Cry_Wolf Page #2

They're like

bickering siblings.

They turn on each other

for no good reason.

Graham's tell, come on.

You're awfully quick

to judge.

No, it's just that...

Those bored rich kids

are my friends.

[Birds chirping]

[Insects chirruping]

[Panting]

(Rich)

...over 38"..."

Is this journalism class?

Are you Owen Matthews?

Yeah, I'm sorry, I was...

Sleeping in.

No, my alarm clock...

Relax, Owen.

If being late

is the worst thing...

that happens to you

in the first week,

you got off lucky.

Take a seat.

As I was saying...

does a reporter

just go for the story?

Or can we, as the media,

cover a tragedy like this...

with both sensitivity

and respect?

Morning, Randall.

Laura?

What does that mean?

That means, if I may...

that if you upon some

nasty pictures of the victim

on the Internet...

don't forward them

to the whole school.

A resounding no to sensitivity

and respect from Mr. Hodge.

[Bleeping]

Feet down.

You just now discovering

the Internet, Owen? Match. Com?

[Beeps]

(Rich)

Mr. Matthews...

you're making it very hard

for me to pretend

that I can't tell...

you're not paying attention.

I'm going to need

these articles by this Friday,

at the latest.

Now if any of you

are having a hard time...

thinking of something

to write about other than...

the most recent development

in this local tragedy...

I'd be willing

to meet with you privately.

And they only just found

that girl this morning...

because her body was dragged

through the woods by a wolf.

Yeah. Listen, the guy

blew her head off...

then let the wildlife

just go to town.

Why does it have to be

a guy?

Please.

Serial killers

are always men.

Just the ones

that get caught, baby.

Serial means

more than one, jackass.

You're not taking

your SAT book to my lake house

this weekend, are you?

Right, Owen, my dad...

The senator.

The senile drunk,

is sending a limo

to take us all...

to the lake house

on Friday.

Nobody ever stays here

on the weekends.

You in?

Yeah, sure.

I'm not going to be able

to make it, I got plans.

What?

By plans you mean

herpes, right?

Actually, by plans,

I mean I'm going...

to State tomorrow

to see the sweet Jenny Ryder.

It's Wednesday.

I know.

And I'm declaring my own

"Randall Gets Laid"

Holiday Weekend.

And I'm going to punch

Miss Ryder's v card"..."

[exclaims]

(Tom)

Nice.

Thank you.

Can I borrow your car?

Yeah, man.

Yeah, just, you know,

leave the keys

on the tire and...

don't get any blood

on the back seat.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Actually, I would like this

to be special, you know.

Like, in the middle

of the woods,

up against a tree.

You're a pig.

You're a dyke.

Die a violent death.

[Moaning]

Yeah well,

if that's your technique...

I weep for Jenny Ryder.

I bet you do.

So are we going

to play the game

before the weekend?

Not sure I want to.

Well, what else

are we going to do

around here, study?

Owen had a decent point

last night.

About us knowing each other

too well.

It's so incestuous.

So you just want to stop?

Because of the new guy.

Thank you.

Not necessarily.

Well then, what?

We'll play

with the whole school.

They're the sheep,

and we're the wolves.

I don't think they'll all fit

in the chapel.

(Dodger)

Let me ask you a question.

What's the best way

to play the game?

Lie your ass off.

Defend your honor.

Accuse your neighbor.

Exactly.

Nobody knows

who killed that girl.

So why don't we

make an accusation?

So what are you suggesting?

Let's convince them

the murderer is on campus.

And he's just getting

started.

All right.

But how do we do that?

[Tom tittering]

You guys

have no imagination.

It's like

you're playing checkers.

And I'm playing chess.

I had fun last night,

thanks for the invite.

Who said I invited you?

I thought Tom said.

Relax, I'm kidding.

I wanted to apologize, too.

I didn't mean to piss

on you guys with that bit

about the tells.

Sure, you were just trying

to impress me.

What makes you say that?

Well, I just...

Relax, I'm kidding.

So, I had an idea

on how to convince

the rest of the school...

there's a murderer on campus.

I'm listening.

What if this

isn't a random murder,

but a serial killer.

You already lost me.

Let's just say

someone forwarded us

an e-mail.

About not one,

but a series of murders

that happened before.

Go on.

And the first victim died

in identical fashion

to our townie.

So it's happening again.

Why else would the police

be investigating Westlake?

They're not.

Telling the student body.

It would be our duty

to warn them.

Meet me in the library.

We're going to create

a killer.

(Dodger)

He needs a name.

The Wolf?

That works.

Okay. What else does every

good mass murderer have?

Something that he wears.

Something

that covers his face

but anyone can buy.

Pantyhose?

What? Is he robbing a bank?

My old roommate,

he used to go hunting.

He had one of those

neon ski masks.

Orange doesn't exactly

inspire fear.

Come on, it's the new black.

Okay.

There are plenty of

deer hunters around here.

Give him a camo jacket, too.

What's his weapon

of choice?

Well, the girl was shot.

Yeah, but a knife

would be scarier.

Don't get me wrong,

I love

the phallic imagery...

but serial killers

rarely change their M.O.

But don't you see?

This is his pattern.

Remember this is not

the first time

our boy has struck.

Of course, he goes

from campus to campus.

Following the exact

same plan.

The first death

is always a townie.

Which is just a warning shot.

Before he attacks

the school.

And the massacre begins.

On the full moon.

That's this weekend, right?

It's Halloween.

It's so obvious.

It's perfect.

So who were

the original victims?

So the first person killed

was obviously the town slut...

shot in the face

while lost in the woods.

Okay. Who's next?

What if the Wolf

waited for his prey

in the back seat of a car?

(Randall)

What if you were

any more cliche?

Like you can do better.

Dark hair, brown eyes.

Killed while

looking in the mirror.

A victim of

her own narcissism.

That means conceited.

Anyone else?

Self-mutilating de-virginizer,

eviscerated in the chapel.

No, it should be special

for him.

Lock up the misogynist pig

and let him bleed to death.

Right after castrating him.

Very slowly.

Can the Wolf do

microscopic surgery?

[Randall laughing

sarcastically]

[Laughs]

Laugh it up, drama boy.

You're next.

Prima donna wannabe actor

trying to play

the big balcony scene...

gets his intestines

ripped out.

[Chuckles]

Who else?

Let's not forget

the campus queen.

Her sharp wit was dulled

when she choked...

on her own severed tongue.

[Groans]

You people

are deeply unwell.

Four years in the same place

with the same people.

What do you expect?

(Randall)

Last but not least.

The good guy that fell

for the bad girl.

Died of a broken heart.

I didn't know you were

such a romantic, Randall.

I'm not.

But I do love the irony.

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