BLUENOISE_SAMPLE
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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EXCERPT FROM CODENAME BLUE NOISE
©2008-2009 QUANTA PERENNIAL LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
By J.P. Martell
INT. KITCHEN BREAKFAST NOOK. NIGHT
At the counter, PUTTY MAN drops 2 shotglasses and fills them
each with bourbon. He pushes one to JARON.
JARON
Y'know, putty man, you look like a
"Bud," to me. Can I call you Bud?
Putty Man shrugs a bit, "sure." J holds up a glass in a
salute.
JARON
To barechested vixens, ever
elusive.
Putty Makes a non-committal gesture and downs his glass.
Jaron shoots and squints out a bitter face.
JARON
Ho. Hoooo. What, you don't
approve? Heh. Can't be gay, you
shoot bourbon like a cowboy.
Kiddin'.
Putty Man gestures to his crotch, a neuter zone.
JARON
Oh! No genitalia. That's rough.
You need that drive, man. Here.
Jaron moves around the counter to rip a chunk of putty off
his malleable friend, rolls it into a nice tubesnake, and
jams it onto Putty's crotch. Putty uses his gloves to mold
his own face into a wry smile and pours another round.
Reseating himself:
JARON
Few more of these and I'll mold you
a nice pair of knockers.
They cheers, shoot. Jaron turns. From over his shoulder,
the REDEYE MECHANISM retreats upstairs with a whirring series
of clicks.
JARON
Jesus fuck. I don't know what's
going on upstairs but-
Putty jiggles the bottle for another round.
JARON
No, you go ahead. Did you see that
fucking thing? What is that?
Second thought, yeah I'll have
another.
From upstairs a series of noises: Footstep thumps. A brief
clatter. A door closes.
JARON
(whisper)
Oh fuck. Oh fuck me. Alright, I'm
going up there. You hear that?
Putty very slowly nods.
JARON
Ok, dammit.
He shoots his bourbon.
JARON
Can you keep an eye on our winged
friend in there?
J nods towards the Girl's Bedroom, indicating its occupant.
Putty nods and shoots his bourbon. Jaron reluctantly rises
and fist-pounds Putty Man.
JARON
See you in ten, Bud.
J crosses the Living Room and hits a few more lights on the
way. He pauses at the bottom stair. A wall of black gears
recedes into the upstairs proper.
JARON
Here goes-
Glancing back Jaron catches a brief glimpse of Putty's arms
stuck to the wall outside the girl's bedroom. Stretching
thinner pulled by insectile claws, the door slams with a
distinct FLUTTER.
JARON
Fuck, Putty-
He hesitates. Shaking his head, J commits to the stairs.
JARON
Hang in there, putty man.
INT. UPSTAIRS WRECK ROOM. NIGHT
Quiet. Deep night seeps through the skylights. The bedroom
door is closed. JARON creeps toward it and stops. Wonders.
On a whim he crosses to the racks of DVD CASES. He opens a
few and replaces them. All empty. He picks up the top case,
a copy of AMERICAN CAKE: CHEERLEADER FRACAS. The DVD is in
case.
JARON
POOR BOUNTY FOR THIEVES.
He crosses past the futon to the bedroom. THROWS the door
open to-
INT. UPSTAIRS BEDROOM. NIGHT
The bathroom door is ajar.
JARON
Hello?
The window is shut, the closet door as well. Jaron sticks
his head into the bathroom. Nothing. He moves to the
closet.
INT. UPSTAIRS CLOSET. NIGHT
JARON opens the closet door and flicks the overhead switch.
Pillows tumble over him from the poorly organized shelves.
JARON
GETTOF-
He bats a few of them away.
JARON
Aw Jesus.
He moves to leave but as he shuts the door, he notices
something. A door he missed earlier from the entrance door's
occlusion. He undoes the small latch and heads into-
INT. UPSTAIRS ATTIC SPACE CLOSET. NIGHT
A plywood-floored attic space. It looks somewhat unfinished.
Insulation faces open air. A few boxes marked TAXES are
stacked in the corner in front of another, smaller door.
