Feast Page #2

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He laughs to himself and puts his face up to the hole for a

closer look.

TROOP LEADER:

Wow! I see something shiny --

CHOMP! A set of giant, ravenous teeth bite into the Troop

Leader's skull. Blood SPLATTERS on Sickly Brownie.

His body is YANKED into the hole.

The Brownies SCREAM and turn to RUN. Sickly Brownie is scared

stiff. CRASH! The wall collapses as a WHITE BLUR bursts

through and knocks over Sickly Brownie.

CHOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP! With blazing speed, the white blur

attacks the running Brownies. Shadows, ripping, tearing,

howling, fills the cavern.

Sickly Brownie struggles to her feet and staggers for the

exit. Her fellow Troops are yanked into the darkness from

all directions.

SNOTTY BROWNIE, now with NO ARMS, falls in front of Sickly

Brownie. Sickly trips, landing face first in a puddle of

blood and guts.

Gagging and wheezing, Sickly Brownie makes one last sprint

for the mouth of the cave. Behind her, the white blur WAILS

as it snaps the bones of dying children.

Sickly Brownie is almost to the exit. She can feel the sun's

heat on her flush cheeks. She's almost there. She's gonna

make it. Only a few more feet. And then... JERK!

A white furry arm grabs her neck and YANKS her back into the

darkness.

The whiplash sends her bloody WHEEZER flying into the light...

SLAM CUT TO BLACK:

SUPERIMPOSED:
BASED ON A TRUE STORY

The title SHATTERS...

INT. CRASHED CAR -- NIGHT

P.O.V. - We frantically EMERGE from the burning wreck...

RUN from the crash over desolate, SNOW COVERED prairie land...

EXT. BAR -- NIGHT

We focus on a neon sign on top of a bar named UNITED NATIONS

TAVERN. We can hear talking and laughing from inside.

A 1985, pristine black Pontiac Trans-Am with a Golden Eagle

on the hood pulls up. We follow it around to the back parking

lot. The rear bumper sticker reads "MY OTHER TOY HAS TITS."

A weasel-like man with a fat belly and tank-top emerges from

the hot rod. We freeze on him.

SUPERIMPOSED:

NAME:
BOZO

AGE:
32

JOB:
UNEMPLOYED

OCCUPATION:
TOWN JACKASS

LIFE EXPECTANCY:
DEAD BY DAWN

We follow him as he lazily makes his way to the front entrance

of the bar.

ON THE SIDE OF THE BAR, he tosses an empty bottle of WILD

TURKEY.

We pan away to see the layout of the back parking lot and

surrounding area:

Cars and pick-up trucks are scattered throughout the parking

lot. There is a BEER TRUCK backed up to a long aluminum tunnel

that leads to the back of the bar. A BEER DELIVERY GUY pulls

a keg from the beer truck and lugs it into the tunnel.

Snow lightly falls. The swift wind causes snow drifts to

form on the outer edges of the parking lot. We turn back to

pick up Bozo as he turns the corner to the front of the bar

and pushes through the front doors.

INT. BAR -- CONTINUOUS

The place is dark, musty and sporadically populated. We take

a quick right and stop at an old-fashioned jukebox.

A young man in a wheelchair loads a quarter into the jukebox

and is instantly pushed away by Bozo. We freeze on the young

man.

SUPERIMPOSED:

NAME:
PARA

AGE:
29

OCCUPATION:
FIREWORKS DEALER

LIFE EXPECTANCY:
THEY WOULDN'T KILL A CRIPPLE... WOULD THEY?

We see that "ONLY COOL CHICKS CAN DO ME" is printed on Bozo's

tank-top.

PARA:

Hey!

Para rolls away uncontrollably.

BOZO:

Shut up, fag.

Bozo punches in his selection. The CD spins. A 1980s heavy

metal song KICKS IN.

Bozo, mouthing the lyrics, struts away.

NOTE:
Music plays over all the bar sequences.

EXT. PRAIRIE LAND -- NIGHT

P.O.V. - We continue to run. Panicked breathing. Kicking up

the snow.

INT. BAR -- NIGHT

A man takes a shot and downs it. We freeze on him.

SUPERIMPOSED:

NAME:
GOLDIE

AGE:
24

OCCUPATION:
HOST AT RED LOBSTER

LIFE EXPECTANCY:
HORRIFYING DEATH IN JUST UNDER SEVENTY-FIVE

MINUTES:

The bartender has been suffering through this dude's sob

story all night.

GOLDIE:

We'd been together for so long and

then... bang! She drops me. Since

then, it's been like a damn country

song. She's gone, the car's broke

down, a father figure made a pass at

me. I have a constant fear of

falling... etcetera, etcetera. I'm

not saying I ever had it. But I have

definitely lost it.

(beat)

I mean I used to be a model for

Christ's sake...

BARTENDER (thinning hair, chiseled face, big earring) looks

up at this while completing two drinks.

BARTENDER:

For what?

GOLDIE:

(humbled)

JC Penny. Spring wear.

Goldie then mimics throwing a sport coat over his shoulder

and holding it by the index finger... he delivers his "model"

cheese smile...

Bartender turns and we freeze on him.

SUPERIMPOSED:

NAME:
BARTENDER

AGE:
50

OCCUPATION:
BARTENDER

FUN FACT:
SHOT 4 TIMES, STABBED 6 TIMES, BIT BY 1 SQUIRREL

LIFE EXPECTANCY:
READY TO WEAR

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