Mercenaries: Episode 2: The Wake CrashersMature

MERCENARIES

EPISODE TWO

“THE WAKE CRASHERS"

1. EXT. Sarah’s flat. Day.

SARAH (Firm):

No. No fucking way.

TOM:

Oh, come on, Sarah. It’s not like we made you spend on your money on a pointless commercial for something that obviously wouldn’t work as it is, in fact, illegal.

SARAH:

I know, guys, but my landlord’s really observant. He’d notice two of you sleeping on my floor.

LEROY:

Why, are you fucking him?

SARAH:

I beg your pardon!?

LEROY:

I know about you bachelor girls.

SARAH:

Fuck off.

TOM:

Besides, for all he knows we could be a ménage.

SARAH:
What, a household?

TOM:

You know. A trois.

SARAH:

I know! It’s moronic! No!

LEROY:

Come on Sarah, please. I did save you from that burning building.

SARAH:

That was just a very fat man with mustard on his face.

LEROY:

Yeah, but –

SARAH:

Look, I can make you guys a packed lunch if you’re hungry?

TOM:

Fuck yes, we’re hungry! We’re homeless! You’re lucky we don’t eat you where you stand!

LEROY:

What can you do us?

SARAH:

Well, I have some chopped egg in a box.

LEROY:

Jesus. That stuff looks like soap scum.

SARAH:

Egg sarnies. Take it or leave it.

TOM:

Leave it.

LEROY:

You fucking cooze.

Opening titles.

2. EXT. Secure door in wall. Day.

There is a buzzer which Tom presses.

A buzz, then a voice.

VOICE:

Hullo?

TOM:

Hello, we’re homeless. You can probably see us on your camera. We’re both very hungry. Do you have any soup or solid food we could possibly eat? We’re desperate.

VOICE:

I’m afraid we’re shut. You’ll have to come back later.

TOM:

But I can hear reggae.

VOICE:

It’s the cleaners. We’re cleaning, I mean. Come back later. It’ll be all open up for yer.

Someone moons out of a previously established window.

TOM:

What the fuck?

VOICE:

Pay no attention to that man, he is not I.

TOM:

Someone just shoved their fucking arse on the window!

VOICE:

I saw it. We’ll be in touch.

There is a beep, then silence.

TOM:

Hello? Hello!? Motherfucker!

Cut to reveal Leroy mooning back at the window.

TOM:

Come on man, let’s go.

LEROY:

Alright. (Straightens up, pulling trousers back to original position) Maybe we could go back to Sarah?

TOM:

No chance. I’m not retracing my steps for rance egg sandwiches.

LEROY:

Oh, well, don’t worry. Something will turn up.

TOM:

What about Rake? Where does he live?

LEROY:

Round the backs. Sturdy Road. Can’t remember the number but there’s some beef in the garden.

TOM:

Oh yeah?

LEROY:

Nah, flyblown.

EXT. Rake’s house. Day.

LEROY’S description is accurate. There is a quantity of flyblown beef in the front garden. There is a sign nearby that reads “BEEF’S £85”. TOM and LEROY approach the front door.

LEROY:

Remember, play it cool Tom.

TOM:

What? Why?

LEROY:
We don’t wanna seem like stalkers.

TOM:

Why would we? You’ve been here before, right?

LEROY:

In a sense…

He rings the bell. A moment. LEROY moves around slightly, nodding to make time pass.

LEROY: (To himself)

Course today, the bitch won’t be in. After all I’ve done. And I try so hard. Jesus, I try so hard. He’s gonna have skedaddled. And I’m holding the poo. Twenty-seven years.

TOM:

Leroy! LEROY!

LEROY:
What?

TOM nods up to first floor window. A woman is looking down at him, disturbed. This woman is HELEN, RAKE’S girlfriend. She’s holding some nets.

HELEN:
What is iiit?

TOM:

Er, is Rake in?

HELEN:

Are you Tom?

TOM:
Yes, I’m his other friend. Where is he?

HELEN:

Uncle died. At the wake.

LEROY:

Uncle?

HELEN:
Great. Not at there, but it’s his.

LEROY:

Great.

LEROY turns and leaves, and HELEN heads back inside, leaving TOM a little befuddled.

EXT. Fish N’ Chip shop. Day.

LEROY is pressed up against the window. TOM stands a foot or so away, rather passively, facing the traffic.

TOM:

We’ve gotta think of something. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.

LEROY: (Muffled by glass)

Christ, I want that cod roe. Tom, get me the cod rooooe.

TOM:

Wait, I’ve just had a thought of something.

LEROY:

What is it? Anything.

TOM:

We’re in the suburbs, right?

