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It’s Always Snowy in Montreal — Episode 02: ‘Woolie Makes a Snuff Film’ (SCRIPT)
On a Friday
Somewhere in Montreal, QC
Fade in — Subway interior
[The zaibatsu are shown standing together, waiting for the metro to arrive. Matt and Pat are engaged in a heated argument while Woolie and Liam stand to the side pretending as if they don’t know them]
MATT: You can’t ACTUALLY believe that, right? You’re fucking with me, surely.
PAT: Believe what you want to believe, man. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you once shit goes down. First Beastars, and now Animal Crossing? In such a precise window of time? Nope, no way that’s a coincidence.
[Matt throws up his hands, exasperated]
MATT: Furries are NOT brainwashing the general population!
PAT: I NEVER SAID IT WAS BRAINWASHING. They’re just—They’re softening us up. Drip-feeding little bits of furry propaganda into pop culture, until all of a sudden, one day, WHAM — Justin Trudeau says it’s legal to fuck dalmatians.
MATT: People have been making furry cartoons and shit for decades and you’re only taking issue with it now?
PAT: That’s the thing, though! They’ve been playing the long con! It all started in the 80’s with Thundercats. Now, that was just them dipping their toes in the water, because those characters were mostly human… but then Redwall happens…TMNT…Space Jam…Zootopia…and now look at us with Beastars: Teenage girls worldwide want to bang that stupid sexy deer wearing the blazer.
MATT: I don’t—
PAT: I mean, you want hard, concrete evidence? Look no further than the Sonic fandom. Tens of thousands of hours have been spent drawing fan-art of Sonic getting impregnated and pissed on! That poor hedgehog has suffered all manner of buggery and cock and ball torture at the hands of his sexually confused, thirteen year old playerbase and did SEGA discourage that behaviour? No, THEY MADE AN OFFICIAL GAME WHERE YOU CREATE YOUR VERY OWN SONIC OC. They knew EXACTLY what they were doing.
MATT: THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE THOUGH. WHAT COULD THE GOVERNMENT POSSIBLY GAIN FROM TURNING THE WORLD INTO FURRIES?
MATT: …C’mon, man.
PAT: I’m serious. They’ve been biding their time, waiting in the shadows and slowly but surely warming us up to the prospect of living with animal-people. Y’know, some cute comics here, a game there. Then, when they finally integrate with society, we’re meant to welcome them with open arms!
PAT: Well, I’m not falling for it, Matt. Everyone thinks living with anthros would be fun and whimsical, like a Disney movie. Then one day you get in a fender bender and a fucking SHARK fucking WALKS out of the Volvo you just hit! There wouldn’t be enough free space in my pants to handle how much I’d shit myself. Besides, you really want to live in a world filled with sentient horse-men? None of us could ever get a girlfriend again! They have cocks the size of baseball bats! If they learn how to not think all stupid it’s game over for the rest of us. ‘Horseporn.com’ would go from a funny punchline to a harbinger of humanity’s fate.
[Woolie, sensing that the argument is about to devolve into an embarrassing slap-fight, intervenes and attempts to divert attention away from the ongoing discussion]
WOOLIE: SO — Uh, you mentioned Animal Crossing. How about that, huh? There’ve been so many big games coming out lately!
[Just as Woolie says this, three men arrive to stand beside the Zaibatsu on the train platform. Two of the men have hockey jerseys worn atop several layers of polos, each collar individually popped. The third man notably has pink dreads and all designer clothing]
[one of the polo boys smacks Woolie on his shoulder]
MAN #1: AHAHA! Yo, I heard you mention the ‘big game.’ You excited for tonight, bro?
WOOLIE: Uh, I don’t—
MAN #2: DAWG, it’s going to get crazy. McDougall’s been on fire this series, but you KNOW he’s gotta be feeling that tear in his ACL. And with the Scarborough Beavers having such a hella strong defence, that’ll really hurt the team tonight, ‘nam sayin’?
WOOLIE: I think there’s been a—
[the man with the pink dreads stumbles forward, holding a white styrofoam cup with suspicious purple liquid sloshing around inside]
PINK DREADS: Skrr skrrrrr skrrrrr, ayy yuh. Hunnid on my wrist. Brrr. Brrr. Skinny bitches. Hrrrnng.
[One of the other strangers gestures to his unintelligible companion]
MAN #1: That’s the homie, Lil BigPlanet. He said that ‘those four gents look to be an affable sort’ and that he’s ‘interested in hearing your predictions concerning tonight’s sporting event.’
WOOLIE: Yeah, I’m sorry, uh, what was your name?
