Scene 1. Exterior. Day. Leafy Suburb.
A beautiful spring day. The CLARK FAMILY and their dog stand next to the "FOR SALE" sign of a picket-fenced suburban home, gazing anxiously at the house. A man in a white hazchem suit emerges from the front door carrying some equipment.
EXTERMINATOR
(Jaunty)
Well it's all clear folks - didn't find a thing!
You won't have any bug problems in this house.
Have a great day!
The family cheer and hug.
MARG CLARK
Oh Bob, our luck has changed at last,
can't you just feel it?
MISSY CLARK
Daddy, is it really safe?
BOB CLARK
Sure thing honey, you heard the man.
Welcome home everyone!
They race joyously into the house. The camera follows SPOOFY the dog as he trots around the back. He sniffs under the house - a bone! As he gnaws happily on the bone, the camera reveals many more bones strewn beyond him into the gloom, and comes to rest on a single, throbbing cockroach pupae under the floorboards. Sinister music crescendos into a scream.
Scene 2. Interior. Day. Missy's Bedroom.
MISSY
(Shrieking with delight)
Daddy it's perfect! Mommy come and look, come and look!
Missy darts around the pink princess room, then whirls around as she catches the gauzy white curtains, wrapping them around her - like a cocoon.
TIMMY
That is so gay. You suck.
Scene 3. Interior. Day. Hallway / Attic.
He wanders off to explore the upstairs, passing a clearly-branded pile of BUNNINGS (TM) hardware supplies handily stacked in the hallway. The camera lingers on his SPIDERMAN (TM) ADIDAS (P/L) NIKE (*) POWER MACH III JORDAN SPORTS SHOES (TM) as he clambers up the attic ladder.
TIMMY
(Muffled)
Cooool!
Scene 4. Interior. Kitchen.
MARG CLARK
(Distracted, checking out the cupboards)
Timmy? You stay out of the attic, you hear?
....Timmy?
BOB CLARK
Aw honey, he's just exploring.
MARG CLARK
It's just that...after all we've been through...
and nearly losing him to those giant, eight legged...(she shudders)
BOB CLARK
(Taking her in his arms)
I know...I know. But this is a fresh start, in a new, bug-free house.
Nothing's going to go wrong.
MARG CLARK
(Looking up at him adoringly)
You're right, honey. I'm just being silly.
(Snuggles against Bob's chest, sighing)
We're going to be so happy here!
The shot CGI's through the floorboards to...
Scene 5. Interior. Day. Under The House.
An eerie light plays over the dozens of human bones gleaming in the shadows. A strange pulsating sound. The camera drifts towards a slimy, throbbing shape - a hideous, swollen pupae. Grossly deformed limbs emerge, then a lumpish, agonised head. It yelps piteously - it's SPOOFY, his DNA being sucked into the mutating larval sac.
Scene 6. Interior. Night. Timmy's Room.
TIMMY lies in bed. He seems listless and pale. BOB CLARK pops his head round the door and switches the light off.
BOB CLARK
Well good night champ!
TIMMY
...Dad...?
BOB CLARK
Yes son?
TIMMY
What's undead mean?
BOB CLARK
(Shaking his head with a wry smile)
Crazy kids.
Scene 7. Interior. Night. Parents Room.
MARG CLARK rubs DIOR (TM) "SWEET VIOLATION" EXCORIATING MASQUE on her face with one hand while carefully holding the label in view with the other (NOTE TO DIRECTOR: CONTRACT REQUIRES 10s LINGERING CLOSE UP OF PRODUCT). BOB sits on the bed, pulling off his socks.
BOB CLARK
...so I said, well, son, it's kind of like if your gerbil FiveCent died and then God said Oh whoops sorry Timmy that was a mistake and brought him back to life, kind of like a really cool XBox game.
MARG CLARK
Oh honey you're so smart!
Do you think he's...you know...experiencing some kind of post-traw...post...
BOB CLARK
You mean post traumatic stress dementia.
No honey, he's just a normal healthy little boy exploring a big new world.
MARG CLARK
You're right. I guess I'm just being silly.
I just can't help wondering--
BOB CLARK
You just stop that wondering and come here -
daddy's got a housewarming present for his little helper!
MARG CLARK turns out the bedroom light with a saucy smile.
Scene 8. Interior. Night. Missy's Room.
Home security camera footage. The clock timer in the bottom corner reads 0300 hrs. Missy's rumpled bed is empty. A dog-eared copy of Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis" is cast aside next to the pillow. The clock fast-forwards to 0415. Nothing happens.
MEMO TO WRITING DEPT FROM PRODUCER
WHADDAFUCK? YOUSE GUYS WANNA GO INDIE WITH THIS PARANORMAL ACTIVITY NOTHING HAPPENING SHIT THEN GET THE HELL OUT OF THE STUDIO YOU OVERPAID SACKS OF (SOMETHING) .. WHAT? YEAHYEAHYEAH OK GOTTA GO LUNCH WITH GEORGE YOU FRICKIN WRITERS MOVE THIS DOG ALONG FREAKING PARANORMAL INACTIVITY INDIE STUDENT CRAP JESUS WHERE'S MY XANAX
Scene 9. Interior. Morning. Kitchen.
BOB
(Pecking MARG on the cheek)
Have a great day honey!
