<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38614422</id><updated>2011-12-13T19:58:47.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>High School Reunion Massacre</title><subtitle type='html'>A screenplay short by D.C. Copeland</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://highschoolreunionmassacre.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38614422/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://highschoolreunionmassacre.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Verticus Erectus</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Fq7AKH63dSU/SawcZMbmLpI/AAAAAAAAAzk/0s_kxW2DMVY/S220/GumsandalsLens.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38614422.post-116899987988832348</id><published>2007-01-16T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T06:46:29.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j240/Gumsandals/HighSchoolReunionPoster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block" border="0" alt="" src="http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j240/Gumsandals/HighSchoolReunionPoster.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The 16-page script:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM ENTRANCE-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Four 27 to 28-year-old women are handing out name tags at a registration table. A banner behind them reads: Northeast Miami High School 10th Year Reunion. SANDY, a little heavier than she was ten years ago, is wearing her cheerleader outfit to prove she can still fit into it. Her name tag reads: Sandy Holloway. She’s manning the A-D line and saying goodbye to an old friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SANDY&lt;br /&gt;Jill, see you later. You look great. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jill doesn’t look great and Sandy’s quick eyebrow raising glance at the woman beside her says so. Sandy looks up at the next person in line and stops short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tall thin guy in a black suit is looking down at her through Wayfarers. His shirt is white and the black tie retro narrow. His hair is cut short, his goatee is thick and well groomed. This is HITMAN. He offers up his receipt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandy looks at the receipt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SANDY&lt;br /&gt;“J.D. Edwards?” I..I don’t seem to remember you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is of the Bob Mitchum school of acting: only his lips move-- and they’re not smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;We didn’t run in the same circles, Sandy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandy gives Hitman a name tag and a pen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SANDY&lt;br /&gt;Please fill this out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEGGY, the woman next to Sandy manning the E-H line, speaks up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEGGY&lt;br /&gt;Jake Edwards? I’m sorry, but I thought you were dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is filling out his name tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Killed in the line of duty, right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEGGY&lt;br /&gt;Yes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Nope. Just wounded. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hands the pen back to Sandy and stands erect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;You know, Sandy, ten years ago I would have given anything to get into your pants.&lt;br /&gt;(To Peggy)&lt;br /&gt;Yours too, Peggy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The women are taken back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He puts the name tag in his coat pocket while looking at the women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Funny how things change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman turns and walks away leaving the two speechless women looking at each other in disbelief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;The gym is decorated for the reunion. A portable stage has been set up under the basketball backstop at the far end of the gym. A rock band made up of guys in their early thirties is playing Hootie and the Blowfish’s “Only Want To Be With You.” Couples are dancing in their socks on the wood floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is walking along when he hears laughter. He stops and turns to the sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four men are standing at a double staffed bar halfway down the court near the bleachers waiting for drinks. They didn’t take care of themselves. All have beer guts. The one in the center is short, fat, and balding. His name is ADAMS. The others are: JIMMY, TODD, and TIMMY. They're looking at Hitman (OS), laughing, before turning away dismissively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;So Lucky’s got a club on South Beach. Wants us all to stop by later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JIMMY&lt;br /&gt;What’s it called?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is watching them, listening to the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS (V.O.)&lt;br /&gt;“Lucky's.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman starts walking toward them as the guys laugh about the club’s name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams glances around and sees Hitman coming. He laughs and turns away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as Hitman walks up. His buds look Hitman over and turn away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Barkeep. I’ll have a Martini, shaken, not stirred. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that’s original. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Adams, I see you’re still the same old asshole. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams turns to Hitman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Just fatter and balder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Do I know you, man?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;You did. Once. But I don’t think you’d remember me. Back then I wasn’t good enough for you smug bastards. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODD&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pauses to look at Todd’s name tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Todd, shut the fuck up. I’m not that boy you once knew. Look at you, and especially the little fat man here, you were a privileged class of snobs and now you’re just another embarrassment to my generation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JIMMY&lt;br /&gt;Who the fuck are you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I’m every poor slob you guys ever shit on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams gets his drink, turns, and looks up at Hitman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Really? So you’re here to even the score? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;No, time took care of that. I’m here to order my James Bond drink. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Well, whoever you are, you’re a real smart ass. Maybe that’s why you got shit on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;No, I got shit on because you’re a bunch of smug motherfuckers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BARTENDER&lt;br /&gt;Here you are, sir. Just the way Mr. Bond likes it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman reaches across Adams and picks up his drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Here you go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman slips the bartender a five dollar bill. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BARTENDER&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, sir. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Big tipper. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(Turning away)&lt;br /&gt;Gotta makeup for the cheapskate bastards like you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams grabs Hitman’s arm and his drink splashes over his black suit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Wait a minute, asshole. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is looking at his suit when he turns slowly around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams is getting in Hitman’s face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;You don’t come walking in here talking to me like that. I’m a fucking pillar of the community. My law firm is one of the biggest in the state. I don’t take this shit from nobody. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I think you owe me a drink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman clenches his teeth and steps closer to Adams. His buds step up to protect him. Adams shoves Hitman backward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Whataya gonna do, hit me? You loser, I’ll have you in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;You mean like this? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman grabs Adams’ hand and bends it back. Adams screams, drops his drink, and rises on his toes. Todd and FOURTH GUY grab Hitman and shove him backward. Hitman lets go of Adams. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODD&lt;br /&gt;Hey, asshole, back off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(To Adams while shaking loose)&lt;br /&gt;I know the law too and your fat little friend just assaulted me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;(Massaging hand)&lt;br /&gt;Kiss my ass. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JIMMY&lt;br /&gt;Whoe, fellas, take it to the bike racks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I’d be happy to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Screw the bike racks. Let’s do it in the boy’s locker room. It’s closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODD&lt;br /&gt;Probably, but who gives a damn. I don’t like this guy’s attitude. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Why? Aren’t I deferential enough for you, Todd?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams starts off for the locker rooms. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;C’mon, guys, it’ll be like&lt;br /&gt;(winks)&lt;br /&gt;“old times.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman follows. Jimmy gets the “wink” first. He grabs Todd and Timmy around their necks and leads them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JIMMY&lt;br /&gt;Right, “like old times.” C’mon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HALLWAY TO BOY’S LOCKER ROOM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Adams pushes open the door and walks in. Hitman follows. The three other guys are huddling and breaking apart. Jimmy and Todd enter the locker room and Timmy stays outside to guard the door. He stops a guy from entering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. BOYS’ LOCKER ROOM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Adams slams a toilet stall door into Hitman’s face, his Wayfarers are knocked off his face.&lt;br /&gt;Hitman, his nose broken and bleeding, falls backward into Todd and Jimmy’s arms. Todd punches Hitman in the kidneys and Jimmy kicks him as he falls to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman falls back against a stall door, scrapes blood away from his nose and looks at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Man, you got me on that one, fat boy. I have to admit I didn’t see it coming. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams steps up to kick him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;You mean like this one? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman slips to the side and Adams’ ankle meets the bottom of the stall door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams falls to the floor screaming and clutching his broken ankle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman, smiling, pushes backward along the floor on his elbows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Now that one I saw coming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Jimmy goes to Adams’ aid, Todd steps over his fallen comrade to get to Hitman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODD&lt;br /&gt;Listen, you bastard, you’re not in a position to-- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pulls out a .44 caliber automatic from a shoulder holster and points it ghetto style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd stops short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pushes himself up against the bathroom wall. While holding his aim steady, he digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out a silencer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;You were saying, Todd? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd’s eyes are bigger than the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd’s POV: Tight on the silencer as Hitman screws it on. When it’s tightened, POV pans up to Hitman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(Smiling)&lt;br /&gt;I thought so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jimmy can’t believe it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Adams, moaning, sees Jimmy’s reaction to the gun, he turns and shuts up fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman, with the gun pointed firmly at Todd’s head, uses the wall to give him the support he needs to get to his feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;You know, one of the great things about living in Florida is that you can shoot an attacker with impunity. The courts only ask if you feared for your life. Well, I do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pulls the trigger and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd drops dead to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jimmy turns and runs for the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman steps over Todd’s body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Don’t...&lt;br /&gt;(Fires)&lt;br /&gt;Run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jimmy, shot in the back of the head, crashes into the bathroom wall and slides to the floor leaving a blood trail as he goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams is about to have a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Please don’t kill me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman isn’t paying attention to him. He’s looking for his Wayfarers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman’s POV: The Wayfarers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman walks over to them, picks them up and looks them over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Man, you really did a number on my Wayfarers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tosses them aside and digs into an inside pocket in his jacket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN (Cont'd)&lt;br /&gt;No problem. A good hitman always has a backup pair of Wayfarers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He puts them on and turns to Adams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN (Cont'd)&lt;br /&gt;How do I look?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams is shaking badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;(Crying)&lt;br /&gt;Look, man, whoever you are, whatever I did to you, I’m sorry. Do you want money? I’ll pay you whatever you want. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman squats beside Adams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Man, you really haven’t changed at all. I remember when you ran for class president, you tried to buy our votes by bribing us with free gum. What a cheap bastard. Well, my fat little friend,&lt;br /&gt;(Puts silencer against Adams’ head)&lt;br /&gt;your money or your gum won’t do you any good now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;(Screaming)&lt;br /&gt;Who are you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman catches himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I forgot. Every dying man should know who his executioner is. Now where did I put that name tag?