MAN #1: The name’s Vance Chadrick. My friend here is Tevin — JUST Tevin. And you already met the homie Lil Bigplanet. His real name’s Demetrius but he don’t like to be called that on account of his tragic upbringing.
[Lil Bigplanet ‘Skr skrr skrrrs’ forlornly]
*WOOLIE: Right. Well, Vance, there’s been a misunderstanding. We were actually talking about ‘big games’ in general, not any one particular big game.
TEVIN: Hol’ up… you mean, like, Scrabble or some shit?
WOOLIE: No, like…like VIDEO games…haha.
[Vance and Tevin share a pointed look before bursting out laughing]
VANCE: VIDEO GAMES? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, BRO?
TEVIN: For a minute there, we thought you were some real ones. Turns out you’re just a bunch of man-children.
VANCE: One time, when I was eleven, my moms bought me a Burger King meal and it came with a free video game demo disc. I didn’t even eat the food, because I was afraid some DWEEB might’ve rubbed off on my fries.
[Tevin reaches out and grabs Woolie by his collar, pulling him closer so they’re face to face]
TEVIN: Just so you know, I’d be saying some real homophobic stuff to you right now if it weren’t for me having grown as a person in the past few years. The old me would have implied that liking video games was ‘gay,’ and in so doing would be implying that being gay made you lesser. BUT I’VE SINCE LEARNED THAT IS NOT THE CASE BECAUSE MY LITTLE BROTHER DAVE GOT MARRIED TO HIS LONGTERM PARTNER JUST LAST SUMMER AND IT WAS AN ENCHANTING EVENING.
VANCE: Yeah, talk your shit, Big Tev! We’re socially conscious bullies, that’s our gimmick!
TEVIN: But I don’t need to judge you by your race, sexual preference or economic status. My counsellor says that’d be a micro-aggression…but he didn’t say anything about MAJOR AGGRESSIONS.
[Tevin lunges forward and punches Woolie right in his solar plexus, doubling him over and bringing him to his knees, wheezing]
[Liam rushes forward to see if Woolie is alright]
LIAM: What the hell, guys?! How can you even hate video game so much when you’re hanging out with a guy named fucking ‘Lil Bigplanet’?
LILBIGPLANET: Ice in my cup, ice on my wrist. Ice on my neck, ice on my bitch…
TEVIN: The homie, Lil BP, says that the name was purely coincidental, and that his lawyers are currently in talks with Sony...He also called you a pussy, bruh.
[The three men step over Woolie’s body and board the metro that just arrived]
TEVIN: It’s been real, nerds. We have a big game to get to, not that you’d know the feeling.
VANCE: YEAH, LATER FAGS.
[Tevin punches Vance in the arm and says ‘We talked about that word, yo.’ as the doors close and the metro speeds away]
[Once the train has long since left earshot, Matt calls after it: “YEAH, YOU BETTER RUN.”]
[Pat goes over to help Liam hoist Woolie to his feet]
PAT: Sorry, man. I would have helped you…but then that would have put ME in danger and I…well, I just didn’t want that.
[Woolie angrily brushes the dirt off his pants and clutches his stomach]
WOOLIE: I’m just so sick of people thinking we aren’t real men because we aren’t into sports.
MATT: I go lawn bowling with my gram-gram sometimes, so don’t group me in with you guys…
WOOLIE: And it’s not like I’m completely clueless! I box a little, y’know? I used to play football! You remember?
PAT: Yeah, you killed that one guy.
LIAM: Killed that guy one time, yeah…
WOOLIE: It’s just—watching sports is so…boring! If they made a sport that was more exciting, maybe we wouldn’t—
[Woolie’s eyes shoot open and he looks at the other guys excitedly]
WOOLIE: What if we just made our own sport?!
PAT: No no no. C’mon. We’ve dabbled in theft and human trafficking but sports is where I draw the line, Woolie. I still have nightmares about gym class. My thighs would rub together and—
WOOLIE: We aren’t the ones that’ll be playing it, dipshit! We CREATE the most radical sport of all time! Then, not only will we have something dope to watch, but people also won’t be able to belittle us for not knowing anything about sports anymore!
PAT: I really don’t think—
WOOLIE: Plus, we’ll make a load of money from it!
PAT: I’ve decided to help you because you are my dear friend. But… we don’t know anything about sports. How’re we going to…make one?
WOOLIE: Sports are just games! Our JOB is literally just playing games! If your typical meathead can understand the intricacies of sports, how hard could it be for us to make one of our own?
TITLE CARD: ‘Woolie Makes a Snuff Film’
INTERIOR: HIGH SCHOOL GYM
[Woolie and Pat are alone in an empty gymnasium. Pat is dressed as he usually is, whereas Woolie is dressed in a weirdly formal tweed suit. Pat is sitting in a fold-up steel chair and Woolie has set up a projector along with several slides]
PAT: So, uh…what’re we doing here, man?
WOOLIE: I’ve spent the past several weeks creating and perfecting the ULTIMATE sports experience. I’ve prepared a small presentation to show you the finished product.
PAT: No, sure and I’m super excited and all but…what’s with the suit?
WOOLIE: Well…figured it’s a big moment, so I dressed up for it.
PAT: …but it’s just the two of us.
WOOLIE: So what? Just—Just don’t worry about the suit, it’s not important.
PAT: I feel like I have to worry about the suit, is the thing. Like, I can’t tell whether you’re trying to intimidate me or if you’re trying to fuck me or…
WOOLIE: That’s not—
PAT: Super weird, just two friends alone in a private meeting, and one of ‘em dresses up like it’s prom night or something. And you have a wife, man. Me and Paige are also doing really well, so…
PAT: And when you and Liam started getting weird I felt like it wasn’t my place to say anything. Like, it’s 2020 and the kids are all about polyamory, but I don’t want to be a part of it, myself.
WOOLIE: JUST LISTEN TO M—
PAT: And I don’t look good in a suit man, trust me. So if that’s like, your thing or whatever, look elsewhere. Last time I shaved my beard off, me and Paige went to dinner and I happened to wear a suit, right? An old lady in our apartment saw us holding hands and she assumed Paige was my mom and that she was bringing me to my bar mitzvah and—
WOOLIE: I’M NOT TRYING TO FUCK YOU. I’M NOT TRYING TO FUCK YOU, PAT. I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE NICE TO WEAR A SUIT FOR ONCE. THIS JOB DOESN’T GIVE US MANY OPPORTUNITIES TO DRESS NICELY AND I JUST WANTED TO WEAR A FUCKING SUIT. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BUST MY BALLS OVER IT. JESUS CHRIST.
[Pat is visibly taken aback by Woolie’s outburst]
PAT: Geez, okay. I’m sorry.
WOOLIE: GODDAMNIT, PAT.
PAT: I’m sorry, do your presentation. I want to hear it. Go ahead. I’m sorry.
[Woolie takes a moment to loosen his tie and rein in his temper]
WOOLIE: Alright, fine, just let me dim the lights…
[Woolie jogs over to the entrance, but finds that the lights can only turn on or off]
WOOLIE: Are you fucking ser— they don’t have a dimmer switch!
PAT: Why would they need a dimmer switch in a highschool, Woolie? They use the gym to play dodgeball and run laps, not host orgies and listen to Sade. I don’t even want to know what you think the climbing ropes are for—
WOOLIE: Fine! I’ll do it in the dark. I’ll do my presentation in the dark wearing a suit like a stupid asshole! Dickhead!
[Woolie shows several slides of popular sports through human history]
WOOLIE: As mankind has progressed…so too has our taste in sports. Over the years, and especially in these modern times, we require more contact, more action, more style, more…stimuli. The goal of this project is to simply cut to the end — to take each ingredient that makes up sports as we know it, and push them as far as we possibly can. I call it…
[Woolie flips over to the next slide, revealing the title and what can only be described as softcore pornography]
[Pat cocks an eyebrow and nods contemplatively, as if he’s saying ‘Alright, you have my attention, cutie’ with his accursed ginger eyes]
WOOLIE: Now, you’re probably wondering: Ultima-brawl? Don’t you mean Ultima-BALL? Wrong! Why? Because balls are for cowards! The only balls you need to concern yourself with are the big, hefty sacks swinging between the legs of our brave combatants, or ‘brawlers’ as they will officially be known.
[Pat sits in stunned silence as Woolie pulls out a strange object from underneath the desk. It is reminiscent of a giant tabletop die and has several brightly flashing coils wrapped all around it]
WOOLIE: We don’t use balls, we use THIS. Balls are too soft. People use balls to play catch with their kids. If you are comfortable throwing an object at your six year old son, chances are it has no place in a real man’s game—
[Woolie slams the object down onto the desk. It emits a solid THUNK sound on contact and releases several crackling sparks of raw electricity]
WOOLIE: No, THIS is the real deal. It is an icosahedron made from hard plastic and it is rigged to shock you if you hold on to it for more than six seconds. Why? No more ball hoggers, that’s why! It is the proverbial ‘hot potato’ brought to life. The Zeus-brawl (we’re calling it the zeus-brawl, by the way) encourages frequent passing and makes for much more smooth, entertaining play.
