A gaggle of vampires went shopping.
But they couldn’t get the automatic door to open.
The Monkey knows you’ve been cheating on your diet.
The Monkey knows the nickname that girl in 5th grade made up for you.
The Monkey knows what happened at the Nutcracker all those years ago.
The Monkey knows some of your deductions last year were a little sketchy.
The Monkey knows what you were dreaming about when you woke up at 4 AM.
The Monkey knows what you hid in the basement behind the hot water heater.
The Monkey knows all these things…
…but still has no idea where he put his keys.
INT. MEXICAN EXTRADITION PRISON (CELL 443) – DAY
ETHAN, A SKINNY 20-YEAR OLD MURDERER, AND EL CHAPO, A MIDDLE-AGED DRUG KINGPIN, ARE BOTH ON THEIR HANDS AND KNEES SCRATCHING AT THE CEMENT WALL OF THEIR CELL WITH PLASTIC SPORKS, TRYING TO DIG AN ESCAPE HOLE. BOTH WEAR ORANGE JUMPSUITS.
Okay this is kind of a lot more physically laborious than
I thought it would be.
Silencio! Los guardias…
For the last time- I don’t speak Mexican, Mr. Chapo.
EL Chapo! It’s EL Chapo. It means– don’t worry what it
means, hombrecito. Just keep digging. And it’s Espanol!
We don’t speak Mexican, we speak Span- forget it.
THEY DIG FOR ANOTHER MINUTE.
My spork’s getting bent. I need a new one.
We don’t have a new one. That spork cost me ten
million pesos in bribe money.
ETHAN’S EYES LIGHT UP- HE REACHES INTO HIS POCKET NAD PULLS OUT A HUGE WAD OF MEXICAN MONEY.
My mom gave me some rainy day money- do you think I could
get one of the guards to dig my escape tunnel for me?
EL CHAPO STARES AT THE WAD.
I– no. I mean… maybe. But this is something you
should do for yourself, Ethan.
Because you’ll never truly appreciate breaking out of prison
unless you do the work yourself. You must earn your
stolen freedom, my little murderer.
I’m not a murderer. I’m a vehicular homicide-er.
EL CHAPO PUTS HIS HAND ON THE YOUNG MAN’S SHOULDER.
Man, I could really go for some Jagermeister… or
some Fireball cinnamon whiskey.
Estupido. There is no candy-flavored liquor for you here! We
need to hurry! We could be extradited to los Estados Unitos tomorrow…
I mean probably not, it will probably be like a year or maybe– WAIT!
THEY BOTH FREEZE AS THEY HEAR THE GUARD COMING.
Oh I hope he’s bringing nachos… my mom always brings
Back to your bunk! Act normal!
ETHAN STARES AT HIM BLANKLY.
EL CHAPO (CONT’D)
Okay, as normal as you get. Go!
THE GUARD COMES TO THE BARS AND ETHAN AND EL CHAPO ARE RELAXING ON THEIR BUNKS. ETHAN IS PRETENDING TO BE ASLEEP, MAKING REALLY FAKE SNORING SOUNDS. THE GUARD STARES AT THEM FOR A MOMENT.
Are you two digging an escape tunnel?
ETHAN POPS UP- WIDE AWAKE.
Escape tunnel? ESCAPE TUNNEL??? Don’t be RIDICULOUS!
A little less, por favor.
UNSURE WHAT TO DO, ETHAN GOES BACK TO PRETENDING TO SNORE.
Okay, hand them over…
WITH A SIGH ETHAN AND EL CHAPO BOTH RELUCTANTLY SURRENDER THEIR SPORKS.
HE TURNS AND LEAVES. ETHAN AND EL CHAPO SIT DEJECTEDLY ON THEIR RESPECTIVE BUNKS.
Great. Now what are we supposed to do to kill time?
HE LOOKS OVER AND REALIZES EL CHAPO IS STARING AT HIM AND SMILING.
END OF I/1.
A man stands on a blank stage.
“MURDERER!” he yells at another man who stands across from him.
[the man who stands across is slightly taller]
In reply, the tall man takes out a small silver dog whistle and, putting it to his lips, blows a piercing shrill silent blast upon it [which the audience almost imagines they can hear].
