NFTP - The Pilot
NFTP is a unique take on incarceration, redemption, absurdity, and proof that humor can survive any environment a person can. The show follows Benny Gladwell at the end of a 12 yr. prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter as he prepares for his reintroduction into the free world, while still navigating all the personal, political, and institutional whirlwinds of a life behind bars. Over the course of his incarceration Benny struggles with addiction, mental health, discovers a passion for writing, goes viral, befriends a personal hero and infamous comedian, beefs with an 80's movie villain, meets a girl in a prison writing program, writes a pilot and finally—most terrifying of all—allows himself to think about the future (all of which actually happened).
In the pilot episode Benny is harangued, by his best friend Toro, into considering the possibility that his current spate of bad luck might have something to do with an interrupted—and hence incomplete—masturbatory session the night before. And to clear this curse, there is clearly only one solution.
PILOT EPISODE: Notes from the Pen
Written by Robert Caldwell-Kim
FADE IN: Black Screen.
A blaring unintelligible intercom announcement plays overhead.
INT. SMALL SINGLE MAN PRISON CELL - MORNING CLOSE ON: Pair of eyes scrunched closed.
Pulls back to reveal BENNY, 35, heavily tattooed, ambiguously ethnic. Part Asian. Frustrated, he pulls his pillow over his ears to steal a few more minutes of sleep.
He starts to fade back into oblivion.
The indecipherable announcement is repeated, this time with more conviction.
Benny snatches the pillow from his head. His eyes flash open. Begrudging surrender.
Yawn. Stretch. Benny stares at the ceiling gathering the fortitude to get up, his muscles visibly tensed. Benny sits up and grabs a tablet from his desk.
ANGLE ON: The tablet screen.
Screen’s background is a pixelated picture-of-a-picture: a Native American woman holding a toddler, even more ambiguously ethnic than Benny. He thumbs an icon of a music note. He scrolls through artists to Lou Reed, highlights song "Sweet Jane" and presses play. He shakes himself awake.
Urine streams into a stainless steel toilet. Benny looks at himself in the small foggy mirror above the toilet and nods along with the music. Urine splashes the toilet seat. Benny unrolls a wad of toilet paper and wipes it clean.
Toothpaste being squeezed onto a tiny travel sized toothbrush.
Benny watches himself brush in the mirror. He spits in the toilet. Toothpaste splashes on the toilet seat. A single glob lands on his leg. Deep breath of frustration. Again with the TP.
Benny lathers his hands with tiny green soap in a stainless steel sink.
He watches himself in the mirror as he soaps his face. Splashes clean with water. Tattooed hands twist the lid from a peanut butter jar repurposed to hold instant coffee, two spoonfuls drop into a plastic coffee cup. Splash of sink water. Swirls the cup a few times. Downs the coffee like a shot. Grimace. Kisses his thumb and presses it twice against a picture on the cork board above his desk—the same picture from the tablet.
Music fades.
SUPERIMPOSE: 329 DAYS UNTIL RELEASE.
A sitar twangs.
Camera slowly pulls back from Benny's forehead to reveal Benny, eyes closed, shirtless, sitting cross legged on his bunk, his back to the bars of his cell, meditating.
Through the bars we see rows upon rows of identical cells stacked on top of each other. An inmate walks past. The chaos of prison unfolds just outside of Benny's fragile sanctuary. Three calming breaths. Another inmate, D, a tall black kid in an orange beanie stops and looks in Benny's cell. He turns back and leans over the 3rd gallery railing.
D (shouting to someone below)
YEAH, HE'S IN HERE. (beat) BUT HE'S DOING SOMETHING.
Benny takes another deep breath. D looks into the cell again.
D (CONT'D)
HE'S PRAYING OR SOMETHING.
Benny's eye twitches at the disruption. Another deep breath, this one labored.
D (CONT'D)
NAW NIGGA, I AIN'T TRYIN' TO FUCK UP HIS CHI.
Benny flinches. D looks in one more time before disappearing down the gallery. Benny opens his eyes.
TITLE CARD
EXT. BLACKTOP IN FRONT OF HOUSING UNIT - EARLY MORNING
INMATE 1 (O.S)
What about light-skinned Keisha?
Used to live over there by Dr Dre with the fucked up arm.
Two inmates, on a sparsely populated yard, in a conversation far too lively for this early in the morning.
INMATE 2
She used to fuck wit Deja's lil 'brother?
INMATE 1 Yeah, fat ass Deja.
INMATE 2
She ain't used to be fat though.
INMATE 1
Naw, she used to be straight.
Benny sits alone on a bench taking in the sunrise.
ANGLE ON:
(beat)
Mickey... Mick... Mick.
INMATE 2
Yeah, something like that.
INMATE 1
Mick...Monk, Monk, Monkey, Money...
Benny. A pained expression on his face.
INMATE 2
Remember her mama?
INMATE 1
Yeah, her mama was straight too. What was her name?
REVERSE ANGLE reveals the conversation is taking place right next to him.
INMATE 1 (CONT’D)
...PHYLLIS!
Benny's eyebrows rise in disbelief. Mouths the name Phyllis to himself.
INMATE 2 (O.S)
Yeah, I know Mrs. Phyllis. She’s straight.
INMATE 1 (O.S) Yeah, she's alright.
Benny takes a deep breath and does his best to ignore the verbal exchange taking place just a few feet away.
INMATE 2
Yeah. You goin' to chow?
INMATE 1
Prolly...
INMATE 2
Alright bro, I'll holla at you later.
INMATE 1
They shake up and part ways, finally leaving Benny alone on the bench to watch the sunrise.
TORO, 27, an inmate of Mexican descent, a long braid of hair down his back, glasses perched on a pug nose, approaches.
TORO
You hear what happened?
Benny looks up as Toro cleans his glasses with the bottom of his shirt.
TORO (CONT'D)
Someone shit in the shower this morning.
Benny smirks.
TORO (CONT'D)
A huge one. Whoever did it tried to kick it down the drain.
Benny looks back at the horizon.
TORO (CONT'D)
You alright?
BENNY (exhaling)
Yeah, I'm good.
TORO
Heard you got 'interrupted' last night.
Benny furrows his brow in an attempt to try and figure out what he's talking about. It comes to him.
BENNY
Who told you—Hollywood?
Toro puts his glasses on. One of the lenses is cracked in half.
TORO
Naw, your other neighbor.
BENNY
Fucking Rio.
TORO
Who got you, Kennedy?
BENNY
Naw, it was an off-brand. The fat CO with the glasses. Bastard must've doubled back.
TORO
You finish?
Benny cuts a judgmental glance in response.
TORO
I would've.
BENNY
Well you're a hero. And where you been? I've been out here for fifteen minutes. They're about to call Big Yard.
Toro stretches his arms over his head.
TORO
I was on the phone. What are we doing today?
