Halloween H20

FADE IN:

EXT. STREET - NIGHT - SUBURBIA

Langley, Illinois. A quiet suburb located fifty miles

outside of Chicago.

SUPER the legend: "Langley, Illinois. October 28th 1998"

A HOUSE:

nestled in the middle of a tree-lined street. A Honda Civic

pulls into a darkened driveway, the headlights are

extinguished...

PAMELA WHITTINGTON, a middle-aged woman in full registered

nurse attire, emerges from the parked car.

An unlit cigarette dangles loosely from her lips. She heads

to the porch, digging through her purse in search of a

light...

CRUNCH!

Pamela stops in her tracks, looks down at her feet to discover

GLASS:

scattered across the porch. She looks at the porch light

hanging above her head.

A SHATTERED LIGHT BULB occupies the socket.

Pamela turns her attention to the front door... it's slightly

ajar. She pushes on it gently.... the door swings open

freely, revealing the darkened interior.

PAMELA:

Sh*t...

Pamela drops her purse... darts across some hedges into the

neighbor's yard...

EXT. THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

Pamela runs up to the porch, decorated with carved

pumpkins... POUNDS furiously on the front door, decorated

with a CARDBOARD SKELETON.

NO ANSWER.

She POUNDS again... HARDER. Suddenly, the door SWINGS open

to reveal

AN OMINOUS FIGURE

looming in the doorway. A HOCKEY MASK cloaks his face.

A PAIR OF EYES:

glare at Pamela from behind the cut-outs in the plastic

vizard.

PAMELA:

gasps, stumbles backward.

THE FIGURE:

flips up his mask to reveal

JIMMY HOWELL:

a gangly teen, wearing a hockey jersey... skates slung over

his shoulder.

JIMMY:

Hey, Mis Whittington, what's up?

PAMELA:

My blood pleasure. You scared the

hell out of me.

JIMMY:

Oh. Sorry. I'm on my way to the

ring and --

PAMELA:

(interrupting)

I think someone broke into my

house.

JIMMY:

No sh*t?!

PAMELA:

No sh*t.

CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - MINUTES LATER

Pamela sits on the couch taking hits off a lit cigarette.

Jimmy paces the room, portable phone pressed against his ear.

JIMMY:

(into phone)

3037 Keystone.. yeah... gotcha.

Jimmy hangs up the portable...

JIMMY:

(continuing)

Said to give 'em fifteen minutes.

They'll send someone by.

Jimmy grabs his hockey stick, heads for the door.

PAMELA:

Jimmy, what are you doing?

JIMMY:

Checking out your place.

PAMELA:

No. Wait for the police.

JIMMY:

And miss the big game? No way.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

Pamela stands at the foot of her driveway... watches as Jimmy

climbs the steps to her porch, hockey stick perched high on

his shoulder.

JIMMY:

moves toward the front door, stepping on pieces of shattered

light bulb beneath him.

He swings open the front door with the tip of his stick...

looks inside the darkened house.

He enters cautiously, stick at the ready.

PAMELA:

lights up another cigarette, watches nervously as Jimmy

disappears from view...

INT. HOUSE

Jimmy enters the dimmed foyer.

JIMMY:

(calling off)

Hey, man, don't mess with me!

I'll knock your head clean off

your body!

He moves stealthily through the house, hockey stick poised

high in the air... room-by-room he checks for intruders...

Jimmy finds his way to the rear of the home, crosses to a

back bedroom, stands in the doorway...

JIMMY:

(continuing)

Oh, sh*t...

ON THE BEDROOM:

Converted to a home office... ransacked... file cabinets

overturned, pictures hang crooked on the walls, papers carpet

the floor...

JIMMY:

drops the stick to his side, convinced he is now alone in the

house.

He crosses back into the kitchen... steals a cookie from a

cookie jar... opens the fridge... takes a swig from an open

milk carton... completely unaware that --

THE BEDROOM CLOSET DOOR

is opening slowly behind him, then suddenly --

CRASH!

An IRONING BOARD topples out from inside, slams against his

back, hard.

JIMMY:

snaps the hockey stick into position... spins around...

swings wildly with the wooden baton. He makes contact with...

A POT RACK:

suspended above the island... pots dangling from their hooks

come clanging down on top of him...

The dust settles... Jimmy realizes he's been beating the

stuffing out of an ironing board. He sheepishly exits the

kitchen...

EXT. HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

Pamela stands at the foot of the driveway, trying to see in

to the darkened house...

PAMELA:

Come on, damn it...

Jimmy emerges from the house... looks like Wayne Gretsky

after slamming in his record goal. He smiles at Pamela

smugly...

JIMMY:

Nothing to fear. The coast is

clear.

PAMELA:

You sure?

JIMMY:

Totally. I checked all the rooms

and closets...

PAMELA:

Nothing's missing?

JIMMY:

Don't think so. But they sure did

a real number on your office.

Crap everywhere.

PAMELA:

My office?

JIMMY:

Yeah. Oh, and they messed up your

kitchen pretty good, too...

Goodnight.

Jimmy scurries off, avoiding any more questions.

Pamela heads back to the house.

INT. HOUSE

Pamela enters the house, LOCKS AND BOLTS the front door

behind her. She breathes a heavy sigh of relief, back

against the door... she flicks on a light switch... NOTHING.

PAMELA:

Christ, Jimmy... didn't you try

the goddamn lights?!

Pamela moves down the hallway to the laundry room... she

opens the door to the FUSE BOX... toggles some fuses on and

off... tries the laundry room light... still NOTHING,

darkness.

PAMELA:

(continuing)

Sh*t.

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