ANIMAL PEOPLE
‘PILOT’
by Chris Gilman
[email protected] 908 447 5803 COLD OPEN
OVER BLACK:
SUPER: ”GRAPHIC WARNING: This video depicts unspeakable assaults upon the dignity inherent to all pigs.”
”The following footage was recorded during undercover investigations by the Nine Billion Ghost Front, an animal liberation group declaring war on speciesism.”
These clips have LOWER-THIRDS: “Recorded Via Hidden Camera By NBG Investigators.” This is a PETA-esque exposé video edited by an iMovie amateur, scored with EERIE DRONE SOUNDS.
INT. PASTURE - DAY
CLIP 1: A pig sniffs around a field. SCIENTISTS and ARMY OFFICIALS (faces blurred) observe the pig from 100 yards back.
SCIENTIST Effects of M320 Grenade launcher on adult Yorkshire pig. Test #74.
A SOLDIER with a GRENADE LAUNCHER kneels, aims, FIRES. The pig looks up, tilting its head just as the grenade CONNECTS. The pig is OBLITERATED. The scientists jot notes on clipboards.
SCIENTIST The M320 appears to have destroyed the pig. But would an infant pig also react by exploding? Hm. Further tests necessary.
EXT. PETTING ZOO - DAY
CLIP 2: A banner hangs from a fence, “PONDEROSA PETTING ZOO.” Nearby, a MOTHER holds a HYSTERICALLY CRYING little girl. The mother points at a PIG lying on its stomach behind the fence.
MOTHER That pig was passive-aggressive to my child! How DARE you let my kid near an animal so quietly hostile?
The pig SNORTS indifferently. The little girl WAILS. The mother SCREAMS in panic and shields her daughter.
MOTHER Put that beast down! (MORE) 2.
MOTHER (CONT’D) Before it silently judges someone else instead of being direct and honest!
Bystanders TACKLE the pig. A man in a cowboy hat sprints over, aims a RIFLE at the pig, and FIRES.
EXT. LUXURY APARTMENT - DAY
CLIP 3: A food challenge YouTuber (think Epic Meal Time) stands at a table holding a PIG DEEP-FRIED WHOLE. We cut between the hidden camera on set and the finished video, in which crude ANIMATIONS show the meal preparation Garrett describes.
GARRETT THE GLUTTON Sup fam! Today’s challenge is ‘The Family Reunion’: 3 generations of pigs, stuffed in their grandma, deep-fried, wrapped in bacon.
TIME-LAPSE: Garrett GORGES on the pig. At one point, he vomits, but continues eating anyway.
BACK TO NORMAL-SPEED FOOTAGE: Garrett’s half done. He’s covered in pork morsels. Then, a SQUEAL emits from inside the remains.
GARRETT THE GLUTTON Damn, son! Baby pig still alive! (dabbing) Miracle dab! Miracle dab!
FREEZE FRAME on the LIVE PIGLET Garrett frees from inside the fried monstrosity as his whole crew DABS behind him.
SASHA (V.O.) A 2 week-old pig can recognize and respond to its name. Pigs are social, affectionate animals, who perform higher on cognitive tests than dogs, apes, and 3 year-old humans. Pigs have souls. Do we?
SLOW-MOTION FOOTAGE: pigs frolicking in mud, eating, humping.
SASHA (V.O.) Why did the lives of such beautiful, innocent animals end like this? The answer can be found where their lives began.
LOGO for POWELL FAMILY PORKABILIA AND VISCERA MISCELLANY: a row of pigs in human clothes. One dressed like a CHEF. 3.
One a SCIENTIST. One a FASHIONISTA. A FARMER PIG has a speech bubble: “All-purpose pigs, from an all-natural farm!”
SASHA (V.O.) Powell Family Porkabilia. Once a small-scale operation, the Powell Farm has since industrialized to stay competitive.
SERIES OF PHOTOS: the Powell property goes from a quaint farm to a massive complex over time. A RED BARN is replaced by GRAY INDUSTRIAL SHEDS. A pick-up truck holding a few pigs and hay becomes a line of 18-WHEELERS.
AERIAL FOOTAGE: a BROWN LAKE on the farm. TEXT: “OPEN-AIR MANURE LAGOON. 3 MILLION GALLONS OF UNTREATED PIG WASTE.”
SASHA (V.O.) Each year, 30,000 Powell pigs are bred and sold for a variety of purposes. Research. Entertainment. Fashion. And of course, meat.
A Powell truck drives onto a slaughterhouse property past a sign marked “MEAT CENTURY PROCESSING CENTER”.
PHOTOS: the glossy corporate HQ of MEAT CENTURY FOODS. A slew of meat products with its logo: an American flag made of meat.
SASHA (V.O.) As the Powell Farm scaled up, they entered a contract with Meat Century Foods, the largest meat producer in North America. Meat Century pressures their suppliers to cut corners and engage in abusive practices to shrink costs, and grow revenue. At Meat Century, pork is cheap and life is cheaper.
The next clips have lower-thirds “INSIDE A MEAT CENTURY FARM”:
-A pig stands on its hind legs with a large black cloth over its head, Abu Ghraib-style.
-A filthy shed over-crowded with pigs. A WITCH stands among them, casting a curse on one in a mystery language. SUBTITLES: “Pig by day, ogre by night, I hex you with all my might!”
-A FARM WORKER looks around to make sure no one’s watching before he flips off a pig and sprints away.
4.
INT. RUNDOWN CABIN - DAY
That last clip of the Farm Worker running plays in iMovie on a LAPTOP. A MAN IN A BALACLAVA sits in a DIMLY LIT CABIN, editing that clip into the very video we’ve just been watching. We continue to hear the VOICEOVER/AUDIO from the video.
SASHA (V.O.) How much suffering must Powell pigs endure to boost profit margins? How many more must die?
A MASKED WOMAN makes MOLOTOV COCKTAILS at a nearby table.
SASHA (V.O.) This moral atrocity cannot stand. We are prepared to take direct action to stop it. Who are we?
EXT. POWELL FARM - DAY
A WHITE VAN with TINTED WINDOWS rolls to a stop across the street from the POWELL FARM. The van’s side is labeled “UNION COUNTY SENIOR SERVICES”, complete with a handicap sign.
SASHA (V.O.) By day, we are your family, your friends, your co-workers.
INT. VAN - DAY
A MASKED MAN in the NBG van notes the cars entering/exiting the Powell Farm property. With a ZOOM LENS CAMERA, he photographs license plates and farm workers. He’s casing the farm.
EXT. CABIN - NIGHT
SIX MASKED FIGURES stand around a bonfire. This is the NBG.
SASHA (V.O.) By night, we fight for the 9 billion animals slaughtered on factory farms every year. We are the Nine Billion Ghost Front, and we are bringing the revolution to Powell Porkabilia.
A FLYER for POWELL FAMILY PORKABILIA burns in the flames.
END OF COLD OPEN
5.