Several members of the audience become enraged at the sound. Others commence performing strange acts including but not limited to:
covering their ears,
hiding under their seats,
stuffing their programs in their mouths,
A silence comes over the theatre, and the first man [the shorter one] chants the first stanza of an old dirty limerick to his opposite.
“There once was a young man named Enos…”
[the opposite man tries to imagine the next line of the limerick]
“Whose genitalia was disproportionately large.”
Many in attendance rise and leave the theatre.
End of Act 1.
“I asked a cattle man what he thought of wolves: he said they were a dangerous species- prone to sudden vicious attacks, and that they had no regard whatsoever for his territory. I asked a wolf what it thought of man, and got the same answer.”
The wolf was not a young wolf anymore. Several freezes and thaws had passed since he had challenged the Grey One and taken the role of Akela- head of the Pack. He had been younger then- his limbs had been stronger and obeyed his mind’s commands more quickly, his senses and instincts had been keener and more attuned. But time had passed and now old wounds pained him when the temperatures dropped. Akela’s jaw ached from an infected tooth in the back, often making it hard for him to chew. Sometimes one of his eyes would become cloudy for a period, then clear up. And his back legs hurt him all the time.
There were at least two younger males in the Pack- Sharp Ear and Tall One- who now watched him carefully. They were not his offspring, but were the sibling children of a she-wolf the Pack had adopted several winters before. An unnamed primal sense told Akela they were gauging his strength for the inevitable challenge. A challenge that was not far off.
The Pack was making its way across a frozen flat tundra, skirting along the side of a deep ravine, headed for the high pass into the mountains- just visible on the horizon ahead. As they went, the wolves picked their footing cautiously in the deep snow that had fallen several days before, wary of drop offs. The feeding so far this winter had been very lean, and it had been several days since their last large kill, in the form of a pronghorn sheep and its juvenile, so bellies were empty and the overall mood was grim. Akela walked in front in accordance to his station, eyes and nose ever alert to dangers ahead or to their flanks. Behind him he could sense most of the pack focused on their steps along the precarious declivity, but he could also feel two pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Akela pushed the pain in his knees away, ignoring it, refusing to let the others see him limp even just a little.
Two days before, they had been headed South searching for ground free of show in which they could dig for small rodents and other food. There was a wide range that way that they knew from experience often contained very good hunting at this time of year. But something had changed now. As they had travelled, a dark line running from side to side had appeared up ahead. It had grown in size as they approached it, until it revealed itself to be a very large long rounded Thing, several feet off the ground. The Pack didn’t know what to make of this new element in their familiar territory, and it visibly unnerved some of the members. Its shape told them it was not a native part of the natural world they were so familiar with. The Thing stretched as far as they could see in both directions, at a height well above where they could leap over it, and it sat atop other Things spaced out every so often.
They could not see the pipe’s blue-green paint color, nor could they read the trademarked Rockham Oil logo stenciled onto it.
With caution, Akela had ventured toward the new Thing, sniffing carefully. It made no sound, nor movement. Whatever danger it may hold was impossible for the wolves to sense, which made them ever more wary. But he was the leader and this job was his.
The eyes of the whole pack were on him as he crept forward and, after a moment, bravely set a paw underneath where the Thing floated above. Nothing happened. Akela slowly moved another step forward, and then with a surge of effort leapt forward and skitted clean under and to the far side of the Thing- unharmed.
The Pack was obviously impressed, and Longtail, Akela’s young sire, crossed under as well, joining his father. But even this show of leadership could not convince many of the Pack members that it was safe to cross underneath the Thing, and several hunkered down before it, cowed by its alien appearance.
Akela had been left with a difficult choice, then. His experience told him food would be scarce and hard to come by to the North. He was the Leader of the Pack, and his choices should be obeyed. But the Pack was obviously against him in this. Sharp Ear and Tall One stood against him with the rest. The Thing had upset the delicate balance that allowed Akela to keep control over the group. That control was slipping now, and if he did not relent, his instinct told him the Pack would rebel, and challenge or not, would follow one of the others back North.
The wolves stood there in silence for a long moment. Their conversation took place without any sound, their fears and intents spoken only with mute stares and glances of golden eyes. But the decision was made. Akela came back underneath the Thing once more, and began leading them North.