Scarewaves Page #2

Not yet.

He might not give me

the gift anymore.

I thought it was over

when you found that ladder.

I thought you would

just leave.

Stupid girl.

(smack)

It's gonna be

a pleasure to paint you.

It's gonna be beautiful.

What gift?

I'm sorry?

You said he

gives you a gift?

What gift?

Art.

More beautiful

than I could've

ever imagined.

Now be quiet.

I need to concentrate.

(sobs)

I'd prefer

without the ropes,

but this'll be

something different.

(chanting)

Shut up!

It's part of the cost.

Just like you.

One for every

full moon.

Murderer!

I've never killed

anyone in my life.

Stop squirming!

Ugh!

No!

This is part

of the deal, isn't it?

The painting?

Just, just put it down.

Go to hell!

That would be a gift

compared to what will happen.

(canvas tears)

What have you done?

You...

(clock tolls)

(Linda gasps)

(growling)

(clock tolling)

(Linda gasps)

(growling)

(screaming)

(crickets chirping)

(clock ticking)

(camera shutter clicks)

How about this one?

Perfect!

Now, turn your head

a little bit.

(camera shutter clicks)

Excellent.

Perfect.

You look beautiful.

(giggling)

(chanting)

(clock tolls)

Now, I don't want

you to think

that I see all artists

as selfish and heartless,

I would never paint

in such broad strokes.

(laughs)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry,

I couldn't resist.

You know what,

I'm not sorry, okay?

This my show tonight, folks.

But to placate you all,

my lovely listeners,

the phone lines

are indeed open,

and clearly you already

know the number.

Hello, caller,

you're on the air.

I wanna f*** you, Amos!

Well, while I certainly

appreciate the sentiment

of your comment,

I've no doubt

that the validity

of what you have to say

may be lost

on the FCC.

But what the hell?

It's our last night

on the air.

They can just put it

on my tab.

Are, are you still there?

Hello?

Yeah...

So, what can I do for you?

Uh, I thought you would

hang up on me.

I, uh...

(phone clicks)

Well, fair enough.

You know, my grandfather

was a man of few words himself,

although I never hope

to see him naked.

I appreciate you,

sweetheart.

Hello, next caller.

Amos Satan?

That's me,

what can I do for you?

Well, for starters,

you can start paying

your debts

like a grown man.

'Scuse me?

Don't you get

your mail, Amos?

Or should I call you Eric?

Listen, buddy,

this is neither

the time or the place

to drudge up

whatever it is

you're selling.

You can't hide.

Goodbye, dickweed.

For some people,

they can never have enough.

Their sense

of entitlement

will forever redefine

what "fair" means.

I'm not trying to get

political or anything,

I mean, whether you're

talking about a politician

or just simply a friend

who's grabbing

the last piece of bread

while you're waiting

for your entree,

it doesn't matter.

Everyone has

their own idea

of what fair means.

This story is

about two men

who draw a line

in the sand,

but as the waves

crash in,

that line begins

to erode.

Is blood really

thicker than water?

I know one thing

for sure,

someone is about

to get their fair scare.

Don't let the puns

stop you, folks,

it's a good one.

Crying,

tugging on my jersey,

pulling my tail,

puking on my shoes.

Yeah, it's a hard knock

life, Pokey.

Don't call me Pokey.

Nobody is ever gonna

call me Pokey again.

Yeah, whatever.

Good evening,

this is Ronnie Reynolds

with a news update.

Our Pilots

won the ballgame,

but it was the entire

team that lost

as a bandit robbed

the ticket booth

at gunpoint tonight.

Although exact totals

have not been released,

the armored car

was at the end

of a long circuit

and may have been carrying

upwards of $2 million.

More information...

That ain't right.

That bag was awful heavy.

You left a candle

burning in the window.

Did you get the money?

Of course!

They didn't even notice

me coming up on them.

Of course they didn't notice.

You aren't anybody.

The power switched off.

Don't worry about her.

I ain't the one

that gotta worry about her.

But could you two

keep it down a bit?

Relax.

There's no neighbors

for 15 miles.

Moons out, goons out.

You didn't think

we'd need three glasses?

I told you

this was foolproof.

It was even better

than foolproof.

Turns out that armored

truck that came

to pick up the gate

at the ballpark,

well it was the last haul

of a long day.

We ain't just got

a couple thousand in there.

I think we've got

a million.

That's a hell

of a three-way split.

Who said anything about

a three-way split?

Ole Pokey here did all

the shooting and the robbing,

and I drove

the getaway car

and was the brains

behind this operation,

but what exactly

did you do?

This is my

grandmother's old house.

A place where we can hide.

It can never be

traced to us.

And did you kill

your grandma

for this place?

No!

Then you ain't

done nothing.

We could've found the keys

to this place ourselves.

They're probably under

that concrete frog out front.

Do you have something

to say to your cousin?

What'd I tell you

about calling me Pokey?

Hey, your husband got

a little salty tonight.

Seems he gets a crawl

up his butt

about that mascot thing.

I thought that was

just to scare people.

Oh, it scared 'em all right.

A few bullet shots

to the chest

would scare the hell

out of anybody.

They didn't

take me serious.

Nobody takes you seriously.

You're the mascot.

Well, that's why

I had to pull the gun out.

Oh, Jesus.

That's why it was

foolproof.

They were unloading

the gate.

They never imagined

the mascot

would come up

on them.

But they laughed at me.

Again, mascot.

People are supposed

to laugh!

Well...

they ain't laughing now.

You know, I ain't had nothing

but my uncle's shine

out of these old

ball jars.

We had wine glasses.

We broke 'em

in a fight.

To wedded bliss then.

There's been

a change of plans.

See, since your husband

decided to go all O.K. Corral,

I probably won't

be leaving till the morning.

Let things

settle down a bit,

so if you could

just point me

to a guest room.

Upstairs.

Thank you.

Now, I'm a might

tired myself,

but your husband

might have some adrenaline

he needs to shake off

from all the gunplay.

If my Tommy John

surgery had took,

I'd be in the majors

right now

instead of being

the mascot.

But that's how it

went down.

And here we are.

Tommy John?

That sounds like a salon,

not an operation.

I mean, I was in Iraq

pulling shrapnel

out of my leg

from an IED

with a KA-BAR,

and you hurt yourself

throwing a ball.

Tommy John was only

in the top ten

of left handed pitchers

of all time is all.

And I'm sure when they run

the bottom ten of that list

your phone will

be ringing off the hook.

Now, half of that

is mine,

and the other half

is yours,

and whatever you do

with your half

ain't none of my concern.

So...

You gonna pour me a glass?

(crickets chirping)

(door creaks open)

Mitchell's asleep.

I didn't think

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