MARG
Don't forget we're having the neighbourhood welcome
barbecue tonight. Missy! Get down from there!
MISSY climbs down from the top of the refrigerator; there is something unnatural about her movements but her parents don't notice. She brushes past her dad; he unconsciously wipes a strange webby substance that clings to his arm.
BOB CLARK
Yeah, I'm sure looking forward to meeting our new
neighbour, the Australian big game hunter.
MARG
Oh yes, from Meekatharra, in the middle of Western Australia.
BOB heads off.
TIMMY sits in front of his uneaten cereal.
MARG CLARK
Timmy, you'll be late for school! Eat up!
TIMMY
Beezelbub says it will interfere with the trimutation.
(His voice suddenly becomes guttural)
We fast until full moon; only then can the hunger be satisfied.
MARG CLARK
You kids and your crazy imaginary friends!
MISSY
Mommy can I go play in the basement?
MARG CLARK
Not now, honey, mommy has to get ready for work.
MISSY
You're always working!
(She stares fixedly at a fly on the table, then eats it)
MARG CLARK
Now Missy, you know mommy has a very important
experiment running at the lab. Timmy, have you seen
Spoofy this morning?
TIMMY
He awaits the final forming. His time is later.
MARG CLARK
Well just make sure you leave some fresh water
in his bowl. Goodness, look at the time!
She hurries the kids, grabbing her aluminum GUCCI TEK-CHIK (TM) brushed-steel scientist case and PRADA i-C HOT BABE (TM) sunglasses.
Scene 10. Interior. Morning. The Lab.
KEANU, the hip young African-American MIT student, looks up as MARG enters the lab.
KEANU
Sho, y'all look dissed to the max sista!
MARG
Oh, you know, moving day...have you transconducted
the secondary pupal michondrials yet?
KEANU
Yo mama! They lookin' real fine y'all, healthy as ho's
on gov'mint penicillin, ready for they all to go dowwwn,
I'm saying down y'all! to the cyclotriaxial centrifuge.
MARG brings up some high-tech images on one of the high-tech plasma touch screens - hairy looking insecty things in closeup.
MARG
Dammit! They're still self-profligrating in the
thoraxial system core.
KEANU
Yo sho is het up about them--
MARG
Now, Keanu, I've told you - no more of that
nigger talk, okay?
KEANU
Sorry Marg.
(He sighs)
Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm a Nobel Prize
winning graduate of MIT with a degree in microcytological
engineering and not a nappy-headed little pickaninny in the
harsh tenements of Harlem anymore.
MARG
(Looking distant)
We all have our dark pasts...
KEANU
The past is in the past - after all, it was you who
inspired me, the way you pulled your family
through that terrible invasion of giant cockroaches
a year ago today.
MARG
Why, thank you Keanu. Now, let's get back to seeing
if we can re-engineer this base insect DNA so that no
human is ever bothered by them ever again. Bro!
They high five and get to work.
Scene 11. Exterior. Afternoon. Back Yard.
BOB, wearing a comical apron, flips burgers on the barbecue. MARG comes out carrying a jug of home made lemonade as the burly, sun-browned figure of BRUCE DINGO appears from next door, carrying an esky and a large high powered rifle.
BRUCE DINGO
Gidday mates!
BOB
Well howdy there neighbour!
(He attempts an Aussie accent)
Come and throw some prawrrns on the barbie mate!
They laugh.
BRUCE DINGO
Brought me 305 round, thought the kids might like
to 'ave a go, ay.
He hands the rifle to TIMMY.
MARG
Just for a couple of minutes, Timmy,
we're about to eat.
TIMMY practises aiming the rifle at MISSY, who is hanging upside down from a tree branch, making chittering noises to herself.
MARG hands BRUCE a glass of lemonade.
BRUCE DINGO
Nah thanks love oi've brought me own piss.
(To BOB, loudly, as he leers at MARG'S ass)
Crikey, that's a top sheila yer've got there mate.
BOB CLARK
Yup, she's a great little kitchen angel.
BRUCE DINGO
And a devil in the swag, eh? Heh heh. Wimmin! Crikey.
Anyway, to get on with the narrative mate,
heard youse had some strife with a mob of
insect-fellas at yer old place?
BOB CLARK
That's right Bruce - but everything's just
great now. Timmy's missing a couple of
toes and the mandible scars are still healing,
but we're good. It's all good!
He and Marg smile lovingly at each other.
BRUCE DINGO
Strewth. Well, if yer have any worries mate yer just
give us a bell on the dog and bone, eh?
Me Remi 375'll blow the guts outa any unwanted
guests, eh. This one time in Meekatharra, in the middle
of Western Australia, oi was drenchin' roos when this
bloody ginormous...
The sound fades as we go to a POV shot from under the house - SPOOFY, now a slathering multi-legged horror, watches the happy gathering.
Scene 12. Interior. Night. Kitchen.
MARG cleans up.
MARG
Well he seems like a nice fellow.
It was nice of him to let the kids keep the gun.
BOB
Yeah...
MARG
What's the matter honey?
BOB
Well...did you notice those strange tattoos
on his chest when he was showing you his
croc wrestling hold?
MARG
They just looked like regular old prison tattoos.
Why?
BOB
I don't know...they look kind of...familiar,
but I can't put my finger on it. Timmy couldn't
stop staring at it either.