[Woolie waves him off and wheels out a mannequin wearing a bunch of strange futuristic garments]
WOOLIE: On to uniforms! First things first, take note of the skintight, aerodynamic shorts. It’s really the only article of ‘clothing’ the brawlers will be wearing, apart from their backpacks and their helmets.
[Pat tactfully avoids drawing attention to the fact that the ‘uniform’ looks like a makeshift BDSM outfit, because he knows Woolie is still struggling with accepting that part of himself]
WOOLIE: I’ll get to that in a minute. For now, I want to draw your attention to the fact that there is no shirt — No jersey. That’s because, again, Ultima-brawl is all about cutting the bullshit and pushing all facets of sports-entertainment to their natural conclusions. So we don’t need shirts! We don’t need ‘teams!’ At least—not the teams you’re thinking of. You’ve heard of the term ‘shirts versus skins? Well, I’m proposing...
[Woolie pulls up a new slide, showing a shirtless black man and a shirtless white man wrestling one another]
WOOLIE: Skins versus skins.
PAT: Woolie! You can’t keep trying to incite race wars! This is getting ridiculous!
WOOLIE: But haven’t sports always been about race wars? About who’s ‘City’ is superior? Give me a break. I’m just the first one to be honest about it. The first one to embrace it! Fact is, humans need an outlet to vent their frustrations and I think Ultima-brawl can be that release. A safe place where THE WHOLE POINT is to fight someone else because they’re different than you! That way you get it all out of your system and stop yourself from carrying that hatred into your personal or professional life.
PAT: …Are you serious? Woolie, this is a slippery slope. This is like… how The Purge starts.
WOOLIE: And I’ve made my support for The Purge known in the past, but that’s neither here nor there. Look, am I saying that if I went back in time and made the Germans play the Jewish community in a nice, safe, controlled game of Ultima-brawl that MAYBE things might’ve turned out differently? Who knows? What I am saying is if we get a bunch of Israelis and Palestinians to play a quick match, they might work out their issues and I could have a Nobel Prize coming my way for bringing peace to the east. But enough of that—
[Woolie spins the mannequin around, showing off a high-tech backpack-like device with an LED display]
WOOLIE: This is the Rad-Counter. If there’s one thing that I think sports can take away from video games, it’s that style metres make everything better. Now, each brawler will have their own bike, skateboard, rollerblades etcetera, to ride around the Ultima-court. Said court will of course be littered with quarter-pipes, halfpipes, loops, pits and other obstacles—
WOOLIE: When the brawlers do some rad shit like tricks or combos, the judges will award that brawler and their team style points, as displayed on these backpacks. Cultivating style metre is CRUCIAL because the team leader spends those style points to open the opposing team’s hatch for a few seconds, which is where you throw the zeus-brawl to score. Not a HOOP, that’s what my auntie wears in her ears. Not a NET, that’s what my auntie wears under her wig. A fucking HATCH. A MAN hatch.
WOOLIE: In short, you HAVE to do cool shit in order to open the hatch and score points to win the game. Because every other sport has fuckers that lame it out and shoot layups all game. No, shut up though. You NEED to show off here. You NEED to do combo.
WOOLIE: And the leader can also choose to spend the team’s rad-points on other perks like dropping weapons into the arena or—
PAT: I’ve gotta be honest here, man.
[Woolie looks down and fiddles with his thumbs]
PAT: This is…PERFECT.
[Woolie breathes a sigh of relief]
WOOLIE: Phew, okay. Haha, you had me worried there for a minute. And hey, best part is? I’ve already paid for ALL the equipment AND I’ve set up a practice match to show off to potential investors.
PAT: Holy shit! How’d you pay for all that?!
[Woolie’s face pales and he stares blankly into the distance]
SCENE CHANGE — FLASHBACK
[Woolie is shown nervously walking through a creaky old manor. The wallpaper is torn and mold can be seen spreading in a corner]
[Woolie gulps and nervously traverses a long, dark hallway. At the very end of the hall, he knocks on a battered oak door. Dust falls off its surface in small clouds as he raps his knuckles against it]
[the door seemingly opens on its own and Woolie enters the nearly pitch black room. The only thing visible is the silhouette of a bald man in an armchair as he watches a TV stuck on a static screen]
[Woolie opens his mouth to greet his host, but he’s interrupted before he can speak]
PLAGUE: Hello, Woolie.
WOOLIE: H-Hey pla—
[Woolie has to break off his sentence as a strange scent hits his nostrils, causing him to retch and gag on his words]
WOOLIE: What—What is that SMELL, Plague?
PLAGUE: …Man can find all sorts of things out in the woods.