LEROY:

Yeah.

TOM:

And it’s the afternoon, right?

LEROY:

Oh, I haven’t eaten in nine days!

TOM:

Shush, shush, listen. We’re in the suburbs and it’s the afternoon. What does that mean?

LEROY:

I dunno, what?

TOM:

Pies cooling by open windows!

EXT. Suburban house. Afternoon.

Music MONTAGE! Something slapsticky, not too dear. TOM and LEROY vault a suburban home’s fence and run over to the windowsill to look for a pie. Peering through the window, they see two children in bathing suits. Their dad, sat on his easy chair, turns around and notices them. He waves a plank of wood.

DAD:

Oi!

They panic and run across the road to the house opposite, where they peer through another window, this time catching a back view of a woman removing her brassiere. She turns and screams, covering up. They hurry away to the opposite house again, where the same footage is used as before. Cross dissolve to…

EXT. Suburban street. Afternoon. LEROY and TOM walk along, exhausted. LEROY points.

LEROY:

Hey, a party.

A number of cars have pulled up outside a suburban semi. A group of formally dressed people are walking into the house. TOM and LEROY follow the party.

EXT. Front garden. Afternoon.

TOM: (Whispering)

I think this is actually a wake.

LEROY: (Whispering)

Yeah. They all look pretty sad.

TOM: (Whispering)

That woman’s got an urn!

LEROY: (Whispering)

Blimey! Free corpse scran!

TOM: (Whispering)

Might as well try to get a piece of that.

TOM and LEROY walk into the house.

INT. House, day. People are standing around, sitting on every available chair and scranning is already underway. TOM and LEROY are wandering through. A heavily made-up middle-aged woman approaches them.

WOMAN: (To Tom)

I’m glad you came. After all, he was your dad too.

TOM: (Taken aback)

Well, uh, I know. I thought, I have to risk it this one time.

LEROY looks at TOM.

LEROY:

Ha ha, cool as a cucumber!

WOMAN:

Is this your partner?

TOM:

Yes? Yeeeees. I am the dead man’s gay son, long estranged.

The WOMAN smiles, tugs his sleeve in a comradely manner and walks off.

TOM:

Wow. Looks like we’ve walked into something here.

LEROY: (Black and white minstrel voice)

Ah smells cheese and pineapple, on a skewer!

TOM:

What was that!?

LEROY leads the way.

INT. Dining room, day. The room is dotted with clusters of relatives but dominated by a bountifully laden table of scran. LEROY sticks his fist in a jug of custard and licks it.

LEROY:

Gawww, I love Bird’s fist.

TOM:

Careful, you’re gonna blow the gaff.

LEROY:

Sorry Tom.

LEROY dips his index finger in the custard and places it warily in his mouth He looks up and sees a very OLD LADY watching them intently.

EXT. Alternative Bookshop, day. A day-glo pink poster in the window reads “EVERYTHING DEAD CHEAP – CLOSING DOWN SALE”. We stay on this as a TRAMP very slowly walks into shot and vomits into an apple box of books.

INT. Alternative Bookshop, day. SARAH eats a pork pie behind the counter. One or two customers browse. There is a NAZI in full regalia at the counter.

NAZI:

…So what you’re saying is, you’ve sold all my beloved Nazi tomes?

SARAH:

Yes, for the last time, they’re all gone. You’re not the only Nazi on the block.

NAZI:

Would you Adam and Eve it. Lumme. OK, do you have any photo books of kittens.

SARAH:

Ye-


NAZI:

Being gassed.

SARAH:

Actually, ye-

NAZI:

With monoxide.

SARAH:

…No.

NAZI:

Well I’m glad you’re shutting then. Glad I tell you. Mua ha ha ha!

He stomps out. A very OLD MAN with bushy white hair and a very small brown wig perched on top of his head walks forward with a book in hand.

OLD MAN:

Hello, book-girl.

SARAH:

Yes, how can I help you?

OLD MAN:

Do you have this book?

SARAH looks at him. A moment passes.

OLD MAN:

Oh no, oh no, I’ve done it wrong!

The OLD MAN drops the book and flees awkwardly.

SARAH: (Shouts after him)

You would drop it in the piss!

The patrons look up.

SARAH:

Yeah, there’s some piss.

INT. Dining room. OLD LADY is talking to TOM and LEROY.

OLD LADY:

…All over his sleeves, you wouldn’t credit it.

TOM: (Forced)
Ha ha ha, yeah, that sounds like dad. Him and his… sleeves.

OLD LADY:

Have you seen the wayshe’scarrying on? As though she didn’t drive him to his death.

TOM:

Aaaah.