Benny pulls a brown wad from his coat pocket. A single glove. He realizes he's missing the other one.
BENNY
Shoulders. Maybe chest. Depends on what we can get. You seen Blaze? Toro bends to stretch his back.
TORO
He's on sanctions 'til Wednesday. I talked to Mom today. She's all worried about her back surgery tomorrow. Think she's gonna die or something. I told her not to--
PRISON INTERCOM
BIG YARD IS —
Benny and Toro twist their heads to listen to the announcement.
PRISON INTERCOM (CONT'D)
—NOW OPEN.
They bolt towards the gate. Toro doesn't bother finishing his sentence. Bigger fish. A stream of inmates pour from the housing unit. Salmon.
A group of inmates jockey for position, speed walking as fast as they can, without actually running, towards the weight pit.
EXT. WEIGHTPIT ENTRANCE - 8:25 AM
Benny arrives at the haphazard structure. An old tin roof, propped up with a couple of 4x4s, wrapped in chain link fencing. Four inmates from the other housing units are already waiting. They’re all holding gloves.
Key slides into padlock.
The weight pit door swings open. Stampede.
ANGLE ON: Weights disappearing from dumbbell rack at breakneck speed.
Toro pieces together what he can from what's left. A mismatched pair of 75 lb dumbbells and a single dilapidated 50 lb dumbbell. Benny is waiting for him at a flat bench.
TORO
Sorry man- this was the best I could do.
Benny motions towards a visibly bent bar. Toro looks down at his haul. He kicks the smallest dumbbell. One of the heads falls off and rolls to a stop.
BENNY
Wonderful.
He stretches his back.
BENNY (CONT'D)
I can't believe he told you I got caught. First of all, how does he know what I was doin'? What, cause I had a sheet up? I could've been taking a shit.
He lays down on the bench.
BENNY (CONT'D)
I thought that asshole was asleep.
Toro looks down to spot him. Benny stares up. He only has one glove on. He does his set. Toro counts along with his reps. Benny racks the weight. Takes a beat. Looks up at Toro, his face twisted in disgust.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Holy shit...was that you? (He sits up.) AW, FUCK!
Their heads dart around in search of the culprit. It's so crowded it could be anybody. The smell reaches the other inmates. Voices rise in protest. A STOCKY INMATE with braids pull his shirt over his nose.
STOCKY INMATE
GODDAMN!
A PUERTO RICAN INMATE doing deadlifts chimes in.
PUERTO RICAN
Somebody shit they self.
STOCKY INMATE
These niggas nasty as hell.
A dead zone spreads out from the squat rack where an inmate in WHITE NIKE HEADBAND, the only one not in retreat, doesn't acknowledge the smell. Doesn't even slow down his set. If anything, he looks invigorated. Benny doesn't pull his shirt up. He just squints and slowly backs away in disgust. The tension rises with the odor.
PUERTO RICAN
That shit'll get a nigga fucked up.
CHEVY, a muscular ebony-complected inmate jumps in.
CHEVY
It's that same bitchass nigga always doin' that shit.
Earbuds in, the threats don't even reach White Nike Headband. His music is apparently louder than the smell.
Toro pushes the weight with a grunt. A fart squeaks out. Only Benny hears. He shakes his head.
INT. HOUSING UNIT SHOWER AREA - 9:45 AM
Benny and Toro wait for a shower, towels around their necks, shower bags and flip flops in hand. The entrance to the nearest shower is blocked off with a mop bucket. An inmate in yellow PLASTIC COVERALLS armed with a scrub brush and spray bottle is inside cleaning.
Benny shoots him an annoyed look.
BENNY
It's a series of meaningful coincidences.
TORO
Yeah?
BENNY
You know what synchronicity is?
TORO
(Beat) What is it?
Plastic Coveralls drops the spray bottle and uses the wall to hold him up.
BENNY
So, like, if you got a letter today, out of the blue, from a childhood friend who told you - I don't know - they shit in the shower this morning and was forced to waffle stomp it down the drain.
BENNY (CONT'D)
That would be synchronicity... kind of.
TORO nods along
Okay.
Plastic Coveralls retches in the background.
BENNY (CONT'D)
That shit ever happen to you?
TORO
I think so.
Plastic Coveralls bends over with his hands on his knees.
TORO (CONT'D)
Like the thing with the accordion. Benny looks at the nauseous inmate.
BENNY
What?
TORO
Remember when--I told you--when I was a kid, how I used to play accordion in my grandpa's band?
Benny squints to remember.
Plastic Coveralls pukes in the shower behind them.
TORO (CONT'D)
Later that night there was a show on PBS about accordions.
An inmate exits one of the showers with his shower bag in hand. Benny heads for it.
BENNY (over his shoulder)
Yeah, something like that.
Plastic Coveralls wipes his forehead and storms out of the soiled shower.
Someone is yelling Benny’s name above the showers. Benny scans the galleries. He spots BLAZE, 35, yet another ambiguously ethnic inmate. Most would guess Mediterranean-ish, as skinny as he is swarthy, his hair in two Snoop-Dogg French braids, he leans from his cell door two floors up. Blaze is the closest thing to a contemporary Benny has found in the last few years.
BLAZE
(shouting) WHAT UP THOUGH?
Benny stops just outside the shower. His yell bounces off the walls.
BENNY
YOU ON THAT SHIT?
BENNY (CONT’D)
WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?
BLAZE
DISOBEYED A DIRECT ORDER.
BENNY
YEAH BUT WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?
BLAZE
WOULDN'T THROW OUT MY COOKIE.
Benny waves him off in disappointment.
A strobe of light flickers across Blaze's skinny chest. They look down the gallery to see JOHNSON, petite well-manicured female CO shining her flashlight at Blaze. The universal sign for: You're on sanctions, get the fuck back to your cell before I write you another ticket. Blaze disappears back into his cell.
BLAZE (O.S.) (CONT'D)
I GET OFF WEDNESDAY.
Benny pushes through the plastic curtain into the showers. He pulls a chair next to one of the spigots and drops his bag in it. He hangs his towel from a hook, drapes a pair of clean boxers over the back of the chair, and presses a button under a nozzle jutting from the stained tile wall. A torrent of water explodes from the nozzle. By the time he gets naked the water has reduced to a trickle. He pushes the button again.
ANGLE ON: Water splashes on the moldy tile floor. A puddle gathers around the drain. We see Benny’s feet in flip flops.
Beat.
The towel falls onto the floor into frame.
INT. UNIT COMMON AREA - LATER
A row of phones lines the wall. Some of them occupied. Benny, on the last phone, with damp hair, a used towel around his neck.
BENNY
(in staccato rhythm)
WITH-GLOBAL-TEL-LINK-MY-VOICE-IS-MY-PASSWORD.
PRE-RECORDED MESSAGE Please enter your pin number now.
Benny quickly punches in an extremely long set of numbers.
ANGLE ON: Benny.
