He is still full of triumph.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:35 PM.”
Louis still stands on the corner of the street, waiting for something to happen. -- He is less full of triumph.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:41 PM.”
Louis still stands on the corner of the street, waiting for something to happen. -- He is barely full of triumph.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT, LATER
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:48 PM.”
Louis still stands on the corner of the street, waiting for something to happen. -- He is no longer full of triumph.
In fact, he is back to being blasé and uninspired.
Resigning for the night, he unhappily continues to walk down the street, to head home.
EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT, LATER
As Louis walks home, he passes a convenience store.
Feeling quite parched, he checks his wristwatch.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “11:54 PM.”
He looks around the streets one last time...
The streetlights glow orange, and the wind lightly blows a plastic bag across the road. Otherwise, nothing is happening.
Louis walks towards the convenience store.
Two cars are in the parking lot: an old sedan, and an SUV.
INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT
The bell above the door DINGS as Louis enters the convenience store. Louis looks at the Clerk behind the counter.
The Clerk, indescribably bored, looks back at Louis.
Louis feigns a quick smile, then turns and walks towards the back of the store, towards the cold storage doors.
As he walks towards the back, he passes a family who are picking up snacks and candy for their road trip; the family consists of a smiling FATHER (36), his gleeful WIFE (34), and their tired-but-chipper SON (9).
Louis’ gaze averts to the cold storage doors as he arrives.
He looks at the bounty of choices for beverages.
He peruses, and after careful consideration, he reaches for a glass bottle of Yoo-Hoo Chocolate Milk.
From the far side of the store, the DING of the bell above the store’s front door can be heard.
Louis casually turns to look at the front door.
Bursting towards the Clerk, a ROBBER (wearing a ski mask) holds his pistol high in the air, for everyone to see.
Louis is startled, and ducks down behind the shelves.
The family of three, who were paying the Clerk for their snacks, fearfully and briskly step away from the Robber.
ROBBER
ALRIGHT -- everyone remain calm!
(to the Clerk)
Give me all of the cash in the register!
Louis slinks around the shelves to get a better view.
The Clerk has his arms defensively raised against his shoulders. He stands a few steps behind the counter and its register, frozen in fear.
The Robber points the pistol at the Clerk.
ROBBER (CONT’D)
Are you deaf??
Louis has relocated to the front half of the store, yet still on the opposite side of the store as the payment counter.
ROBBER (CONT’D)
Open the register!
Louis looks at the Robber, then at the panicky Clerk, and then at the family of three.
The Clerk nervously opens the register and begins pulling out dollar bills of varying denominations.
The family of three are huddling together; the Father is protecting his Wife, who is guarding their Son behind her.
Louis slowly moves towards the Robber, creeping on tiptoes, careful not to make noise as he sneaks up behind him.
The Clerk is BREATHING HEAVILY, failing to cope under such pressure. The Clerk is on the verge of tears.
Louis turns the Yoo-Hoo bottle upside-down, grips the neck of it, and readies it in his hand as if it’s a billy club.
ROBBER (CONT’D)
(quieter, to the Clerk)
Put it all in a paper bag.
The Robber shakes the pistol at the Clerk, anxiously.
The Father grows more protective of his family.
Louis inches closer.
The Clerk hurriedly fills a paper bag with the money.
The Father spots the pistol in the Robber’s hand.
Louis inches closer.
ROBBER (CONT’D)
(quieter, to himself)
Yeah, come on, come on...
The Robber bounces nervously, and looks out the windows, scouring the vantage for any signs of police.
The Father slowly starts inching towards the Robber, with his arms slowly edging out to reach for the pistol.
The Clerk stuffs money into the paper bag.
Louis inches closer.
The Robber looks back at the Clerk, but then his peripheral vision alerts him of the Father’s closer position.
Simultaneously, the Robber spins to point the pistol at the Father and the Father lunges for the pistol.
Louis, eager to help, uprights and runs at the two of them.
Both the Father and Robber now hold the pistol, and are struggling about where to point it -- the Father wants to point it at the floor to the right of him, but the Robber wants to aim it at the Father.
Louis collides into the Robber, who discharges a bullet into the floor, with a loud BANG.
The Robber and Louis fall to the floor, but not the Father, as the Wife and Son scream.
Louis, who is beneath the Robber, swings his bottle down upon the Robber’s head; this harms and stupefies the Robber, but it does not incapacitate him.
The Father steps forward to take the pistol from the Robber, and successfully grabs the Robber’s wrist, but the Robber still has a firm grip of the pistol.