OLD LADY:

I’m sorry, my boy, but it’s true. Would you like a Murray Mint?

LEROY: (From table, biting into whole chicken)

Fuck yeah!

OLD LADY: (Cackles)

He’s got hollow legs.

TOM:

Well, she’s got a bit of a short fuse, but, you know.

OLD LADY:

She could keep it under control when it suited her. And look at all this! I hardly think butterscotch is appropriate to the gravity of the situation.

LEROY is holding up bits of swiss roll to his eyes and jigging them about a bit like some sort of ill-fitting cake goggles.

LEROY: (sings)

They see me swiss rollin’, they hatin’, all because they tryin’ to catch me being yummy.

TOM shoots LEROY a foul look.

OLD LADY:

It’s just another opportunity for her to play hostess. Still, at least you’re here.

TOM: (Awkward)

Thanks.

OLD LADY:

Half of these people didn’t know him from Adam.

TOM:

Mm…

INT. Alternative Bookshop, day. A CUSTOMER approaches SARAH at the till.

CUSTOMER:

Hello. I wonder if you have a book I’ve been looking for?

SARAH:

Well, er, what’s the title?

CUSTOMER:

Waterworld.

SARAH:

What… like… Costner?

CUSTOMER:

Yes, yes, the book.

SARAH:

It wasn’t based on a book. It’s just a film.

CUSTOMER:

There’s always a book first though, isn’t there? I’d like the book.

SARAH:

There isn’t a book. There isn’t always a book first. That was an original screenplay.

CUSTOMER:

No, but there is always a book first. What’s the book called? Is it something different?

SARAH:

There isn’t always a book first, you daft bugger! What the hell are you talking about!? You ever heard of Star Wars: The Novel!?

CUSTOMER:

Well, with that attitude, it’s a wonder you get any customers!

SARAH:

It’s a closing down sale.

CUSTOMER:

Great! Can I have Waterworld for free?

SARAH:

Why would you get a book for free just because it’s a closing down sale!?

CUSTOMER:

With that attitude I’m surprised you’re still open.

SARAH:

Oh, fuck off.

INT. Wake scran room. Day.

LEROY is having a big scone when a round, waistcoated, red-faced man floats up.

WAISTCOAT:

Hello! I don’t think we’ve met.

LEROY:

Ah, I bet we have, we’re related.

WAISTCOAT:
Oh, I’m not one of the family. Runcible. Runcible Longster. I represented George legally for forty years.

LEROY:

George?

WAISTCOAT:

…Yes, you know.

LEROY:
Ohhhh. George as in UNCLE George. Sorry, I was distracted by grief.

WAISTCOAT:

Yes, yes, forty years, man and boy. Won’t be the same city without him.

LEROY:
Uh, yeah, yeah… he was good at what he did.

WAISTCOAT:

Yeah, raping! HA!

LEROY:

What!?

WAISTCOAT:
Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t think that’s inappropriate. The impulse came to me and it could not be denied.

LEROY:

What, to do a rape?

WAISTCOAT:

Oh, that’s a bit rough. Your Uncle’s wake, you might…

LEROY:

What the fuck? You just –

WAISTCOAT:

Who would they believe, eh? Who would they believe?

LEROY crams an entire viscount in his mouth.

WAISTCOAT (cont.):
Enjoy every pastry.

WAISTCOAT grins and floats off.

EXT. Garden.

TOM has come out to stretch his legs. Standing downwind of a circle of smokers. He splutters. A WOMAN of about 30 breaks away from the circle’s conversation and hails him. Impulsively Tom raises his middle finger, clocks himself and switches to a nice wave.


30 WOMAN:

Hallo! We’re smoking.

TOM:

Yes.

30 WOMAN:

We seem to have caught you a bit, there.

TOM:

Oh, that’s fine, fine.

30 WOMAN:

Some of that must have been in our lungs. It’s funny.

TOM:
Ah.

30 WOMAN:

They say every day you inhale molecules that were around in the time of Emperor Nero.

TOM:

Izzat so?

30 WOMAN:

Yes. It’s rather fascinating.

30 WOMAN exhales.

30 WOMAN (cont.):

There. I wonder where that lot had been?

TOM:

Yeees, yes.

She walks over to greet him.

30 WOMAN:

Hello! I’m very rude, standing over there. We’re probably cousins. My name’s Theresa. I’m one of the Oxford lot.

TOM:

Ah.

THERESA:

I expect you were closer to him than us. We only really came down once in a blue moon, for Phyllis.

TOM:

Oh yeah, Phyllis. (jovial) Bloody Phyllis!

THERESA:

Oh ho, yes, yes. She had him well trained.

