Now is the Custard of Our Discontent

HENDERSON HOUSE, EXT DAY

A pleasant little suburban home with white siding and red shingles.  A green lawn and a white picket fence.  A sidewalk winds by the house, shaded by elm trees.  A child on a bike rides by.

CUT TO

HENDERSON HOUSE, INT DAY

A neat kitchen – wood counters, white tile backsplash, stainless fixtures. A cat clock, one of the ones you find in a dollar store, where the tail is the pendulum, and the eyes tick back and forth, hangs on the wall.  A FLAN sits on a white ceramic plate.  It QUIVERS gently.

A CAT jumps on the counter and sniffs the flan, and begins to lick it.

CUT TO

HENDERSON HOUSE, EXT DAY

SLURPING SOUND, followed by a muffled MEOW.

CUT TO

TITLE CARD

NOW IS THE CUSTARD OF OUR DISCONTENT

 FADE IN

THE PENTAGON, EXT DAY

It’s the Pentagon. A building with 5 sides.  Come on.  A helicopter flies overhead and banks toward a landing pad.

CUT TO

LANDING PAD

A tall SOLDIER – GENERAL HAMNCHEESE, his chest full of campaign medals, steps off the helicopter, and is greeted by an AIDE with an armful of papers. They duck in the wake of the helicopter’s blades, their voices raised over the WHUP WHUP.

HAMNCHEESE

What’ve you got for me, son?

AIDE

Sir, three hours ago, TMFC (Tactical Malevolent Food Command) detected activity in a suburb of Millsville, three hours outside of Chicago.

Hamncheese takes a paper from the aide and reads it.  He stops in his tracks.

HAMNCHEESE

Is this right?

AIDE

Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.

HAMNCHEESE

God damn it. When will they learn? I thought we had that episode of Martha Stewart in quarantine.

AIDE

It got out sir.

Close up of Hamncheese’s face.

HAMNCHEESE

Send in the team.

CUT TO

HENDERSON HOUSE, EXT DAY

CHOPPERS can be heard approaching, getting louder.  The boy on the bike slows, and looks up.  Ropes unspool from offscreen, while men in special forces gear descend.  One tackles the boy and pulls him away from the house.  The bike lays on its site, wheel spinning, while the other spec operators kick in the door and charge in.  There is the sound of CRASHES and SHOUTING.  A helicopter descends to the street, and a WOMAN – CHARLIE  – in a white hazmat suit exits and walks toward the house.

CUT TO

HENDERSON KITCHEN

The flan is surrounded by men with weapons, the barrels pointing at it.  They make room for Charlie. She turns to one of the operators.

CHARLIE

Any activity?

OPERATOR

Negatory, Cap.

CHARLIE

Good- clear these men out of here and-

She is cut off by the CRASH of a rifle round being fired.

CHARLIE (furious)

Who did that!?

OPERATOR

It was Clydesdale, ma’am. Had a bad experience with an olive loaf, once.

A burbling sound from behind them makes them turn.  Charlie’s eyes go wide.

CHARLIE

RUN!

She sprints for the door. Behind her, we can hear CHAOS.

OPERATOR (OS)

Twinkie 1-9, Twinkie 1-9, requesting air strike on my coordinat-

There is a scream, and a gurgling sound.  A door slams.

CUT TO

HENDERSON HOUSE, EXT DAY

Charlie, standing in the front lawn, panting in her suit.  She tries to radio the team, but only gets static back.

CUT TO

HENDERSON KITCHEN

The flan quivers on its plate slightly. Bodies lie in disarray around the kitchen. Charlie’s voice can be heard over the Operator’s walkie.

FADE TO

POKIE’S BAR, INT NIGHT

A MAN- BEAR ARMS – sits in a booth, putting away shots.  He’s wearing stubble, flannel, and a trucker hat.  Charlie approaches him, wearing a smart gray suit.

CHARLIE

Mr. Arms?

BEAR

Who wantsa know?

CHARLIE

Charlie Pander. TMFC.

BEAR

No.

CHARLIE

But-

BEAR (angry)

You people never learn. First it was the cinnamon roll in Hamtramck. Then the foie gras in Trenton. What now? Some housewife bake a rogue tart?

CHARLIE

Worse. Flan.

BEAR

Sonovabitch. I’m in.

CHARLIE

You just said –

BEAR

I know what I said. A flan killed my brother. I’m in.

Charlie hands him a file.  He glances at it.

BEAR

I’m gonna need a few things.

CUT TO

MONTAGE of Bear gathering tools, a la Evil Dead. Caramelizing torch, pickle fork, a pastry brush, and a whisk. Set to the Moody Blues’ Nights in White Satin. SMASH CUT TO Bear’s face.  He holds up a potato masher.

BEAR

Squishy.

CUT TO

HENDERSON HOUSE, EXT DAY

Bear and Charlie stand outside the house.  The kid on the bike starts into the frame, sees them, and turns around. You can hear him sniffle on the way out.  Bear grabs Charlie around the waist and pulls her close.

BEAR

If I don’t make it, tell them I tried. I couldn’t finish Dexter though. It got terrible.

He MASHES a kiss into her lips and lets go, then makes for the door.  He kicks it in, and pauses, a spoon in his fist.

BEAR

This is for Cameroon, you sonovabitch!

He disappears inside.  There are sounds of COMBAT, and dishes BREAKING. Random CURSES fly through the air while Charlie watches anxiously. Then, a moment of silence.  Charlie takes a step forward.  The house EXPLODES into FLINDERS, and the SHOCKWAVE knocks her off her feet.  She sits up after a moment, and brushes her hair out of her eyes.  The ruins of the house are FLAMING.  There is a short beat, and then Bear comes stumbling out of the house, flan on his lips.  He smiles and winks. Charlie runs to him, and he sweeps her up in his arms.

BEAR

How about a vacation?

CHARLIE

Where to?

BEAR

Anywhere they don’t have flan. Or an extradition treaty.

ROLL CREDITS

END SONG: DANCING WITH MYSELF

POST CREDITS

Cupcakes, sitting on a counter.  A cat licks the frosting on one.

FADE TO BLACK