ACT 1
EXT. POWELL FARM - SUNRISE
The sun rises over the hog farm. In a field adjacent to the pig sheds, SPRINKLERS with hoses leading to the MANURE LAGOON spray out LIQUID MANURE, fertilizing crops. It’s a beautiful day.
The white NBG van rolls to a halt on the county road across from the farm. The van’s door slides open. A BLACK GLOVED HAND holding a SMALL CAMERA DRONE extends out. The camera drone takes flight. The van door slides shut.
CUT TO: aerial drone footage of the farm as it surveils the property from above.
EXT. POWELL HOUSE - SUNRISE
At the center of the property is the POWELL HOME, a southern farmhouse. A second story window SLAMS OPEN. HAMILTON POWELL (20, incel: neckbeard, fedora, overweight, fingerless gloves), leans out, squints, and SNIFFS the morning air.
HAMILTON Oh my GOD! It stinks like crap out here! Disgusting!
He SLAMS the window shut, just before the drone zooms by.
INT. POWELL FARM PIG SHED - MORNING
IRWINA POWELL (13, buckteeth, pigtails) reaches her arms inside a PREGNANT SOW up to her shoulders, helping it give birth.
IRWINA Babies kicking, daddy!
JUG POWELL JR. (think bumpkin Josh Brolin) beams with pride as he guides Irwina.
JUG JR. Good Irwina, real good! Now, grab one by the leg, and gently-
The sow SQUEALS and TAKES OFF running towards the pig shed’s exit door. Irwina, her arms still stuck inside the sow, is dragged by the pig down the shed’s walkway and outside.
IRWINA Wee!
6.
EXT. POWELL FARM - MORNING
The sow/Irwina dart in front of a pick-up truck driven by CASSARELLE POWELL (think Paula Deen) and knock over a sack- carrying farmhand. The truck bed is full of CORN.
CASSARELLE You show them boys how it’s done, babygirl!
Jug Jr. exits the shed and blows Cass a kiss. She catches it.
CASSARELLE Taking a load to the farmer’s market. Supper’s at 6, y’hear?
INT. POWELL HOUSE - DAY
JUG POWELL SR. (70s, think Sam Elliot of the pig pen) pours over BINDERS AND LEDGERS in a cluttered home office. He keys a numbers into a PRINTING CALCULATOR, then buries his head in his hands seeing the results. He swigs whiskey from a tumbler.
JUG SR. is startled out of his depressed stupor by the sow/ Irwina flying past the office window with a SQUEAL.
As he peers outside, GIBLETTE POWELL (3, packs as much attitude as she does baby fat) pops into the window frame from outside.
GIBLETTE All done granma. You pay me now.
JUG SR. Done, huh? How many were there?
EXT. POWELL FARM LOADING DOCK - DAY
Seven dead piglets lie in a neat row next to a truck labeled “RENDERING PLANT” on its side. Gibby tugs Jug Sr.’s overalls as she proudly counts them out-loud. Jug Sr. shakes his head.
GIBLETTE Seben! Okay, you pay me.
JUG SR. You right, Giblette. 7 babies did not make it through the night.
Jug Sr. fishes CHICKEN NUGGETS out his pocket for Gibby. She giddily accepts them and marches away, savoring her ‘payment’.
Hudge (30s, stoic farmhand) approaches with one more piglet. He puts it in the Rendering truck, along with the seven others.
7.
HUDGE All respiratory failures. I’ll up the antibiotics in their feed.
JUG SR. Guess we got no choice but to.
EXT. POWELL FARM - DAY
Jug Sr. trudges back to the house. He pauses to watch 18- wheelers roll off the property: a Meat Century truck, a Lockheed Martin truck, a Baby Gap Leather Selection truck. They drive past a MEAT CENTURY BILLBOARD at the edge of the farm, which shows a Ron Swanson-looking man wearing a BACON WEAVE SWEATER, saying “Extra bacon on my bacon, good sir!”
Jug Sr. turns to the HOG-SHIT LAGOON. Pumps send brown bubbles to the surface. It almost looks alive. Jug Sr. spits, revolted.
Irwina sprints up to Jug Sr. carrying a SQUEALING RUNT PIGLET.
IRWINA Grandpa! The runt’s breathing bad!
The piglet gasps for air as Jug Sr. takes it in his hands.
JUG SR. Poor bastard wants to live.
Jug Sr. gives the runt mouth-to-mouth until it breathes easier.
JUG JR. (O.S.) He’s a non-viable, daddy. He’ll never make it to market weight.
Jug Jr. stands behind Jug Sr., hands on his overalls’ hips.
JUG JR. Can’t keep sinking money into runts. Costs us too much. I know how you feel about thumping, but-
JUG SR. We don’t thump. We’re better than that. All runts deserve a chance.
As Jug Sr. cradles the runt, Hamilton’s second story window SLAMS open. Hamilton leans out, his face red with anger.
HAMILTON SHUT THAT PIG UP!! I CAN HEAR IT OVER MY PORNOGRAPHY!
8.
JUG SR. Howdy, Ham’. Pardon our volume.
JUG JR. That’s enough computer for you, boy. You got chores out here.
Jug Sr. holds up the runt pig for Hamilton to see.
JUG SR. Miracle of life. Ain’t it amazing?
HAMILTON You look like a bitch in your overalls, grandpa.
JUG JR. HAMILTON! You apologize right——
Hamilton SLAMS his window shut.
INT. HAMILTON’S ROOM - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Hamilton stomps back to his TRIPLE-MONITOR computer desk. One screen displays 4chan, another hardcore pornography, another Fortnite. He guzzles a 2-liter Mountain Dew.
EXT. POWELL FARM - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Jug Sr. checks his overalls self-consciously.
JUG JR. My son has no honor. No drive. Can’t get him off the computer, let alone helping around here.
JUG SR. Give him time. He’ll foster a calling. Powells are as stubborn as we are blessed with pig-sense.
Jug Sr. WHISPERS something to the runt. It stops squealing on the spot. Irwina pets the calmed runt, amazed at her grandpa.
Jug Sr. gestures over to the manure lagoon.
JUG SR. Gotta do something about that lagoon. One bad storm, farm’ll be up to its tits in turds.
9.
JUG JR. Relax, daddy, it’ll be fine. Turds gotta go somewhere.
JUG SR. Told Meat Century, more pigs means more shit. They don’t care. They don’t do the dirty work. All money-sense. No pig-sense.
JUG JR. Maybe it’s time we learn some money-sense. Take this farm to the future. I got ideas, y’know.
JUG SR. (ignoring Jug Jr.) Remember when all we had to worry about was wolves in the pig pen? And pigs had names, not numbers?
Jug Sr. passes the runt to Irwina.
IRWINA I’ma name this piggy Hamilton Jr.
RUNT/HAMILTON JR. squeeeeee
Jug Sr. manages a chuckle. He kisses Irwina on the head and heads back to the house.
JUG JR. Don’t forget, supper’s soon.
JUG SR. I ain’t hungry.
INT. HAMILTON'S ROOM - DAY
Hamilton’s bedroom is a dark cave of dirty clothes and trash. Ham’s face is lit by the glow of his monitors as he brutalizes his keyboard playing a multi-player PC game. The muffled voices of his teammates shout through his gaming headset.
HAMILTON Guard me, a-holes! I’m respawning!
Jug Sr. knocks as he opens Hamilton’s bedroom door.
HAMILTON Jesus, not now, grandpa. This match is too important.
10.
The tired farmer sits on Hamilton’s ANIME BEDSHEETS.
JUG SR. Ah. I won’t be long. Just wanted to check in, is all. You seem angry at the world.
HAMILTON You’re distracting me, grandpa.
Jug Sr. stares out the window wistfully.
JUG SR. I feel likewise some days. Thought I was built for hogging, but, I don’t know. I sacrificed too much dignity to keep this farm afloat.
Hamilton grits his teeth, rapidly clicking his mouse.
JUG SR. My daddy was a hog farmer, so was his daddy, and his daddy’s daddy, and well, if you go back in time far enough, guess we were animals ourselves. Felt like hogs were my destiny. But you don’t gotta be a hog-man. You can choose your own future. One day, this place’ll be left to you kids. If your heart’s not in it, take your own path. For your sake, and the pigs’s.
HAMILTON When I take over, I’m turning this place into a server farm. Finally get some good internet connection out here in bumble-crap nowhere.
JUG SR. Servers? You gonna breed butlers?
Jug Sr. scratches his head. Ham HISSES at his game, frustrated.
JUG SR. Well, that’s fine. You chase that dream, Ham. Trust your gut and don’t worry about your father. He loves you, but he underestimates you. You’re cut out for something greater than the pig pen. I can tell by the way you’re shooting at them goblins.
Ham glances at Jug Sr., suspicious of the compliment.
11.
HAMILTON Are you tricking me into doing chores? ‘Cause it’s not working.
JUG SR. No tricks. Your only chore today is goblin killin’. Love you, Ham.
Jug Sr. rises, puts a hand on Ham’s shoulder. Ham keeps his focus on the game, but his demeanor softens.
HAMILTON Thanks grandpa. Sorry I called you a bitch. When I own the farm, I’ll evict everyone but you.
Jug Sr. wipes a tear from his cheek.
JUG SR. Much obliged.
Jug Sr. wades through Ham’s clothes and trash. He exits.
An alarm sounds in the game. Ham’s anger returns tenfold.
HAMILTON (into his headset) Don’t touch that Loot Box. It’s mine. I said it’s MINE!
Ham PUNCHES the keyboard. A CGI explosion goes off in the game.
GAMER (O.S.) (through Ham’s headset) WHAT THE F? Why’d you grenade me, dickhead? We’re on the same team!
Ham breathes heavily, struggling to control his rage.
EXT. HOG-SHIT LAGOON - SUNSET
Jug Sr. stares at his reflection on the surface of the rancid brown muck. He shuts his eyes. He inhales deeply. He JUMPS.
As Jug Sr. leaps out of frame, the NBG’s CAMERA DRONE is revealed to be hovering still in the sky above him, watching.
INT. POWELL DINING ROOM - EVENING
The Powells hold hands around the table in prayer, except Ham. Gibby prays like she’s feeling the power of the Lord. She keeps trying to hold Ham’s hand in prayer, but he swats her away. 12.
A chair at the head of the table is left vacant for Jug Sr.
The dining room is adorned with taxidermy, photos of a young Jug Sr., prize ribbons from a county fair, the old barn, etc.
JUG JR. Lord, thank you for blessing our family. Please protect us, and let the farm prosper, as you do those 13-story pig farms in China, those glorious Hog Hotels which tower in height, and in profit. Amen.
Hamilton rolls his eyes, loudly sipping a Monster Energy can.
JUG JR. Hamilton, no hats at the table.
HAMILTON Ugh! Are you kidding?! Why? Don’t make me debate you with logic.
JUG JR. Manners. Time you learned some.
HAMILTON Manners aren’t real, dad. They’re a societal construct.
JUG JR. Know what is real? This hand, constructing a society of pain on your lard-ass. Spank-by-spank.
CASSARELLE Jug, no spanking at the table. Hammy baby, hat off.
Ham takes off his fedora as dramatically as he can. The silence is broken by a BARK under the table. Cass lifts BEANBAG (obese family dog, tail docked, ears clipped, no legs) to her lap.
CASSARELLE What a day! I cleaned up at the farmer’s market. $350! Mama sells that corn, mhm, she does.
IRWINA Mama, where are Beanbag’s legs?
CASSARELLE Ain’t Beanbag cute with his legs docked? Groomer said this style’s in vogue for his breed.
13.
Beanbag stares off catatonically as Cass offers him pork. Ham goes for a pork chop, but Cass yanks the plate out of reach.
HAMILTON What the CRAP?! Beanbag gets pork chops but I don’t?
CASSARELLE Language! Doctor said red meat triggers your gout. I made you a vegetable medley. Try it!
Hamilton pinches a green bean as if it’s radioactive. After a single bite, he VOMITS into his fedora.
HAMILTON I knew I wouldn’t like it!
Gibby pats his back and offers him a nugget. He wolfs it down.
GIBLETTE Granbuh gimme chicken, brother. You feel alllll better.
Jug Jr. shakes his head as he knifes a pork chop.
CASSARELLE Where’s Jug Senior?
JUG JR. ’Not hungry.’ In one of his moods, stuck in the past. Oh, and he let Gout Boy off the hook, again. Coddles Ham worse than you, Cass.
HAMILTON Grandpa knows I’m above peasant work. He won’t let me squander my potential on serfdom.
IRWINA What’s gout, daddy?
JUG JR. A disease God casts down upon the slothful and gluttonous, baby.
Irwina smirks at Hamilton. He flips her off.
HAMILTON Oh yeah, dad? Kim Jong Un has gout, and he IS God.
Ham LUNGES for pork chops. Jug Jr. SLAPS his hand. Ham spitefully grabs meat off Irwina’s plate with his bare hand.
14.
IRWINA Daddy!
JUG JR. Your sister worked all day. She earned that chop. You didn’t, Mr. Computer. Mr. Geek Squad!
Ham lifts the pork to his mouth. Jug points a fork at him.
JUG JR. No. NO. Boy, I swear, if you--
Hamilton SCARFS DOWN the meat, as fast as he can. Jug Jr. YANKS Ham over his lap, and SPANKS him. Hamilton SQUEALS.
Hamilton clutches his throat. He’s begun choking on a piece of pork. Gibby clasps her hands and prays.
GIBLETTE Kim Jong God, please cure brother.
CASSARELLE Jug, STOP! He’s choking!
Jug Jr. pauses to confirm his son is choking. He then switches between spanking Hamilton and giving him the Heimlich maneuver.
Amid the commotion, there is YELLING outside the house. The back door slams open. HUDGE bursts into the Powell dining room.