An inmate on the phone next to Benny opens a bag of chips.
PRE-RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) Please wait while your call is connected.
Phone rings three times, then a click.
PRE-RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) This call may be monitored and recorded... Thank you for using Global Tel-Link.
BENNY
Hey ma.
INT. BENNY'S MOM'S APARTMENT - SAME TIME
Benny's MOM, 57, a first-generation punk rocker grown into a sweetheart of a mom. Some of her flair has survived the evolution.
MOM
One second...
She gets up from the couch and grabs a notepad and her laptop from the kitchen table. Benny's STEPDAD, 67 - a Vietnam vet who is keenly aware that his best days are behind him - is stretched out motionless in a recliner. We can't tell if he's asleep or watching TV, or generally alive for that matter. Mom sits back down with her wares.
MOM (CONT'D)
So how are you my beautiful baby boy?
ANGLE ON: BENNY
BENNY I'm good.
An open bag of chips is held in front of him. He thinks about it before waving them off.
MOM (O.S)
Did you meditate today?
BENNY
Got in a few minutes. You know.
ANGLE ON: MOM
MOM
Oh, I'm sorry honey. Maybe you can try again later.
Benny crunches on chips
MOM
Okay, so not a whole lot on Twitter today. Oh, I heard back from the University of Michigan. They want to use one of your pieces in the upcoming P-SAP literary book.
BENNY (O.S) (still chewing)
P-CAP...Which one?
MOM
The one they do every year.
BENNY (O.S.)
No, which piece do they wanna use?
MOM
Oh, the one about the prison haircuts.
ANGLE ON: BENNY
Benny grabs another handful of chips.
(CONT'D)
BENNY
A Little Off The Top...Nice
MOM (O.S.)
Oh, and Stanhope wrote you back already. He's so good about that.
BENNY (through a mouthful of chips)
Yeah well, I'm a charming guy, what can I say?
ANGLE ON: MOM
She scrolls through a Twitter account on her laptop.
MOM
He's in Philadelphia. I guess he’s halfway through his tour. There's a funny story in the message he sent. Oh, and he says you can call him tomorrow.
Stepdad motions to Mom. He points at the coffee table. She waves him off with her eyes.
MOM (CONT'D)
Anyways, I sent you his letter last night.
She grabs the remote and tosses it to him. It startles him, he fumbles the catch.
MOM (CONT'D)
Hopefully you get it today. And (clearly speaking to whoever might be
monitoring the call) It better not get rejected in the mail room either, or I'm calling the lawyer.
There is no lawyer.
ANGLE ON: BENNY
BENNY
Alright, settle down Erin Brockovich.
MOM (O.S.)
What else...what else?...Oh, I was looking at the analytics for the website. A lot of views on your Michigan GOOD TIME piece from Detroit...Grand Rapids... Muskegon.
UNIT INTERCOM
FIVE MINUTES. FIVE MINUTES TO UNIT CLOSE. FINISH UP ON THE PHONES, JPAYS, AND MICROWAVES.
MOM
You got a lot of views from overseas too. A bunch from London, four from Australia.
BENNY
They're about to close yard.
MOM
Okay, Okay, I love you. Talk to you soon-and don't forget to call Stanhope tomorrow.
BENNY
Alright, you're the best. Let Jeremy know I won't be able to call him later. I love -
Line cuts off.
BENNY (CONT’D)
...you
Benny hangs up.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - 12:07PM
Benny sits on his bunk flipping through channels waiting for the intercom to call chow. Something catches his eye. He leans in closer to the TV. A prison docu-series called Hard Times. A segment on conjugal visits.
BENNY
Wood...You watching this?
Benny’s neighbor, HOLLYWOOD, 19, skinny half Mexican kid with a beard that belies his age.
HOLLYWOOD
What channel?
BENNY
Nat Geo. Conjugal visits.
On screen, a CO inspects a bag of groceries for contraband before sliding the items back to a heavily hair sprayed and made-up brunette.
HOLLYWOOD
I’m there. What’s with the food?
BENNY
I guess it’s like a weekend thing.
They got a little house in there, at the prison.
The made-up woman brings the bag of groceries into a small kitchen. There are two other rooms. No doors. One has a couch and a small TV. The other has a bed.
BENNY
Look.
HOLLYWOOD
So they can bring in whatever food they want?
BENNY
Yeah, I guess.
HOLLYWOOD
It’d be so easy to get the bag in.
BENNY
Yeah. Just put it in some cereal or...
UNIT INTERCOM
LOW SIDE GO TO CHOW. LOW SIDE ONLY.
Benny grabs an open packet of ramen seasoning and a pair of RayBans from his desk and heads out. He slides his cell door closed and secures it with a combination lock.
Toro is waiting by the stairs. He falls in step behind Benny. We follow them in a stream of inmates down three flights of stairs and out of the institutional grey unit into the bright sunny day outside. From Kansas to Oz. Benny slides on the sunglasses. Halfway between the unit and the chow hall, he steps out of traffic and pats his pockets.
BENNY
Fuck.
Toro (stops)
TORO
What--forgot your seasoning?
BENNY
No, my ID.
Benny glances from the chow hall back to the unit. A river of inmates pours from the unit. He decides to take his chances without his ID. They join the line leading into the chow hall.
TORO (laughing)
Should’ve finished.
Toro shakes the thought from his head. Benny heard him but doesn't bite. The line moves a step forward. Toro smiles.
BENNY
Alright, what? What is it?
TORO
Nothin...
BENNY
You clearly want to say something, so say it.
TORO
I was just gonna say... maybe it’s because - never mind... It's stupid.
Benny flashes a look of disbelief.
TORO (CONT'D)
What?... There's a lot I don't
say because it's stupid.
BENNY
Oh god, what I wouldn't give to
hear the shit that didn't make the cut.
TORO (laughing)
Fuck off.
BENNY
Come on, let's hear it.
TORO
Alright. I think I know what it is.
BENNY
What what is?
TORO
Why you're all twisted. Why you forgot your ID... and your gloves.
BENNY
Yeah, years of hardcore drug use.
They push through the chow hall doors.
INT. CHOW HALL - 12:42
The line winds a corner to the right where it splits into
two rows of hungry inmates. Toro waits for Benny to pick a line. Right side. The shorter line.
BENNY
Maybe karma.
TORO
No. I think it was the "interruption." Benny scoffs.
TORO (CONT'D) (matter of factly)
I'm serious. Think about it. In here, your routine is everything.
BENNY
No YOU think about it. And how are you so familiar with my routine?
TORO (CONT'D)
I’m not--Look, all I know is you were trying to jerk off and you didn't get to finish...
The inmate ahead of them looks back. Benny flashes him a mind-your-fucking-business smile until the inmate turns back around.
TORO (CONT'D)
... and now you're all mixed up.
BENNY
All mixed up? I forgot my ID. It’s not like I shit in the shower and had to kick it down the drain.
TORO
Not yet.
BENNY
What's that supposed to mean?
TORO
It means - if I were you I'd set things right as soon as possible.
BENNY
Do you hear yourself?
TORO
Yeah, I do.
BENNY
And why are you speaking in three-word phrases from the 50’s?
TORO
What?
BENNY
Yeah- out of sorts, all mixed up, make things right…
They make their way up to a desk. A CO, RODGERS, an aging middle school gym coach type, is scanning IDs. Benny pats his pockets as if he just realized he'd forgot his ID. Rodgers sighs. He's heard it all before.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Eeee, I seem to have forgotten my ID.
RODGERS
You gotta go get it, Gladwell.
BENNY
C'mon. You know me. Gladwell 929441. Just type my number in your little computer there and I'll be outta your hair.
RODGERS
Can't. Captain caught a couple of you all doubling-back, eating twice. Gotta scan everyone’s ID.
Toro holds his ID past Benny for Rodgers to scan. The little laser gun beeps over the little piece of plastic. Benny grits his teeth and turns to head back.
TORO (yelling over his shoulder)
MAKE THINGS RIGHT.
INT. CHOW HALL - LATER
A massive open utilitarian space packed with rows and rows of stainless steel four-tops, half of which are stuffed full of elbow to elbow inmates; the empty half being methodically filled, one by one, with inmates from the chow line. Industrial feeding.
Benny disappears through the chow hall doors. Toro looks down at his tray with contempt. He pushes everything but the cookie into the tray’s largest rectangle and begins mixing. The guy across from him gets up to leave. Before he goes he takes a half-full pack of yellow ramen seasoning from his tray and drops it on the table. A placeholder for Benny. He shakes the seasoning over his mound of food. Toro is methodically shoveling food into his mouth when RED, an inmate two tables away lifts his head.
RED
I GOT NOODLES FOR COOKIE. NOODLES FOR COOKIE.
He looks around for takers. Toro continues eating. A few heads look up from their trays. Instinct not interest. It’s a terrible deal. Red tries to make eye contact. No one bites. Red waits for the next spurt of inmates to come from the chow line.
RED
NOODLES FOR COOKIE. I GOT NOODLES FOR COOKIE.
One kid makes the mistake of looking in his direction. Red nods at him. The kid realizes his mistake and shakes his head no. Red ups the ante.
RED
NOODLES AND KOOL-AID, NOODLES AND KOOL-AID, FOR COOKIE.
The two other inmates at Toro’s table get up and leave as Toro is finishing his last bite.
RED
WHOLE TRAY. I GOT THE WHOLE TRAY FOR THE COOKIE.
VOICE (O.S.)
I GOT YOU RIGHT HERE!
An arm raises from the feeding masses and waves. Red jumps up and hurries over to make the exchange. He weaves between tables mumbling excuse-me as he goes. He makes it about halfway when he notices that the once inviting arm is now waving a middle finger. He recognizes the owner.
RED
AWWW, FUCK OFF GONZO!
The tables around the middle finger erupt into laughter.
Benny pushes through the chow hall doors maneuvering a now empty line with a scrap of paper in his hand.
BENNY
Couldn't find my ID. Got a pass though.
Rodgers punches in his number.
RODGERS 9...2...9...4
Benny spots Toro at a table. Toro nods while making the jerk-off motion with his free hand.
RODGERS (CONT'D)
...4...1
Benny hurries through the chow line as the day's slop is slapped on his tray. He makes his way to the table. Toro moves the little plastic cup of mysterious red liquid that is Benny's place holder. Other than a pristine chocolate chip cookie, Toro's tray has been ransacked. Benny tears into a pile of mushy pasta.
TORO
Find your ID?
Benny doesn't answer.
TORO (CONT'D)
I knew it.
BENNY
Shut up.
TORO
Alright...
BENNY
Listen, I realize this might shake your entire philosophy on life, but the answer to every problem isn't an empty cell, Kleenex and vaseline.
TORO
Yeah, but sometimes it is.
Benny scoops a spoonful of soggy green beans into his mouth.
BENNY
What are you, the William Wallace of masturbation?
TORO
Who's that?
BENNY
Brave Heart?
TORO
You think?
BENNY
No.
Benny hurries to finish his food. Toro takes his little paper napkin, flattens it out on his lap, and looks around conspiratorially. With just his eyes, Benny scans the chow hall.
BENNY (CONT'D)
You're good.
Toro tucks his cookie in the napkin and waits.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Still good--hold up... okay, go!
Toro stuffs the sugary contraband into his pocket. Benny loudly slurps down the red liquid.
BENNY
(CONT'D) You ready?
A CO waits at the exit patting down random inmates as they leave. He discards the smuggled cookies and fruit he finds into a waiting trash can. Benny steps in front of Toro and insinuates himself into the shakedown line. This allows Toro to slide past with his bounty.
EXT. CHOW HALL - CONTINUOUS
Toro waits outside for Benny. He's eating a piece of the smuggled cookie. Benny pushes through the door.
BENNY
What the fuck- the whole point was to bring the damn thing back for later. What, you just wanted to eat it outside?
TORO (mouth full of cookie)
It's just a piece. He pats his pocket.
TORO (CONT'D)
I still got some.
BENNY
Fucking fat ass.
Toro brushes his hands clean.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Let me get a piece.
Toro reaches in his pocket and breaks off a piece of cookie for Benny.
TORO
So what you wanna do today? We got big yard in like an hour.
Benny stuffs the cookie in his mouth and turns to head towards the housing unit.
BENNY
I gotta find my ID.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - 12:53 PM
The cell is in disarray. Benny searches through books, behind his desk, under the mattress, inside pants pockets. No ID.
Benny’s neighbor RIO, 26, pudgy white kid with the mental acuity and unkempt hair of a 13-year-old boy, yells over.
RIO (O.S)
Benny...
Benny stands on a chair to check the top of his locker.
RIO (O.S)
You over there?
BENNY
No, I'm not
RIO (O.S.)
Listen.
Benny stops patting the top of the locker to listen.
RIO (O.S) (CONT'D)
You listening?
BENNY
No.
RIO (O.S)
Would you jump off the fourth gallery for a million bucks?
Benny opens the locker and starts to shake out his clothes.
BENNY
What? No.
RIO (O.S.)
I would.
BENNY
You’d die.
RIO (O.S.)
I know.
Benny throws the pants onto a growing pile of clothes on his bed. His head ducks into the shadows, muffling his voice as he contorts to fit in the tiny gap between his bed and his desk.
BENNY
I'm looking for my ID, so if this is a cry for help, I really don't have time.
RIO (O.S)
Damn. (beat)
I see how it is.
Benny tilts his locker back to check underneath.
RIO (O.S) (CONT'D)
Did you check your pockets?
BENNY
Yeah... I checked my pockets.
Benny checks his pockets again just in case. Nothing.
