The Props Master

Slack is just as his name describes him: a slacker. But when he's handed community service, he decides to go up to a local community theatre and try his hand out with the back stage work. Little does he know, he is handed the task of being their props master for their latest show. From there wild hijinks explode which include a feud with the director, love interests, and a war with an evil mafia family.

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7. A Deal in Gangsterville

INT – BACK ROOM OF WAREHOUSE

(BRECKIN opens up the door to his back room. He turns the light on to reveal a whole private arsenal of weapons)

VAL:

Holy shit!

MARK:

What king of war were you preparing for?

BRECKIN:

The worst kind, fella. You never know when a cops gonna come knockin’ on your door asking to search the house and the only way to protect your goodies is with a little second amendment.

LULA:

You sure are a dry hunk of meat. Mind if I test out one of your guns before we get off on the road?

BRECKIN:

Lady, I sure hope that shit was not innuendo because you’re scaring me. You look like Linda Blair crossed with the egg sack of a pregnant frog.

SLACK:

Okay! Everyone grab as much as you can. We’re going to find Cabretti and seize the Margino family vase from that fucker before they come after us again. If all hell breaks loose…at least we’ll be prepared for it. Remember, we’re Thespians.

SHAWN:

What does that have anything to do with it?

SLACK:

Look, I’m trying to pick up our spirits Shawn. Now over to the Cabretti household!

 

EXT – RICH NEIGHBORHOOD

(Cut to the troupe, all armed to the teeth, standing outside CABRETTI’s house ringing the doorbell)

DICK:

I don’t think he’s home.

MARK:

Where the fuck would he be then?

KAYLA:

This is all a dead end!

VAL:

Wait a minute. I think I found something.

SLACK:

What is it?

(VAL picks up a newspaper dispersed in the bushes)

VAL:

It’s today’s newspaper.

MARK:

     So?     

VAL:

Look at the dailies! One of the articles is circled!

SLACK:

It most certainly is. Breckin, do you have any idea where this place is located?

(SLACK hands the newspaper to BRECKIN)

VAL:

Why ask him?

SLACK:

Because. The article handler is registered in his neighborhood.

SHAWN:

So?

SLACK:

Ergo numb nuts…Cabretti is going to make a seedy deal.

BRECKIN:

Well slap my ass red and call me Dixie.

LULA:

Okay!

BRECKIN:

Hold off boney. Slack, that is Pyg’s neighborhood.

KAYLA:

Pig?

BRECKIN:

Yeah. Pig. Only it’s spelled “P-Y-G.”

MARK:

Ah. How gangster.

BRECKIN:

The fucker runs a meth lab opposite of mine. He thinks he can steal my customers and shit. I guess he’s now in the pawning business because this ad displays his warehouses address.

VAL:

Wait. You’re a drug dealer?

BRECKIN:

In my spare time but that’s a completely different hobby.

DICK:

What kind of people are we going to deal with, Slack?

SLACK:

The only kind we got.

BRECKIN:

He’s bad news, Slack. And honestly, if this Cabretti character is going to him with your vase…it might be a whole new ballgame.

SLACK:

Then you might as well call me Babe Ruth.

(SLACK cocks his shotgun)

SLACK:

Because I’m about to smack myself a fucking homer.

 

EXT – PYG’s WAREHOUSE

(LULA’s van pulls up to the warehouse)

BRECKIN:

Fuck. I forgot. Alfonso and Ghetto.

VAL:

Excuse me?

BRECKIN:

Those are Pyg’s two door men. You see those thugs guarding the main entrance? Nobodies getting in with those two hulking brutes guarding the door.

LULA:

Give me two minutes. I’ll pave the way for our grand scheme.

(LULA gets out of the car)

MARK:

Lula! Where are you going!?

SLACK:

Wait, wait. This might be interesting.

(LULA skulks up to the two bodyguards)

LULA:

Evening gentlemen.

ALFONSO:

Whoa, now bitch. Who the hell are you?

LULA:

I’m just a little old lady. Can’t you tell?

GHETTO:

You better step back now.