[A stray breeze shuts the door behind Woolie, causing him to startle briefly]
WOOLIE: …Right. Anyway, I—
[A hand shoots out of the darkness and it’s cold, gnarled fingers lock themselves around Woolie’s wrist]
PLAGUE: Talkin’ of smells, you’re smelling awfully nice today, Woolie. Is that [sniff] vanilla body wash I’m detecting? You usually smell nice for me when you want something. Is that it, Woolie? Do you want something from me? Or did you just come to spend some time with your good friend, Plague? No…let me guess. You want some more of my money.
WOOLIE: I—I don’t, it’s— I was just—
PLAGUE: Have you ever choked someone before, Woolie? And I don’t mean choking like a stagnant young couple trying to spice up their private life. I mean, have you ever truly choked another human being before?
[the hand moves up to gently hold onto Woolie’s throat, just under his adam’s apple]
PLAGUE: People are always so surprised at how malleable the human body is, in their last moments. We like to think of ourselves as concrete and unchanging, but under the right pair of thumbs we become as clay to a sculptor. If you ever really make an evening out of pressing your hands down on someone, it’s like you aren’t even holding a neck by the end of it. The flesh and the skin become so ruined that all you really have left to hold onto is the vertebrae and the windpipe. It almost feels as if you’re squeezing a sopping wet length of rope. Like you’re a fisherman standing at the edge of a pier, hauling in his morning catch…
WOOLIE: Please, Plague, I— I didn’t mean—
PLAGUE: Oh, you didn’t mean what, Woolie? You didn’t mean—I DON’T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU MEANT. TAKE YOUR MONEY, WOOLIE. TAKE YOUR WHORE MONEY AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT.
[The scene changes back to the gymnasium, as Pat snaps his fingers in front of Woolie’s face to break him out of his reverie. Woolie wipes sweat and a stray tear from his face and shrugs pat off]
WOOLIE: Never mind how I got the cash, just be at the rec centre this Friday for the practice match…
[Woolie quickly exits the gym, shaking, as Pat calls after him]
PAT: I’ll be there! And hey, feel better Woolz, alright?
[Once Woolie turns the corner, Pat immediately pulls out his cell, dials a number and holds it to his ear]
PAT: Hey stinky. I’m like 99% sure that Woolie just tried to seduce me…Yeah…What? No, I didn’t do it! It’s Woolie, he’s my friend!...I don’t CARE what you read in your doujins, Paige! That’s super weird. YOU’RE super weird…You’re lucky you’re really hot and you do that one thing with your thumb or I wouldn’t put up with you.
SCENE CHANGE – REC CENTRE — FRIDAY
[Woolie, Pat, Matt, Liam and Paige are all sitting in the bleachers in anticipation for the game]
WOOLIE: Oh man, I’m pumped guys! Like, I’m nervous, sure, but I’m feeling good about this. Is this how all sports fans feel? Maybe we really have been missing out.
PAT: Well, you should be excited man. You earned this. Hey, where did you find all these people anyway? The crew and the players and stuff?
WOOLIE: Oh, I uh, actually don’t know really. While we ironed out the mechanics, I asked Matt and Liam to find playe—sorry, BRAWLERS for us.
LIAM: Yeah, well, turns out a lot of professional athletes were’t interested for some reason…
MATT: Probably a bit cutting edge for most people. Ultima-brawl is too avant-garde of a concept for the common man to comprehend.
PAIGE: Don’t worry though, Woolie. You’ll find your niche. You’ll be like the David Lynch of sweaty man-touching.
WOOLIE: Well…if you couldn’t find any actual athletes, where’d you find the players?
MATT: After we got shut down by them, we asked ourselves: what group of people are the easiest to exploit for your own gain?
ALL AT ONCE: Homeless people.
MATT: Exactly. But again, that didn’t work out because apparently Pat is engaged in some sort of ‘blood feud’ with the entirety of Montreal’s homeless population and they were reluctant to approach us.
PAT: Ugh…I’d have been willing to compromise and not try to cull any of them during the game. Bums need to grow up and learn to put personal feelings aside for the sake of professionalism. It’s no wonder they can’t hold down a job.
LIAM: We’d all but given up on finding anybody, when I had an idea of my own! Prisoners! Yeah, so we just moseyed on down to the penitentiary and bailed a bunch of people out on the one condition that they’d play one game of Ultima-brawl for us, no questions asked.
WOOLIE: Oh…but they’re, like…cool, yeah? They won’t freak out on each other or anything?
MATT: Give us a little credit, man. We didn’t bail out murderers. Just people who got arrested for assault and stuff.
MATT: Well, we needed to find athletic people, Woolie! Most fit people in jail are in for violent crimes. It isn’t like we could have drafted a bunch of buff pedophiles or something, because buff pedophiles don’t exist! If buff pedophiles did exist, there wouldn’t be any children left.
