The Food of the Gods

Hit it, hit it!

Way to go.

I'm trying here.

Way to go, Jay Parks!

Okay, let's go.

Forward eye.

6-22. X-3. Okay?

Right.

On one, on one. Ready?

Six.

Six.

Two.

Six. Three. Four.

My name is Morgan.

I play football.

We worked our butts off trying to get

it together for the big Sunday game.

So the coach told us to knock it off,

and relax for a few days.

One of my teammates, Davis,

came up with the idea that

we head out to the island.

He went ahead to

make the arrangements.

I talked our PR man, Brian,

into coming along.

I felt the day off

would do him some good, too.

It'll be great to be

in the country again,

and enjoy some

of the open spaces

that man hasn't screwed up

with his technology.

My father used to say, "Morgan,

"one of these days

the earth will get even

"with man for messing her up

with his garbage.

"Just let man

continue to pollute the earth

"the way he is,

and nature will rebel.

"And it's going to be

one hell of a rebellion."

Of course,

I never took him seriously,

but I still remember the way

he looked at me when he said,

"You'll never know when and

where it's going to happen.

"And once it starts, you'll never

know how and when it'll stop."

It's funny how my father's

prediction comes to mind

when I go to the country,

like today.

Venison tonight, right?

.We haven't got him yet

We will.

They've got it!

Go on, beat it.

Hey, what'd you do that for?

Come on, Davis. We won. The poor

bastard lost. What more do you want?

Get out of here.

Hey, come on, let him go.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Jesus.

Oh, my God.

You stay with him, Brian,

I'll be right back, okay?

Hello.

Hello?

Hello.

Hello?

Where the hell did you get

those goddamn chickens?

Hey, do you know those

bastards almost killed me, huh?

You had no business in there.

Look, my name is Morgan.

I need a telephone.

There's been a bad accident

in the woods out there.

My friend is dead.

We don't have no phone.

Well, where can I find one?

None nearby, you can't.

We're the only farm

on this end of the island.

What? No one else?

That horse, did you get it from

the stable near the ferry landing?

Yes, I did.

Well, when you take it back,

they got a phone.

Thanks a lot. By the time I get

there I won't need one.

Please, mister...

Could you take a

look at something that

scared the wits out of me?

Hey, look, lady, I've already

seen your chickens.

No.

No, this is something else.

I wouldn't ask

if Mr. Skinner was here.

The Lord knows I wouldn't.

But I'm frightened

they've got to it.

What do you mean, "they"?

Please, mister,

will you take a quick look,

and tell me if you think,

it's what I think it is?

Please.

Look.

Do those look

like ratholes to you?

Yeah, they sure do.

I knew it.

They got at the food.

They must've.

Is this what you've been

feeding those chickens?

No. This is the way

it comes to us from the Lord.

The chickens

won't touch none of it,

unless we mix it with

the meal and the bran.

Yeah, well, that wasp seems to

like it well enough.

I mean, what is it?

The good Lord give it to us

'cause we're deserving people.

And we pray regularly, we do.

And the Lord is

going to see to it

that we don't need

money no more. Never.

Look, lady,

I don't think you realize

how dangerous this

stuff could really be.

Mr. Skinner's in

the city this minute,

making a big, important

money deal for this food.

That's what he's doing,

right now,

at the same time

we're standing here talking.

Yeah, but that's not

gonna help very much

if something besides those

chickens have gotten into this food.

Well, nothing on our farm

killed your friend,

if that's what you're thinking.

Lady, how large do you think

those rats will grow

if they've gotten into

this food of yours, huh?

Mr. Skinner'll know

what to do,

no matter what ate it up.

He'll know exactly what to do.

Yeah, well, I hope so,

because I'll be coming back.

I didn't think

we'd be going back like this.

Yeah.

What do we do now?

I guess we let

the coroner figure it out.

We gotta tell him

what we think, don't we?

No, I don't think so.

I mean, we'd sound like

a couple of prize idiots

telling the District Attorney

a giant something or other

killed our buddy, wouldn't we?

How many times you been

busted up playing pro ball?

I don't know.

I don't think

there's a guy in the league

who hasn't been

laid out once or twice.

Except Davis.

Been playing with the team

for seven years.

Never even been

carried off the field.

Yeah, so what's the point?

So, what I want to know is,

how does a guy with all that luck

have this happen to him?

Well, I guess his luck ran out.

Oh, excuse me, sir.

Yes?

Anything happen today, sir?

Happen?

Like, unusual.

Well, a man was killed stag

hunting on one of the islands.

Fell off his horse.

You mean, unusual like that?

Not exactly.

I saw the body.

His two friends

brought him across.

He was all swollen and ugly.

You know what I mean?

I don't suppose

his friends said anything

about seeing some

big things, did they?

Anything of that sort, sir?

God!

Oh, God!

Who's there?

Lord, save me, save me.

I just came from

the coroner's office.

Yeah, what'd he say?

From the amount of

poison in his body,

he estimates that Davis was stung

by no less than 250 wasps.

Jesus.

Come on, let's go.

Where to?

The farm.

Come on, what do you want

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes