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EXT. STREET - NIGHT - SUBURBIA
Langley, Illinois. A quiet suburb located fifty miles
outside of Chicago.
SUPER the legend: "Langley, Illinois. October 28th 1998"
nestled in the middle of a tree-lined street. A Honda Civic
pulls into a darkened driveway, the headlights are
PAMELA WHITTINGTON, a middle-aged woman in full registered
nurse attire, emerges from the parked car.
An unlit cigarette dangles loosely from her lips. She heads
to the porch, digging through her purse in search of a
Pamela stops in her tracks, looks down at her feet to discover
scattered across the porch. She looks at the porch light
hanging above her head.
A SHATTERED LIGHT BULB occupies the socket.
Pamela turns her attention to the front door... it's slightly
ajar. She pushes on it gently.... the door swings open
freely, revealing the darkened interior.
Pamela drops her purse... darts across some hedges into the
EXT. THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR
Pamela runs up to the porch, decorated with carved
pumpkins... POUNDS furiously on the front door, decorated
with a CARDBOARD SKELETON.
She POUNDS again... HARDER. Suddenly, the door SWINGS open
AN OMINOUS FIGURE
looming in the doorway. A HOCKEY MASK cloaks his face.
A PAIR OF EYES:
glare at Pamela from behind the cut-outs in the plastic
gasps, stumbles backward.
flips up his mask to reveal
a gangly teen, wearing a hockey jersey... skates slung over
Hey, Mis Whittington, what's up?
My blood pleasure. You scared the
hell out of me.
Oh. Sorry. I'm on my way to the
ring and --
I think someone broke into my
INT. LIVING ROOM - MINUTES LATER
Pamela sits on the couch taking hits off a lit cigarette.
Jimmy paces the room, portable phone pressed against his ear.
3037 Keystone.. yeah... gotcha.
Jimmy hangs up the portable...
Said to give 'em fifteen minutes.
They'll send someone by.
Jimmy grabs his hockey stick, heads for the door.
Jimmy, what are you doing?
Checking out your place.
No. Wait for the police.
And miss the big game? No way.
EXT. HOUSE - MINUTES LATER
Pamela stands at the foot of her driveway... watches as Jimmy
climbs the steps to her porch, hockey stick perched high on
moves toward the front door, stepping on pieces of shattered
light bulb beneath him.
He swings open the front door with the tip of his stick...
looks inside the darkened house.
He enters cautiously, stick at the ready.
lights up another cigarette, watches nervously as Jimmy
disappears from view...
Jimmy enters the dimmed foyer.
Hey, man, don't mess with me!
I'll knock your head clean off
He moves stealthily through the house, hockey stick poised
high in the air... room-by-room he checks for intruders...
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