TOM:

Oh yes, yes.

THERESA:

Pity about him dying.

TOM:
Oh, absolutely. Dreadful. We were quite broken up about it.

THERESA:

Yes. Well, life goes on, doesn’t it?

TOM:

It does mostly, yeah.

THERESA:

Well, nice to have met you. I’m going in now to have a bit of that cheesecake.

TOM:

Oohoo, om nom nom! You should, yes! Good shit. Stuff. Moreish.

THERESA:

Yes, yes, that’s the word. Moreish! Well, see you later.

TOM:
I expect so.

THERESA laughs and walks away.

INT. Bookshop, day. Most of the books have gone by now; no customers remain. SARAH is on the phone.

SARAH:

I’m calling to confirm an appointment with Mr Pierson? To discuss a loan. Could you ask him, please, I’ll wait.


BANK EMPLOYEE: (voice)

I’m sorry, Ms Fleming, he appears to have gone for a crap.

SARAH: (Indignant)

HE’S GONE FOR A CRAP!?

INT. House, stairs, day. LEROY lies on the stairs, replete. TOM is pensive. A toilet flushes.


TOM:

Finally.

The door opens and RAKE steps out of the bathroom. Surprise.

RAKE:

Tom! Leroy! What the hell are you doing here!?

TOM:

But, you came up with the same wheeze then?

RAKE:

Wheeze? No, it’s my grandad’s wake!

LEROY:

How’d the funeral go? Alright?

RAKE:

My estranged gay uncle showed up and caused a scene. They sent him packing, though. It’s a shame.

TOM:

Shit! I’m not old enough to be your uncle!

LEROY is holding an éclair between his fingers like a fat Cuban cigar.

RAKE:

You mean you…? Oh, this is pretty low.

LEROY:

We were hungry, you puritan fucker!

The éclair drops.

LEROY: (cont, minstrel voice again)

Agh, choc on mah strides!

RAKE:

Didn’t he get therapy for that?

TOM:

What? Listen, if you can blag us some extra scran so we don’t have to keep risking the dining room it’d be much appreciated.

RAKE:

He looks pretty full to me.

TOM:

But this isn’t gonna go on all night and it’ll be cold soon!

RAKE:

Jesus, guys. I’ll see what I can do.

LEROY:

I knew you wouldn’t fail us, cock.

RAKE:

Yeah.

RAKE descends the stairs.

TOM:

I’m touching cloth, here!

TOM rushes into the bog.

LEROY:

Fine then. Don’t say goodbye or anything. Least I have cakey.

LEROY suddenly produces a jam tart from nowhere and places it over his mouth.

LEROY: (sings)

Did you ever know that you’re a jam taaaart. Everything I would like to eaaaaat. (normal) Courtesy flush, Tom. (sings again) I could be fuller than an eaaagle…

INT. Bank, day. SARAH is waiting in the bank queue.

SARAH: (voiceover)

This is it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill myself, right here in the bank queue. Spend half my life here in this bastard place. I’m gonna grab that little pen on the chain and jab it into my throat until I can’t fucking breathe.

BANK CLERK:

Next, please.

SARAH:

Hel-lo!

BANK CLERK:

Sorry about the wait, there.

SARAH:
Ha ha, oh, it’s nothing. Nothing.

INT. House, landing. Day. LEROY is pacing outside the toilet, waiting for TOM.

LEROY:

Come on.

TOM:

It’s coming out sideways, mate, sideways. It’s the longest cable ever lain.

LEROY:

Shouldn’t have had all that diabetic chocolate.

LEROY walks down the corridor and notices a door ajar. Inquisitively, he enters the room.

INT. Bedroom, day. The master bedroom. Rifling through a dressing table is a middle aged couple.

LEROY:

Hey. Does this room have an en suite crapper?

Frozen, they stare at him.

LEROY:

…Does this room have an en suite crapper?

They continue to stare at him.

LEROY:

Wait a minute. You’re doing theft!

THIEF WOMAN:

No, we, we’re tidying. Go back downstairs.

THIEF MAN:

Enjoy the wake.

LEROY:

That’s bollocks though. You’re tidying bling into your manbag.

THIEF WOMAN:

We’re freelancers, we clean them at home.

THIEF MAN:

Yeah, we dust them. And, er, bring them back.

There is a huge flush heard.

TOM: (voice off)

That’s shifted the bastard.

TOM enters the room.

TOM: (cont.)