JARON
What.
INT. UPSTAIRS ATTIC CRAWLSPACE. NIGHT
Jaron crawls through the door into the attic proper. A
silhouette of mechanical being ducks into darkness and REDEYE
clicks away with it.
JARON
STOP!
He rushes forward and panics as a something dangling from the
ceiling hits his face. Flailing wildly, Jaron knocks the
thing and it clicks. The drawstring ignites a dim tungsten
bulb.
He chases after the shadowy mecha but it's nowhere to be
found.
JARON
Woah.
In its stead a hefty collection of boxes. A coat-rack. An
Atari 2600?
JARON
Mint condition.
He looks around. The overhead light flickers.
JARON
Alright then. I'm leaving you to
your business. Leave me be
downstairs and we'll have...
The light flickers out momentarily and returns.
JARON
We'll have a mutual understanding.
Hastily Jaron tugs the cord and dashes out of the attic,
leaving the glowing red eye in its hiding place behind a
distant strut.
INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT
The hardwood floor swells and jeers like a calm ocean. JARON
leaves the ATARI box by the TV and calls out.
JARON
BUD?
A weighty ruckus sounds from the girl's bedroom. A CRASH
against the nearest wall precludes a SLAM against the girl's
bedroom door. J makes it halfway to the kitchen before the
power goes out.
Jaron freezes in blackness. The ruckus continues in the
other room as his eyes adjust. Outside, something triggers
the motion sensor floodlight above the garage. Jaron turns
to notice a red glow from behind- the REDEYE retreats back
upstairs.
JARON
GODDAMMIT, You-
Jaron picks up a lamp and considers throwing it at the empty
space that Redeye occupied moments before. More CRASHES from
the bedroom.
JARON
Will everyone please CHILL THE FUCK
OUT?
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Front door.
Complete silence.
Jaron freezes in place.
KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Jaron places the lamp back on the table. He creeps toward
the front door and opens it to find:
EXT. FRONT DOOR STOOP. NIGHT
DETECTIVE CUTCH and two FACELESS COPS are perched
professionally on the stoop. Behind them the same Lincoln
town car and squad car from before idle in the driveway.
CUTCH
Quite a ruckus.
JARON
Evening, officers, detective.
Yeah, the power.
It's been kind of crazy around
here. What seems to be the
trouble? Er, again?
CUTCH
Seems a lone residence this far out
on such a new part of the grid is
prone to rolling blackouts.
Thought we'd check in and see if
you needed anything.
A CLOWN decked out in full costume mopes gloomily in the back
of the squad car.
JARON
Good timing. I wasn't in the dark
for under-
J checks his watch, which is an indecipherable spinning
puddle of liquid orbs. His dilated pupils struggle with this
particular detail.
JARON
Uh. Two minutes?
CUTCH
How about we come in and take a
look? Probably just the fuse box.
Murray can help out with that,
can't you Murray?
A faceless uniform nods and murmurs something indecipherable
from a behind a blurry mask.
MURRAY
MMhMM.
CUTCH
We can help you out.
Behind the law the clown gestures animatedly about picking
his handcuffs as he reaches into the front of the squad car.
JARON
That's a... That's a real clown
you guys have there. Someone
should keep an eye on him.
The cops all turn to regard the evil clown, who waves. Both
his cuffs are still on, seemingly.
CUTCH
Modern world's full of clowns like
that. You aren't a clown, are you?
We don't like it when people blow
hot air into our collective
balloon. I'm not too easily
twisted into little fun shapes
either. Try to twist my form and I
pop, you follow? Nobody here wants
that.
The faceless blobs beside the detective nod synchronously.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
JARON
Listen, I appreciate it. Things
around here seem a little...
The clown, free of the confines of the automobile, now
unicycles in circles on the driveway. It smiles an uneven,
sharp-toothed grin as it juggles what appears to be infant
skulls. Its eyes are black and glistening. They look dead.
JARON
Sssssstrange. Are you sure that
prisoner is secured?
CUTCH
Don't worry, my partner's got
things nice and tight.