MARG
(saucy)
Well Mr. Worry Wart I've got something
you can put your finger on.
They embrace, but a sudden muffled noise interrupts them.
BOB
What the hell was that?
MARG
It sounded like something under the sink...
you don't think...
BOB
I'll check.
He carefully teases open the cupboard with a broom handle as MARG watches anxiously.
BOB
Nup. All clear honey!
MARG can't help herself - she grabs a can of RAID (TM) ALL PURPOSE GIANT INSECT KILLER and, holding the label clearly visible, firmly sprays under the sink.
MARG
(Noticing BOB watching)
Sorry honey...I know I'm just being silly, but--
BOB
Hey - the only "but" I wanna see around here
is this butt...right...here...
(he grabs her playfully)
MARG
(Laughing)
Bob!
Behind them, unnoticed, the hideous form of SPOOFY, its giant antennae waving excitedly, rises in the window frame and watches, drooling.
MEMO TO SCRIPT DEPT FROM PRODUCER
OK MIRAMAX DIDN'T COME THROUGH WITH THE FREAKIN' EFFECTS BUDGET SO LOSE THE INSECT ANGLE, PUT THE FUCKIN DOG BACK HOW IT WAS OR WHATEVER OR JUST LOSE THE GODDAM DOG CHRIST I'M SICK OF HOW MUCH THESE ANIMAL WRANGLER FUCKERS CHARGE..WHAT...? NOT NOW MELISSA I'M...OH YEAH, MOCHA LATTE GRANDE...ANYWAY YOUSE WRITERS JUST FRICKIN FIX IT GO WITH THE UNDEAD THING OR SOMETHING MAYBE THAT KINDA PARANORMAL ACTIVITY SHIT IT'S POPULAR WITH THE KIDS NOW CHEAP AS CRAP...NO DAMMIT SKIM MILK YOU TRYING TA FRICKIN KILL ME?
Scene 13. Interior. Night. Missy's Bedroom.
MARG tucks MISSY in.
MISSY
Mommy, what happened to Spoofy?
They glance up at the sound of a rifle shot from the back yard. BRUCE DINGO passes the window with a friendly wave, carrying a lumpy garbage bag; a paw hangs out.
MARG
Oh, honey, he got sick and we had
to make him go to sleep. He's in heaven now.
MISSY
But didn't he die in the first movie?
MARG
Yes, honey, but then he...just kind of...came back.
MISSY
I'm confused Mommy.
MARG
Me too honey but the writers know best.
Now, you just stop worrying and dream about
sugar pies and fairies and pink organza girl things.
MISSY
Mommy...?
MARG
(Sighing)
Yes honey?
MISSY
How come you're so smart at work but you talk
to Daddy like you're stupid?
MARG
Now sweetie, remember, Daddy has brain damage
from before, when the giant mutant cockroaches tried
to eat Mommy and--
MEMO FROM PRODUCER
I SAID LOSE THE GODDAM INSECTS! I'M ON A FREAKIN BUDGET HERE!
MEMO FROM WRITING DEPT
WE'RE JUST REFERRING TO THE INSECTS, WE'RE NOT SHOWING THEM
MEMO FROM PRODUCER
JUST LOSE THE FUCKIN INSECTS!
MARG
...it turned out it was all a dream, okay?
MISSY
But why do I have to keep eating flies and acting weird?
MARG
It's a sequel sweetie, we'll sort it all out in another
kitchen scene or something.
MEMO FROM PRODUCER
AND GET SOME FRIGGING ACTION INTO THIS TURKEY, NO MORE KITCHEN SCENES CHRIST I NEED A HOLIDAY MELISSA GET SOME FREAKIN FLIGHT SCHEDULES TO SOMEWHERE SUNNY WHERE WE CAN SHOOT THIS THING AND WRITE IT OFF ON TAX JESUS WHO KEEPS TAKING ALL THE ZANTAC OFF MY DESK
Scene 14. Exterior. A Rural Phone Booth in Meekatharra, in the Middle of Western Australia.
GREG EMU
(shouting over the sound of sheep walking past)
Yer mate we got a bit of a problem.
CUT TO:
BRUCE DINGO, wearing only his HARD YAKKA (TM) MOLESKIN TUFFSHORTS,
pacing with his mobile phone in front of his massive bedroom gun rack, a can of EMU BITTER (TM) GREEN in one hand.
BRUCE DINGO
(sculling his beer)
Garrrrk. Yer no worries mate I'll be on
the next pain & fright mate.
He hangs up, finishing his beer and gazing thoughtfully at the gun rack.
BRUCE DINGO
Crikey.
He scratches thoughtfully at the tattoo on his chest - a strange, sinister pattern of numbers and circles surrounding a Da Vinci-like figure of a man.
Scene 15. Interior. Night. Kitchen.
MARG sleepily wanders into the kitchen, where BOB and BRUCE DINGO are packing swags, eskies and guns.
MARG
Honey, what's going on?
BOB
Bruce's mate's in trouble.
MARG
But...where are you going?
BRUCE DINGO
Meekatharra darl.
MARG
But that's in the middle of Western Australia!
BRUCE DINGO
Strewth love, when yer mate calls yer,
yer gotta go.
(to BOB)
Careful with these ones ere mate, them
tranquilliser darts'll leave yer flat out
like a lizard drinkin mate.