RIO (O.S)
Did you have it at chow?
Benny plops down on the chair in defeat. His cell is a mess.
RIO (O.S) (CONT'D)
It's gotta be in there somewhere... not like it could just disappear...
Rio leans his head into frame, just outside the bars of Benny's cell. Benny looks up at him.
RIO (CONT'D)
You alright?
BENNY
I don’t know...other than not being able to find my ID, I’m fine. Rio’s head disappears.
BENNY
Rio--
RIO
What?
BENNY
Why’d you ask?
RIO
I don't know. You seem off.
Benny shakes his head. Exhales. A defeated smile spreads across his face.
UNIT INTERCOM
YARD IS OPEN. BIG YARD IS NOW OPEN.
Benny turns off his TV and grabs his tablet.
INT. OFFICE - 2:00PM
Benny sits in front of a desk in a cramped bureaucratic office.
MORTENSEN, sitting behind the desk, the unit counselor, 43, bespectacled with salt-and-pepper hair, and an ever-present polo shirt. His contempt for his job and especially the inmates he’s tasked with serving, is palpable. He shuffles through a stack of papers on his desk.
Benny waits for an opening to speak. Mortensen collects a stack of papers.
Benny holds his finger up to signal he has something to say, but Mortensen's attention is now affixed to the open drawer. Benny lowers his finger. The counselor closes the drawer and finally notices Benny.
BENNY
Mort.
Mortensen, staring intently at his computer screen, grabs the mouse with one hand and extends the index finger on his other in the universal sign for GIVE ME A SECOND.
MORTENSEN (under his breath)
Son of a bitch.
BENNY
Mort, I can see you're busy
Mortensen briefly signals again before pecking at his keyboard.
BENNY (CONT’D)
- but I lost my ID
The counselor finishes watching his fingers tap at the keyboard, presses 'enter', and finally looks up at the inmate in his office.
BENNY (CONT'D)
- so if you could just put in a request for a new one I'll get outta here.
Mort swirls in the mouse around for an extended period of time and eventually double clicks on something. Benny cranes his neck to see the computer screen. Mort turns it away.
MORTENSEN
Okay, Mr. Gladwell. What is it?
BENNY
Like I said, I lost my ID. So I was wondering if you could put in a request for a new one.
MORTENSEN
Lost your ID huh? Well what'd you do with it?
BENNY
What do you mean? I lost it.
MORTENSEN
Well where'd you put it?
BENNY
Somewhere that I don’t remember.
MORTENSEN
Uh huh, and why'd you do that?
Benny's frustration swells, nearly out of check.
BENNY
I found myself sitting in my cell in need of a new excuse to visit you... to see where this little romance is going.
MORTENSEN
Uh huh- and did you check your pockets?
BENNY
Nope. Why would I check my pockets?
MORTENSEN
Because a lot of times people forget things in their pockets.
Mortensen clicks his mouse and turns to grab a stack of papers from the cabinet behind him.
MORTENSEN (CONT'D)
Gladwell.. Gladwell.. I think I have a mail rejection for - yep, here it is.
He adjusts his glasses and reads.
MORTENSEN (CONT'D)
The included mail, pursuant to policy directive M33-4, poses a threat to the safety and security of the institution.
BENNY
What is it?
Mortensen flips to the next page. A photocopy of the mail in question. He scans the section.
MORTENSEN
It's about drug use... Someone named Danny.
BENNY
Mort, we've been through this. I told you, I write. That is a copy of shit I wrote coming back in so I can edit it.
MORTENSEN
It says here that "published books have to be purchased from an approved vendor and not transcribed and mailed in."
BENNY
It's not a published book Mort, I wrote it.
MORTENSEN
Okay, but Myers denied it. Says it promotes drug use. Threat to the institution.
BENNY
Mort, it's not promoting drug use.
Plus, I wrote it in here. On my tablet. I sent it out on the goddamn kiosk - if it's an actual threat to the institution, you'd have to take my tablet...my Jpay access, my paper, pens, pencils... because that's where it came from.
Mortensen weighs the possibility of actually confiscating these things.
MORTENSEN
So what do you want to do? You want a hearing?
BENNY
Yeah, I want a hearing.
Mortensen circles something on the paper and slides it across the desk for Benny to sign. Benny signs and slides it back.
MORTENSEN
Alright, I should be able to hear you on this -
He checks the wall calendar behind him.
MORTENSEN (CONT'D)
By Friday.
Benny exhales and gets up to leave. Just as he hits the door he remembers.
BENNY
Oh, what about the ID?
Mortensen opens a drawer and pulls out a financial disbursement form.
MORTENSEN
Fill this out and drop it in my box before three.
Benny takes the form and turns to leave.
MORTENSEN (CONT'D)
Remember, it's five bucks.
INT. UNIT COMMON AREA - 3:30PM
A stream of water arcs from a water fountain into an empty Dr. Pepper bottle.
Benny with a bottle in one hand and the other holding down the button, focusing on keeping the stream aligned with the bottle’s tiny opening.
UNIT INTERCOM
YARD IS CLOSED. DAY ROOM IS CLOSED.
TAKE IT IN FOR COUNT.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - 3:30PM
Benny enters his cell. Something on his chair catches his eye.
A crude handmade magazine rests on the chair.
Benny calls to HOLLYWOOD.
BENNY
Hollywood, you put this here?
HOLLYWOOD (O.S)
What?
ANGLE ON: Cover of book. In cut-out ransom style letters: "fReAk BoOk"
BENNY This-shitty freak book.
HOLLYWOOD (O.S.)
Naw. Bet it was probably Toro. He was just down here
RIO
Benny, what up?
Benny doesn’t respond. He just stands in the doorway of his cell flipping through the magazine. The inmates below scatter to their cells for count. Benny tosses the haphazard porn onto the chair. He turns on his TV and lays back on his bunk to wait for count.
ANGLE ON: TV. A wildlife documentary. A lioness stalks a Buffalo. Just before she pounces it goes to commercial break: a provocative Fabletics commercial.
Benny takes notice of commercial.
CLOSE ON: Brunette woman in neon yoga pants doing deep squats.
A CO looks into Benny's cell as he does his round.
CLOSE ON: TV. A montage of women of every color, shape, and size in various suggestive poses.
Benny glances at the magazine. It lays there taunting him. He changes the channel.
CLOSE ON: TV. Flipping through channels. Stop on women's college softball game. A runner on second base bends forward ready to run. Tight pants, ass.
Benny sighs. Fucking Toro. He leans his head towards the bars to check that the coast is clear. Good enough. He gets up in a flash and hangs his blanket across the bars of his cell. He rolls out a wad of toilet paper and lays down on his bunk with the magazine.
He flips through pages of nude and scantily clad women as quietly as possible until he finds a page he likes. The most G-rated picture in the collection. A woman in a flowing sundress, a garland of flowers in her hair. He stops to listen before unzipping his pants. The corner of her dress pulled up just enough to reveal the bottom half of her milky white ass.