LIAM: It’ll be fine! They just got out of jail! You think they’re eager to immediately get thrown back in? Just relax, Woolie.
[the lights in the building go out. Smoke fills the arena and lasers flicker through the clouds]
WOOLIE: SHHH, It’s starting!
[the announcer’s voice echoes throughout the arena. It sounds eerily similar to the announcer from Unreal Tournament]
ANNOUNCER: GOOD EVENING, EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO THE INAUGURAL MATCH OF THE SOON TO BE GREATEST SPORT ON PLANET EARTH, IIIIIIIIT’S UUUUUULTIMA-BRAAAAAWL. BRAWL…Brawl…brawl
[Woolie whoops/shrieks at an uncomfortable volume, tenting visible in his jeans]
[from either end of the arena, the opposing teams emerge from their respective hatches]
ANNOUNCER: COMING IN FIRST, WE HAVE…We, uh…sorry, is this a typo? No? A-Alright. SORRY FOLKS, COMING IN FIRST WE HAVE THE Uh—THE WHITE? TEAM!
[The white team awkwardly shuffles in place, clearly uncomfortable and hoping this isn’t being streamed online because they don’t want to end up in a Huffington Post article or some shit]
ANNOUNCER: AND ON THE OTHER SIDE, WE HAVE…Christ. Seriously? Fine, fine. ON THE OTHER SIDE WE HAVE THE…BLACKS. God…
[The black players approach the centre of the arena on their bikes and skateboards, equally as uncomfortable as the white team]
[Both teams appear to take a moment to talk, shake hands and assure one another that they all think this is equally fucked up]
[Woolie throws popcorn at the brawlers, causing them to break apart]
WOOLIE: NONE OF THAT! BE PROGRESSIVE AND PEACEFUL AFTER THE GAME’S OVER. RIGHT NOW I NEED YOUR SCORN AND MALICE OR THIS WHOLE THING FALLS APART!
[Now that Woolie has caught the brawlers attention, one of the players heads perks up and he gestures at Woolie]
BRAWLER: YO! YOU’RE THAT DUDE FROM A MONTH BACK! C’MERE A MINUTE!
[Woolie, not recognizing the figure, looks to his friends uncertainly. When he’s only met with equally oblivious shrugs he makes his way down the bleachers to speak with the mystery man at the edge of the arena]
WOOLIE: Sorry, do we know each other?
[The man looks confused for a moment before understanding dawns in his eyes and he removes the helmet that had been obscuring most of his face]
[Woolie frowns when he recognizes the man as one of the three strangers that had humiliated him at the metro station several weeks prior]
TEVIN: Before you say anything, I know you’re mad, yo. And… and you should be.
WOOLIE: Yeah, I’m fucking mad, I—wait, what?
TEVIN: Yeah… that night, me and my boys, we…we had one too many to drink. It’s no excuse for our behaviour but…you mentioned video games and it just set me off man. I’m so sorry. Seriously, bruh.
WOOLIE: Even IF you were drunk, how could VIDEO GAMES possibly make you so furious at someone you don’t even know?
[Tevin sighs and gestures to a member of the black team. Woolie can see pink dreads peaking out of the bottom of the brawler’s helmet and he instantly connects the dots]
TEVIN: You remember the homie, Lil Bigplanet? You remember he talked…funny?
WOOLIE: I mean, I saw the lean in his cup so I just figured—
TEVIN: Nah, that wasn’t lean. That was Pepto Bismol. Homie had an upset tummy. No, the reason he talks funny is…Y’see, when he was a kid he was cleaning out his closet and… he dropped a PS3 on his head.
WOOLIE: Like…a PS3 slim or—?
[Tevin now has tears welling up in his eyes]
TEVIN: Nah, one of them original fat bitches they released back in ’06.
[Woolie cringes and hisses through his teeth, looking upon Lil Bigplanet with pity as he stumbles around the arena]
WOOLIE: God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. At least it wasn’t an original Xbox or he might not be with us.
TEVIN: Nah, you couldn’t have known. It’s just—Me, Vance and Lil BP? We’re like brothers, man. So whenever someone mentions video games now it gets me so mad…and with us drinking that night…
WOOLIE: Hey, don’t even worry about—
TEVIN: No! Like I said, there ain’t no excuse for the way we acted! The next morning…we all felt so guilty we turned ourselves in to the police.
[Woolie is beginning to feel uncomfortable guilt-sweat pool in the bottom of his boxers]
[Tevin grins a great toothy smile at Woolie, warmth and gratitude clear in his eyes]
TEVIN: But then who turns out to make our bail but the guy we wronged in the first place! If that isn’t the lord showing me the way, then I don’t know what is! Bless you for this opportunity, bro! Maybe we all can hang out after the game’s over!