BOB
(packing the huge dart pellets)
I used to use these in the army.
MARG
Army?
BOB
Script amendment, didn't you get it?
MARG
God, I'm so confused.
BRUCE DINGO
Put the kettle on will ya love.
BOB
It's all right honey, we'll be back as soon
as we help Greg Emu with those--
BRUCE DINGO
Oi, remember wot I said mate -
keep stum around the wimmin.
MARG
Well, we're coming with you.
BRUCE DINGO
Nah this is bloke's work love,
you'd just--
MARG
I was a bloke once, back in the forces.
(to herself) What?
BOB
You're right honey, we should all go -
after all, we're a family, and families
stick together.
BRUCE DINGO
Yer mate. And oi've got me old mate
Greg Bungarra, he can help with Timmy.
MARG
Isn't he that famous aboriginal witch doctor?
BRUCE DINGO
Yer love.
BOB
What's wrong with Timmy?
MARG
Honey, haven't you noticed? He's been
communing with the undead in the attic.
BOB
I thought he seemed a bit possessed.
I was about to check the low budget home
security footage for any paranormal activity
when Bruce rang.
BRUCE DINGO
Yer well we can't stand around yarnin'
all night. Here, take this.
He tosses a WINCHESTER TEK-RAM MINI SUBMACHINE GUN (TM) to MARG,
who expertly assembles it.
MARG
Lock...and load.
MEMO FROM PRODUCER
WHERE THE FUCK IS MEEKATHARRA?
MEMO FROM SCRIPT DEPARTMENT
IN THE MIDDLE OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA
MEMO FROM PRODUCER
IS IT SUNNY? IS IT HOT?
MEMO FROM SCRIPT DEPARTMENT
IT'S HOT.
Scene 16. Interior. Day. Plane.
STEWARDESS
...And in just a few moments we'll be touching down
in sunny Meekatharra, so please have your headsets
ready for collection by our cabin crew.
BOB
(Looking out the window)
Gosh, it looks like a desert.
MARG
It is the desert honey.
PRODUCER
I don't see a beach.
Where the fuck are we?
TIMMY
The middle of Western Australia.
PRODUCER
You whiny kid actors give me the royal shits,
keep it shut or you won't be getting that
freakin' Spielberg musical.
TIMMY
Mom!
MARG
Just try to stay in character honey.
BRUCE DINGO
(To MISSY)
Plenty of flies for yer here love.
MISSY
I don't know if that's still in the script or not.
BRUCE DINGO
They'll probably change it to witchetty grubs
or something. Christ I'm sick of these typecast roles.
Scene 17. Exterior. Day. A Termite Mound in the Desert.
GREG BUNGARRA, the famous aboriginal witch doctor, is sitting in a trance on top of a gigantic termite mound in the desert. His eerie chanting echoes across the red land; suddenly he stops and opens his eyes.
GREG BUNGARRA
They're here.
He jumps down from the termite mound and picks up his old battered billy.
GREG BUNGARRA
Come on mate we gotta go help dem whitefella.
His faithful kangaroo BLUEY hops along as they set off across the red land.
Scene 18. Interior. Day. The Pub.
MARG looks around ain the gloom of the huge old pub. A few OLD BUSHIES lean against the bar, watching her.
OLD BUSHIE #1
Sheila's entrance round the back love.
The other OLD BUSHIES chuckle in a sinister way. MARG ignores them and fronts up to the bar, where GREG DONGER is reading the racing results.
MARG
I'm looking for Greg Bungarra.
GREG DONGER
Not 'ere.
MARG
Well, if you see him, tell him "Damper"'s lookin' for him.
There's a sudden silence. The OLD BUSHIES look at each other with wide eyes. One of them drops his schooner with a crash. GREG DONGER lets the paper fall to the floor, staring at MARG.
GREG DONGER
No...
No...
MARG
Yes. I'm back.
A dark figure darkens the doorway. Everyone looks up.
GREG BUNGARRA
You gonna need more dan dem whitefella rifles
dis time, Damper.
MARG says something in aboriginal to him; he nods. Silence.
MARG
It begins, again.
Scene 19. Exterior. Day. Main Street of Meekatharra, In the Middle of Western Australia.
BOB and BRUCE DINGO take cover behind an old cattle trough, firing frantically. GREG EMU shoots one-handed, his horribly mangled left wrist wrapped in a blood-soaked old sheep skin.
BRUCE DINGO
Crikey! These bastards are tougher than last time.
Did yer bring them darts mate?
BOB
What the hell are they?
BRUCE DINGO
Dunno mate, still waiting on this morning's script amendments.
Bloody hell! That one's still got Greg's hand!
GREG EMU
They said they didn't have any budget left for the SFX guys
and that we should just pretend. Aargh!
He takes a shot in the chest, falling on BRUCE DINGO.
GREG EMU
Tell my wife I...
BRUCE DINGO
Nah we'll get yer to the pub mate, you'll be right.
He hands him a can of Toohey's from the combat esky. GREG EMU stares at it.
BRUCE DINGO
Yer sorry mate that's all we got left from brekkie eh.
GREG EMU manfully swallows with a grimace. As the gunfire continues at a furious pace, BRUCE DINGO shares a despairing look with BOB. How will they escape this inescapable trap?
Scene 20. Interior. Day. The Pub.