LULA:

You two fine bowls of chocolate pudding ever slip and slide with a lady of my caliber?

GHETTO:

What the fuck?

(LULA grabs her blouse and rips it open. We as the audience of course only see the two bodyguards shocked expressions as they scream)

HUNG:

That’s just cruel and unusual.

SLACK:

Yeah well at least she didn’t kill them.

(The two body guards fall to their knees. They don’t see LULA take a revolver out of her back pocket and shoot ALFONSO in the head)

GHETTO:

What the fuck!? No, saggy tits, please!

(LULA shoots GHETTO twice. LULA turns back around and waves for everyone in the van)

LULA:

Coast is clear!

BRECKIN:

Damn…

SLACK:

Remind me to never make fun of her ever again.

BRECKIN:

Same here.

(Everyone gets out of the van and runs up to the front door)

SLACK:

On my count, got it? When I say three: We bust in and take names!

BRECKIN:

What if the vase is among the collateral damage?

SLACK:

Then I fucking kill all of you.

KAYLA:

Should we say a quick prayer? You know…in case some of us don’t make it out of here alive?

SHAWN:

Oh Jesus…

SLACK:

Thanks for volunteering Shawn! Go right ahead and start the prayer.

SHAWN:

Fuck you. Um, Dear God…yay verily we pray that none of us die. Amen.

(We hear BRECKIN snort some cocaine)

BRECKIN:

Woo! Amen! Let’s get to it!

(SLACK looks at all of his friends and breathes heavily)

SLACK:

Okay. THREE!

(SLACK kicks the door open and everyone runs in. The troupe enter a large room to find TRUMAN being handed a large wad of money by PYG)

PYG:

Yo! What the fuck is this fucking shit!?

VAL:

Hold it right there, Truman!

TRUMAN:

Val? What the!? Shawn? My entire cast of Shakespeare? What are you doing here?

SLACK:

Busting your ass. Hand over the vase you fucker!

PYG:

Yo! Breckin? Is that you motherfucker?

BRECKIN:

You bet it’s me, Pyg! I’m here to help my friends in honor of a fallen friend. So in retrospect…it’s a lot of stuff in due of friendship!

MARK:

We know about you stealing the vase, Cabretti.

HUNG:

Margino attacked the theatre tonight. He wants it back.

DICK:

We’re not letting anyone else die.

PYG:

Yo, you fuckers are too fucking late. He already sold me the fucking vase!

LULA:

Now that is one man I refuse to sleep with.

SLACK:

My best friend died tonight, Cabretti. We already spilled enough blood tonight. Does anymore have to be spilt?

TRUMAN:

You theatre fucks. You think you can come on in and ruin the fun. Well guess what! The game isn’t over just yet.

(TRUMAN takes out a pistol)

PYG:

Yo! I said no pistols, fool!

TRUMAN:

I’m taking the money. And I’m taking the vase! It will all be mine. Do you understand!? I’m going to win! Nobody will stop me!

BRECKIN:

I’m going to lay this fucker out.

PYG:

We had a deal, Cabretti!

TRUMAN:

Key word Piglet: Had!

(TRUMAN shoots PYG. PYG stumbles over and falls down)

SLACK:

You’re a mad man, Cabretti.

TRUMAN:

Mad man!? Mad man? No! I’m just a man who dreamed too large and was given too fucking little!

(A gunshot goes off. The vase in TRUMAN’s hand explodes)

SLACK:

NO!

(TRUMAN looks over to see PYG on his knees holding a golden gun. TRUMAN, angrily, holds up his pistol and shoots PYG once again in the head)

TRUMAN:

Die you gangster scum!

VAL:

Bring him down!

(Everyone starts to fire at TRUMAN. TRUMAN quickly runs away to the back entrance. He jumps through a window and lands in the garbage)

HUNG:

He’s making a break for it!

KAYLA:

Come on Slack, let’s go catch him.

SLACK:

But the vase!

BRECKIN:

It’s all over for the vase. We have to snatch the guy who led us to this point.

(BRECKIN grabs SLACK and drags him along)

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