A feminine silhouette in the detective's Lincoln buffs a pump
action shotgun. The clown, miraculously back in the squad
car, mimes crying with curing "boo-hoo" fists.
JARON
Well, I did see a white pickup out
back. Behind the lake. Pond? The
road behind the lake behind the
farm. I don't know if it was from
the farm or if it just came from
out past the farm, I don't know
what the road over there looks
like.
Cutch stares, prompting J to go on nervously.
JARON
Because I haven't seen it. Anyway,
I saw the truck out back and then
about 15 minutes later it came by
here, past the house. I don't know
what that's about but it made a
loop as if it were interested. As
in the driver. The driver might be
interested in what's going on.
CUTCH
And what's that?
JARON
What?
CUTCH
What's going on?
JARON
I'm house-sitting. For a family.
CUTCH
Right, the family. You know
anything else about the family
other than the name?
JARON
Yeah, the boys like to ski.
CUTCH
Is that so?
JARON
Family photos. Anyways.
CUTCH
If you see that truck again try to
get the number of the plates. Call
me and we'll run it. Could be your
little funhouse has one too many
visitors. Or maybe it's just the
mirrors. In the meantime, you
should probably...
Jaron stares at Cutch, processing hard but unable to come up
with what happens next.
CUTCH
Get the power back on?
JARON
Right. Thanks. Hey, do you have
like a card or something? You
know, just in case.
CUTCH
Sure. Just in case.
He hands Jaron a business card. Jaron pretends to read it
but the letters dance while the logo runs off the card to
fall to the ground.
J points at the clown convict.
JARON
I don't know what that did, but
it's guilty.
CUTCH
That's our job to find out.
JARON
Good night, sir. Sirs. And lady.
CUTCH
Rest well.
JARON
Sure thing.
INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT
JARON collapses against the door as he shuts it. He locks
the bolt and slides the chain across. Turning, he bumps head
first into PUTTY MAN.
JARON
Bud.
Jaron offers a soft nudge to the shoulder.
Putty Man is covered in gapes and gouges. With a stretch and
a POP! Jaron pulls off Putty's comically large dong and
starts molding it. He finishes a serviceable-looking pistol
and hands it to Putty.
JARON
If you see an evil clown, shoot it.
The putty-gun barrel droops flaccidly.
Putty man points animatedly.
JARON
Right, right. How's our friend?
Putty mimes something. Makes gate with his gloved fingers,
motions through them with fluttery hands.
JARON
Ok, what's? He flew...
Putty gives thumbs up. Mimes gate furiously.
JARON
He flew through... He got out?
Putty gives thumbs up and then hunches in defeat.
JARON
Man! Come on, Bud it was really
hard to get him in there!
FLUTTERS and FLAPS spread from behind the kitchen.
JARON
Well, this won't do.
Jaron creeps into the far end of the kitchen and picks up the
BASEBALL BAT. Darkness, and FLAPPING close to the ceiling.
Jaron squints and creeps out of the kitchen.
EXT. BACK PORCH- SCREENED IN. NIGHT
Carefully, JARON inches his way out into the night. A PUTTY
HAND reaches out and grabs his arm from the living room.
Jaron stops. He looks inside from the deep din of the
covered porch.
INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT
PUTTY MAN shakes his head. "Don't go."
EXT. BACK PORCH- SCREENED IN. NIGHT
JARON, wide eyed, pulls back from the grip. The putty arm
stretches to a thin droopy cable. The grip releases. Jaron
pulls the putty hand from his arm and pushes the segment back
onto-
INT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT
PUTTY's chest. The placement is dead center. Awkwardly, the
fingers on the hand wiggle. Putty molds a dejected look to-
EXT. BACK PORCH- SCREENED IN. NIGHT
JARON. He shivers.
JARON
Please don't touch me again. I'll
be right back.
Through the glass pattern of the door, PUTTY stands firmly,
looking all too real.
Jaron slides the door shut with a CLICK. A wall of
CRICKETSOUND permeates the night. KATYDIDS. What could only
be the mockingbird offers the sound of a seagull.