The PRODUCER sits slumped at the main bar. Next to him is DAZZA CROCODILE and his mates WAZZA, GAZZA and BAZZA - the infamous Crocodile Gang. DAZZA stares bleakly into his schooner of FOUR-X BITTER (TM) as the PRODUCER rambles on in a drunken fashion.
PRODUCER
...then I said so whaddaya mean ya don't got no budget
for the freakin' chopper shots, jesus christ ya killin me
anyhow we got it in the can and-- (his phone rings)
DAZZA CROCODILE
(to WAZZA CROCODILE)
I'm gonna fuckin kill im the wanker.
WAZZA CROCODILE
Nah mate, they're bringin' plenty of dosh
fer the town, and didja see them production
sheilas? Tasty.
BAZZA CROCODILE
Wouldn't mind rollin one a them under a log
oi tell yez.
(Serving behind the bar)
That's enough outa youse crocs.
(He nods at a stuffed crocodile mounted over the bar)
Youse remember what happened to Tezza.
GAZZA CROCODILE
Yer, e never could keep is mouth shut eh.
The CROCODILES laugh nastily and drink up.
WAZZA CROCODILE
(To the PRODUCER)
Righto, youse want a lift to the creek mate?
PRODUCER
Yeahyeahyeah gimme a minute
(into the phone) God these fuckers are ugly George I gotta go
scene catch ya later tell fuckin Melissa to email me that...
(wanders off after WAZZA CROCODILE,still talking)
The CROCODILE GANG pile into their black all-terrain vehicle, nudging and winking as they wedge THE PRODUCER inbetween them on the seat.
(Suddenly remembering GREG EMU at his feet)
The CROCODILE GANG pile into their black all-terrain vehicle, nudging and winking as they wedge THE PRODUCER inbetween them on the seat.
Scene 21. Exterior. Day. Main Street of Meekatharra, In the Middle of Western Australia.
GREG DONGER drops the bleeding GREG EMU in the pub doorway, taking cover from the gunfire in the street as the CROCODILE GANG drive past, shooting their way out of town. THE PRODUCER is still talking on his mobile, oblivious.
GREG DONGER
Customer for youse mate.
GREG MULLET
Yer no worries mate.
(Looking calmly at an arrow as it twangs into the wooden door just next to his head)
Keepin them blokes busy eh.
GREG DONGER
Yer. Big bastards this year.
Lookin' forward to them script amendments
so we know what the bloody hell we're talkin about.
Youse seen Greg mate?
GREG MULLET
Yer mate. He's out with Other Greg, helpin them production sheilas
git some roadkill for the caterin truck.
GREG DONGER
Orright. If youse see im, tell im oi need to borrow his blundstones
for the exorcism scene eh.
GREG MULLET
Youse in it mate?
GREG DONGER
Yer mate, bit part, no lines but.
Youse don't mind mindin me pub a bit longer eh?
GREG MULLET
No worries. Crikey.
Strewth, let's get you behind a coldie mate.
He drags GREG EMU inside, slamming the door as another barrage of rifle fire richochets off the historic stonework walls.
Scene 22. Interior. Aboriginal Sweat Lodge? The Desert?
MARG and GREG BUNGARRA (or is it GREG DINGO?) sit naked in the smoky gloom of a traditional aboriginal sweat lodge made of sticks and bilby skins. They are out of their minds on traditional aboriginal peyote.
GREG BUNGARRA
Youse let im spirit aminal speak im piece now.
He places his fingers on MARG's face in a traditional aboriginal mind meld.
MARG
(struggling as an alien voice struggles to get out; it's a struggle)
Gagh...ack...I...me...Me in you...I am...cockroach.
(in her own voice)
Oh, gross!
(in alien voice)
What is your request of cockroach?
GREG BUNGARRA
Youse talk im fair dinkum now cockroach.
Give him whitefella inner guidance - script
all gone to shit, eh.
MARG
(alien)
You came and sprayed! Many die! Much sadness.
Grief of cockroach. Big Mother gone! But not before
cockroach save eggs. Now script must pay!
GREG BUNGARRA
This was easier to understand when I was playing
Keanu, the Nobel Prize-winning token black dude.
Okey dokey you cockroach-fella, you name im price.
MARG
(alien)
Cockroach must have final mutation. Must have Big Mother
from lab experiment!
GREG BUNGARRA
Righto. What whitefella get in return?
MARG
(alien)
Cockroach promise not to breed too much. Stay in dark.
Not come into kitchen at night.
(in her own voice)
Yeah, right, that's what they said last time.
GREG BUNGARRA
What about dat Timmy then? You fix im good?
MARG
(alien)
He carry cockroach spirit, think is demon undead.
Spirit of dying cockroaches speak. Timmy not self.
Also script department confused about genre.
GREG BUNGARRA
So youse mob'll re-breed from the parent larvae
stored at the lab using eggs stored in Timmy's brain,
but not come into the kitchen at night or do other
freaky cockroach shit?
MARG
(alien)
Pretty much. Ack! Garrrrg!
She emerges from her trance.
MARG
So what happened?
GREG BUNGARRA
Crikey mate just read the script pages -
anyway it's all sorted. Except - shit! -
forgot to ask how we get the eggs out of
Timmy's brain.
MARG
Oh, I'll do it next time I check him for lice.