HUDGE Jug Sr...he fell in the lagoon.
Hamilton COUGHS OUT the pork chunk blocking his airway.
END OF ACT I
ACT II
INT. NEWS STUDIO
A NEWS ANCHOR is accompanied by an INSET PHOTO of Jug Sr.
NEWS ANCHOR A freak accident on a Union County farm late yesterday: Jugland Powell Sr., founder of Powell Family Porkabilia, pronounced dead after falling into a reservoir of untreated swine effluent.
15.
AERIAL NEWS FOOTAGE: A RESCUE WORKER in a HAZMAT SUIT dives into the lagoon, and immediately floats up to the surface, facedown, dead. Another rescue worker’s body floats near his.
NEWS ANCHOR (O.S.) Two additional deaths occurred when emergency responders dove in to save Powell, and also succumbed to the overwhelming toxicity.
NEWS FOOTAGE: A shot of the sprinklers fertilizing the crops. A journalist interviews a woman across the street from the Powell Farm. Her EYES BLEED as she has an ASTHMA ATTACK, and faints.
NEWS ANCHOR (O.S.) This tragedy follows complaints from neighbors, who say the fecal lagoon, which the farm recycles into fertilizer, has affected local air quality.
BACK TO THE STUDIO. The anchor is visibly grossed out.
NEWS ANCHOR The Meat Century contractor faces investigation by the Department of Occupational Safety, and if found in violation of environmental codes, steep penal fines.
EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY
Jug Sr.’s casket is lowered into the ground at a sparsely- attended funeral. Cass holds Jug Jr.
Gibby wears a BLACK VEIL like a grieving widow. She falls to her knees and pleads to the heavens.
GIBLETTE He gimme chicken. He gimme chicken. Now...he gone.
Everyone chokes up. Even Hamilton, who looks up from an e- sports tournament he’s covertly streaming on his phone. He tips his fedora at Jug Sr.’s casket as it lowers into the ground.
EXT. POWELL FARM - DAY
A country breeze sends ripples across the hog-shit lagoon. Police tape sways in the wind.
16.
INT. POWELL HOUSE - JUG SR.’S OFFICE - AFTERNOON
Jug Jr., still in funeral attire, sifts through his father’s mess of BINDERS AND LEDGERS. Paperwork everywhere.
He thumbs through an accounting ledger. Over the pages, neat rows of numbers turn into barely legible chicken scratch. Jug Sr.’s last entry has no numbers at all: just a SHITTY DRAWING of a pig family with heart-shaped heads. Jug Jr. cringes.
JUG JR. Jesus Christ.
Jug rifles through desk drawers. Something in the bottom drawer catches his eye. He pulls it out. Its a HUGE MANUSCRIPT: “PIG- SENSE: The Gift Of Man-To-Pig Communication, By Jug Powell Sr.”
HUDGE (O.S.) You should take the day off, sir.
Jug, startled, drops the manuscript in the drawer and slams it shut. He turns. Hudge leans against the office’s doorframe.
JUG JR. No can do. Pigs don’t stop livin’. Meat Century folks are stopping by this afternoon. Probably coming to can our ass.
HUDGE Whatever you need, let me know.
JUG JR. Thanks, Hudge. We’re off to a late start, so it’s all hands on deck. Kids’ll have to help too. Say, you know computers?
HUDGE A bit. I did a Microsoft Office tutorial after the steel plant lay-offs.
JUG JR. I need help digitalizin’ all this. Accounting, slaughter transport schedule, client data. Dad kept it all by hand. Insisted it was “more secure.” Bless his stubborn soul. Time to bring us to the future.
17.
EXT. FARMER’S MARKET - AFTERNOON
Cass ANGRILY stacks full crates of corn back into her pick-up truck as GINA and LARA (organic hippie-types) watch.
CASSARELLE This is B.S. We’ve been part of this community forever.
GINA Cass, we’re sorry about Jug Senior, really. But we saw the news. You fertilize with that hog manure, and, well, your hogs...
LARA Factory pigs. Full of antibiotics, growth hormones, god knows what else. People come here to avoid what you grow. It’s not organic.
Cass hops in the truck, SLAMS the door, starts the engine.
CASSARELLE That’s a lie. We’re a family farm.
Cass HURLS a corn cob at Lara’s head and speeds off, revealing the NBG VAN from the Cold Open’s been parked behind Cass. It revs to life, and follows Cass.
INT. PIG SHED - AFTERNOON
Irwina efficiently castrates and tail-docks piglet after piglet, throwing their testicles and tails in a bloody bucket.
Jug shoots her a thumbs up and hustles across the shed with a feed bag over his shoulder, frantically multi-tasking.
Down the walkway, Gibby casually leans on a gestation crate, chatting with the pigs like she’s at an office water-cooler.
JUG JR. Gibby! Break up this hog fight! Any means necessary!
Gibby picks up a crowbar and approaches two fighting hogs.
EXT. PIG SHED - AFTERNOON
Ham, in OVERALLS, plops down in the grass behind a pig shed. He clutches his foot and groans. He looks to the hog-shit lagoon: a CROSS AND WREATH have been placed near the police tape. 18.
A few tears roll down Ham’s cheeks. He sniffles.
JUG JR. (O.S.) Hamilton! ‘The hell are you?!
Jug stomps out of the shed and spots Ham.
JUG JR. Off your yams, Ham. Back to work.
HAMILTON I’m having a gout flare up. My toe’s on frickin’ fire!
JUG JR. You did it to yourself. No cryin’ about it. Go on, get in the shed.
HAMILTON Jesus, I wasn’t crying ‘cause of—
JUG JR. Back to work. Now.
HAMILTON NO. It’s too hot in there! I’m so tired, I can’t.
JUG JR. I’ma count to 3. You ain’t in the shed by 3? Lord have mercy. One.
Hamilton gives Jug a MIDDLE FINGER.
JUG JR. Not today, Ham. Of all days. TWO!
Hamilton holds up a SECOND MIDDLE FINGER.
JUG JR. You had your chance.
ENRAGED, Jug Jr. stomps off towards the Powell House.
HAMILTON What are you doing? Hey! HEY!
EXT. POWELL HOUSE - DAY
As Hamilton hobbles around the house’s corner, something from above CRASHES onto the ground. It’s HAMILTON’S COMPUTER. Another CRASH. Another. His monitors, keyboard, and souped up gaming CPU, lay broken in the dirt and crabgrass.
19.
Jug stomps back out of the house.
JUG JR. Warned you.
Hamilton HOWLS and TACKLES Jug. He pulls his father’s pants down and SPANKS Jug’s bare ass. Both Powells fail to notice a LIMOUSINE WITH MEAT CENTURY’S LOGO pull up. A window rolls down. Two people quickly peer out. The window rolls back up.
Two corporate figures emerge: SHERRI SANDUSKY (think Viola Davis), DOUG CHUCKLE (think late, late Mickey Rooney).
SHERRI SANDUSKY Jug Powell Jr.?