The Robber tilts his wrist and fires another bullet, with a loud BANG, into the Father -- hitting him in the shoulder.
The Father falls backwards, clutching his bleeding shoulder with his other hand. His Wife springs to pull him back to safety, and ushers her Son behind the shelves.
Louis and the Robber wrestle for control of the pistol, as Louis grips the Robber’s arm and holds it upwards.
Struggling to gain control, the Robber discharges another bullet into the ceiling, with a loud BANG.
Louis lets go of the Robber’s arms so that he may reach behind his head and grab the newspaper rack on the floor.
Simultaneously, the Robber spins around (onto his knees) as Louis grips and hurls the newspaper rack at the Robber.
There is a loud BANG as fluttering newspapers shroud the scuffle from sight.
The shaken and bruised Robber stumbles out of the flurry of newspapers, and pushes the rack off of him.
The Robber leans over the counter and takes the paper bag full of money from the Clerk, then bolts to the door.
The door of the store DINGS as the Robber flings it open and escapes out of it, running off into the night.
As the Robber leaves, the Clerk runs around the counter to the aid of Louis -- sliding onto his knees beside him.
Louis lies on the floor, unzipping his jacket fervently.
The Clerk helps remove the jacket, and they both see that there is a hole in the middle of Louis’ chest, and it is bleeding profusely, coating his undershirt red.
The Clerk leans in, to help by covering the hole, but Louis pushes him back, waving his arms and struggling to speak -- as if it’s no big deal and he doesn’t need help.
Louis waves the Clerk off and gestures “don’t,” and then holds up a finger as if to say “hold on one moment.”
The Clerk sits and anxiously watches Louis.
Louis is in great pain, but tries to EXHALE smoothly, as he brings his wristwatch in front of his face, to look at it.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “12:03 PM,” and changes to “12:04 PM.”
The smile and ease on Louis’ face wipe away as shock and disbelief take over, followed by grief and despair.
Louis instantly grows cold and scared, and his heart sinks into his stomach as he lowers his arms to his side.
Louis goes limp, stares up at the ceiling; light-headed and overwhelmed, he bleeds uncontrollably onto the floor.
His eyes are unable to sort out if this is actually happening. Visible in them is fright and depression.
A pool of blood beneath Louis grows, spreading outwards.
The Clerk stands up and runs to behind the counter.
The dazed family of three emerge from behind the shelves and step forward. The Father, clutching his own shoulder, stands just beyond the outer limits of the pool of Louis’ blood.
The Clerk dials 911 on the store’s landline telephone.
Louis is confused, and scared, but mostly sad.
He stares up at the ceiling.
CLOSE ON LOUIS’ WATCH: it reads “12:04 PM” as the hand attached to it lies in a shallow pool of blood.
Louis lies in a pool of his own blood and EXHALES smoothly.
He slowly lifts his sticky, blood-dampened arm up and reaches into his jacket pocket.
He slowly pulls out the photo of his wife and he.
He holds it up so that he can see it in front of his face.
He looks fondly at the photo, growing tears in his eyes.
CLOSE ON PHOTO: it’s the same photo of Louis and his wife.
He looks at the photo, remembering better times, and he smiles slightly. He carefully mouths the words “married on June sixth, Nineteen Ninety-One.”
He slowly brings the photo down to his chest, and holds it against his chest. -- He EXHALES smoothly.
Beat.
He stares up at the ceiling, resigning for the night.
FADE TO BLACK.
FADE IN FROM BLACK.
EXT. CHURCH - LATE MORNING, LATER THAT MONTH
On a well-kept lawn in front of a stone church, the Son (dressed in nice church-going clothes) picks up a stick.
His mother, the Wife (dressed in black) comes over and asks him to put it down. -- The Son drops the stick, and follows her up the path to meet with his Father outside the doors.
The Father is dressed in a black suit jacket, with a sling holding up the arm belonging to the shoulder he was shot in.
At the church’s front doors, the sorrowful Damsel (in a less-conservative black dress) kindly opens the door for the Father and his family.
The family of three quietly thank her as they enter the church. -- The Damsel closes the door behind her.
The sign in front of the church displays the name and logo of the church, and beneath that hangs a message board, which reads “FUNERAL SERVICE -- 12:00 NOON.”
CLOSE ON MESSAGE BOARD: a close-up shot of “12:00.”
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - LATE MORNING
CLOSE ON DIGITAL CLOCK: it reads “12:00 PM.”
The digital clock sits on the end table; next to it is the propped-open wooden box, and the TV remote.
Beat.
The power on the digital clock goes out.
FADE TO BLACK.