JARON
Seagullsmy ass.
Jaron slides open the screen door and creeps from under the
screened-in-porch into the dense moonlight.
EXT. BACK PORCH- OPEN. NIGHT
Silver light spills over everything. The grain of night
gives way to the moonlight ever so slightly and things become
more crisp. JARON looks straight up and almost falls over.
JARON
Ahhh...
The sky is a gorgeous palette of stars and nebulae. The
milky way isn't a dim belt but a bright swath. A few stray
low-altitude clouds dot the view. He leans the BAT against
the house.
JARON
Ahhhhhhholy shit.
Almost involuntarily, and without moving his gaze from the
awesome astronomy, his hands find a smoke and a light.
He reaches up to the sky and smiles, exhaling a plume of
smoke. He frowns at a cloud blocking some of the view. His
hands drop to his sides.
The clouds are moving visibly. Jaron stares at the cloud
intensely. His muscles relax. The cigarette drops from his
hand and he doesn't seem to notice. A small breeze picks up.
The offending cloud stops in its tracks.
Fellow clouds in the weather front continue to move. The
cloud holds still and begins to drift into the distance as if
picked off by a rogue airstream. It breaks into a few pieces
and Jaron smiles.
He goes for his smoke and realizes he's not holding anything.
Jaron desperately snatches the cigarette and blows it clean
of ash. It leaves behind a burn-mark on the deck. He "tsks"
himself and shuffles his foot over it.
Confused, he spins around looking for the thing- ah, BAT, He
snatches the bat and gracefully descends the porch steps into
the-
EXT. BACK YARD. NIGHT
Blackness of the back yard. It engulfs him with the grain of
lowlight. Colors desaturate. Suddenly the sound of insects
returns mightily. He clutches the bat and approaches the
basement latch door with the speed of someone who simply
wants to get something over with.
He CLACKS the latch and throws the door open, which triggers
the back floodlight.
JARON
Huh. Batteries. Handy.
He taps his head with the bat and climbs down into-
INT. BASEMENT. NIGHT
The basement is dim with the outside floodlight spilling in.
JARON steps down with his other foot and crosses into a
spiderweb, which gets caught in his mouth.
He spits, waves the bat around and spins, but the majority of
the web catches on the end. Between the bat and his face, a
good-sized Black and Yellow Argiope crawls directly towards
his mouth.
Jaron spits and waves the bat so frantically he loses track
of the spider. He looks around. The web is gone. He
searches the ground. He searches his shoes and pants. He
looks and-
The bat! Onto his hand! He throws the bat into the basement
with a CLUNK. The CAMEL CRICKETS rouse. With a disturbing
volume the crickets SCREAM. A few jump in his vicinity and
Jaron startles with fright.
Outside the auto-floodlight turns off. Jaron sits in
blackness.
EXT. BACK YARD. NIGHT
He scrambles outside and flails about. Slowly his breathing
normalizes and he calms himself. Aiming towards the
floodlight he waves and gestures.
JARON
YOU
Flails.
JARON
MOTHER
Waves.
JARON
FUCKING
Flails.
JARON
COCK
Waves.
JARON
SUCKING
Jumps and waves. The light doesn't come on.
JARON
Piece of shit. Guess I could just
sneak in here and steal whatever
the fuck-
He closes the door and the light flicks on. He opens the
door again. Deep breath.
INT. BASEMENT. NIGHT
JARON sticks his head in and waits for his eyes to adjust.
Through the grain and dim, he sees the breaker box.
He makes a controlled dash over the concrete toward the box
and pulls it open. Dark bodies of CAMEL CRICKETS whiz by,
some strike him. He tries not to wince but can't help
brushing himself off compusively.
EXT. BACK YARD. NIGHT
A breeze passes through the yard and swings the door shut,
along with the latch.
INT. BASEMENT. NIGHT
Complete blackness. SCREAMING CAMEL CRICKETS. Jaron's
fingers crawl over the door to the breaker box, forming a
distinct contour of light where his fingers gather
information. And leave fingerprints.
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