Pleae read and commet

[filmnut121]

Fade In:

OVER BLACK.

A harsh wind HOWLS on the soundtrack.

CREDITS:

WINKY PICTURES PRESENTS
"THE DINNER"

END CREDITS.

The wind is replaced by the sounds of factories. Below those sounds, we hear a child's song coming from a music box. It gets louder and louder until we:

CUT TO:

INT. CHILD'S BEDROOM- NIGHT (BLACK & WHITE)

Everything is dark, except for a small circular patch of light in the centre of the room. In the middle of this patch of light is a playpen. A mobile, the source of the child's music, twists hypnotically over the playpen.

THE FATHER comes into the patch of light. He stands in front of the playpen and grips the bars. After a moment he lowers his head and looks into the pen.

FATHER'S POV:

There's something in the cradle, wrapped in a bundle of blankets. We can't tell exactly what it is; the bulge in the blankets seems to suggest a small body.

ANGLE ON FATHER:

He strokes the thing in the blanket.

THE FATHER sighs and exits the patch of light.

CUT TO:

INT. DINER- CONTINOUS

Four people sit around a circular Formica table in total silence. These people are:

THE MOTHER
A woman that looks older than she probably is. She sits in her place, looking almost catatonic.


THE BROTHER
He is a teenager, about 15. He wears a hearing aid in one ear.

THE SISTER
Despite the gobs of makeup she's put on, she still can't make herself look attractive. Her face is ghostly white from the pancake makeup she's smeared on. She sits at her place with a dreamy expression on her face.

THE BOY
He is a tall, thin guy. He rubs the tabletop obsessively. A stupid grin is plastered onto his face.


An empty plate and a set of utensils are placed in front of each of them.

THE FATHER enters and sits at the empty spot. There is a long silence that is broken by THE BOY:

THE BOY
This is a Formica table.

A beat.

THE BROTHER
(Yelling)
WHAT?

THE BOY
Green is its colour.

THE BROTHER
IRENE IS WHO'S MOTHER?

Another long silence.

THE SISTER
I lost my virginity today.

She looks around to see everybody's reaction. Nobody seems to have heard her.

THE SISTER
I lost my virginity today. With a boy. His name was Bobby. Bobby? I think that was his name. Bobby or Robbie? I'm sure it was Bobby (etc.)

THE BROTHER
WHAT? STOP MUMBLING! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

THE SISTER
I didn't really get his name. Anyway, he's the love of my life. Ever since I saw him, I knew that he was the one for me. He's perfect: he even has a ponytail. Except that he has extreme flatulence- that's his one problem. He's constantly breaking wind- big, smelly one. But, aside from that, he's perfect.

THE BOY
Flatulence? Flatulence? Flatulence? Flatulence?


THE SISITER
It means fart, shit breath.

THE BOY
Fart! Fart! Fart! Fart! Fart!

THE SISTER
He sits in front of me, which his nice, except when he breaks wind. He's been in front of me for two years. Today I finished my love letter to him. It was perfect. I'd been working on it for two years; it had to be perfect. Yep, today was the day I finally finished it. I handed it while the Teacher was talking about God only knows what. The teacher always talks about God only knows what. I watched Bobby- or whatever his name is- read every word. And after a few minutes, he sent it back to me and on the back he wrote 'meet me in the lavatory and we'll make love'. 'Cept that wasn't exactly what he wrote: he wrote the john instead of lavatory. And instead of make love, he wrote fuck, but I think make love is more romantic. When I tell our kids this story, I'll tell them he wrote make love instead of fuck.  So, at lunch I went to the bathroom. He was hiding in stall 3- I looked under the door and saw his feet. We started petting and then... you know. We did it. I can't figure how to tell you about it so it sounds romantic. But it doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I'm in love. So is bobby- or whatever. I know. Today, after the scene in the bathroom he killed a man, stole his necklace, and now (she holds up the necklace from her neck) it's mine.

A beat.

THE BROTHER
WHAT?

A beat.

THE MOTHER
You fat-assed sons-a-bitches don't know what your talking about.

She looks up from her dinner plate and points an accusatory finger at every one of them.

THE MOTHER
Fuck you! Fuck you! And fuck you! Fuuuccckkk you! Fuck you all! You fat-assed sons-a-bitches.

Her features soften again, and her gaze goes back to her plate.

THE BROTHER
HUH? WHAT'D SHE SAY? I MISSED IT!

THE BOY
This table is worth nineteen dollars and twenty-five cents.

Suddenly, two shots come from outside.

With a GRUNT, THE FATHER gets up and exits.

DOORWAY- CONTINOUS

THE FATHER opens the door.

Out on the lawn, THE SALESMAN, a tall man in an overcoat and a fedora, with a box tucked under his arm, is rooting through the pockets of a dead man, dressed exactly like him.  THE SALESMAN sees THE FATHER in the doorway and quickly runs over to him, with an extended hand.

THE SALESMAN
Good evening, sir. And what a beautiful evening it is.

THE FATHER ignores the hand.

THE SALESMAN
(Pointing to the body on the lawn)
Sorry about the mess. In all fairness, I needed this more than he did.

THE FATHER nods.

THE SALESMAN
Yeah, but enough about me. You. You look like a man who loves a good mystery. A man with an insatiable curiosity. Would I be correct in saying that, sir?

THE FATHER just stares at him.

THE SALESMAN
I thought so. Then I've got the perfect thing for you. (He holds out the box) It's something in a box. You heard me correctly friend: Something in a box. What? Who knows? All we can be sure about is that it is something; and it's in a box. This box, to be exact. Hmmm, what could it be? Could it be a video? Maybe. A beverage of some sort? You never know. How 'bout a car? Anything is possible.

