"Spook City U.S.A." Issue #1

[BChristgau]

Hey folks. I've been lurking for a spell here at the DW forums and figured it was high time I take the plunge and post something. The following is the script for the first issue of a limited series I've been working on called "Spook City U.S.A.", which I find easiest to describe as "Northern Exposure with monsters."

If you'd like to be helpful, please be BRUTALLY honest in your criticism. "You're fat, you're ugly and yo momma dresses you funny", well, that's going to hurt my feelings for sure, but not anything you say about my work. It's okay. I'm a grown up. I can take it.

There's a little profanity in the script, but it's strictly PG-13 material. This is just a first draft, so it might still be a little raw.

And so without further disclaimers...

[BChristgau]

PAGE ONE

1.) Full Page SPLASH. Overhead angle looking down at one ALEX GRIMOFSKY, a thirty-something Manhattan hipster wearing black-framed nerd-chic glasses, a “Keep Music Evil” t-shirt, and a scraggly “flavor saver” beard. He’s slumped on the floor of a radio station (more on that later), limbs strewn lifelessly like a marionette whose strings have just been cut, his back to the door, a bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and a large caliber handgun in the other. His eyes are wide with fear, his expression hapless.

CAPTION: There’s a strange serenity that comes over you with the knowledge that you are well and truly screwed.

CAPTION: What did I do to deserve this? The question rang in my head and a whole catalog of past misdeeds and bad choices popped to claim responsibility.

CAPTION: Was it one of them in particular or just the cumulative effect of a lifetime accruing bad karma that put me in is situation I so unquestionably deserved?

TITLE:

SPOOK CITY U.S.A.
“A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall”


PAGE TWO

1.) Close Side angle on Alex. His head shakes as a series of hammer-like blows fall on the door. His eyes and teeth are clenched shut, his head shaking so hard it looks like his glasses are about to come flying off his face.

SOUND FX: BANG! BANG! BANG!

CAPTION: But the real question was whether to use the gun on that thing on the other side of the door…

2.) Alex holds the gun before him, contemplating it with a look of sick dread.

CAPTION: Or on someone more deserving.

3.) Long Angle. Off in the distance we see Alex walking down a city sidewalk, one hand thrust into his three-quarter length leather jacket, swigging off a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. Slumped on the pavement ahead of him is a HOMELESS MAN dressed in mismatching clothes, sitting on a flat piece of cardboard, holding an empty coffee cup. He has his head turned in Alex’s direction, sees him coming.

CAPTION: I was just another burned-out DJ working the graveyard shift at a big city Rock station. Whatever youthful dreams of broadcast greatness I once had smothered by years of fruitless struggle, bitter disappointment and the alcoholic haze that comes with them.

4.) Same Exact Angle. Closer to us now. Alex is right alongside the Homeless Man, who reaches up and shakes his cup in hopes of a much needed donation. Alex looks down at him, at the cup.

SND FX: (from the cup) shk-shk-shk

CAPTION: Everything I loved about the city – the gutter-glitter, the thriving art-scene, the vibe of youthful bohemian energy - had long since fled with the advent of creeping Disneyfication.

5.) Same Exact Angle. Alex pours some liquor from his bottle into the Homeless Man’s cup.

SND FX: (the liquor pouring into the cup) gluk-gluk-gluk-gluk-gluk

CAPTION: Thanks to the inexorable advance of the Yuppie horde I couldn’t even afford to live here anymore. I had to commute from Jersey every day.

CAPTION: Friggin’ Jersey. The indignity.

6.) Close up. Alex is now in the left foreground, in close-up, and we can see from the expression on his face that he’s well and truly ausgebombt (that’s shitfaced for the German impaired). A weird, crooked smile curls his lips. In the background, the Homeless Man looks into his cup, probably not sure if he should be grateful or pissed off.

CAPTION: Oh well, I recall thinking that night, things could be worse. Things can always get worse.


PAGE THREE

1.) Overhead shot. Alex in the studio at the radio station, headphones on and mic before him. He’s completely shot out of a cannon, on fire, his bottle in one hand.

CAPTION: Sucks when I’m right.

ALEX: Is it just me, or is our “president”, the Thief-in-Chief as I like to call him, just the stupidest pile of fecal matter ever shoveled into a pair of cowboy boots and topped with a ten gallon hat?