I’ve never felt my arse before. (Daniel Day-Lewis voice) There will be blood. (Normal voice) It’s like when you have salt and vinegar crisps with a cold sore. I feel post-natal. Strewth, that was a Tomy big loader. I had a furtive glimpse in the pan and I thought I saw Jesus’ face in it. But it was just the outline of my gizzards. Christ, that was a big shit, Leroy. That was a BIG, BIG, SHIT. Right there. Big shit. Big. Huge, huge, gaping… shit. ‘Sup?

LEROY:

Tom, Tom, they’re doing a burgle, of the, all the drawer shit.

THIEF MAN:
Nah, we’re cleaners. Take your son away.

TOM:

I don’t look that old!

THIEF WOMAN:

Perhaps, I mean, the old lady doesn’t have to know about this.

TOM:

I’m listening.

THIEF WOMAN:

If you kept this between us, we could, you know, cut you in.

LEROY: (to Tom)

If we squeal, she’s gonna cut us. I’m sorry, I’m just not listening.

TOM:

Cut us in?

A big hench man (GARY) comes in.

GARY:

What’s going on here?

THIEF MAN:

Gary! We caught these fellers trying to nick yer mum’s jewellery!


GARY:

What!?

TOM:

Oh yeah, that’s whythey’reholding the bags of stolen jewellery.

THIEF WOMAN:

You see? He admits he knows what’s in them.

LEROY:

That doesn’t make a lick of sense!

GARY:

Who are you two anyway? I didn’t see you at the service.

LEROY:

We were in the toilets because of main grief.

TOM:

Yeah. Wracking sobs.

LEROY:

Heaving. Colossal. Orgasmic.

TOM:

Leroy, for fuck’s fucking sake.

LEROY:

I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.

GARY:

I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.

RAKE enters.

RAKE:

I got your scran, guys. Hope you don’t mind paper plates. What’s going on here!?

GARY:

You know these people?

RAKE: (To TOM and LEROY)

What happened? What did you do?

GARY:

Do you!?

RAKE:

Yes, Uncle Gary. Two of my best friends, why?

GARY:

They’re stealing from my blessed mother. Did you know you brought thieves here?

RAKE:

Thieves? Oh, so that’s whythey’reholding the bag of stolen jewellery.

GARY:

Do you realise what you’re saying!? You’re takingtheirside against two of your grandmother’s oldest friends.

RAKE:

She only keeps them around because they’re her ganja connection!

GARY:

Rake Duck!

LEROY:

Hey, you’ve got some?

RAKE:

Shut up, Leroy. For fuck’s sake…


GARY:

You can all get out. Come on.

RAKE:

What the fuck!?

GARY:

OUT!

EXT. House, early evening. TOM, LEROY and RAKE are shoved out of the house by GARY.

GARY:

You come back here, I’ll break your fucking legs.

He slams the door shut. RAKE gives the door the finger.

RAKE:

Prick.

EXT. Suburban street, early evening. The Mercenaries walk along.

TOM:

Well, it’ll be dark soon and we’ve got nothing for tea.

LEROY:

Got a plan. Why don’t we regurgitate the stuff we ate earlier, then spoon it back down.

TOM:

I didn’t eat anything earlier, I was too busy being hassled by the nearly-dead.

LEROY:

You enjoyed your talk with the gimmer. You can have some of my sick, Tom.

TOM:

This plan is poor, I don’t think it’ll work. The smell would make it hard to get down and thinking of what I’d just done would probably bring it right back, making me sick your sick which was already sick.

RAKE:

No need for that, fellas. The Drake never fails to deliver – quack quack!

TOM:

That’s shit. That’s not a catchphrase.

LEROY:

I’m cringing.

RAKE opens his jacket to reveal a brace of stolen scran. Sandwiches attached with safety pins and paper clips, packets of crisps crammed into pockets.

RAKE:

How about now?

LEROY:

I’m still cringing, but also happy to have food.

TOM:
You’re the best, Rake. I’ve always said so, though I’m slightly iffy about the hygiene of using cold stationary metal to attach room temperature sandwiches to cloth which surrounds your body.

RAKE:

I’ve got a Sarah Lee gateaux down my trousers in bits an’ all.

TOM:

We can return to this subject later.

RAKE:

Wagon Wheels propped against me bumcheeks.

TOM:

Rake.

RAKE:

Cheese straws lodged in my genital trench. Six apiece.

LEROY:

Which I shan’t be eating with a bargepole. But thanks, Rake – you are the best Rake. And your surname is “Duck”, which is amazing.

RAKE:

Your surname is “Dainty”.

LEROY:

Haha, yeah it is. I love you.

TOM:

I have to say, I always thought the whole “Drake” thing was just you being a tosser, but I can see how you’d get that, now.

RAKE:

No, I gave it to myself.

TOM:

Tosser.

Fin.

The End

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