CROSSFADE TO
A man sleeping on a couch.
SUPERIMPOSE: TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER
INT. REISNER HOME/LIVING ROOM — MORNING [TEAL & ORANGE SEQUENCE]
As the alarm clock on the small table beside the couch RINGS, the figure begrudgingly rises, rubbing a temple to ward away his lingering sleepiness as he sits up. As we can tell by his complexion, hair colour, and general facial features, this is Nathaniel, now somewhere in his late thirties. Beneath the folds of fat and receding hairline, one can just perceive the handsomeness his unripened youth promised him.
Checking the clock to get the time — 4:00 AM — he gets up and crosses to one of the windows. Opening the shade, he looks out, past the suburban landscape to the cityscape rising in the distance beyond. The sun lurks just beneath the horizon, colouring the lower sky yellow while remaining hidden from view.
INT. REISNER HOME/BATHROOM — MORNING
Entering the small bathroom, flicking the light on, Nate crosses to the sink and medicine cabinet overtop it. Peering deep into the mirror before him, scrutinizing his doughy, tired flesh, he then turns on the faucet to wash his face.
INT. REISNER HOME/KITCHEN — MORNING
Nate enters the kitchen. Siings at the small, round kitchen table, drinking her coffee, is his wife, REBEKAH. While overweight and balding, one can still see some measure of attractiveness in Nate. The same cannot be said for Bekah. If she had ever been pretty by even the slightest degree, that prettiness fled years before she met Nate — years, even, before poor eating habits, heavy smoking, and alcoholism turned her into a sallow-skinned, gray-toothed monstrosity even larger than her husband.
Grunting a greeting, Nate crosses over to the refrigerator. After fishing out a can of Coke, he takes a seat on the opposite end of the table. Popping the tab, he takes a swig of the cola. Bekah reflexively leers.
EXT. BUS STOP — MORNING
A couple hours later, Nate — now washed and dressed for the day — is sitting with two other people on a bench, waiting for the bus into the city. Agitated, he takes a gander at his watch; the bus is running late.
EXT. BUS STOP — DINER — MORNING
An hour later, a bus pulls up across the street from a diner. Climbing off the bus, Nate crosses the street, hurrying over to the diner.
INT. DINER/BACK ROOM — MORNING
Entering the diner, Nate goes to punch in. Two servers are standing back there.
SERVER #1: Good morning, Nate.
NATE: (nods) Morning.
SERVER #2: (checks watch) Uh-oh. 8:21. Maybe if you slink in real slow and don’t draw attention to yourself, Ahnold’ll just think you’ve been standing back in the corner all this time.
Nate smirks in response.
INT. DINER/KITCHEN — MORNING
Nate slips on an apron as he slips inside the kitchen. Already at the grill are three cooks, including ROLFE ARNOLD, the diner’s manager and Nate’s boss.
ROLFE ARNOLD: (irate) Reisner! You know when your shift starts? (taps watch) 8:00! You know what time it is? (taps watch)
NATE: Bus was late.
ROLFE ARNOLD: The bus is late three out of every five goddamn days!
NATE: (shrugs) Sorry. Service out of Downsvale isn’t the best.
ROLFE ARNOLD: Then you should move — that or learn to drive! Chrissakes — almost forty and you still haven’t your fuckin’ driver’s license! (shakes head) We’ve got twelve orders need filling. Get on the grill.
EXT. DINER — DAY
Nate, on his lunch break, sits behind the diner, on the back steps. It is while he is sitting there, eating his sandwich, that the door behind him opens and one of the servers — BRIANNA, a tall, slim, nineteen-year-old brunette who wears her long hair back in a ponytail — finds him there. Scooching over, he allows her passage down the steps. Taking a stance on the other side of the steps from Nathaniel, she takes out a pack of cigarettes and fishes out a smoke.
BRIANNA: (offers Nate pack) Smoke?
NATE: (smiles) Thanks. I’ve enough vices.
Slipping the pack back in her pocket, she takes out a lighter and lights up, taking a deep drag.
BRIANNA: Nathan, right?
NATE: Nathaniel. Everyone calls me Nate.
BRIANNA: Worked here very long, Nate?
NATE: (nods) Close to ten years.
BRIANNA: Ten years? God, how old was I? (beat) Third grade — nine years old.
Lowering his half-finished sandwich, Nate clams up.
BRIANNA: (ashamed) I said something wrong, didn’t I?
NATE: No, no, you didn’t. I was just … thinking back, how long it’s been. (beat) It has been a while.
BRIANNA: (reserved) You like it here? (uneasy) Why’d I ask that?
NATE: I’m … I … (sighs)
Nate resumes eating his sandwich. Brianna smokes her cigarette. The silence between them is palpable, uncomfortable.
BRIANNA: (takes out iPod) Is it alright if I … listen to this?
NATE: Go ahead. (smiles thinly)
Placing the earbuds in her ears, Brianna turns on the device and calls a song up from the playlist: “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. Brianna has the volume turned up too high; it’s enough to make Nate even antsier.
INT. DINER/KITCHEN — DAY
Nate is at the grill, working hard to keep up with the steady stream of orders which keep coming in, wiping a sheen of sweat from his face on a sleeve before it can drip into the meals he’s preparing.
EXT. BUS STOP — DINER — DAY
The work day has come to an end. Both Nate and Brianna stand waiting for the bus. They exchange a short, uncomfortable glance and smile.
The bus puts up to the curb.
INT. BUS — DAY
As the door slides open, Nate and Brianna climb aboard. Locating the nearest empty seat, Nate slides down into it, leaving the spot beside him open for Brianna. Instead of taking him up on his implied offer, she sits down beside a middle aged woman three seats over. Crestfallen, Nathaniel looks himself over; he wouldn’t want to sit close to an overweight man reeking of a day’s worth of sweat, either.
CROSSFADE TO
An hour later.
Coming to her stop, Brianna leaves the bus. Through his window, Nate watches her walk on down the sidewalk toward home. For a brief instant he considers waving farewell, but it’s already too late to put thought into action; he’s no longer in her line of sight and the bus is already pulling away.
EXT. REISNER HOME/FRONT YARD — DAY
Nate finally arrives home. The Reisner home is a decrepit hovel in such a state of grievous disrepair that it doesn’t warrant renovation; it warrants complete and utter demolition.
INT. REISNER HOME/LIVING ROOM — DAY
Nate enters the living room. Bekah sits in the armchair, watching lesbian porn on the TV. Seemingly unaware of Nate’s presence, she continues jilling off to the pair of porn stars performing mutual cunnilingus.
His expression deadpan, Nate leaves his wife to her pleasure.
INT. REISNER HOME/BASEMENT — DAY
Entering the basement, Nate flicks a switch. A naked overhead bulb comes to life, flooding the basement with blood red light. He crosses over to a large desk situated against the back wall, where he turns the boombox resting upon the desk on. Alice in Chains’ “Whale & Wasp” begins wailing from the speakers.
Sitting down at the desk, Nate opens the top right drawer and brings out a bottle of glue and pair of scissors. He then opens the bottom left drawer; inside is a stack of paper of varying textures and sizes. Fishing out a 24 x 36 piece of stiff card, he lays it upon the desktop. He then opens the top left drawer; inside are several magazine/newspaper/catalogue clippings. Taking a handful, he tosses them upon the card and begins arranging them in place. Finding a clipping of a woman performing oral sex on another, he juxtaposes it with a clipping of a decayed Jason Voorhees with axe raised high.