Pg 3Mature

I’ll be there.


 A slick 1967 Chevy Impala is parked on the side of the road, hood open. DEAN, a tall athletic young man, is looking under the hood of the car, a RAG in one hand, a WRENCH in the other, and a GRIMACE on his face.

 SAM, a good looking city boy nearly the same age as DEAN but decidedly more squishy, is sitting in the passenger seat of the car with the door opened. He has a caracole rustic CASE sitting on his lap and he is fiddling with a makeshift EMF DEVICE.

 SAM HITS the device with his hand.


What is the diagnosis?


That bitch wrecked my car!


That’s not the only thing.

 SAM SHAKES the device hopelessly, you can hear the sound of WATER rolling around inside.

 DEAN leans dejectedly against his car.


Who does that?!



 SAM pockets his Device.

 DEAN throws a tantrum against his car, KICKING and GROWLING.


Yeah, get it all out now.

The nearest town is eight miles away.




We push it.


The car? Are you crazy that’s eight miles!


We can’t leave the guns here.

SAM sighs climbing out of the passenger seat

 Just in the nick of time a beat up pick up truck pulls up in cloud of dirt BLASTING Tim McGraw. A hot blond is behind the wheel.

 The truck pulls to a stop.


Oh, that sucks! You boys need a lift?

 DEAN and SAM exchange a questioning glance.


We’re gonna push it



That’s nine miles I don’t think you’ve got the gun’s for that.



We’ve got the guns.


He closes the hood of the car.

 But I think we’ll take you up on that offer.

 SAM rolls his eyes.

 BECKY opens the passenger door.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed