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turning to page one
turning to page one
Dark as midnight. Concrete walls rise on both sides. If you imagine them as two huge slices of bread, the meat of this particular sandwich is about three feet of airspace and a dark tangle of pipes between the cellblocks. Rory's appears, shining his flashlight down the shaft. Somewhere, a rat SQUEAKS.
RED (V.O.)
It was his third day on the job.
RORY
Warden? There's a space here
between the walls 'bout three feet
across! Smells pretty damn bad!
NORTON (O.S.)
I don't care what it smells like!
HADLEY (O.S.)
Go on, boy! We got a hold of you!
Looking none too happy about it, Rory squeezes from the tunnel and dangles into the shaft. He gets lowered, shining his light, smothered by darkness. Not having a good time.
RORY
Hoo-whee! Smell's gettin' worse!
NORTON (O.S.)
Never mind, I said! Just keep
going!
RORY
Smells pretty damn bad, Warden! In
fact, it smells just like shit. His
feet touch the ground -- or what he
assumed was the ground. It's not.
In fact, it's just what it smells
like. He sinks in past his ankles.
He slips and sits heavily in it.
RORY (CONT'D)
Oh God, that's what it is, it's
shit. oh my God it's shit. pull me
out 'fore I blow my groceries, oh
shit it's shit, oh my Gawwwwwwd!