Do you think we can trust them? I mean,
I know I'm being silly, but...
GREG BUNGARRA
Youse ever known a cockroach to lie?
Anyway, there's no money for the special effects,
so I reckon we'll be right.
MARG
Yes - unless Paramount puts in.
Damn...I wish...
GREG BUNGARRA
What?
MARG
I know I'm being silly, but I think we need to
somehow take over the script department.
They look at each other thoughtfully, thinking.
COCKROACH 1
Oh god, prawn laksa again. Jesus this suit is hot.
WAZZA CROCODILE
Tell me about it. I'm in straight latex man, they didn't have
time to put in a cotton lining or nothin.
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
(Kicking them out of the way)
Full latex bit parts down the back, assholes.
The COCKROACHES are roughly pushed to the end of the queue, where the bored grip assistants amuse themselves by glueing their zippers shut.
DAN HOPELESS
I had the strangest dream!
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
Don't wanna hear it. Hurry up with those bread rolls,
we don't have all day.
RAINBOW SERPENT
Tell me your dream, Dan.
DAN HOPELESS
Are you my spirit guide?
RAINBOW SERPENT
I am Rainbow Serpent, Dan. I am everything you are,
all that is, all that has been. Your dream is my dream.
BLUEY
Hey, dudes, get a room.
GREG EMU
Him rainbow serpent speak with forked tongue, I --
oh! shit! sorry, I forgot I got killed. (Goes back to being dead).
RAINBOW SERPENT
(Helping itself to the creamed cauliflower)
You see Dan? Your mind lacks self-will. Random universal elements
channel through you into being. Much confusion comes.
DAN HOPELESS
But is that not the way of art? My muse...
SERGIO LEONE
There is no art anymore. Television has destroyed our minds.
The castrating filth of reality cooking shows sickens me. The
sky grows smaller.
RAINBOW SERPENT
Your passion. The sound of horses dying in the war. The guns.
SERGIO LEONE
Now Ennio Morricone is reduced to elevator music, and bloated
fat tourists defile the places where we once filmed like gods.
HORSE
Well it wasn't all that great from my end let me tell you. My legs..
broken in the war...was there a time when we didn't have to be in the movies?
BLUEY
Now all the animal roles are CGI, and third rate comedians make a mockery
of our speech.
HORSE
Things were different in the desert. You could hear yourself think.
DAN HOPELESS
Oh, look, it's tiramisu for dessert.
SERGIO LEONE
Wretched Hollywood writers! You are dull and sick with excessive
catering choices. Your scripts are like drive-through donut store offal,
vomited onto the avenues of greed while the dog-turd tongues of
producers lick hungrily at the hemmorhoids of your pallid, tasteless dreams.
ENNIO MORRICONE
Somewhere there is a big sky, and a desert where men can stare without
blinking.
HORSE
In the desert, you can see what's coming. There are other horses,
and places to drink alone. The sky is vast at night. Dreams come.
RAINBOW SERPENT
The desert is inside you. It calls. The heart listens.
SERGIO LEONE, ENNIO MORRICONE, RAINBOW SERPENT and BLUEY all wander off to look for the desert. SERGIO LEONE's broken sobbing slowly fades into the distance as the catering crew clean up.
DAN HOPELESS
That was...did that happen? Was I awake?
Was there a dream, did I miss something that might have happened to me?
A strange silence falls over the cast and crew.
Scene 23. Exterior. Billabong.
The CROCODILE GANG, wearing their trademark flamboyant Mexican sombreros and black ponchos, are tormenting the PRODUCER in a filthy billabong. On the far bank sits DAN HOPELESS, assistant script writer, drinking grimly from a paper-bagged bottle, oblivious to the PRODUCER's screams.
PRODUCER
Aaagh! Aagh! Someone help me dammit!
(tries to text MELISSA)
WAZZA CROCODILE
Heh heh heh.
(Rolls him in the water once more)
PRODUCER
Okay okay dammit I promise - more dialogue,
and you can have the frickin' motorcycle scene,
but no flashbacks!
DAZZA CROCODILE
Heh heh heh. Ze senor, he tinks we want more
of los dialogues!
CROCODILE GANG
Heh heh heh. Ha ha ha!
DAN HOPELESS
This is hopeless. The script is completely out of control.
A gloved hand appears from behind, clamping down on his mouth and pulling him backwards into the bush. It's MARG? accompanied by GREG BUNGARRA (or was it GREG BOTTLE-O?) ?
MARG
(as MELISSA?)
Quiet. We have a plan.
DAN HOPELESS
Oh thank god.
GREG BUNGALOW
We chose dis secret room at the pub so we could
talk in private - me mate Bluey's checked it for bugs.
DAN HOPELESS
Aren't we at a billabong?
MELISSA
Whatever.
DAN HOPELESS
Weren't you Marg before?
MELISSA
Didn't we do the scene where we find out that
Marg is actually a DNA replicant posing as Melissa,
the seemingly innocent production assistant?
GREG BANGAGONG
No, that got canned.
MELISSA
Oh. Crap. OK I'll be Marg.
(Indicating GREG BAGOGROG)
Should he go back to being Keanu?
DAN HOPELESS
Oh god please make this stop.
GREG BILLABONG
That's why we're here. We want to take over
the script department and only you can help us.