ALEX: (linked) I mean, sometimes I’m shocked the guy even has basic motor function.

2.) Alex pushes a button on his control panel.

ALEX: Caller number one, your thoughts please.

CALLER (coming from the headphones): Hey, you shouldn’t be talkin’ ‘bout tha commander in chief that way. I’m all about free speech and everytin’, but not in wartime. S’ un-patriotic.

3.) Alex perks up, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

ALEX: Ooooh. I see we have a scholar and a gentleman on the line.

ALEX: Let me tell you something about our president yon font of wisdom.

4.) Alex leans into the mic, intense, a steel coil ready to spring, a lit bomb ready to explode, hissing through his teeth. (You might even want to make this just a close-up of his mouth. Your call.)

ALEX: Our president is a murderous little man-child with delusions of messiah-hood. A deranged idiot king whose coke and booze pickled brain can’t manage a coherent sentence unless he reads it off a teleprompter or has it whispered into his earpiece.

ALEX: And even then it’s a struggle.

5.) Alex lowers his head so we can’t quite see his face. We can see he means this like his life depended on it.

ALEX: It would be funny… if it weren’t for all those people he left to die in New Orleans. If it wasn’t all those people blasted to bits in Iraq. He and his cronies are vampires right out of a Hammer movie. Glutting themselves on human blood.

6.) Alex is visibly pissed now, practically frothing at the mouth.

CALLER: Y-you can’t say that!

ALEX: Oh really? And here I was thinking we were in the land of free speech.

CALLER: Well…yeah. But there’s limits on free speech.

ALEX: Then it’s not exactly “free”, is it?

7.) His PRODUCER is behind the glass in the engineering booth making the “cut it!” gesture at his throat, teeth clenched and neck muscles straining. The ENGINEER is sitting behind the control panel, burying half his face in one hand as if to say, “oh brother!”

ALEX: Well maybe I should quit talkin’a good game and start walking one.

ALEX: Do a Billy Jack and drive my size 12 combat boot upside that Alfred E. Neuman head of his.


PAGE FOUR

1.) Medium on Alex, merrily unscrewing the cap on his bottle of Jack.

ALEX: After I crack his skull open, who knows? Maybe I’ll find a couple of honest to God neurons kicking around in there amidst all the used condoms and cobwebs.

CALLER: It’s a federal offense to threaten the president! I’m callin’ the secret service and repawtin’ you now!

2.) Alex turns the bottle over. It’s empty, a last drop falling out.

ALEX: Oh yeah? Tell ‘em to bring a bottle of Old Number Seven with ‘em. I’m running low on fuel over here.

CAPTION. Like my mother used to say, “Alex, one day that mouth of yours is going to land you in a world of shit.”

3.) Wide Angle on Alex sitting before a table in a typical police interrogation room (the kind with perforated white panels on the wall, the two way mirror, etc.), a hapless, wide eyed look of numb horror on his face.

CAPTION: Hate it when she’s right.

4.) Same Angle on Alex, but pulled back so we’re now in the room behind the two-way mirror. Two FEDERAL AGENTS stand facing each other, one of the browsing through a FILE in a manila folder.

FED I: What do you think?

FED II: Anti-social. Problems with authority. Poor self-esteem. Self-thwarting. You were right. He’ll fit right in.

FED I: Exactly what I was thinking.

5.) FED # I enters the interrogation room, smiling and friendly, the file tucked under one arm. Alex is understandably anxious, hands on the table as though he were trying to keep himself from flying out of his chair.

ALEX: You’re not going to send me to Guantanamo Bay, aren’t you? You’re going to hook a car battery up to my genitals and make me play naked twister with Ali Baba and the forty jihadists.

FED I: No, nothing so drastic. Calm down Mr. Grimofsky. No rubber hoses or cattle prod colonoscopies in your future.

6.) Alex exhales and wipes sweat from his forehead with a “whew” gesture. The Fed eases himself into the seat opposite him.

ALEX: That’s a relief.

FED I: However, threatening the life of a president, especially this one, is a very serious matter. There are going to be… consequences.


PAGE FIVE

1.) Alex has his hands out in an exasperated, pleading gesture. The Fed is calm and matter of fact, opening the file coolly.

ALEX: Consequences? What kind of consequences? I mean…it was a joke fer chirssakes!

