House on Haunted Hill Page #6

BLACKBURN:

More to the point. Where's our host?

MELISSA:

More to the point: what in the

name of f*** is that?

She's pointing up at the stained glass skylight. It seems to

depict a Man with dozens of hideous creatures hovering round

his head. And above them all looms a huge something with

wings and flaming claws.

BLACKBURN:

More of Price's spook-house bullshit.

PRITCHETT (O.S.)

Not at all!

They turn to see Pritchett's head poking through the doorway

-- putting as little of himself as possible inside the house

proper.

PRITCHETT:

Part of the original structure. When it

was still an asylum. Guy who ran the

place -- Dr. Vannacutt -- found it

"inspirational." From some German

cathedral a million years ago: "Driving

the Demons From the Mind."

BLACKBURN:

I'm moved beyond words.

MELISSA:

The hint of still weirder sh*t

to come, I can only hope.

She whips the Camcorder to her eye and starts recording every

detail of the skylight. Dr. Blackburn rolls his eyes.

Pritchett starts calling loudly:

PRITCHETT:

Mr. Price? Mrs. Price? Somebody? Hello??

BLACKBURN:

Pritchett, take it down a couple

hundred decibels, what is your

problem?

PRITCHETT:

Problem? No problem -- just want to get

my money and get on home -- you know,

things to see, people to do?

He laughs weakly; starts shouting again:

PRITCHETT:

Mr. Price?? Mrs. Price??

Melissa Marr continues to shoot up a storm of tape in the

room, as overexcited as a five-year-old who's lost her

Ritalin.

MELISSA:

I knew this whole place'd be pure gold!

Pritchett, point me in the direction of

the goddamn ghosts! If I can get

something bizarre enough on tape, I

think I can parlay it into getting me

some kind'a Robert Stack "Unsolved Most-

Wacked-Out Home Videos" gig. No more

five afternoons a week of sex-change-

Nazis-and-the-lesbos-that-love-'em.

EDDIE:

You've got your own TV show?

MELISSA:

The guy whose hair I do has his own TV

show. All I've got is a blow-dryer and a

dream.

Sara's staring at something that's making her more nervous by

the second:

SARA:

Uh, excuse me -- but does anybody know

any logical reason why those little

demons would be moving?

She's pointing to the skylight.

MELISSA:

Where?

She whips her camera up at the stained glass. Zooms in. Tense

beat. And then lowers the camera, sighing in disappointment:

MELISSA:

...birds. Just seagulls or something

walking on the glass, goddammit.

EDDIE:

Cheer up:
before the night's through,

I'm sure one of us'll get hacked to

pieces by somebody or something.

VOICE (O.S.)

I may start right now.

All heads turn again -- standing in the open front doorway,

dressed absolutely to kill is a not-terribly-pleased-looking

EVELYN STOCKARD-PRICE.

EVELYN:

Who the f*** are all of you??

-- and right on that beat: the huge dome of STAINED GLASS

above them all EXPLODES!

All heads whip up -- as time seems to stand still -- and it

begins raining COLORED SHARDS in the foyer.

MELISSA:

Oh...my...God....

IN SLOW MOTION -- We see the rest of the Guests

instinctively start to duck and cover against the deluge --

all except EVELYN who's staring up at the descending

projectiles with a profound look of annoyance on her face.

EDDIE - notices that a huge DEMON-HEADED GLASS SHARD is

hurtling, razor-point-down, for Evelyn's head! With an

athlete's reflexes, he hurls his body at hers --

EDDIE:

-- Jesus, lady! --

-- tackling her to the floor, the giant SHARD missing her

skull by literally a hair. It plunges six inches deep into

the parquet, THWANGS like an arrow into a target.

Beat of absolute sheer STUNNED SILENCE. And then:

MELISSA:

Wow.

Everyone else stares at Evelyn, who's not moving.

SARA:

Is she...alright?

EDDIE:

I thought she was dead. For sure.

EVELYN:

Not even f***ing close.

(seething; to Eddie)

Get...off...of...me.

It's like being spit at by a cobra; Eddie doesn't have to be

told twice. Leaps off her, and Evelyn slowly, angrily gets to

her feet, a trickle of blood coming down her cheek from a

small cut there. A VOICE is heard from somewhere O.S.

VOICE (O.S.)

Not dead now, but soon.

All eyes look up to see: STEVEN PRICE perched on the balcony

rail above them in formal wear, legs crossed, cigar in hand,

blowing out smoke through highly bemused lips.

PRICE:

She's been marked for it. The House does

that. Happened to Pritchett's father.

Likely happen to you all. Isn't that

what you told me, Mr. Pritchett?

PRITCHETT:

(looking away)

I can't remember at the moment.

Blackburn applies his handkerchief to Evelyn's bleeding

cheek. She recoils:

EVELYN:

Don't touch me!

PRICE:

I'm impressed:
I don't think Evelyn's

ever said those words to anything with

genitalia.

EVELYN:

I'm not laughing, Steven.

PRICE:

You shouldn't be -- you were nearly just

killed, sweetheart.

(to the guests)

And now that our birthday girl is

finally here, let the games begin!

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