His hand disappears. He closes his eyes. Just as he starts to relax—
RIO
Benny!
Benny freezes.
RIO (CONT'D)
Benny? (beat)
RIO (CONT'D)
Benny... You in there?
Benny holds his breath. Pauses. Continues.
RIO (CONT’D)
Benny…
Benny slowly resumes his effort.
Benny winces. He looks at the picture.
A blissfully half-naked blonde mid-frolic in a meadow, sun on her face, flowers in her hair. The woman looks genuinely happy.
Benny looks enviously at the woman in the meadow. He flips the page. A black and white xeroxed copy of a hardcore scene. It's so distorted you can't make sense of what's happening on the page. Benny squints to make sense of it and tries to continue.
HOLLYWOOD
What, Rio?
RIO
Is Benny in his cell?
HOLLYWOOD (O.S.)
I think so.
RIO
Well, he's not answering.
HOLLYWOOD (O.S.)
He's probably asleep.
Benny closes his eyes.
RIO
Hollywood.
HOLLYWOOD
What?
RIO
I talked to my mom, right? My aunt spread my grandpa's ashes yesterday. Didn't even tell her.
HOLLYWOOD
Oh yeah?
Benny’s arm jostles to maintain his rigidity through the disruption.
RIO
Yeah, that's fucked up huh?
HOLLYWOOD
Yeah, that's fucked up.
Benny finally slams the magazine closed and tosses it on the chair. Rio hears the page flutter.
RIO
Benny!
BENNY (frustrated)
I'm doing something.
RIO
Again?
BENNY
I'm trying to take a shit dummy.
Benny reaches over and flushes the toilet for effect.
Flush.
RIO (in disbelief)
Uh huh...
Another flush.
BENNY
I am.
RIO
Anyways - my aunt took my
grandfather's ashes out to the woods behind her house..
Benny stares up at the ceiling. Holsters his equipment.
RIO (CONT'D)
... and spread 'em without even telling my mom.
Benny sighs in defeat. He's sprawled out on his bunk. His state-issued pants around his knees. He blows his nose with the unused wad of toilet paper and tosses it in the toilet.
Another flush.
INT. CHOW HALL - DINNER
Two brown plastic trays are slopped with mashed potatoes. Then green beans. They slide to the left. A soggy grilled cheese is dropped on each tray. Finally, a brittle sugar cookie.
Benny and Toro sit across from each other at a cramped four man table, in the crowded chow hall, their elbows nearly touching the two other inmates. Toro struggles to open his milk carton.
TORO
What up?
Benny shakes his bottle of seasoning over his entire tray.
BENNY (Still struggling)
I got your present.
Toro looks confused.
BENNY
Your freak book?
TORO
And?
Benny motions for the milk. Toro hands it over.
BENNY
And... Rio wouldn't shut the fuck up long enough for me to -
He looks at the other diners at the table. They're in their own miserable world.
BENNY (CONT'D)
- do my thing.
TORO
So you didn't finish?
Benny opens the milk
BENNY
No.
TORO
Why not?
Benny hands the milk back to Toro.
BENNY
Well, for starters, because he was talking the whole time.
TORO
So?
BENNY
Well, slapping myself around while the neighbor talks about his dead grandpa - not exactly creating ambiance.
Toro shakes the seasoning bottle over his green beans.
TORO
I don't get you man.
BENNY
Clearly.
TORO
If I had to wait for complete silence every time I jerked off here, I'd be down to like... five times.
BENNY
Five times?...five times what?
TORO
Five times a week.
Benny's eyes go wide.
TORO (CONT'D)
Jacking off.
BENNY
No, I got it.
Benny opens his own milk.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Jesus. Five times a week? That’s your low-ball? How many…never mind.
TORO
At least ten.
BENNY
Is this part of your parole or something? Do you get time knocked off your
sentence every time you fucking jerk off?
TORO
What? No. why?
BENNY
I mean - you're running around prison dropping random porn into people's cells.
TORO
It wasn't random.
BENNY
By the way, anyone who has porn that psychotic should never be released from prison.
TORO
What do you mean?
BENNY
It looks like a serial killer glued that shit together with blood and semen. Parole hearings should be entirely dependent on what kind of porn you have in your cell, and by that rule... you're not fit for society.
TORO (miffed)
You're the one who said you felt off. I was just trying to help.
BENNY (beat)
You said that. Is there some Latin folklore about a half busted nut I don't know about?
Benny wraps his cookie in a napkin and hands it to Toro.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Well I tried twice. It's not meant to be.
Toro places the cookie on his lap.
TORO
Suit yourself.
BENNY
Stupid.
Toro waits for the signal.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Go, go go!
Toro tucks the confectionery contraband. They stand up in unison to leave.
EXT. BIG YARD - SUNSET
CLOSE ON: Tablet. Benny scrolls through artists. Mac Miller. Highlights song "Good News." Taps play. Music overlays.
We track Benny as he starts his walk around the track. He passes a group of inmates at the pull up bars on his left. Two older inmates on a bench to the right. Benny's pace is faster than the other leisurely traffic. He weaves around inmates, giving them a wide berth, as he passes.
Off to the side of the track, an inmate in light blue sweatpants ROCK, the head of the OG’s, holds court in a small group. Benny watches their movements as he passes.
CHEDDAR (who is non affiliated), walking in the opposite direction, nods at Benny. Benny nods back.
He starts his second lap. Passes the pull up bars again. The two older inmates are still on the bench. They seem to be arguing. The group of OG’s has dispersed. Benny rounds the bend. He gains on two inmates walking ahead of him at an incredibly slow pace. The one on the left is EAST SIDE. He locks three cells down from Benny. The inmate next to him is wearing a white Nike headband. It's the guy from the weight pit. The one who dealt it.
Benny passes them on the shoulder. The path ahead is clear. Over his shoulder we see LOW, one of the inmates from the now-dispersed group of OG’s, approaching from behind. Low is the only one on the yard wearing a coat. His right hand is tucked in his pocket. Most of the other inmates have cleared the track. Benny nods along to the music.
Low closes the distance. He slowly pulls his hand from his pocket. A crude knife. Benny notices the other inmates standing off to the side of the track. They're all looking in the same direction.
Just as Benny turns around, Low reaches Nike Headband and stabs him in the side of the neck. Rapid fire. Back, ribs, shoulders. Islands of red form in Nike Headband’s white shirt. Benny walks backwards to keep his eye on the action without actually stopping. He watches just long enough to make sure it has nothing to do with him. The assault escalates.
Benny turns around and continues walking. Music swells. He nods along to the music. Over Benny's shoulder we see the yard slow to a crawl. COs run in slow motion towards the altercation. Tasers out. They yell at the combatants and surrounding inmates. We hear nothing but the music. Benny bops his head.