FED I: You’re going to lose your job, for starters. The station will fire you and apologize to the public. In a week all will be forgotten.

ALEX: Am I going to jail?

2.) FED #1 thumbs through the file. Alex looks panicked, pleading with his hands.

FED I: I think we can work something out. You’ll be offered a job in another, smaller market. You are going to take that job.

ALEX: You expect me to just drop everything – my friends, my apartment, my life – and move to a jerkwater town in the middle of some provincial Red State hell!?

3.) Alex looks defeated, his head resting on his hand, elbow on the table. The Fed closes the file with a satisfied smile, tamping its bottom edge on the table.

FBI AGENT I: Of course, I’m sure they still have vacancies at Gitmo.

ALEX: I’ll take the job.

FBI AGENT I: Excellent choice.

4.) Wide Angle on a U-Haul driving along a desolate-looking road somewhere in the mid-west.

CAPTION: So I packed up my stuff and left the city for considerably less cosmopolitan climes. Green Acres style.

5.) Inside the car. Alex behind the wheel, ashtray overflowing, burger wrappers and empty coffee cups littering the dashboard and passenger seat.

CAPTION: Maybe a change was what I needed anyway. The city as I loved it was long gone anyway. I’d been hanging on to a dead dream for far too long and it was beginning to smell funky.


PAGE SIX

1.) Rear-shot of the U-Haul (in the right fg.) as it starts down an incline. Off in the distance (right bg.) we can make out a typical American tiny town nestled between the hills. The sun is setting on the horizon.

CAPTION: Place I was relocating to was called Gehenna, if you can believe that. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly raise my expectations.

2.) It’s night now. The U-Haul approaches a police roadblock. There’s a typical wooden roadblock BARRIER and a squad car parked next to it.

3.) Over Alex’s shoulder and through the windshield we can see that TWO COPS are manning it. One of the waves him down with a flashlight.

4.) Alex has his passenger window rolled down. COP #1 leans against the door. His partner has a clipboard in hand and is leafing through the pages.

COP #1: Sorry sir, you’re going to have to turn around and take a detour. Chemical spill up ahead?

ALEX: For real?

COP #1: Yup. Truck jackknifed. Nasty business.

COP #2: Hey, Buzz. Wait a sec.

5.) Alex watches as the Two Cops confer with each other out of his earshot.

6.) Cop #1 comes back over to the U-Haul.

COP #1: It’s okay, sir. You can go right ahead.

ALEX: But… what about the chemical spill?

COP #1: S’all cleaned up now. You can go right on in.


PAGE SEVEN

1.) The Cops move the barricade aside so that the U-Haul can slip through.

2.) Close on Alex behind the wheel, the Cops visible through the rear windshield (or maybe the rear-view mirror, depending on how you want to do it), putting the barrier back in place.

ALEX: Man-o-shevitz, that was weird.

3.) Cop #2 is talking to Cop #1, who holds up a walkie talkie and is speaking into it.

COP #2: You better let Snuggert know he’s coming in.

COP #1 Right.

COP #1 (into the walking talkie): Mr. Snuggert? Our new addition has just arrived.

4.) Medium Angle. A man is passed out face down on bed in his underwear (boxers), his black suit and gun-belt hung on a chair. On the bedside table, next to a half-empty liquor bottle, is his walkie talkie. This is AGENT CHARLIE SNUGGERT (think Charlie Martin Smith from “American Graffiti” and “Starman”).

FROM THE WALKIE TALKIE: (crackling) Mr. Snuggert? You there?

[BChristgau]

PAGE EIGHT

1.) Alex’s U-Haul drives down the shadowy MAIN STREET of the town. It looks like a typical Midwestern small town in many respects, but there’s something kind of creepy and off about the place. The trees intermittently located along the sidewalks are leafless and unhealthy looking. Some of the lawns are neatly manicured while others are overgrown and choked with weeds.

CAPTION: It was already getting close to midnight and my first shift would be starting soon, so I figured I’d find the station before checking out my new digs.

2.) The U-Haul pulls up in front of a modest-looking RADIO STATION, the call letters K-CRP emblazoned on a small sign atop it.

CAPTION: I was going from the graveyard shift in a big city to the graveyard shift in a remote, jerkwater town. How the meek had fallen.

3.) Inside the station. Alex opens the front door and walks in.

ALEX: Hell-ooooo!