WOOLIE: Y’know, you don’t really HAVE to play, haha…
TEVIN: Please, it’s the LEAST I can do dawg. Wish me luck!
[Woolie walks back to his seat on unsteady feet. Once he sits back down, Pat eyes him warily]
PAT: You okay, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.
WOOLIE: Yeah…Hey, you think the game is safe, right? Like, the players won’t get hurt too bad?
PAT: …I mean…
WOOLIE: Oh god, oh fuck—
[Paige leans over and rests her hand on Woolie’s shoulder]
PAIGE: Don’t worry, Woolie. As the voice of reason in the group I took it upon myself to make sure things wouldn’t get out of hand.
WOOLIE: Thank fuck…God…Good. Good, good. What did you do? You talked to the players beforehand? Told them to take it easy?
PAIGE: Nope, I spiked their Gatorade with stuff to mellow them out so that they’ll play nicely.
[Woolie, growing concerned again, cocks his brow and faces Paige directly]
WOOLIE: You spiked—? What did—What did you spike their drinks with? Molly? Xanax?
PAIGE: No, that’s the stuff rappers take and rapper are scary so…
WOOLIE: What the fuck did you put in the Gatorade, Paige?!
PAIGE: Just some bath salts!
[Matt sprays cookie crumbs out of his mouth as Liam’s hand clenches and ruptures his Capri Sun]
[Pat shoves Woolie’s panic-stricken form aside to grip his girlfriend’s shoulders tightly]
PAT: YOU DOSED A BUNCH OF VIOLENT, HALF-NAKED CRIMINALS WITH BATH SALTS?
[Paige looks around at her friends nervously]
PAIGE: Is that…bad? It’s just—baths are so relaxing! So I thought drinking it would feel…relaxing? Like taking a bath!
PAT: PAIGE. FUCK. WHY.
PAIGE: WELL IF IT’S BAD FOR YOU THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE CALLED IT BATH SALTS! IT SOUNDS SO NICE, HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!
[As the zaibatsu panic and argue amongst themselves, the siren sounds, signalling the beginning of the game]
[Extremely dated, horny european music blasts through the arena as the now-crazed brawlers charge each other on their bikes and skateboards]
[Woolie watches in abject horror as the players brutalize and maim one another, practically frothing at the mouths in their hysteria]
ANNOUNCER: WHITE TEAM HAS AMASSED 2500 RAD POINTS. SHRED-SCALIBUR HAS ENTERED THE ARENA.
[a massive greatsword is dropped in front of the white leader, who immediately picks it up and swipes at one of his own teammates]
LIAM: YOU PUT A FUCKING SWORD IN THE GAME, WOOLIE?!
WOOLIE: It’s—It’s blunt. You can’t really stab someone with it…I—I thought it would be cool, but…God, he’s really bludgeoning people with it. I think I’m gonna hurl, dude—
[Matt slaps Woolie across his face]
MATT: Snap out of it, man! We gotta cut our losses and cheese it before the 5-0 shows up!
[Woolie nods, dazed, and moves to run away with the group when he sees Tevin in the middle of the arena crying over Vance’s bloodied body]
WOOLIE: You guys go without me! I have to save them!
[Instead of protesting, the gang immediately leaves without Woolie because they are all assholes]
[In his haste to reach the arena as fast as possible, Woolie knocks over the remaining Gatorade onto the ultima-brawl, causing it to short-circuit and set a low-hanging banner aflame. The fire quickly spreads and in the time it takes Woolie to dodge the berzerking convicts and reach Tevin, the flames have almost completely engulfed the arena]
TEVIN: Yo, y-you came for us…
WOOLIE: Of course I did. Is he—?
[Woolie gestures down at Vance’s body]
TEVIN: He’s gone, yo. He’s really gone…He was one month away from finishing law school, man…What’re me and Lil Bigplanet going to do without—Wait, where’s the homie Lil Bigplanet?!He was with the Black Team last I saw him…! I gotta find him, yo! I can’t lose them both!
[Woolie looks up and spots Lil BP scoring on his own team and doing a victory dance, seemingly oblivious to the bloodshed around him]
ANNOUNCER: BOTH TEAMS HAVE COLLECTIVELY GAINED 8000 RAD POINTS. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, ULTIMA-FANS. RELEASING THE BEAST-QUALIZER.
[Woolie falls back in fear as an air-raid siren sounds and a plate-armoured cape buffalo charges into the arena]
WOOLIE: IS THAT—IS THAT A FUCKING BULL? I DIDN’T EVEN ORDER A BULL. WHO PUT A FUCKING BULL IN THE GAME?