Tasers fire. One into Low. Another into Nike Headband. Another CO deploys pepper spray. Benny rounds another bend. He glances back but keeps walking. The inmates within range cough. Some drop to their knees. Another group of COs enter the fray. The song fades out. A siren is blaring.
UNIT INTERCOM
BIG YARD IS CLOSING. RETURN TO YOUR HOUSING UNIT IMMEDIATELY.
Everyone is leaving the yard. Toro is the only one walking against the grain. Benny spots him and removes his earbuds.
TORO
What are you doing? C'mon, let’s get out of here.
INT. HOUSING UNIT - MOMENTS LATER
Benny and Toro push through the doors back to the unit. A palpable buzz in the unit. Inmates gather in groups to trade gossip and reenact the altercation. Benny notices an open phone amidst the distraction.
BENNY
Check the temperature on that shit. See if it’s dead. I'm gonna get on the phone.
TORO
Yep.
Benny leans against a phone, uses his shoulder to hold the receiver against his ear.
RECORDED MESSAGE For a collect call press —
Before it can finish he presses 0.
RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) For English press 1
RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) Please enter your pin number.
Benny dials an 11-digit number with the speed of someone who has done it a million times.
RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) Please repeat the phrase: With Global Tel-Link my voice is my password. Beep.
BENNY
With Global Tel-Link my voice is my password.
RECORDED MESSAGE Dial the area code and number you are trying to reach.
Benny dials the 10 digit number in a flash.
RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) Please wait while your call is being connected.
The phone rings. Benny looks around the unit. Toro is talking to CASTRO, 32, Serbian and heavily tattooed. Collecting intel.
Ring ring ring.
The remaining gang bangers are gathered around a table.
Ring ring ring.
The phone finally clicks.
Hollywood looks at Benny with wide eyes as he passes. He mouths, "You see that shit?" Benny nods. Another click.
RECORDED MESSAGE (CONT'D) Your call was not accepted.
Benny hangs up.
UNIT INTERCOM
FIFTEEN MINUTES. FIFTEEN MINUTES
UNTIL UNIT CLOSES.
INT. 3RD GALLERY LANDING - EVENING
Benny, Toro, Castro, and Forty gather by the stairs for their nightly ritual of gossiping like middle schoolers before being locked down for the night.
TORO
You see the gang bangers mobbed up?
CASTRO
Yeah, what was that shit about? The fuck did Murph do?
FORTY
I heard he was spinnin' D-Don on some bread.
CASTRO
Oh yeah?
BENNY (shaking his head)
Naw.
FORTY
Shit, that’s what I heard.
BENNY
He might've owed him some money, but I don't think that's what that shit was about.
FORTY
What happened then? He told on somebody?
BENNY
Naw. (beat) He farted.
CASTRO
What?
TURBO, 45, a sawed off, overly enthusiastic, addict comes up the stairs.
BENNY
I'm pretty sure Murph got shot over a fart... in the weight pit.
TORO
That's who that was?
BENNY (Shaking his head)
CASTRO
Who? What?
TURBO
Hold up, hold up. What happened though?
BENNY
Dumbass keeps letting 'em go in the weight pit—I mean, you know how small it is in there. No "excuse me," no going to walk outside, fanning it away, nothing. Shit finally caught up with him. I mean, he had it coming.
Everyone but Turbo nods in agreement.
TURBO
What? Come on man, you think a guy deserves to get it for farting?
TORO
Maybe. Depending on the circumstances.
TURBO
Come on.
BENNY
People get stabbed for all kinds of shit. You’ve heard of guys getting stabbed for calling someone a bitch, right?
TURBO
Well yeah...
BENNY
Farting and making someone to inhale little shit particles into their lungs, where it’s absorbed into their bloodstream, is just fuckin’... disrespectful. It’s worse than being called a bitch. A Bitch is just a word...shit lungs are forever.
TORO
At this point he’s a habitual offender.
TURBO
So you'd stab someone for farting by you?
BENNY
I wouldn't, I'm just saying we’ve all seen people cut up for less.
UNIT INTERCOM THAT'S IT. THE UNIT IS CLOSED.
FINISH UP IN THE MICROWAVE, END YOUR CALLS, CLEAR THE JPAY. UNIT IS CLOSED. CLEAR THE BASE. LOCKDOWN.
Turbo reluctantly agrees but is uneasy with the implications. The group disperses towards their cells.
INT. OUTSIDE BENNY'S CELL - CONTINUOUS
General nightly lockdown ruckus crescendos. Inmates yell across the unit, smuggle noodles and other gas station food up the stairs, run to catch an open microwave or messaging kiosk before the unit closes. Benny stops and leans in Hollywood's door.
BENNY
You good youngin’?
HOLLYWOOD (sprawled across his bunk)
Of course.
BENNY
You want this shut?
HOLLYWOOD
Yeah.
Benny slides Hollywood's door closed and enters his own cell. He turns his TV on and plops down on his bed. Just then Rio appears at his bars.
RIO
Yo...
BENNY
What up?
RIO
Not shit.
UNIT INTERCOM THAT'S IT, CLOSE YOUR DOORS. UNIT IS CLOSED.
Benny pumps his fist at Rio's forced dismissal.
RIO
Oh, it's like that?
BENNY
You heard 'em... beat it.
A cascade of doors slamming shut. Rio slinks away trailing his middle finger across Benny's bars as he goes.
BENNY (CONT'D)
Aww, don't be like that Rio. (beat) Rio!
Rio reappears.
RIO
What?
BENNY (beat)
Close my door.
RIO
Fuck you.
He slams Benny's door shut.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - LOCKDOWN
Silence.
HOLLYWOOD
What’re we watching tonight?
BENNY
Don't do that. It's Tuesday. You know what it is.
HOLLYWOOD
VANDERPUMP!
RIO
What are you guys watching?
RIO (CONT'D)
Hollywood, what are you watching?
HOLLYWOOD
TV.
RIO
Yeah? Go fuck yourselves.
BENNY
Whoa, whoa... what did I do?
RIO
Not you. What channel you on?
BENNY
CBT.
RIO
What channel is that?
BENNY
F-4. Hollywood, it's F-4. Or is
it F-5?
RIO
What the fuck are you talking about?
HOLLYWOOD
Benny, you see what Sheena's wearing?
BENNY
Nah, I missed it.
HOLLYWOOD
LOOK, LOOK, thong!
BENNY
Nice.
RIO
Fuck you guys.
HOLLYWOOD
Benny--top three. Go.
BENNY
Top three what?
HOLLYWOOD
Who you'd bang, right now.
BENNY
What, based on looks?
HOLLYWOOD
Yeah just looks.
BENNY
Ehhh, you can’t really separate personality like that.
HOLLYWOOD
Whatever.
BENNY
Okay: I'd marry Stassi, date Dana, and make sweet sweet love to Sheena.