4.) Alex finds the RECEPTION desk unattended.

ALEX: Hrmm.

ALEX: Hello? Anybody home?

5.) Wide angle. Alex scratches his head. The place seems completely deserted.

ALEX: Huh. Guess not.

ALEX: So much for the welcome wagon.

6.) Alex approaches the door to the studio proper, opening it.

ALEX: Might as well check the place out till they get back.


PAGE NINE

1.) Wide Angle. Alex walks into the studio. It’s considerably more modest than the one in the city.

ALEX: Hell-ewww?

2.) Alex looks through the glass to the engineering booth and sees that it’s empty.

ALEX: Man, this is beginning to give me the heebie-jeebies “28 Days Later” style.

3.) Alex checks his watch. It’s about five to ten.

ALEX: Shit. Shift starts in a few minutes.

4.) Alex slides down into his seat behind the DJ panel.

ALEX: Ah well. Might as well settle in and get used to it.

5.) Alex looks down at the control panel.

CAPTION: I could see there was a cart running. I still had a few minutes to kill.

6.) Alex opens a file-cabinet style drawer and finds a bottle of Wild Turkey staring up at him.

ALEX: Well hey there.


PAGE TEN

1.) Alex unscrews bottle…

ALEX: Don’t mind if I do.

2.) …and takes a swig off it.

3.) The bottle still at his lips, he looks down and sees something else in the drawer.

4.) Close Angle. It’s a .44 Smith and Wesson revolver, one of those big ‘ol hand cannons that can put a bullet through the engine block of a car.

5.) The bottle in left hand, Alex holds the Magnum in his right, examining it with a mix of attraction and revulsion.

ALEX: Jesus.

6.) Alex turns his head and sees the TAPE click off.

SOUND FX (from tape player): K-KLICK!

ALEX: Damn!

7.) In a flash Alex throws the headphones on.

8.) Close Angle on Alex’s finger hitting the TALK button on the panel.

SOUND FX: click

ALEX: Goooooooood morning Gehenna!


PAGE ELEVEN

1.) Close on Alex, who seems in a surprisingly good mood, all things considered.

ALEX: This is your new late-night DJ Alex Grimofsky, newly relocated to your fine town from New York City. You’re gonna get a chance to get to know me and I hope I’m gonna get a chance to get to know some of you.

2.) Alex pivots his chair towards the shelves of LPs and CDs neatly filed in boxes to either side of him. He’s grabbed a thick handful of them and is pulling them out.

ALEX: Got to admit I’m a little ill-prepared tonight, seeing as how I just got into town, so if you’ll bear with me I’m just gonna scope the archives here and see what we got to play for you this fine night.

3.) Alex shuffles through the LPs.

ALEX: Lesse what we got here. “Romanian Folk Music?”, “War Songs of the Third Reich”? “Polish Peasant Songs”? “Gregorian Acapaella Getdown?” “Alistair Crowely Sings?”

4.) Close on Alex’s face, his features and mood noticeably darkening. He looks thoroughly annoyed.

5.) Alex takes a hearty swig of Wild Turkey.

6.) Alex wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans into the mic.

ALEX: Now, I realize that this is a tiny town in a flyover state, but you mean to tell me that you people listen to this crap?


PAGE TWELVE

1.) Alex throws the records over his shoulder.

ALEX: I guess it could be worse. You could be into Billy Ray Cyrus and Toby Keith, but you mean to tell me you Podunk’s don’t have any AC/DC? No Sabbath?

2.) The PHONE BOARD next to him lights up.

ALEX: Ah, I see we’ve got our first caller.

3.) Alex hits a button on the console.

ALEX: Congrats! You’re caller number one during my forced exile in this rural hell town. What can I do you for?

4.) Close on Alex. He looks chilled to the bone, like his blood just turned to ice water.

CAPTION: The voice that came from the other end of the line was like nothing I’d ever heard. “Sepulchral” is how I might describe it, if I were a hack pulp horror writer.

CALLER #1 (from earphones, lettering and bubble should be creepy): Play “Nature Unveiled” by Current 93.

ALEX: Ooooo-kay. I’ll see if I can find that one.

5.) Close on Alex’s hands as he places a record on the turntable.

ALEX: I don’t know what it was, but something about that voice told me I’d better do what it said.

