
Eight Legged Freaks
FADE IN:
EXT. DESERT -NIGHT
A rabbit hops across rough terrain.
EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT
Three trucks from Chemical Technologies carry barrels of
toxic waste. They pass a sign: PROSPERITY, NEVADA, POP
454.
INT. THIRD TRUCK (HIGHWAY, DESERT) -NIGHT
A sleepy trucker called PIG PEN drives the third truck.
SELF-HELP TAPE (V.O.)
I will be self-assured and
confident around women.
PIG PEN:
I will be self-assured and
confident around women.
EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT
The rabbit stops at the edge of the road. The first
truck speeds past. Then the second. The rabbit crosses
the highway in front of the third.
INT. THIRD TRUCK (HIGHWAY, DESERT) -NIGHT
SELF-HELP TAPE (V.O.)
I will not fear the unexpected.
PIG PEN:
I will not fear the unexpected.
The rabbit appears in the road, frozen by headlights.
PIG PEN:
Ahhhhhhhhhh!
Pig Pen jams on his brakes and swerves to avoid the
bunny.
EXT. HIGHWAY (DESERT) -NIGHT
The truck slews crazily. Missing the bunny by a whisker.
2.
INT. THIRD TRUCK (BRIDGE, DESERT) -NIGHT
Pig Pen sees a bridge ahead. If he doesn’t regain
control, he will crash. At the last second, he gets the
rig together.
EXT. BRIDGE (DESERT) -THIRD TRUCK -NIGHT
The rim of a wheel tags the curb. One of those toxic
waste barrels falls out of the back and plunges to the
water below.
A biohazard warning label is legible as the barrel slips
beneath the surface. Glowing toxic waste seeps from a
gash in its side. Spreading through the pool like neon
ink.
The ditch is littered with garbage. The DRONE of
INSECTS. No visible traces of toxic waste. A butterfly
net sweeps through the air to capture an oversized
horsefly.
JOSHUA TAFT (70s), scrutinizes the bug. This old codger
is more comfortable studying bugs than socializing with
people.
JOSHUA:
Hey, Mike. Check this one out.
MIKE PALMER (12) steps over for a look. Puberty hit hard
and fast for this bright, little nerd.
MIKE:
He’s huge!
JOSHUA:
They’ve been like this all week.
Must be something extra tasty in
the water.
MIKE:
Like what?
JOSHUA:
Dead coyote. Snake maybe. Back
in the ’Nam we’d eat python with a
dash of habanero sauce. Mighty
satisfying.
(CONTINUED)
3.
CONTINUED:
MIKE:
You ate snake?
JOSHUA:
When you’re thirty klicks out from
the nearest firebase. Humpin’
through the wake-up with your
finger on the trigger. Charlie
doesn’t give you time to stop for
cutlet.
As Mike skims his own net over the water, he glimpses a
familiar barrel at the bottom of the pool. The brightly-
colored biohazard warning label is clearly visible.
EXT. ROAD -JOSHUA’S HOUSE -DAY
Two bicycles are parked outside a cabin in the middle of
nowhere.
INT. JOSHUA’S HOUSE -DAY
The decor is an odd mix of Vietnam era war relics and
homegrown scientist. Charlie the Parrot sits on a perch.
CHARLIE (V.O.)
Charlie, don’t surf!
JOSHUA:
Quiet, bird. We’re working.
Mike and Joshua stand near the spider tanks. A dozen
aquariums on low shelves. Each glass tank replicates a
specific environment: jungle, desert, cavern, pond, etc.
JOSHUA:
(dims tank lights)
The sun is going down, my
nocturnal hunters. It’s time to
come out and feed.
Mike watches Joshua deposit bugs into each spider tank.
MIKE:
Yeah. They’re definitely getting
bigger.
JOSHUA:
I’ve calculated a growth factor of
twelve percent over the last
forty-eight hours. But that seems
to be accelerating.
(CONTINUED)
4.
CONTINUED:
MIKE:
All from eating these bugs? Maybe
I should try some.
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Citation
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"Eight Legged Freaks" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 2 Mar. 2021. <https://www.scripts.com/script/eight_legged_freaks_654>.