&lt;br /&gt;Hitman starts searching his pockets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams starts crying some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;Please don’t kill me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman finds the name tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Oh, here it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He slaps it on his jacket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN (Cont'd)&lt;br /&gt;Does this help?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams looks at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams’ POV: The name tag reads: Mr. Faukyew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams turns away with a horrified, quizzical look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman, pointing the smoking gun at Adams, stands up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t think it would. I was just another one of those poor schmucks you fuckers looked down on and made life miserable for any number of reasons. Maybe it was because we were poorer than you, or we weren’t as sophisticated as you or we had too many pimples. Who knows? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman aims along the barrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN (Cont'd)&lt;br /&gt;Being the head of one of the biggest law firms in Florida and all, I don’t have to tell you by law I can’t pull my gun out to scare someone off because that implies I’m not really fearful for my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adams pleads one more time for his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ADAMS&lt;br /&gt;No, please, don’t... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman picks his bead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;So, by law, I gotta pull the trigger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pulls the trigger. When the smoke clears, he lowers the gun, studying his work all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The locker room floor is filling with blood as Hitman pauses to unscrew the silencer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Man, how I love this state. It’s a hitman’s dream come true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He puts the silencer in his coat pocket and starts to walk out of the locker room when he sees his reflection in the mirrors over the sinks on the opposite wall. He pauses and then walks up to one of the sinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman hits the paper towel dispenser a couple of times to roll out a length of brown paper before tearing it off. He turns on the water, wets the paper towel and brings it to his face to wipe away the blood running from his nose across his lips and onto his goatee. As he cleans himself up, muted RECORDED MUSIC seeps in. We HEAR Madonna’s “Take A Bow.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click to enhance your reading pleasure:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" width="335" height="28" id="divplaylist"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.divshare.com/flash/playlist?myId=8532523-737" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.divshare.com/flash/playlist?myId=8532523-737" width="335" height="28" name="divplaylist" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hitman begins to hum along and swing to the music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Suddenly, Hitman whips around and starts dancing in the blood with style and grace and jazz steps that would make even Madonna stand up and take notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman’s boots slide through the blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman moonwalks backwards out of the locker room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HALLWAY TO BOY’S LOCKER ROOM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;“Take A Bow” is LOUD now. The song will play out to the end of this scene. Timmy is surprised to see Hitman as he backs out of the threshold and stops dancing. Hitman turns and sees Timmy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Timmy, bet you’re surprised to see me, hunh? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timmy rushes into the bathroom. Hitman tries to stop him but isn’t fast enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Too late. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TIMMY (O.S.)&lt;br /&gt;Oh, my God! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman pulls out his gun, dips into his jacket pocket for the silencer, and realizes he’s being watched by PEOPLE walking by. He pulls the silencer out and looks at it before turning to the people in the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Man, would you believe it? The damn thing’s still hot. Oh, well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He drops the silencer back into his jacket pocket, raises the gun parallel to the floor, and waits for Timmy to come running out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, scared, are watching, wondering what the hell is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timmy, screaming, rushes out of the locker room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman, without looking, pulls the trigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timmy bites the dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A WOMAN screams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman walks over to the water fountain. Horrified classmates scatter before him, screaming, running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman leans over the fountain and pulls himself a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he’s done, Hitman slips the gun back into its shoulder holster and enters the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Tight on Hitman’s boots as they leave bloody footprints on the gym floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman is dancing like Mr. Blonde in “Reservoir Dogs” across the floor toward the tied-up cop, while panic sets in among his old classmates. When he twirls around, he sees his footprints and falls out of his dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Whoe! Coach Bogart will have a shit fit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fat black SECURITY GUARD is walking toward us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECURITY GUARD&lt;br /&gt;Hey, man, take your shoes off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security Guard notices the bloody trail and pauses to digest the information but by then it’s too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman walks up to him and, smiling, speaks to him like they’re old buddies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(Reaching in for his gun)&lt;br /&gt;Man, you’re not getting paid enough to make me take my shoes off. I just offed 4 guys in the boy’s room. Don’t make me take you out too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECURITY GUARD&lt;br /&gt;What? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(Smiling, sticks his gun into the Security Guard’s ribs)&lt;br /&gt;Give me your gun, motherfucker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security Guard sees the gun and, blinking uncomprehendingly, unbuckles the strap over his gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;That’s good enough. Now keep smiling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman removes the gun, sticks it into his pants, puts his arm around the Security Guard’s beefy shoulders, and directs him across the gym floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;If you want to live, you better convince my fellow classmates we’re old friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security Guard looks around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More people are getting word about the murders. They don’t know what to believe and are looking around for answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security Guard works up a broad smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECURITY GUARD&lt;br /&gt;No problem, man. Just don’t shoot me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;If you can get me out of this gym, you’ll have some great stories to tell your grandchildren. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Security Guard starts laughing really loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman and Security Guard stroll across the wood floor through the dancing couples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man dancing looks down at the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sees bloody footprints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turns to see where they lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bloody footprints lead to Hitman and the Security Guard walking toward the exit doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screaming Woman runs up to the dancing man, grabs him by the arm and points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCREAMING WOMAN&lt;br /&gt;That guy just killed Timmy Lawrence! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman looks back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are looking, pointing, screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman turns away and forces the Security Guard to pick up the pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;(Smiling at people)&lt;br /&gt;I told you I offed some assholes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECURITY GUARD&lt;br /&gt;(Laughing)&lt;br /&gt;They probably had it coming to them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman directs Security Guard through the gym doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM ENTRANCE-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;As Hitman and the Security Guard exit the gym, they pass Sandy and Peggy who, hearing the ruckus inside the gym, are walking toward them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SANDY&lt;br /&gt;What’s going on in there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Some asshole in Cuban heels is dancing on Coach Bogart’s precious gym floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEGGY&lt;br /&gt;Oh, great! There goes our profit! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the women enter the gym, Hitman steers Security Guard into a narrow dark hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to have to do this to you, buddy, because you were pretty good out there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECURITY GUARD&lt;br /&gt;No, please-- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman’s gun rises out of the shadows into the light for a brief moment before rushing back toward the darkness. We HEAR the sound of metal meeting the Security Guard’s skull and then, a moment later, the heavy CRASH of the Security Guard’s body meeting the concrete floor. Hitman looks around before stepping into the shadows. We HEAR the body being dragged deeper into the dark space. Someone runs by. Hitman pulls off his jacket and turns it inside out. As he puts it on, he rubs the blood off his shoes on Security Guard’s uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he steps out of the shadows, he’s adjusting the jacket collar and we see that the jacket is now sporting a black and yellow herringbone pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM ENTRANCE-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Hitman skips down some steps onto a sidewalk and walks quickly over to a parked cab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXT. YELLOW CAB-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Hitman opens the cab’s back door and gets in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. YELLOW CAB-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Hitman buckles up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;I told you I wouldn’t be long. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Haitian CAB DRIVER looks back over his seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAB DRIVER&lt;br /&gt;Lose a bet or somethin’, mon? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;Funny. No, I won a dance contest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;People are starting to pour out of the gym. Some are looking for the killer. One guy starts running down the sidewalk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INT. YELLOW CAB-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;Hitman twists around to look through the rear window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cab Driver looks at his rearview mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAB DRIVER&lt;br /&gt;Where to now, mon? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman turns back to the driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HITMAN&lt;br /&gt;South Beach. Take me to “Lucky's.” Maybe I’ll get Lucky. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXT. YELLOW CAB-- NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;The man running down the sidewalk bends to look at the passenger in the cab’s backseat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hitman has turned his back to the window and the only thing seen is the black and yellow herringbone jacket as the cab pulls away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RISING, the cab makes a U-turn across four lanes and becomes one with the traffic flow. The man on the sidewalk looks around before running back to the gym where people are now screaming and abandoning in droves, trampling over each other to get away from Hitman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Screenplay by D.C. Copeland.&lt;br /&gt;Registered with the WGA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other screenplays by D.C. Copeland: &lt;a href="http://fifthstreetthetvseries.blogspot.com/"&gt;5th Street&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.badpresents.blogspot.com/"&gt;Bad Presents&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.crownjewelsthebookandmovie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Crown Jewels&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.luckybastardthemovie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lucky Bastard! A Family Film&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.monstermountain.blogspot.com/"&gt;Monster Mountain&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.nokosee.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nokosee&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.onceuponatimeinharlem.blogspot.com/"&gt;Once Upon A Time In Harlem&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.savethechildrenthemovie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Save the Children&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.treethemovie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tree!&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.victoriaparke.blogspot.com/"&gt;Victoria Parke&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.yahoothemovie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Yahoo!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38614422-116899987988832348?l=highschoolreunionmassacre.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://highschoolreunionmassacre.blogspot.com/feeds/116899987988832348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38614422&amp;postID=116899987988832348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38614422/posts/default/116899987988832348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38614422/posts/default/116899987988832348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://highschoolreunionmassacre.blogspot.com/2007/01/high-school-reunion-massacre.html' title=''/><author><name>Verticus Erectus</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Fq7AKH63dSU/SawcZMbmLpI/AAAAAAAAAzk/0s_kxW2DMVY/S220/GumsandalsLens.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