Jug quickly stands, composes himself. Doug squints at Ham, his poor, ancient eyesight straining to see.
JUG JR. Yes, ma’am.
DOUG CHUCKLE Ah, this must be your lovely wife.
Doug bends over and kisses Hamilton’s hand. Hamilton doesn’t react. He’s in shock, nudging the shards of his computer like a grieving elephant nudging its dead mother.
JUG JR. This is my son. He’s a loser. He ain’t allowed in my house ’til he hoses every slat in those sheds.
Ham hyperventilates in anger.
HAMILTON You’ll pay for this. YOU WILL PAY!
He stomps away as Cass drives up and hops out of her truck.
DOUG CHUCKLE The wife is mad. Looks like you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight!
CASSARELLE That ‘wife’ is my son. I’m Mrs. Powell. Y’all from Meat Century?
SHERRI SANDUSKY (coldly professional) Sherri Sandusky. Pork Logistics. They say I’m a dork for pork.
20.
DOUG CHUCKLE (warm) Doug Chuckle! Supplier Relations. (solemn) My deepest condolences about your father. Kind man. Let me try on his pants once. Big man.
Doug hands Jug a POLAROID of Doug smiling ear-to-ear while trying on Jug Sr.’s pants. They go up to his shoulders. Jug Sr. is half-out-frame and not as happy to be there as Doug is.
JUG JR. Thanks, sir. I know the accident ain’t exactly an ideal ‘look’ for your brand, but please, don’t cancel our contract. I got ideas—
SHERRI SANDUSKY Cancel? We’re here to buy. Supplying pigs in-house is a long- term vision for the company.
DOUG CHUCKLE Contractors are not cheap. Or, cheep cheep, as pigs say.
CASSARELLE Wrong animal.
SHERRI SANDUSKY Right now, we have 43 suppliers like yourself. To transport pigs from all these farms to our processing plants? Very expensive. Fuel, trucks, drivers. If we had a penny for every pig that died during transport, we wouldn’t need to slaughter any.
DOUG CHUCKLE We focus supply to one property, cut transport costs? Eight digit savings. We focus supply AND processing to one property? Many more digits, my friend.
Sherri hands Jug a large Meat Century-branded envelope.
SHERRI SANDUSKY All legal liabilities you may incur from your tragedy were considered in our offer to acquire your facilities and land. (MORE) 21.
SHERRI SANDUSKY (CONT’D) That’s why it may seem low. It is low.
DOUG CHUCKLE But we’ll invest. Build your farm into the epicenter of American pork production. Fulfill the pork potential that’s long lain dormant within these acres! Out of the pig pen, into the global market! In China, they have these towering—
JUG JR. Hog hotels! 13 stories of hog breeding efficiency.
DOUG CHUCKLE One room for Doug! Ding ding!
JUG JR. Ding ding!
SHERRI SANDUSKY Ding ding.
DOUG CHUCKLE This is your invitation to the big leagues. In short time, you and both your wives will be living high on the hog. Ha!
Cass, not enthused, steps forward, arms crossed.
CASSARELLE We ain’t a hog hotel. We’re a family farm. Right, Jug?
Jug’s distracted by the ideas racing through his mind.
JUG JR. Sure, sure, Cass. Wow. The pork potential within...
CASSARELLE What’s the plan for the lagoon? It’s a safety hazard.
SHERRI SANDUSKY Glad you asked. We have no plan. But, we have a temporary solution.
Sherri nods to the lagoon, where men in MEAT CENTURY UNIFORMS (all khaki, logo on shirt pocket) cover it with NEWSPAPERS.
22.
INT. NBG VAN - DAY
A camera SNAPS PHOTOS of Jug, Cass, Sherri, and Doug.
INT. PIG SHED - DAY
Ham curses under his breath as he hoses pig shit off of floor slats. He SLAMS the hose on the ground and kicks an empty pig crate with his gout foot. He SCREAMS in pain.
Ham sits against the crate’s iron bars and clutches his foot. He wipes the profuse sweat from his face and undoes his overall straps. A nearby pig stares at him. Ham flips it off and YAWNS.
INT. POWELL HOUSE - NIGHT
Jug reads the MEAT CENTURY OFFER PAPERS in bed. Cass sits on the bed’s edge, nervously petting Beanbag.
JUG JR. They weren’t lying about buying cheap.
CASSARELLE Jug, we can’t. It would be an insult to your dad’s legacy.
JUG JR. Way he ran this place, wasn’t gonna be a legacy left to insult. I went through the books, Cass. It’s bad. The life insurance payout won’t even begin to cover the loans we’ve defaulted on.
CASSARELLE We can get through this. We’ll all help. Take Ham under your wing! Father and son, saving the farm! He could use some mentorship.
JUG JR. You think I ain’t tried? Waste of time. He don’t care about anything or anyone. Not even himself.
CASSARELLE He worries me. His lifestyle is so unhealthy, makes me wanna cry. Look, just promise me we’ll talk before you decide anything?
23.
JUG JR. The pork potential within...I’ve been waiting for this all my life.
Beanbag rolls across the bed. He growls at something outside.
CASSARELLE Hush, Beanbag! Thank god I already booked your debarking appointment.
EXT. POWELL FARM - NIGHT
The moon rises over the hog farm.
EXT. POWELL FARM BACK FENCE - NIGHT
NBG’s VAN, still labeled as a Senior Services vehicle, creeps to a stop along the farm’s back-most fence, headlights off.
INT. NBG VAN - NIGHT
6 MASKED FIGURES look out at the Powell property. An NBG in the passenger seat, the LEADER, cues the group with a nod.
EXT. POWELL FARM - BACK FENCE - NIGHT
5 figures exit the van, moving with purpose. The DRIVER stays behind, eating a CARROT through his balaclava. A TALL NBG and a BLUE HAIRED NBG take BOLT CUTTERS to the fence.
Two slow, ELDERLY NBG members walk the perimeter as lookouts.
Tall and Blue Hair finish cutting a CAR-SIZED GAP in the fence. They step through, followed by Leader. They silently sprint ahead as the van slinks through the gap.
EXT. PIG SHED - NIGHT
Blue Hair, Leader, and Tall reach the sheds. Blue Hair heads left. She pulls a SPRAY-PAINT can from her backpack. She shakes it and begins tagging the shed’s exterior.
Tall and Leader stand at the shed door. Tall pulls a BURLAP SACK from his backpack. Leader pulls MARSHMALLOWS from hers.
LEADER Remember: take the sickest sow you can find. Let’s show the world how bad conditions here really are.
24.
Leader and TALL ENTER the shed as the van rolls up to the spot they were just standing in.
The side door slides open. A WHEELCHAIR RAMP extends outward.
The moment the ramp touches ground, Leader bolts out of the shed holding a piglet, and dropping marshmallows behind her. 12 piglets follow Leader up the handicap ramp and into the van, eating the marshmallows along the way.