6.) The record spins on the turntable while Alex listens, visibly creeped out by what he’s hearing.

CAPTION: How do I describe the music that came flowing through my headphones?

CAPTION: Creepy? Eerie? Blood-curdling? Supernatural?

CAPTION: From the first chord it felt like someone poured ice water down the small of my back.


PAGE THIRTEEN

1.) Alex takes another mighty swig off the bottle.

CAPTION: To put it bluntly, this stuff just gave me the creeps. Drinking just made it worse.

2.) Alex stops the record, lifting the needle from the vinyl.

3.) Alex talking into mic.

ALEX: Now look… I know that it’s rude to stop a song in the middle but… that was just weirding me out.

ALEX: What kind of people make music like that? What kind of people listen to music like that?

3.) Alex hits the caller button, which is lit up.

ALEX: Caller number two, you’re on the air.

CALLER #2 (a different voice; bubble should suggest a manly, rough voice): Quit yer bellyachin’ n’ play some Springsteen!

4.) Alex, getting agitated.

ALEX: Hey cumquat… I’d gladly play some Springsteen if you had some friggin’ Springsteen in this crapshack. I mean, I’ve been in some sucky little towns before, but at least they had better taste in music than this.

CALLER #2: Listen buddy, I got half a mind ta come down there and…

5.) Alex talking into mic, cooly.

ALEX: Look dude… I got a bottle of Wild Turkey and a large caliber handgun. I’d advise against it.

CALLER #2: Bullets ain’t but gnats to the likes o’ me shitheel.

6.) Close Up on Alex. He looks genuinely creeped out now.

CALLER #2: Lessin’ maybe they’re silver.


PAGE FOURTEEN

1.) Alex begins shouting into the mic, rabid, spittle flying from his mouth, half out of his chair and totally out of his mind, hands on the panel to brace him. This is even worse than in New York.

ALEX: Come on down here then! And bring some of your three-eyed, chromosome-damaged inbred redneck buddies with you for back-up!

ALEX: I’m from New York City, bubba! We eat cross-burning trash like you for an appetizer!

2.) Alex hits the caller button, cutting him off mid-sentence.

CALLER: You asked fer it, you got it motherfu--*click*

ALEX: Caller number three, please have an IQ in the triple digits.

3.) The voice that comes from the phone is feminine, smoothe, silky, sexy (this should be reflected in the lettering). Alex is immediately intrigued.

CALLER #3: Hello sweetie. Having a rough night?

ALEX: Well hell-oooo there. It just got better. What can I do for you this fine evening?

CALLER #3: I was hoping you could play some Romanian folk music for me.

4.) Alex scrambles to pick up the records the threw down minutes before, the chord on his earphones stretching taut.

ALEX: Why, as a matter of fact, I believe we’ve got some of that right here.

5.) Alex slips the record out of its cover, examining the label.

ALEX: I gotta say, it isn’t my thing, but whatever floats your boat. You’re not a vampire, are you? You’re not gonna come down here, drink my blood?

CALLER #3: *teh-heh-heh* Of course not silly. Everybody knows that Romania isn’t vampire country. They’re more of a Ukranian and Yugoslavian thing.

6.) Alex places the record on the turntable.

CALLER #3: Romania is actually werewolf country. And if you really want to know…


PAGE FIFTEEN

1.) Alex’s face frozen in shock, really freaked out now.

CALLER #3: …I was thinking of stripping your flesh off and sucking the marrow from your bones.

2.) Alex snatches the record off the turntable and – in the same motion – smashes it to bits against the cabinet next to him.

ALEX: That’s it! You people wanna mess with me? I’m gonna mess with you. I am done messing around! Time to bust out the heavy artillery.

3.) Alex snatches the headphones off his head and throws them down on the panel.

ALEX: I’m going out to my car and getting my copy of William Shatner’s “The Transformed Man”. Let’s see how you fare after three hours straight of T.J. Hooker singing “Mr. Tambourine Man”.

4.) Alex marches over the back door, reaching for the doorknob.

5.) He throws the door open, revealing a hideous, artichoke-shaped monster with – you guessed it – three eyes. He’s dressed in a wife-beater and suspenders. It’s Caller #2 or, as we’ll come to know him, ELDON.

ELDON (voice of caller #2): Well here I am, tough guy. Whatta ya want broken foist? Arms ‘r legs? I’ll let you pick. Seein’ as how I’m in a charitable mood n’ all.