HOLLYWOOD
For me, it's Sheena…Stassi.. and I want to say Ariana but she looks weird without makeup. Raquel, I like Raquel.
BENNY
COMMERCIAL. Rio! What up my dawg?
RIO
(Quietly) What?
BENNY
Rio, whats up homie?
RIO
No.
BENNY
No? No what?
RIO
I ain't trying to kick it.
BENNY
Why, cause Hollywood wouldn’t tell you what we’re on? It's Bravo. You know this.
HOLLYWOOD
Don't do that... don't listen to him Rio. I'm the one who didn’t know what channel it was.
BENNY
No he didn't. When you asked what we were watching he said "TV" like a smartass.
HOLLYWOOD
Whoa. You're the one who said it was on H-2.
BENNY
No, I said it was F-4. You see Rio? He's a liar. I told you it's on Bravo.
RIO
What channel is Bravo?
BENNY
Oh- it’s back.
Benny and Hollywood go back to ignoring Rio. Hollywood laughs. Another commercial.
HOLLYWOOD
Yo Benny?
Benny gets up and grabs a pack of cookies from his locker.
HOLLYWOOD
You were out there when dog got popped?
BENNY
Yeah.
He dumps half the cookies in a bowl and seals it with a lid.
HOLLYWOOD
Who was it? The guy that always be wearin the headband?
BENNY
Yep.
HOLLYWOOD
They got him together?
BENNY
He was definitely leaking.
HOLLYWOOD
For real…
Benny takes the remaining cookies and wedges his arm through the bars at the back of his cell. He taps the cookies against the wall between the cells.
RIO
What?
Benny taps the wall again. Rio reaches through the bars to grab the package of cookies.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - LATER
The cell goes quiet. His TV is the only source of light in the tiny cell. Benny flips through channels. Nothing interesting. Stops on an episode of The Office. It's a Jim and Pam love montage towards the end of the series.
Benny’s eyes well up. He snaps them shut and changes the channel. Now it's a TED talk. Man on stage, hands-free mic, talking about synchronicity. Benny goes to brush his teeth.
MAN (O.S)
As Jung said, synchronicity deals with events in time according to simultaneity.
Benny listens to the TV with his little clear earbuds as he squeezes toothpaste onto his brush.
MAN (O.S) (CONT'D)
The term synchronicity explains nothing. It simply formulates the occurrence of meaningful coincidences which, in themselves, are chance happenings, but are so improbable that we must assume them to be based on some kind of principle, or on some property of the empirical world.
Benny reaches and changes the channel. Robin Williams is standing on a desk rallying a classroom full of preppy students.
Benny reaches over, toothbrush in the side of his mouth, and changes the channel. This time, a UFC commercial. Connor McGregor stands in the middle of the octagon, triumphant, championship belt slung over his shoulder. Grabs the mic from Joe Rogan.
Benny watches himself in the mirror, illuminated from the blue glow of the TV.
CO CONNOR (O.S)
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to... ABSOLUTELY NO ONE!
Benny spits in the toilet. Toothpaste splashes up on the seat. Again. Methodically, he unrolls a wad of toilet paper and wipes the seat. He sits down on the side of his bed and scrolls through the channels. He finds something worth stopping on.
CLOSE ON: TV. The silhouette of a man and a woman standing hand-in-hand in front of a high-rise window. The last scene of Fight Club. The silhouettes watch from the top floor as the skyline in front of them crumbles. The end of the old world. The first chords of The Pixies "Where Is My Mind" starts to play. Volume up. Edited for TV, the credits roll by extremely fast. He doesn't get to hear the song. A CO walks past Benny's cell but doesn't notice. Click. TV off.
Benny gets up, kisses his thumb and presses it against the picture on his cork board. He lays back on his bed. The space is eerily quiet. He stares at the ceiling.
Benny closes his eyes.
INT. BENNY'S CELL - LATER
Benny tosses and turns searching for sleep that evades him. He rolls to his back, eyes flash open, he grabs his tablet from his desk, and puts earbuds in. The screen lights up and illuminates his face.
BENNY
... absolutely no one.
The Pixies' song is back. Volume up.
Benny takes a deep breath and flings his cover back. A man on a mission. He doesn't even check for a CO. He hangs his blanket over the cell’s bars. Music swells. He unrolls a wad of toilet paper, undoes his belt and lays down on his bunk. He needs no smutty magazine. Nothing will stand in his way. He lays back and closes his eyes. All we hear is the music.
START MONTAGE
- A CO walks the darkened tier checking cells.
- A flashback: The woman from his cork board, MONICA. She's in the passenger seat. Benny is driving. The sun is going down. They're smoking. Benny burns his hand passing her the blunt. She's laughing. They both are.
- The CO turns the corner towards the stairs. Checks his belt.
- Benny's scrunched face glowing blue from the tablet.
- Flashback: Benny is pulling under an overpass on the side of a busy road.
- the CO walks methodically down the stairs.
- Flashback: Benny and Monica are kissing as they scramble into the back seat of the car. The light from the dashboard casts a blue glow just like the tablet. Just like the TV.
- The CO walks slowly down one of the indistinguishable tiers.
- Flashback: Interior of the car. Limbs and clothes flying. Flashes of light. The headlights of passing cars.
- The CO comes to a cell with a blanket covering the bars. Stops. He says something but the music renders him mute. The light in a cell across the gallery blinks to life.
- Benny's tablet shakes.
- The CO taps the bars with his flashlight. More darkened cells blink to life.
- Flashback. Monica. Exposed shoulders. Bare clavicles. She rolls her eyes. A smile twists at the corner of her mouth...
- Benny's face twists. Exhale. Smile. END MONTAGE
Benny gets up triumphantly and flushes the wad of toilet paper. He steps towards bars and pulls down the blanket. An irate CO shines a flashlight in his face. Half of the cells in the unit are lit up. Some of the inmates are at their bars. Benny pulls his ear buds out. The music falls away. The ambient noise of a now raucous prison unit takes its place. A few inmates yell, some bang on lockers.
INMATES (VARIOUS)
(cheering)
BENNY! YOU FREAKY BASTARD. BACK TO BACK! YEAH BOY!
A smile spreads across Benny's face.
CO CONNOR
ID Now!
Benny pats his pockets. He glances around the cell, remembering he still hasn't found his ID. The CO shines his flashlight on the cell floor. Illuminated in an island of light, the corner of Benny's missing ID peaks from under a laundry bag tucked under the corner of his bed. Benny's smile widens. He picks up the ID and gladly hands it through the bars. The CO takes it, pulls out his little notepad to write something down. Maybe Toro was right. The CO passes the ID back. Benny sits down. Content. Maybe he finally set things right. He turns off his tablet and lays back to finally go to sleep.
He lays down, hands behind his head.
HOLLYWOOD
Wow... Two nights in a row?
Benny smiles and closes his eyes. FADE TO BLACK.