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Untitled Scene One

Untitled Scene One

Dec 07, 2022

ANEL is sitting at the bar drinking water and an Ace’s pineapple hard cider. Resting on HER chest is a crossbody bag. There is a MAN flirting with a WOMAN.

How about this: I buy you a drink, we talk, and if by the time you finish your drink you’re sick of me, I’ll leave you alone. But if you finish your drink and you’re not sick of me… we see where it goes?

The WOMAN smiles.

I have to powder my nose.

The WOMAN starts to walk away, stops, turns back to the MAN.

Espresso martini.

The MAN smiles and waves down the BARTENDER. The WOMAN continues to the restroom.

Hey, can I get an espresso martini and an iced water with lime? In a small glass?

The BARTENDER nods. Before continuing, the BARTENDER looks at ANEL. ANEL raises HER empty bottle. The BARTENDER nods. The MAN waits patiently. The BARTENDER returns with the espresso martini and iced water with lime and ANEL’s hard cider. The MAN takes a sip of HIS iced water with lime. ANEL takes a swig of HER hard cider. The MAN carefully looks over both shoulders. HE looks at the BARTENDER who is busy assisting other customers. HE looks at ANEL who seemingly isn’t paying attention. The MAN slowly reaches into HIS front jacket pocket and pulls something out. HE swiftly sprinkles it into the espresso martini and stirs it with his finger. The WOMAN returns. The MAN hands the WOMAN the martini.

*sigh* Don’t drink that.

The WOMAN, sudden fear in HER eyes, sharply looks at ANEL. 


Yeah, you. Please. Don’t drink that.

How about you mind your own business?

Her safety is my business. Your business is walking out of this bar and never coming back.

The WOMAN sets the drink down. SHE takes a step back from the MAN. 

Look, I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’m trying to have a nice night and get to know this lovely woman-

Flattery won’t work here. She knows she’s lovely. She doesn’t need to hear it from some asshole who spiked her drink.

What’re you talking about? You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about-

I smelled you, y’know.

The MAN stiffens. HIS eye twitches. Despite HIS best effort, the corner of HIS lip tilts upward.

Is my cologne that strong?

You and I both know I’m not talking about your cologne.

The WOMAN, confused, takes a step closer to ANEL.

I’m sorry, I don’t understand-

ANEL steps forward and places HER arm in front of the WOMAN, acting as a shield. A few patrons have stopped to watch the exchange. The BARTENDER eyes the situation. 

I can smell you. And I can hear your stomach. How long has it been? 

ANEL cups HER hand around HER ear.

Two weeks? Oh, dear, you must be famished. Looks like you’re gonna stay hungry though. You chose the wrong bar.

The MAN tilts HIS head. HE is unblinking. A deep grumbling laugh escapes HIS throat. HIS voice bellows, much deeper than before. There is a crackling in HIS speech.

I think you chose the wrong bar, foolish girl. I’m not afraid of you. Walk away now and perhaps I’ll spare you. Or, stay. I can use you as a toothpick. What does this whore matter to you?

The WOMAN gasps, offended.

Who are you calling a-

The MAN lunges forward. ANEL pushes the WOMAN back, takes HER bottle of hard cider and smashes it over the MAN’s head. More patrons in the bar turn to see what’s happening. The BARTENDER quickly tells people to leave. Some listen. The more curious ones stay. There is a splintering sound coming from the MAN as HE bends forward. HIS spine begins to protrude, snaps up out of HIS body, stretches outward into two separate pieces morphing into skeletal wings. HIS skin starts to split, blacken with soot and cracks of crimson red. People begin to scream. Where the MAN once stood, there is now a DEMON in place. The BARTENDER reaches under the counter and pulls out a shotgun, covered in biblical verses, etched with golden olive branches.

Do you think your weapons of prayers will stop me, mortal?

The BARTENDER cocks the gun.

It doesn’t hurt to try.

ANEL unzips HER bag and pulls out a large machete with the words “Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangelof” etched into the blade. There are chains molded into the machete. The DEMON laughs.

Child, you think I’m afraid of your silly incantations?

I do. It’s why you’re shaking.