Tall hops in behind them with the BURLAP SACK, now containing something HUGE and WHEEZING. He struggles under its weight.
The ramp retreats back into the car. Blue Hair sprints back. She DIVES in. The van darts back to the fence, side door open.
Pigs, NBG, and marshmallows are thrown around inside the van.
EXT. POWELL FARM - BACK FENCE - NIGHT
The Elderly NBGs wait at the gap in the fence. The van comes to a ROLLING STOP, moving slowly enough to let the Elderlies jump in, who try their best, but 1 MPH is still too fast for their old bones. Tall YANKS both of them in. The car door SLAMS shut.
The van PEELS OUT, kicking up dirt as it rockets away.
EXT. COUNTY ROAD - NIGHT
The van turns onto the county road. Tall leans out the window, and LIGHTS A MOLOTOV COCKTAIL. He LOBS it at the Meat Century billboard from Act I (“Extra bacon on my bacon”). Glass SHATTERS. FLAMES ENGULF the billboard. The NBG speeds off.
INT. NBG VAN - NIGHT
The NBG remove their balaclavas: Leader, SASHA (think crust- punk Zazie Beetz); Driver, DUFFY (look up Rupert Boneham of ‘Survivor’); Tall, FRANKIE (‘SLC Punk’-looking veganarchist, wears pig tag as an earring); Blue Hair, DARRAH (white with dreads, EDM hula-hoop girl); Elderly, DINGO and BUGGIE (granola American Gothic). They high-five as they catch their breath.
SASHA I could have saved more. I could have saved more...
FRANKIE My adrenaline’s pumping so hard, man! FUCK YES! We did it!
25.
The burlap sack slides across the floor and SLAMS against the side of the moving vehicle. It suddenly SQUEALS TO LIFE.
DARRAH Poor thing is terrified. You’re safe now, mama pig.
Darrah opens the panicking burlap sack. It’s not a pig. It’s HAMILTON. He wears nothing but skid-marked tighty-whities.
HAMILTON What the HECK?! Am I being frickin’ molested or something?!
BEAT. The NBG struggle to process Hamilton’s presence.
DUFFY What is that?!
DARRAH It sounded like a pig...
HAMILTON Oh, you caught a piggy alright! Oink oink, m’lady!
Ham KICKS Darrah in the crotch and BITES Frankie. Frankie SCREAMS. Frankie gets Ham to surrender with a TITTY-TWISTER.
HAMILTON OW!!! If I had my throwing stars, you’d all be DEAD!
SASHA Kid, I am so, so sorry, this was not our plan. Duffy, pull over.
Duffy ignores Sasha. He drives faster. Darrah reels in pain.
SASHA Duffy. Pull over. Let him out.
DUFFY Don’t use my fucking name! If he calls the cops? No. I’m not doing time again. Not for him.
DINGO We rescue animals. We don’t kidnap people.
DUFFY I’m not saying kidnap.
26.
Duffy death stares Ham in the rearview mirror. Ham nurses his twisted nipple, mewls, then lets out a WET BURP.
BUGGIE I do NOT like what you’re implying. I’m out. I’m OUT.
FRANKIE FUCK! It was dark as shit in the shed! What was he doing in there?
HAMILTON UGH, well my dad spanked me, broke my computer, and ruined my life. “Get to work, Hamilton.” I told him it was too hot in there! My overalls were chafing my taint, so I laid down to take a nap--wait, are you stealing our pigs?
DUFFY They aren’t your pigs. Animals aren’t property. These pigs were slaves. Now, they are liberated.
HAMILTON Geez. Soy-levels over 9000.
DARRAH Duffy, we talked about comparing-
DUFFY HUMANS ARE THE WHITE PEOPLE OF SPECIES. None of us has an excuse.
Sasha flips off Duffy.
SASHA (to Hamilton) Wait, is your dad-
DARRAH 20 years as a failed activist makes you bitter, huh, Duffy.
DUFFY 30. I’ve seen things that would turn that blue hair ghost-white. If I were you, I’d listen to my elders, you flexitarian hypocrite.
DARRAH Flexitarian?! (MORE) 27.
DARRAH (CONT’D) For the last time: if consensual, it’s more ethical to eat a human than an animal in the age of climate crisis.
SASHA SHUT UP! (to Hamilton) Is your dad Jug Powell?
Hamilton pops a stray marshmallow in his mouth as he vents.
HAMILTON God, I hate him. He acts sad about my grandpa, but I see through him. He’s been itching to take over. I can’t wait to see his face when I piss on the farm’s ashes--oh CRAP! I pissed myself! Look what you jerks made me do!!
The NBG look at each other. Frankie grins. Sasha gently takes Hamilton’s hand in hers, careful to avoid the piss.
SASHA Hamilton, is it? What if I said we want to piss on the same thing?
HAMILTON ...me?
SASHA N-no. The ashes. Of the farm.
Hamilton’s curiosity is piqued. He leans back and hesitantly pops another marshmallow in his mouth.
HAMILTON Hmm. Who the heck are you, anyway?
EXT. COUNTY ROAD - NIGHT
The NBG van careens the swerving country road under a full moon. Owls hoot. Crickets chirp. Frogs croak. A wolf howls.
END OF ACT II
ACT III
28.
EXT. MOSS-BED ECOVILLAGE - NIGHT
The NBG van passes a wood-carved sign for “MOSS-BED ECOVILLAGE: A SUSTAINABLE COMMUNITY.” The lush green property is studded with small cabins, a dining hall, community gardens, etc.
They drive deep into the property, eventually reaching a RUNDOWN CABIN far from the others. This is NBG HEADQUARTERS.
Everyone exits the van except for the pigs and Dingo. He gets in the driver’s seat. Sasha pets a piglet affectionately.
SASHA Congrats, baby. You’re going home.
DINGO See you in a week, comrades.
Buggie hops in the passenger’s seat. She raises a fist in solidarity. The van of pigs disappears into the night.
HAMILTON Where are the geriatrics going?
SASHA Sanctuary. A place where pigs are pigs. Not production units.
INT. NBG HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
Ham pokes around NBG’s cluttered home-base: stacks of animal rights literature; walls lined with animal liberation art, protest signs; fake IDs scattered on a coffee table; a desk littered with BOMB-MAKING MATERIALS, which Frankie quickly covers with a blanket. Duffy tosses Hamilton an XXXL t-shirt.
DUFFY Cover yourself.
It’s a protest shirt: “KILLING ANIMALS KILLS ANIMALS!” Duffy pulls Sasha aside as Ham puts the knee-length shirt on.
DUFFY (whispering) I know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.
SASHA If that Meat Century deal goes through with his farm? Think about the access he has.
29.
DUFFY I don’t trust him. He has the wrong motives.
SASHA He has the right family.
Sasha turns and invites Ham to sit on their lone couch. She sits backwards in a folding chair and smiles.
SASHA Hamilton, thank you for coming with us tonight, and for placing your trust in us. You want to leave any point? Say the word, we’ll take you home.