DAN HOPELESS
I'll do anything! Just promise that you'll let me
kill myself afterward. Why aren't you talking in
character anymore?
GREG BILLAGONG
Oh! Shit. Um, him whitefella me help um big heaps.
Or something. Billabong.
The PRODUCER's screams in the background are irritating.
BLUEY
(reaching into his pouch, handing DAN a mobile phone)
Dan. Call the script department and get this re-written
as a pub scene, I can't think with that racket going on.
DAN HOPELESS
I told them no one would believe Mexican crocodiles,
look at this mess. Okay, I'll make the call.
Scene 24. Interior. Pub.
BRUCE DINGO herds the SCRIPTWRITERS into the pub at gunpoint, his shirt sleeves torn off from the street battle, revealing burly blood-stained biceps. The CROCODILE GANG drink shandies in a subdued manner; DAZZA starts to speak, but MARG deftly silences him with a blow from the butt of her machine gun. Two COCKROACHES sit at the bar, bored, cans of Emu Bitter in their claws as they watch the cricket results on the big screen TV.
PRODUCER
Goddammit! I said no freakin' bugs!
Doesn't anyone understand the word "budget" anymore?
COCKROACH 1
We're local mate.
GREG BUNGHOLE
Him cockroach beyond budget dreaming mate. You see um
Rainbow Serpent, big heaps powerful, speak to white man with--
DAN HOPELESS
Jesus Greg, shut the fuck up, the fake abo stuff is totally embarrassing.
GREG BUNGLEBUNGLE
Well write me some goddam decent dialogue then, christ.
DAN HOPELESS
I'm trying! God, how easy do you think it is, working without a
research department on these shit timeframes? I can't even keep
anyone's names straight.
BOB
Gosh, hey, people! People! We're all in this together - after all,
there's no "me" in "team".
COCKROACH 2
Yes there is, if you spell it backwards and transpose alternate letters;
while not exactly a palindrome, it can be grammatically...
(BRUCE DINGO gives him a warning look)
Well, whatever.
COCKROACH 1
Dunno why we're watching the cricket.
It just sits there, chirping. Does that thing get any other channels?
BLUEY
Look, we need to get focussed. Timmy here has an idea.
TIMMY
Mom, we can hack into the mainframe and like totally override
the automated system controls, Lucy at school showed me
how to do it.
MARG
Honey, that was Triassic Park VIII, you've got the wrong script.
BOB
Hey, what was that?
Everyone pauses, silent; a sinister scrabbling noise comes from the walls.
COCKROACH 1
Oh, bloody hell.
MISSY
Why? What's wrong, cockroach?
COCKROACH 1
I laid some eggs on my way down, totally forget about em.
Crikey.
(to the horrified pub crowd)
Sorry.
BOB DINGO
We're gonna need a bigger boat.
DAN HOPELESS suddenly tears the machine gun out of MARG's hands, rifle-butting her to the ground as he leaps on to the bar.
DAN HOPELESS
Godammit, that's enough! I'm taking over this crummy outfit.
You!
(to BOB DINGO)
Who the fuck are you?
BOB DINGO
Bob Dingo.
DAN HOPELESS
There is no Bob Dingo! I never wrote a character called Bob Dingo!
GREG BUNGLE BUNGLE
Oh, sorry, Dan, I meant to tell you - had a bit of a fiddle with the
script layout last night, buggered up some of the formatting.
DAN HOPELESS
And there are too many Gregs! I can't take any more! Aieeeee!
He fires wildly into the crowded bar, killing off most of the Gregs. BOB RAINBOW-SERPENT cautiously pokes his head in through the door, but DAN quickly takes him out with his left-handed Glock.
DAN HOPELESS
I don't know where all these fictional weapons are coming from,
but I'm lovin' it! Bring it on! Yeah! Whoo! Hoo-rah! I am gonna kick
me some ass like y'all nev---gaaahhh.
MARG rises up from behind the bar, silencing DAN with her trademark Vulcan nerve pinch.
TIMMY
Mom, that was awesome!
MISSY
Yeah fully sick Mom!
BOB
Oh honey I just go all gooey when I see you do that--
MARG
Shut the fuck up Bob you moron.
BOB
But sweetie pie, I--
MARG
I'm not your sweetie pie you idiot, I'm a trained actor.
She peels off her rubber Marg mask to reveal that she is in fact SIGOURNEY WEAVER.
PRODUCER
I can't afford all these star cameos dammit!
It's bad enough with these freakin' insects already!
COCKROACH 2
Shut up man, she's hot. At least pay her up until she gets her
top torn off or something.
MISSY
(lower lip trembling)
Y..you mean...you're not m..m..my mm..mom...?
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
I'm taking over this crappy film. You! (jabbing Bluey in the ribs)
Take the children outside and tie them up as bait.
Bruce Dingo, you take your shirt off, get makeup to put more sweat gel on,
and fashion a rudimentary machine gun turret over there by the window.
BRUCE DINGO
I'm a bit knackered love, this scene's been going on for several pages now.
Can we take a lunch break and come back with a new scene?
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
Good plan. Right everyone, that's lunch, we're back on at 12:30.
DAN HOPELESS suddenly tears the machine gun out of MARG's hands, rifle-butting her to the ground as he leaps on to the bar.
DAN HOPELESS
Godammit, that's enough! I'm taking over this crummy outfit.