The DEMON snarls and rushes ANEL. ANEL jumps forward, lifting HER machete high above HER head, releasing a war cry. Everything freezes as the title “—-shhh there’s no title yet” flashes across the screen in big western font.

*cue* “I Eat Boys Like You for Breakfast” by Ida Maria

The scene returns to normal. The DEMON unhinges it’s jaws and releases a breath of burning ash. ANEL ignores the stings as it singes HER skin. ANEL’S machete easily slices through one of the horns. The DEMON steps back, surprised by this harm. It roars. ANEL picks up the tip of the horn and quickly stuffs it into HER bag. The DEMON puffs out it’s chest and releases scaly spikes that shoot out to ANEL. A few of the spikes land into ANEL’s skin. ANEL falls backwards, wincing in pain. The DEMON swiftly reaches out and drags ANEL up by HER leg. ANEL swings HER machete but the DEMON holds ANEL at a distance. The DEMON taunts ANEL by dangling HER like a doll. ANEL reaches into HER bag and pulls out a flask. ANEL drinks from the flask, swishes the liquid in HER mouth and shoots it into the DEMON’s face. Smoke erupts from the DEMON’s skin as it’s burned with holy water. The DEMON touches its face with its free hand while continuing to hold onto ANEL. The DEMON throws ANEL across the bar against the wall. ANEL lands on booth, hard. The couple hiding under the table screams and starts to run out. The DEMON loops around it’s tail and slams the couple SPLAT into the floorboards leaving nothing but a mess of squished organs and splattered blood. The DEMON screeches and lifts into the air. ANEL unwraps the chain from HER machete and it grows longer and longer and longer. ANEL makes a lasso out of it and throws it around the DEMON’s throat and pulls tight. There’s a hissing sound coming from the DEMON’s neck and the chain begins to burn. The DEMON slams ANEL into the ground, creating a hole in the floorboards. All we see are ANEL’s legs and hands sticking out. ANEL’s hand twitches in pain. The DEMON struggles to unwrap the chain that’s digging deeper and deeper. ANEL slowly climbs out of the hole, disheveled and hurt, bleeding from HER nose and has a busted lip. The DEMON falls onto the floor, it’s thud shaking the establishment like an earthquake. Patrons that were hiding finally start to leave. The DEMON’s tail thrashes around, breaking the tables, the windows. ANEL dodges the tail and rushes to the DEMON. ANEL jumps onto its back and slices it’s other horn off with HER machete. The DEMON shrieks weakly in pain. The DEMON thrusts ANEL forward, off it’s back and into the bar counter. ANEL lands with a giant CRACK. SHE lets out a wheezing gasp as SHE struggles to get up. The DEMON, still choking with the chain, begins to stumble toward ANEL. The DEMON raises its fists and lifts them high into the air, roars, saliva sprays out landing on ANEL. ANEL cannot get up. SHE is in too much pain. 

I told you, your incantations, your weapons of prayer, your God isn’t here.

The BARTENDER jumps out from behind what’s left of the counter and blocks ANEL. The BARTENDER points HER shotgun at the DEMON’s face.

No, but I am.

The song ends as an echo from the shotgun goes off in the DEMON’s open mouth, a light erupting from the bullet begins to disintegrate the DEMON. The DEMON wretches in agony as it’s face splits apart. A black muck oozes onto the floor and splatters the walls. The muck drenches the BARTENDER and ANEL. All that’s left of the DEMON is it’s fangs and pieces of it’s flesh falling around, dripping in chunks from the ceiling. The BARTENDER pulls a clean handkerchief from HER front pocket and wipes HER face. SHE pulls out a second one and goes over to ANEL and hands the handkerchief. ANEL takes it and wipes HER face and hands it back to the BARTENDER. The BARTENDER shakes HER head. 

You keep it. I really don’t want that back.

The BARTENDER helps ANEL up who grunts in pain. 

I think I broke a rib. 

I thought you were gonna be more covert.

He was gonna drug her.

We were gonna get him regardless.

Yeah, but she didn’t need that trauma.

The BARTENDER looks around the bar. SHE looks at the floor, the blood, the guts. A piece of flesh falls and lands on ANEL’s shoulder. The BARTENDER reaches over, pulls it off and tosses it aside.

Yeah, you’re right. We wouldn’t wanna traumatize her.

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