VIEWS: 0 PAGES: 6 POSTED ON: 9/17/2012
THE BIRTH OF A CRIMINAL By ALEX NORCIA EXT. DRIVEWAY OF A SUBURBAN HOME--SUNNY DAY JENNY MOLLING (30’s), short, blond-haired, and noticeably pregnant, struggles to lock her front door. She clutches her stomach with her left-hand, jostling with her car keys in her right. She walks, off-balance, her body shifting from side to side, to her silver PRIUS parked next to the garage. She drops her keys and does a step-by-step motion to pick them up: a slow bending over, with her hand on her back as support. She picks them up and starts toward the car again. When she reaches the driver’s side door, she stabs the key into the metal, scraping the paint. She finds the lock and opens the door. Jenny backs out, speeding out of a long driveway. EXT. SUBURBAN STREET--SUNNY DAY Jenny recklessly drives, passing motorists on a double-yellow street and breaking the speed limit by at least thirty miles per hour. INT. INSIDE OF JENNY’S PRIUS She bashes at her broken radio, urging it to play. In her rear view mirror, Jenny sees sirens and flashing blue and red lights in the background. EXT. SUBURBAN STREET--SUNNY DAY A cop car quickly approaches, nearing the woman’s PRIUS and indicating for her to pull over. OFFICER BOB WHARTON leans his head out the window and screams. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Pull over, or we will open fire. Jenny stops her car on the shoulder of the road. Officer Wharton parks behind her. He approaches her car, taking off his Aviators and his police cap in two slow motions. He sticks his head inside the window. INT. INSIDE OF JENNY’S PRIUS All of a sudden the radio turns on. Loud. Ludcaris’s "MOVE BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY" blares to life out of the car’s speakers, frightening Officer Wharton. He jumps back away from the PRIUS. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 2. The lady turns off the radio, embarrassed and frantic. OFFICER BOB WHARTON License and registration please, ma’am. Jenny fumbles around in her glove compartment as the officer leans against the side of the car. He’s a state trooper, wearing brown suspenders and his badge, gold, across his chest: OFFICER ROBERT P. WHARTON. His head is far above the top of the car, and his height is intimidating. He peers through the window. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Hands on the dashboard. I will shoot you. The officer draws his weapon, pointing the pistol at the woman. JENNY MOLLING I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant. I’m driving to the hospital. Jenny points a finger to her stomach, which is about an inch away from the steering wheel. She can barely fit in the car. Officer Wharton stands there, not saying anything, weapon still drawn at the woman. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Step out of the car. I didn’t get the county’s top award letting fake pregnant people speed away. Right, Bob? Officer Wharton motions his head to OTHER OFFICER BOB, his partner. Other Bob has opened the police car’s passenger side door, and his pants are at his ankles. He’s peeing on the side of the road. He’s significantly shorter than Officer Wharton. He speaks over this shoulder, and no one can really see his head behind the open door. OTHER BOB Right Bob, right. Top award. Jenny exits the car, holding her stomach in the palm of her left hand. Officer Wharton continues to point his weapon at her. JENNY MOLLING I’m having a baby. My husband’s not answering his phone. I had to leave (MORE) (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 3. JENNY MOLLING (cont’d) him a message. I just moved here, and I know no one. I’m driving myself. Officer Wharton looks at her with suspicion. He checks the car over with his eyes a couple of times. He attempts to smell the interior from where he’s standing, about five feet away from the vehicle. His nostrils are flaring. OFFICER BOB WHARTON We’re going to have to do a sobriety test. I’m going to have to ask you to recite the alphabet backwards. JENNY MOLLING Z...Y...X...R...I’m having a fucking baby. Get me to a hospital. Officer Wharton tightens his grip on his gun. Jenny cringes, a look of complete pain and frustration in her face. OFFICER BOB WHARTON I’m going to have to ask you to walk in a straight line. Like so-- Officer Wharton demonstrates how to do the walk. He places his right foot forward, and his left foot directly behind, his toes touching his other heel. He alternates feet, walking towards his police car. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Keep an eye on her while I do this. Will you, Bob? INT. OFFICER BOB WHARTON’S POLICE CAR Other Bob sleeps in his passenger side seat, peanut shells drooling out of his mouth and onto his uniform. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Bob. Oh, fuck it. Do it now, miss. Walk a straight line. JENNY MOLLING I’m fucking pregnant. What don’t you understand? I’m about to have a baby. My water’s going to break. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 4. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Walk. Or I’m going to have to subdue you. That’s no way to talk to an officer of the law. Officer Wharton reaches for his cuffs. He displays them on his index finger, teasing Jenny. He points to the spot where he wants her to start walking. Jenny struggles to walk, swaying from side to side, about to topple over. She barely moves ten feet. OFFICER BOB WHARTON To the ground, bitch. To the ground. Get on the fucking ground. Jenny remains still, unmoving, grabbing her stomach and mumbling, moaning. OFFICER BOB WHARTON Do not make me exercise force. I repeat: Do not make me exercise force. Jenny goes to the ground, lying on her back. She says nothing. OFFICER BOB WHARTON On your stomach. Get on your stomach. Jenny rolls over on her side, trying to avoid letting her stomach sit directly on the asphalt. Officer Wharton puts her in cuffs, helping her up and walking her back towards the police car. JENNY MOLLING I’m not drunk you idiot. I’m going to have a god damn baby. Do you want to be the godfather? I’ll make you the fucking godfather, just take me to the damn hospital. A man driving a large SUV, appearing to be a black FORD EXPLORER, speeds past them. Rock and dirt get blown in their faces. JENNY MOLLING That’s my husband. That’s my husband. Will you let me go? Dammit. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 5. Jenny points at the car that just went by them, waving her finger repeatedly. Officer Wharton runs back to his car, leaving Jenny in the handcuffs. He puts on the sirens, chasing after the FORD EXPLORER. Jenny stands on the side of the road, cuffed, watching the car chase, confused and dumbfounded. A lone tear runs down her cheek.
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