HAMILTON Sweet. Okay, so are we gonna blow up my dad or what?
SASHA We practice nonviolent resistance. What we blow up is the lie: the lie that our fate and our planet’s aren’t tied to that of the animals we exploit. Animal agriculture is a leading cause of greenhouse gas emissions, deforestation, biodiversity loss, water and air pollution. Unless there’s a revolution of mercy for animals, humans won’t survive this century.
Frankie, Darrah, and Duffy snap fingers in applause.
HAMILTON Snapping is so cool. So cool you guys just did that. How’s this going to make my dad suffer?
SASHA As for that, we’re about to show you our most powerful weapon of all. Once you see it, you’ll never look at the world the same again.
HAMILTON Great! Sure. Whatever. Let’s go.
Sasha tugs the PULL CHAIN LIGHT above her. The cabin goes DARK.
CUT TO: A PROJECTOR snaps on. It casts a WHITE SCREEN onto a bare cabin wall. Hamilton is basked in FLICKERING LIGHT.
30.
SASHA This is why we do what we do.
From the video, we hear a small SQUEAK, then a CRACKLING FIRE. Hamilton’s jaw drops, but he LAUGHS.
HAMILTON WHAT? It’s still alive? Epic.
Then, a DOLPHIN CALL, then an ELECTRIC ZAP. Ham WINCES but LAUGHS even harder. A MONKEY VOCALIZATION, then a SAW DRILLING.
HAMILTON Oh, I’ve seen that one! Nice.
Sasha and Duffy trade looks.
MONTAGE: The NBG barrage Hamilton with videos, photos, and charts, trying to indoctrinate him. Starving polar bears, leveled forests, people eating live octopuses, an orangutan brothel, and a cow being branded “JOE’S COW” flash before Ham.
Sasha stands next to the PROJECTED VIDEO of a human evolving backwards into an ape.
SASHA Animal...man’s lone companion in this empty universe...
Duffy angrily points at a GRAPH showing animal agriculture’s links to climate change.
DUFFY We’re killing the world for what? For HAMBURGERS?!
Darrah breathlessly preaches from a book.
DARRAH “We’ve treated our cousins in fur and feathers SO poorly that if they formed a religion, they’d depict the Devil as human.”
Frankie decries a video of a PIG ROASTING ON A TURNING SPIT.
FRANKIE BODIES UPON THE GEARS, BRO!
The projected light on Hamilton’s face goes RED as blood pours down the screen. END OF MONTAGE
The NBG silently wait for Ham’s reaction. He gives them a confused look. After a BEAT, he throws his hands up.
31.
HAMILTON AND? What’s the weapon?!
SASHA The truth. The most powerful weapon of all.
HAMILTON God...DAMN IT! That’s it?! I thought it was, like, a katana!
Ham stands up and KNOCKS DOWN a stack of animal rights books.
HAMILTON Look, I troll vegans all the time. I know you freaks. You find the worst example and generalize it to all farms. Trust me: I’ve NEVER seen anything as badass as those videos happen on our farm. I WISH. You’re wasting your time with us.
Sasha, unfazed by the outburst, points a remote at the projector. She clicks the remote. She looks past Hamilton and nods at the video that begins to play.
SASHA If that’s true, then why did your grandfather commit the ultimate act of protest?
Hamilton turns to the video. It’s the CAMERA DRONE FOOTAGE of Jug Sr. diving into the lagoon. Ham’s face grows ghost white.
HAMILTON I-is this some kind of sick joke?
SASHA No joke, Ham. Just the human cost of industrial animal agriculture.
Hamilton VOMITS on the floor. Sasha comforts him.
HAMILTON I never thought I’d be trolled this hard. Honestly, respect.
Ham shakes his head as his boiling anger returns.
HAMILTON Screw this. That was too f’d up.
Ham stomps to the cabin door, but stops and turns around.
32.
HAMILTON You took dark web videos of animals exploding, which I LOVE, and you made them a bummer. That’s what hurts the most.
As Hamilton opens the door, Frankie pushes it back shut.
SASHA Where do you think you’re going?
HAMILTON I’m going home. Then, I’m going to wait until my dad’s dead, build a server farm, and game with zero lag forever. Let me out.
SASHA Sorry to hear that, Hamilton. I thought we were on the same team.
From behind, Duffy puts A CLOTH over Ham’s mouth. Ham resists for one second before falling into deep, chloroform sleep.
EXT. CORN FIELD - SUNRISE
Ham (protest shirt gone) awakens in a cornfield. He rubs his head and stands up. He’s in a field across from the POWELL FARM. The Meat Century billboard is now a smoldering heap.
A NOTE is tucked in the waistband of Hamilton’s soiled underwear. It reads: “You could do the cause a lot of good. If you ever see the light, [email protected]”.
EXT. POWELL FARM - BACK FENCE - MORNING
Jug Jr. stands in the gap that the NBG cut out of the fence, studying the van’s tire tracks. He clenches his fists.
EXT. POWELL FARM - MORNING
Cass, Irwina, and Gibby read the NBG’s spray-painted messages on the pig shed’s exterior: “NBG,” “U R ANIMAL ABUSERS!!,” “PIGS R NOT PROPERTY,” “JUST THE BEGINNING.”
CASSARELLE What kind of sick people...
GIBLETTE Werewolfs, mhm.
33.
INT. POWELL HOUSE - JUG SR’S OFFICE - MORNING
Jug Jr., bags under his eyes, pulsing with rage, sits with Meat Century’s offer papers. The office phone is on SPEAKER.
DOUG CHUCKLE (O.S.) (on speaker phone) Personally? I think you’re making a wise decision, Jug.
SHERRI SANDUSKY (O.S.) (on speaker phone) Jug? I agree with Doug here. Our cutting-edge security systems will keep the sickos did this at bay. Your family deserves peace of mind. Not sickos. Those sickos.
DOUG CHUCKLE (O.S.) Join us! Suckle at the teat of prosperity! Come to Doug-Doug!
Jug bites his lip. He signs the papers.
EXT. POWELL FARM - MORNING
Hamilton plods up the gravel driveway. Gibby, who’s now helping Cass and Irwina scrub away the graffiti, points at Ham.
GIBLETTE (whispering to Cass) Brother needs new diaper.
CASSARELLE Hamilton! Where are your clothes?
IRWINA We got robbed!
Jug explodes out of the house’s screen door.
JUG JR. You got something to do with this, boy? Your overalls were on the floor, but you and 12 pigs were gone! You’re a thief AND a loser?
HAMILTON Me?! I didn’t steal anything! In fact, I can tell you-
Jug observes Hamilton’s disheveled appearance. He’s disgusted.
34.
JUG JR. A good-for-nothing, tubby-blubber loser. I don’t want any of your excuses. What would grandpa say if he saw you like this? Insulting his legacy? You’re pathetic.
Ham shrinks, resentment at a silent boil.
CASSARELLE (to Hamilton) Honey, your daddy’s just stressed, he doesn’t mean that. Where were you? You look like hell!