6.) Same exact panel. Alex staring at the monster in numb shock. Eldon staring back him, lips pursed and eyes half-lidded, patiently awaiting a response.

[BChristgau]

PAGE SIXTEEN

1.) Same Exact Angle.

ELDON: Well…?

1.) Alex SLAMS the door shut right in his face.

2.) Alex puts his back to the door, hands down by his side pressed against the wood, face stricken with utter horror, eyes wide, teeth stripped and clenched.

3.) Meanwhile, back at Agent Snuggert’s place. Medium Side Angle on Snuggert face down in bed, stirring awake.

SNUGGERT: Uhhhhhh….

4.) Snuggert is sitting up in bed now, rubbing his face.

SNUGGERT: …fugginsumbitch…

5.) Snuggert checks his watch, bleary-eyed and half-awake.

6.) His eyes spring open wide.

SNUGGERT: Oh pork me with a barbed-wire dildo.


PAGE SEVENTEEN

1.) Alex still has his back to the door, frozen in fear.

SOUND FX: BANG! BANG! BANG!

ELDON: (from behind the door) You gonna open up or am I gonna hafta shoulder this sucker down?

2.) Close on Alex’s face, beaded with sweat, his eyes fixed on….

3.) …the DJ’s desk, the bottle of Wild Turkey and, right next to it, the .44 revolver.

4.) Alex runs over to the desk, reaching for the gun…we think.

5.) Alex is sitting in the DJ’s chair, bottle in hand, upturned, opening at his lips, knocking back whiskey as fast as he can.

SOUND FX: *glug-glug-glug-glug*

ELDON: (from outside): Whassamatter Mr. New York City? Checkin’ under the couch cushions to see if you lost your nerve there?


PAGE EIGHTEEN

1.) A black sedan racing down the town’s main street at top speed, the wheels barely touching the ground.

VOICE FROM CAR RADIO: Look, I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot…

2.) Close Angle on Snuggert behind the wheel, gripping it so tight his knuckles are white.

VOICE FROM CAR RADIO: …but there’s a…a freaking monster outside who wants to kill me and…

3.) Close on Alex talking into the mic, the bottle in one hand the gun in the other, held next to his head, elbow on the desk.

ALEX: …I’d appreciate it if one of you fine, upstanding, salt-of-the-earth types would be so nice as to call the Police?

4.) Wide Angle. Snuggert’s car screeches to a halt behind the station, sending up a cloud of dust. We can see Eldon standing on the steps banging on the door.

VOICE FROM CAR RADIO: Tell them to bring some crosses! And garlic! And holy water! And a flamethrower!

5.) Snuggert has the door open and is coming out of the car, waving to Eldon, who is now turned in his direction and has a hand up waving back to him.

SNUGGERT: Heya Eldon!

ELDON: Heya Charlie! What’cha doin’ here?

6.) Snuggert, hands on his hips, thumbs casually in his pant’s seam or through the belt loops in classic Fed style, the wings of his suit jacket pushed back at the hip, is now standing right in front of Eldon.

SNUGGERT: Uh… actually, Eldon, I was about to ask you the same question.

ELDON: You look like you’ve had a hell of a night. Been hittin’ the bottle again, huh?


PAGE NINETEEN

1.) Snuggert looks around casually. The two of them couldn’t be more casual with each other.

SNUGGERT: Ah yeah, well… Miranda broke up with me yesterday.

ELDON: Again?

SNUGGERT: Yeah well… I think it’s for good this time. Guess it’s for the best

ELDON: ‘course it’s for the best. One o’ you with one of us? Ain’t natural.

2.) Snuggert and Eldon. Eldon gestures towards the door with a thumb over his shoulder. Snuggert has a chagrined look, wiping his lower face with his hand.

SNUGGERT: So uh, what brings you out here this fine night?

ELDON: Ah, the new DJ was givin’ me ‘tude, so I figgered I’d come down here and straighten his wax spinning ass out.

SNUGGERT: Swell.

3.) Snuggert edges past Eldon up to the door.

ELDON: Cowardly bastard locked the door though. You know his type. Always writin’ checks their ass can’t cash.

SNUGGERT: Look Eldon, why don’t you just step aside and let’s see if I can get him to open the door.