[The buffalo makes short work of the drugged-out criminals, methodically stalking the arena and goring them one-by-one. Finally, it sets it’s eyes on Lil Bigplanet who merely tilts his head and lets out an inquisitive ‘Skrr skrr?’ in response to the buffalo’s attention]
[The buffalo stomps its hooves and charges at the unmoving Lil BP, who waits with open arms as if anticipating a friendly hug]
TEVIN: DEMETRIUS! NOOO!
[Tevin sprints forward and attempts to intercept the blow, but can’t stop the buffalo’s momentum. The buffalo’s horn pierces Tevin’s abdomen but continues rushing forward, impaling Lil BP as well. The two adults corpses throw the buffalo’s balance off and it careens into the arena barrier, snapping its own neck and dying instantly]
[A combination of terror, smoke inhalation and blood loss causes Woolie’s to drop to his knees, and then face flat to the ground, unconscious]
SCENE CHANGE — INTERIOR — HOSPITAL ROOM
[The shot remains out of focus as Woolie opens his eyes, after hearing a disembodied voice call for him]
VOICE: C’mon, buddy. Got someone here who has some questions for you…
VOICE: [sigh] Bayonetta.
[Woolie’s eyes shoot open and he snaps up to a sitting position as if someone had blasted him with smelling salts]
WOOLIE: What’s—Where am I?
[Woolie’s blurry vision focuses and he takes in his surroundings. He is in a hospital bed, with a nervous looking Pat sitting at his side and an imposing man with an officer’s badge looming over him]
PAT: Hey man, this uh, friendly police officer just has a few small questions for you. I already spoke to him about how WE DON’T KNOW ANYTHING, but he wanted to make sure that you DON’T KNOW ANYTHING, so—
DETECTIVE: Now, settle down, son. You aren’t in any trouble. You’re clearly a victim in all this. This is just procedure. Now, apparently there was some homoerotic cult engaging in blood sports. We ID’d most of the murder victims from the tapes these sickos were filming, but we couldn’t get a clear image of the leaders. Now, clearly, you two aren’t involved—
[Woolie holds up a hand to cut the detective off]
WOOLIE: Hold on. What’s that supposed to mean? We clearly weren’t involved? What’s that about?
DETECTIVE: Well, no offence fellas but you two don’t exactly seem like the sporting type to me.
WOOLIE: We’re sporting! We’re athletic! Where do you get off judging us? For all you know, I could have been the cause of all this!
DETECTIVE: Is that so…
[Pat steps between Woolie and the cop]
PAT: Sorry, officer! My friend is still clearly a little out of it, what with his condition and all. Let me just get a quick word with him—
[Pat roughly pulls Woolie over to the corner of the room and begins angrily whispering with him]
PAT: What the HELL do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get us arrested?!
WOOLIE: He thinks we’re a bunch of wussies!
PAT: We are a bunch of fucking wussies! I pee sitting down! Who cares? He’s letting us go!
WOOLIE: I can’t, man. Not this time. We’ve fucked up before, but never this bad. So many people died, Pat! That’s on me! Don’t worry, I’ll leave you out of my confession.
WOOLIE: You know those guys that punched me? They felt so horrible about it they turned themselves in the next day! And now they’re dead because of me…It’s only fair that I follow their example and take responsibility for my actions. Goodbye, Pat…
[Woolie and Pat both approach the detective at once, both speaking over one another until the cop raises a hand to silence them]
DETECTIVE: Now, I was going to let you boys go, but you started acting real cagey just now. So unless you can give me a name to go off of here I’m afraid I’ll have to bring you in for further questioning.
WOOLIE: There’s no need for that, sir. I know who did it. It was m—
PAT: HEY, real quick, before we continue—how bad did you say the sentencing was going to be for those responsible, sir? Five? Ten years?
DETECTIVE: Oh, no no no. This is absolutely life in prison.
[Woolie blanches and sweat begins to drip down his temple]
WOOLIE: L-Life in—
DETECTIVE: Hooo, you betcha’. MULTIPLE life sentences even. No parole. No bail. Nothin.’ Just a cold, lonely cell for the rest of their days.
[Woolie audibly gulps]
DETECTIVE: But never mind that, son. You said you knew who was behind all this...?
[Woolie and Pat share a tense side-eye glance before Woolie turns to face the officer once more]
WOOLIE: So, there’s this guy called SuperBunnyHop—
DIRECTED BY Hidetaka Suehiro
GUEST-STARRING Finn Wolfhard AS Liam Allen-Miller
Peter dinklage AS Patrick Boivin
Zac Effron AS Woolie Madden