Ham doesn’t brake eye contact with Jug.
HAMILTON Dad said I couldn’t come back in the house until all the slats were hosed. So I slept in the corn.
CASSARELLE (to Jug) What the hell is wrong with you?
JUG JR. Nothing’s wrong with me! In fact, I just made the only smart business decision this farm’s ever seen. Family, we are now a subsidiary of Meat Century.
CASSARELLE You didn’t.
JUG JR. They’re gonna take us out of the dark ages that my dad kept us in. Big changes coming. Big changes.
HAMILTON You can’t do that. Grandpa said this place would be mine one day!
Jug LAUGHS in disbelief.
JUG JR. YOU? That’s rich. Come with me. Lemme teach y’all about economics.
35.
INT. PIG SHED - MORNING
Jug marches down the pig shed’s concrete walkway. Hamilton, Cass, Irwina, and Gibby follow close behind. Jug breezes by, Hudge, who performs maintenance on a hog feeder.
HUDGE Mr. Powell, I finished digitizing all the company data. Accounting, client info, transport schedule, all in neat spreadsheets-
CLOSE UP on Hamilton as he listens to Hudge.
JUG JR. Good. Need you to leave the shed. This is a family meeting.
Hudge eyes Jug. He reluctantly obliges and leaves.
Jug reaches a GESTATION CRATE. Inside, a SOW breastfeeds a litter of piglets. The RUNT from Act I, A.K.A. Hamilton Jr., is trying to reach a teat, but is squeezed out by the bigger piglets. The runt weakly rolls on its side.
CASSARELLE Jug, calm down. What’s this about?
JUG JR. This is a business lesson my daddy refused to learn. The mama pig? That’s the market. Her milk? That’s the money. These other piglets? That’s our competitors. They’re growing big and strong ‘cause they fight for the milk. They ain’t afraid to do what needs to be done to get it.
Jug Jr. picks up the RUNT/HAMILTON JR. by his tiny hoof.
JUG JR. Now, this runt? He’s our farm.
RUNT/HAMILTON JR. squeeeeeeee!!!!
IRWINA Leave Hamilton Jr. alone, daddy.
HAMILTON What?
36.
IRWINA The runt. Grandpa and I named him after you.
JUG JR. See, the runt can’t get the teat. It’s too weak next to the other babies. If it doesn’t get the milk, what’s gonna happen is it will die. Therefore, the runt has two options: get the teat, or die.
Cass realizes what’s about to happen.
CASSARELLE We don’t thump on this farm.
JUG JR. We do now.
CASSARELLE I’m not letting my kids see this. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Cass picks up Gibby and heads to the shed door. Irwina takes Cass’ hand and follows, but looks back at Ham, who stays put.
JUG JR. Can’t waste money and time on runts anymore. Watch close. When you thump, you gotta do it properly. Anymore than two thumps is inhumane. Stand like this.
Jug enters a ‘javelin-throwing’ stance. Ham looks into the runt’s panicked eyes as it helplessly dangles in Jug’s grasp.
In a LONG SHOT, we ZOOM in on Hamilton’s face. We don’t see what Jug does, but we hear it. Kryztof Penderecki’s “De Natura Sonoris No. 2” fades in.
RUNT/HAMILTON JR. (O.S.) SQQQQUEEEEEEEE-
THUMP. THUMP.
We ZOOM into Hamilton’s EYE, and then THE BLACK OF HIS PUPIL.
INT. EMPTY BLACK-SPACE
From screen left, Hamilton, posed like the Vitruvian Man in his tighty-whities and fedora, floats towards screen center.
37.
From screen right, a PIG, also posed like the Vitruvian Man, floats towards screen center.
JUG SR. (V.O.) My daddy was a hog farmer, so was his daddy, and his daddy’s daddy, and if you go back far enough...
Hamilton and the pig start MORPHING, as if EVOLUTION HAS BEEN SET IN REVERSE. Hamilton goes from man, to a neanderthal, to an ape, etc. They morph until they become their COMMON ANCESTOR, identical PRIMORDIAL RAT-LIKE CREATURES.
The PIG COMMON ANCESTOR turns to HAMILTON COMMON ANCESTOR.
PIG COMMON ANCESTOR Brother...
They float above an EARTH that’s ASH GRAY, OCEANS OF RED BLOOD.
A GIANT HAND appears in the darkness. It SPANKS the PIG COMMON ANCESTOR, sending it soaring down towards the dead Earth.
The Hand picks up Hamilton Common Ancestor by his ankle. The hand belongs to a GIANT JUG JR. with DEVIL HORNS. He swings Ham by the leg and hurls him out into the black nothingness.
HAMILTON COMMON ANCESTOR SQUEEEEE! WHAT THE HECK!!!!!!
INT. POWELL HOUSE - HAMILTON’S ROOM - NIGHT
We ZOOM OUT of Hamilton’s pupil once more. He stands at his bedroom window, lit from below by the lamp on his otherwise barren desk. He stares out at the pig sheds below.
INT. POWELL HOUSE - JUG SR.’S OFFICE - NIGHT
Hamilton sits at the family computer. He rapidly drafts AN EMAIL to the address the NBG gave him, attaching files: “ACCOUNTING,” “CLIENT CONTACTS,” “PIG HEALTH REPORTS,” “SLAUGHTERHOUSE TRANSPORT SCHEDULE,” etc.
He clicks SEND and EXHALES, staring into space as he lifts a GREEN BEAN to his mouth. He takes a small nibble, only to be interrupted by a KNOCK at the door. Ham is startled back to attention. Jug Jr.’s silhouette looms in the doorway.
JUG JR. What I said earlier, it’s no way for a father to talk. I’m sorry. I really am. (MORE) 38.
JUG JR. (CONT’D) Makes no sense for us to keep fighting. We’re on the same team.
Jug Jr. enters the office. He puts a hand on Ham’s shoulder.
JUG JR. Better days ahead, Ham. Meat Century’s gonna get us back on our feet. When we are? I’ll buy you a new computer. ’Til then, use the family one as much as you like.
Hamilton doesn’t react. Jug sighs. He hands Ham JUG SR.’S SHITTY DRAWING of the pig-family with heart-shaped heads.
JUG JR. Grandpa made this. Thought you’d like to have it. Love you, son.
Jug Jr. heads out, leaving Hamilton with the drawing. Ham looks back up at the computer screen and sees a REPLY TO HIS EMAIL.
The reply reads: “Welcome to the war” alongside a smiling pig emoji, and a link to a YouTube video. He clicks the link. The NBG video from the Cold Open has been posted publicly.
CLOSE UP: Hamilton’s bloodshot eyes. His eyes REFLECT the clip of the pig being exploded by a grenade launcher.
SASHA (V.O.) We are the Nine Billion Ghost Front, and we are bringing the revolution to Powell Porkabilia.
Hamilton, silhouetted by the monitor’s glow, leans closer to the computer screen.
END OF ACT III
END OF PILOT