4.) Eldon is thrilled, punching his open palm with a look of glee. Snuggert has his hands up, trying to talk sense into him.

ELDON: Great idea! You lull him into a false sense of security and the second he opens the door - BAM! I bum rush the bastard.

SNUGGERT: Uh… that’s not what I had in mind. Just back up a little and let me take care of this.

5.) Inside the station, Alex is exactly as we saw him in the first panel, slumped on the floor with his back to the door, clutching the bottle of Wild Turkey and the handgun with equal desperation.

SOUND FX: (from outside) *knock-knock-knock*

ALEX: Go away! Be gone! Get thee behind me Satan!

SNUGGERT: Mr. Grimovsky? It’s me.

ALEX: Who the hell is me!?


PAGE TWENTY

1.) Snuggert talking to the door. Eldon is giving Snuggert a look.

SNUGGERT: Agent Snuggert. I’m your contact here in Gehenna. Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you when you at the station but… ah… I was kind of preoccupied.

ELDON: Miscegenationist.

SNUGGERT: Oh give it a rest, Eldon.

2.) Alex in the studio, terrified, clutching bottle and gun, talking to the door.

ALEX: Look Mr. Whoeveryouare. You better call in some back up because there’s one hideous pissed off monster out there with an insatiable appetite for human blood!

3.) Eldon is in a rage barking at the door and shaking his fist. Snuggert has an exasperated “aw hell” expression and has his hands on the monster, holding him back.

ELDON: Who you calling hideous, ya beaver-chinned beatnik!?

SNUGGERT: Eldon, do me a favor and go home and cool off.

4.) Wide Angle. Snuggert talking to the door. Eldon is still standing there, arms crossed stubbornly.

SNUGGERT: Look Mr. Grimofsky, I assure the situation is under control now. It’s quite safe to open the door.

ALEX: (from behind the door) H-how can you be sure?

5.) Snuggert gives Eldon a stern look. Eldon looks shocked and more than a little scared himself.

SNUGGERT: Because I told Eldon to go home and cool off.

SNUGGERT: And if he doesn’t do what I tell him to I’m going to tell Central Command to suspend his cable television privileges for a month.

6.) Wide Angle. Eldon walks away from the building (fg.) still fuming, while Snuggert (bg.) resumes talking to the door, one hand on his head.

SNUGGERT: Just open the door, would you please?

ELDON: (mumbling under his breath) *friggin-frag-a-frag*

[BChristgau]

PAGE TWENTY-ONE

1.) Close Angle. The door opens a crack, Alex’s eye and the barrel of the gun appear in the opening.

ALEX: Show me your hands. All of ‘em.

2.) From Alex’s POV through the crack in the door. Snuggert has his hands up.

SNUGGERT: Now if you’ll only let me in I can explain all of this.

ALEX: How do I know you’re not that thing? M-maybe you’re a shape-shifter and are just trying to trick me into thinking you’re human so you can devour and assimilate me.

SNUGGERT: Clearly, I got my work cut out for me tonight.

3.) Alex, still clutching onto the bottle and gun for comfort, sits on a couch across a coffee table from Snuggert, who sits in a chair, leaning forward with his hands folded, trying to explain this as best he can.

SNUGGERT: About twenty years ago we became aware of the existence of monsters. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, ogres, shapeshifters… the whole ghoulish shabang-a-bang.

SNUGGERT: All those things that go bump in the night of the human subconscious? They’re as real as you or I.

4.) Close on Snuggert.

SNUGGERT: The National Security Agency set up an agency to confront the problem, to keep them from running rampant while also concealing their existence from the general public and preventing the panic their revelation would almost certainly cause.

5.) Alex and Snuggert talking.

ALEX: Monsters?

SNUGGERT: Mostly they keep a low pro, but every now and then one of them stirs up trouble. If the federal government confronted to the problem in a military fashion – and there were some Oliver North types who favored that approach – we’d have an open war on our hands. And that wouldn’t do either side any good.


PAGE TWENTY-TWO

1.) Snuggert gestures around him. Alex has a look of disbelief, a hand on his head, finding this all hard to accept.

SNUGGERT: So we arrived at a compromise. That’s where we – and this place – come in.

ALEX: This is crazy. Just crazy.

2.) Snuggert stands up, adjusting his pants. Alex looks up at him with the pinched, confused look of a lost child.