He shakes the box and, leaning in, whispering:

THE SALESMAN
It might even be pills. There's only one way to find out. For nineteen dollars and twenty-five cents you can own something in a box. So, how many can I put you down for?

THE FATHER shakes his head.

THE SALESMAN
None? Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I guess you'll never know what the something in the box is.

THE FATHER shrugs.

THE SALESMAN
(Desperately)
Can I interest you in any firearms?

THE BOY shouts from the Dining Room.

THE BOY (OS)
SOMETHING IN A BOX! SOMETHING IN A BOX! SOMETHING IN A BOX!

THE SALESMAN
(Yelling into the Dining Room)
For nineteen dollars and twenty-five cents in can be yours.

THE BOY (OS)
SOMETHING IN A BOX! SOMETHING IN A BOX! SOMETHING IN A BOX!

THE BROTHER (OS)
WHAT?

THE SALESMAN
(To the father)
So, one then?

With a SIGH, THE FATHER reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of sweaty bills and hands them to THE SALESMAN. THE SALESMAN hands him the box.

THE SALESMAN
Excellent decision. Well, I'll let you get back to your dinner.

THE SALESMAN starts to walk away and then stops.

THE SALESMAN
Oh, by the way, I'm not liable for anything that happens to you or your... lovely family, due to Something in a Box. Have a nice evening

He goes back to the body on the lawn and resumes rooting through the pockets.

THE FATHER watches while holding the Something in a Box.

Satisfied that there is nothing in the pockets, THE SALESMAN takes the body's Something in a Box and moves on to the next house.

THE FATHER closes the door.

DINING ROOM- CONTINOUS

THE FATHER returns to his seat and place Something in a Box in front of him. He stares at it and then looks at his family. Nobody is paying attention to him; they're all looking at their empty plates.

THE FATHER opens the Something in a Box and looks inside.

FATHER'S POV:

Inside the box is two halves of a Polaroid.

ANGLE ON THE FATHER:

He delicately picks up the pieces and presses them together.

HIS POV:

The two pieces make up a complete picture of THE MOTHER in a time when she was young and beautiful.

ANGEL ON FATHER:
Tears have formed in his eyes. He looks up at THE MOTHER.

ANGLE ON MOTHER:
She stares at her plate in her coma-like state. Drool dribbles down her cheek.

THE MOTHER
(In a whisper to herself)
Fat assed- sons...

ANGLE ON FATHER:
Looking devastated, he opens his mouth to say something. The RINGING of a bell from the kitchen stops him.

WIDE SHOT:

THE BOY leaps to his feet.

THE BOY
(Excitedly)
DINNER! SINNER! I MEAN DINNER! IT'S READY! DINNER IS READY!

He rushes off into the kitchen.

INT. KITCHEN- CONTINOUS

LOW ANGLE SHOT (ON THE FLOOR)

OS there is a lot of BANGING around. A small handful of teeth hit the floor in front of us. THE BOY steps on them. When he lifts his foot, we see that the teeth have been crushed to powder.

INT. DINING ROOM- CONTINOUS

THE BOY enters holding a platter. Poking out of the lid is the handle of a meat cleaver.

Slowly, relishing every movement, THE BOY places the platter in the middle of the table. With a flourish, he lifts the lid.

THE BOY
Dinner is served!

THE MOTHER'S hands come to her face. She looks horrified.

On the platter is a bloody, underdeveloped animal fetus.

THE MOTHER shrieks.

THE BOY picks up the cleaver and with one swift movement, lops the head off the fetus.

THE MOTHER shrieks louder.

THE BROTHER
(To THE MOTHER)
WHAT ARE YOU SAYING! HUH?!

THE BOY
Don't scream! Don't scream! This is a Formica table, so don't scream!

The BOY begins to scream. THE SISTER begins to cry exaggeratedly. THE BROTHER jumps to his feet and slaps THE MOTHER across the face.

THE BROTHER
You're too loud. You're hurting my ears.

THE SISTER
I wish I was with Bobby—or whatever—

THE BROTHER
Shut the up! Not one more fucking word!

He slowly sits down. Everything is dead silent.

THE FATHER has started to cry. He slowly gets up and exits.

INT. CHILD'S BEDROOM- CONTINOUS

OS we hear THE FATHER enter and close the door behind him. He comes into the centre of the light and stands over the playpen.

HIS POV:

THE FATHER begins to unwrap the bundle of blankets. Whatever is inside begins to starts to purr and mewl softly.

ANGLE ON FATHER:

With tears in his eyes, THE FATHER unwraps the bundle with great determination.

HIS POV:

The bundle is unwrapped. Now, lying in a puddle of it's own fluid, is a hideous deformity of what might have been, once, a baby or might not have been. Now it is a creature that one would abandon in a dumpster to die rather than keep in a playpen.

ANGLE ON THE FATHER:

He stares at it fondly.

THE FATHER
You're not like them. You're different.

HIS POV:

At the sound of THE FATHER'S voice, the thing begins to purr louder.

ANGLE ON THE FATHER:

He is crying hard.

THE FATHER
You're so...so...beautiful.

HIS POV:

THE FATHER strokes it.

LOW ANGLE (ON THE FLOOR)

In slightly slow-motion, creating a dreamy effect, a single tear drop hits the floor and we:

ANGLE ON PLAYPEN:

THE FATHER continues to stroke THE THING. Suddenly, his hand darts away and grabs a pillow. He covers THE THING with the pillow.

ANGLE ON HIS SLEEVE:

He slips a knife out a stake knife from his sleeve.

ANGLE ON PLAYPEN:

THE FATHER stabs THE THING through the pillow.

LOW ANGLE SHOT (ON THE FLOOR):

Back to slightly slow-mo, making things dreamlike. A single drop of blood falls to the floor and as it hits the ground we


CUT TO BLACK.

THE END