You!
(to BOB DINGO)
Who the fuck are you?
BOB DINGO
Bob Dingo.
DAN HOPELESS
There is no Bob Dingo! I never wrote a character called Bob Dingo!
GREG BUNGLE BUNGLE
Oh, sorry, Dan, I meant to tell you - had a bit of a fiddle with the
script layout last night, buggered up some of the formatting.
DAN HOPELESS
And there are too many Gregs! I can't take any more! Aieeeee!
He fires wildly into the crowded bar, killing off most of the Gregs. BOB RAINBOW-SERPENT cautiously pokes his head in through the door, but DAN quickly takes him out with his left-handed Glock.
DAN HOPELESS
I don't know where all these fictional weapons are coming from,
but I'm lovin' it! Bring it on! Yeah! Whoo! Hoo-rah! I am gonna kick
me some ass like y'all nev---gaaahhh.
MARG rises up from behind the bar, silencing DAN with her trademark Vulcan nerve pinch.
TIMMY
Mom, that was awesome!
MISSY
Yeah fully sick Mom!
BOB
Oh honey I just go all gooey when I see you do that--
MARG
Shut the fuck up Bob you moron.
BOB
But sweetie pie, I--
MARG
I'm not your sweetie pie you idiot, I'm a trained actor.
She peels off her rubber Marg mask to reveal that she is in fact SIGOURNEY WEAVER.
PRODUCER
I can't afford all these star cameos dammit!
It's bad enough with these freakin' insects already!
COCKROACH 2
Shut up man, she's hot. At least pay her up until she gets her
top torn off or something.
MISSY
(lower lip trembling)
Y..you mean...you're not m..m..my mm..mom...?
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
I'm taking over this crappy film. You! (jabbing Bluey in the ribs)
Take the children outside and tie them up as bait.
Bruce Dingo, you take your shirt off, get makeup to put more sweat gel on,
and fashion a rudimentary machine gun turret over there by the window.
BRUCE DINGO
I'm a bit knackered love, this scene's been going on for several pages now.
Can we take a lunch break and come back with a new scene?
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
Good plan. Right everyone, that's lunch, we're back on at 12:30.
Scene 25. Exterior. Rainbow Serpent Park? In Meekatharra, In The Middle Of Western Australia? Or A Place In Dan's Slowly Crumbling Mind?
The tired actors and crew queue up at the catering truck.
COCKROACH 1
Oh god, prawn laksa again. Jesus this suit is hot.
WAZZA CROCODILE
Tell me about it. I'm in straight latex man, they didn't have
time to put in a cotton lining or nothin.
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
(Kicking them out of the way)
Full latex bit parts down the back, assholes.
The COCKROACHES are roughly pushed to the end of the queue, where the bored grip assistants amuse themselves by glueing their zippers shut.
DAN HOPELESS
I had the strangest dream!
SIGOURNEY WEAVER
Don't wanna hear it. Hurry up with those bread rolls,
we don't have all day.
RAINBOW SERPENT
Tell me your dream, Dan.
DAN HOPELESS
Are you my spirit guide?
RAINBOW SERPENT
I am Rainbow Serpent, Dan. I am everything you are,
all that is, all that has been. Your dream is my dream.
BLUEY
Hey, dudes, get a room.
GREG EMU
Him rainbow serpent speak with forked tongue, I --
oh! shit! sorry, I forgot I got killed. (Goes back to being dead).
RAINBOW SERPENT
(Helping itself to the creamed cauliflower)
You see Dan? Your mind lacks self-will. Random universal elements
channel through you into being. Much confusion comes.
DAN HOPELESS
But is that not the way of art? My muse...
SERGIO LEONE
There is no art anymore. Television has destroyed our minds.
The castrating filth of reality cooking shows sickens me. The
sky grows smaller.
RAINBOW SERPENT
Your passion. The sound of horses dying in the war. The guns.
SERGIO LEONE
Now Ennio Morricone is reduced to elevator music, and bloated
fat tourists defile the places where we once filmed like gods.
HORSE
Well it wasn't all that great from my end let me tell you. My legs..
broken in the war...was there a time when we didn't have to be in the movies?
BLUEY
Now all the animal roles are CGI, and third rate comedians make a mockery
of our speech.
HORSE
Things were different in the desert. You could hear yourself think.
DAN HOPELESS
Oh, look, it's tiramisu for dessert.
SERGIO LEONE
Wretched Hollywood writers! You are dull and sick with excessive
catering choices. Your scripts are like drive-through donut store offal,
vomited onto the avenues of greed while the dog-turd tongues of
producers lick hungrily at the hemmorhoids of your pallid, tasteless dreams.
ENNIO MORRICONE
Somewhere there is a big sky, and a desert where men can stare without
blinking.
HORSE
In the desert, you can see what's coming. There are other horses,
and places to drink alone. The sky is vast at night. Dreams come.
RAINBOW SERPENT
The desert is inside you. It calls. The heart listens.
SERGIO LEONE, ENNIO MORRICONE, RAINBOW SERPENT and BLUEY all wander off to look for the desert. SERGIO LEONE's broken sobbing slowly fades into the distance as the catering crew clean up.
DAN HOPELESS
That was...did that happen? Was I awake?
Was there a dream, did I miss something that might have happened to me?
A strange silence falls over the cast and crew.