SNUGGERT: Why don’t we go someplace more comfortable. Get you something to eat. You like pie?

ALEX: Pie?

3.) Wide Angle on Snuggert and Alex driving through the residential section of the town.

4.) Alex stares out the window in a awe and wonder as they pass an elderly Werewolf couple casually walking their Pomeranian…

5.) …an Ogre watering his lawn in his bathrobe and slippers.

6.) …a group of ghoulish-looking children shooting hoops on a playground, one of them sprouting wings from his back for a spectacular slam dunk.


PAGE TWENTY-THREE

1.) Close Angle. Snuggert behind the wheel, lighting up a cigarette. Alex seems distant, almost numb.

ALEX: This is like a… dream.

SNUGGERT: Not a nightmare?

ALEX: No, nightmares are filled with fear and anxiety.

2.) Medium Angle. Alex and Snuggert talking.

ALEX: I feel oddly… safe here.

SNUGGERT: That’s because you are safe. Folks here won’t lay a hand on you. Unless maybe you piss them off when they’re drunk the way you did Eldon. He’s worse than a black Republican.

3.) Snuggert smiles to himself.

SNUGGERT: The Sci-Ops boys know their stuff. Knew you’d fit in. That you were the kind of guy who see this place for what it is – a spooky nighttime fairytale-land populated with people out of myth and legend. The kind of place…

4.) Close on Alex, his eyes distant and somewhere else, intense and dreamlike.

ALEX: I used to dream about when I was a kid. My cardboard skeleton on my bedroom door watching over me while I slept, my Aurora monster model kits on my desk, my weathered copies of Famous Monsters piled up in the corner.

5.) Snuggert snickering to himself.

SNUGGERT: What I tell ya?

6.) The car driving into the night.

SNUGGERT: (from car) Freakin’ Sci-Ops shrinks.



END OF ISSUE #1

[kshah777]

Hey, congrats... this is some good stuff. It kept me hooked to read through the whole thing, so that's a good sign. Can't think of any specific crits at the moment, but I may pop back in with more later. But good job so far!

[Papercuts!]

Great, GREAT dialogue. Very impressive. It sounds so real and natural. Your descriptions are perfect, too. I don't draw, but if I did, I would know exactly what you're looking for.

[BChristgau]

Thanks for the kind words lads. I'll post the second issue sometime next week.

[bitemetechie]

Eep. Ok, honest, brutal critique coming your way. I'll try to refrain from any personal insults or attacks and keep it constructive.-

I've actually got much more good to say about this than bad. Amazingly, I really enjoyed it. I was chuckling through quite a bit of it and can't wait to read the next issue. The William Shatner reference alone was worth the whole issue. Plus you named the town Gehenna...nice touch.

The stuff between Eldon and Alex makes me giggle. I'm from the north you see (born and raised in Wisconsin), a rather big city (and no, the irony of 'big city' and 'Wisconsin' being in the same sentence is not lost on me), and much of my family is from the south. Worst bunch of country bumpkins and white trash you'll ever meet. The whole 'I'm superior because I don't live in a trailer and eat possum' thing going on in the story is funny to me because it's so true. 'Big city folk' act just like that when confronted with the more...uh...how can I put this nicely...rustic people.

Almost all of the dialogue was just brilliant. The only thing I have issues with is the line 'Oh pork me with a barbed-wire dildo'. The rest of the dialogue is witty, where that line is just vulgar in comparison. It brings the tone down. I realize that Snuggert is supposed to come across as crass (at least, I hope that's what you intended, because that's how I interperated it) but that just feels like it's in bad taste.

And the whole 'commander in chief' rant. Ok, it was great (made me laugh quite a bit), however it dates the story a little bit. I mean, if this thing ends up published after you-know-who is out of office, then you've got a problem. It clearly labels the story as 'set during 2000-2008'. I personally refuse to use specific dates when writing unless it's a historical story or dealing with specific events, (Jack The Ripper or whatever happens to strike my fancy) because I've found it makes the story feel stale on. Maybe it'd be better if you wrote a new president, just for use in your universe? That way you can bash the thinly veiled avatar of our Dear Mister President without any possible repercussions and if this thing got published way on down the line, it wouldn't feel like it was an older title.

Other than that, it was really quite enjoyable and if it ever became a monthly title, I'm pretty sure I'd take up reading it regularly.