Eight Legged Freaks

FADE IN:

EXT. DESERT -NIGHT

A rabbit hops across rough terrain.

EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT

Three trucks from Chemical Technologies carry barrels of

toxic waste. They pass a sign: PROSPERITY, NEVADA, POP

454.

INT. THIRD TRUCK (HIGHWAY, DESERT) -NIGHT

A sleepy trucker called PIG PEN drives the third truck.

SELF-HELP TAPE (V.O.)

I will be self-assured and

confident around women.

PIG PEN:

I will be self-assured and

confident around women.

EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT

The rabbit stops at the edge of the road. The first

truck speeds past. Then the second. The rabbit crosses

the highway in front of the third.

INT. THIRD TRUCK (HIGHWAY, DESERT) -NIGHT

SELF-HELP TAPE (V.O.)

I will not fear the unexpected.

PIG PEN:

I will not fear the unexpected.

The rabbit appears in the road, frozen by headlights.

PIG PEN:

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Pig Pen jams on his brakes and swerves to avoid the

bunny.

EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT

The truck slews crazily. Missing the bunny by a whisker.

2.

INT. THIRD TRUCK (BRIDGE, DESERT) -NIGHT

Pig Pen sees a bridge ahead. If he doesn’t regain

control, he will crash. At the last second, he gets the

rig together.

EXT. BRIDGE (DESERT) -THIRD TRUCK -NIGHT

The rim of a wheel tags the curb. One of those toxic

waste barrels falls out of the back and plunges to the

water below.

EXT. DRAINAGE DITCH -NIGHT

A biohazard warning label is legible as the barrel slips

beneath the surface. Glowing toxic waste seeps from a

gash in its side. Spreading through the pool like neon

ink.

EXT. DRAINAGE DITCH -DAY

The ditch is littered with garbage. The DRONE of

INSECTS. No visible traces of toxic waste. A butterfly

net sweeps through the air to capture an oversized

horsefly.

JOSHUA TAFT (70s), scrutinizes the bug. This old codger

is more comfortable studying bugs than socializing with

people.

JOSHUA:

Hey, Mike. Check this one out.

MIKE PALMER (12) steps over for a look. Puberty hit hard

and fast for this bright, little nerd.

MIKE:

He’s huge!

JOSHUA:

They’ve been like this all week.

Must be something extra tasty in

the water.

MIKE:

Like what?

JOSHUA:

Dead coyote. Snake maybe. Back

in the ’Nam we’d eat python with a

dash of habanero sauce. Mighty

satisfying.

(CONTINUED)

3.

CONTINUED:

MIKE:

You ate snake?

JOSHUA:

When you’re thirty klicks out from

the nearest firebase. Humpin’

through the wake-up with your

finger on the trigger. Charlie

doesn’t give you time to stop for

cutlet.

As Mike skims his own net over the water, he glimpses a

familiar barrel at the bottom of the pool. The brightly-

colored biohazard warning label is clearly visible.

EXT. ROAD -JOSHUA’S HOUSE -DAY

Two bicycles are parked outside a cabin in the middle of

nowhere.

INT. JOSHUA’S HOUSE -DAY

The decor is an odd mix of Vietnam era war relics and

homegrown scientist. Charlie the Parrot sits on a perch.

CHARLIE (V.O.)

Charlie, don’t surf!

JOSHUA:

Quiet, bird. We’re working.

Mike and Joshua stand near the spider tanks. A dozen

aquariums on low shelves. Each glass tank replicates a

specific environment: jungle, desert, cavern, pond, etc.

JOSHUA:

(dims tank lights)

The sun is going down, my

nocturnal hunters. It’s time to

come out and feed.

Mike watches Joshua deposit bugs into each spider tank.

MIKE:

Yeah. They’re definitely getting

bigger.

JOSHUA:

I’ve calculated a growth factor of

twelve percent over the last

forty-eight hours. But that seems

to be accelerating.

(CONTINUED)

4.

CONTINUED:

MIKE:

All from eating these bugs? Maybe

I should try some.

Mike pauses at the desert tank, watching a cricket search

for food. A trap-door spider pops out of its camouflaged

den like a jack-in-the-box. The arachnid yanks the

cricket below and replaces the roof in a nanosecond.

Mike looks in another tank where ogre-eyed spitting

spiders shoot blasts of paralyzing goo at hapless

insects.

MIKE:

Run, little guys.

JOSHUA:

They can’t outrun the food chain.

MIKE:

I could get away.

JOSHUA:

Imagine yourself the size of that

fly. A scytodes spitter would be

as big as a Cadillac. You’dbe

spider chow, kid.

Mike looks in a tank where jumpers chase fleeing

crickets. He moves toward another tank that is covered

with a towel.

MIKE:

Are the new tarantulas in here?

JOSHUA:

Took me forever to get a breeding

set of Chilean reds. I must have

bribed every customs agent from

Vegas to Santiago.

Joshua unveils the tank. Dirt floor. Several burrow

entrances. Joshua pours in the bugs. A large, male

tarantula comes out of a burrow. It pounces on a bug,

then wraps its prey in webbing, turning the insect into a

mummy-like bundle.

MIKE:

That is too cool.

JOSHUA:

Male tarantulas compete for the

female’s attention.

(MORE)

(CONTINUED)

5.

CONTINUED:

JOSHUA (CONT’D)

Each one tries to bring her the

best present. Bugs, rats, even

the occasional parrot.

CHARLIE SQUAWKS.

JOSHUA:

The prey is cocooned alive so she

can eat them in her nest. You

know how women love breakfast in

bed.

Joshua leads Mike to the back of the tank. A network of

subterranean tunnels is revealed. The male tarantulas

scuttle through carrying their mummified offerings.

JOSHUA:

Take a look, the female of the

species is three times as big as

the male.

Mike peers into a large den. The female tarantula steps

out of the shadows. This is Consuela, the Chilean red

tarantula.

JOSHUA:

Say hello to Consuela.

Mike watches Consuela unwrap one of the mummified

bundles. She begins to eat the paralyzed insect within.

JOSHUA:

She fills her prey with digestive

acid to liquify the internal

organs. Now watch... She’ll drink

her victim from the inside out.

While it’s still alive!

MIKE:

(looks queasy)

And you wonder why my mom doesn’t

like me hanging out with you.

JOSHUA:

Arachnids have been roaming the

earth for millions of years. And

they’ll be here long after the

human race is dead and buried.

Suddenly Consuela lunges at the glass. Mike recoils.

MIKE:

Bad! Bad Consuela!

Consuela backs up, apparently she can be intimidated.

6.

TARANTULA POV -MIKE

The multi-eyed spider’s PANORAMIC VISION. Mike looms

large at the edge of the glass, wagging his finger.

BACK TO MIKE:

Mike stares into the many eyes of Consuela.

MIKE:

Do that again and I feed you to

the parrot.

CHARLIE SQUAWKS hungrily. The sound of a CAR HORN.

JOSHUA:

There’s your mom.

MIKE:

See you tomorrow, Joshua!

Mike heads for the door.

EXT. DESERT -DAY

The entrance to a mine shaft protrudes from a hillside.

A pickup truck is parked nearby. The faded logo on the

door reads:
McCORMICK AND SON MINING COMPANY,

PROSPERITY, NV.

INT. MINE SHAFT -DAY

Rotten beams. Chipped walls. A GENERATOR POWERS a

string of lightbulbs. A lone figure works at the end of

the tunnel.

CHRIS McCORMICK (30s) has rugged good looks. Weathered

clothing. Dirt-stained face. Ripped muscles.

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