"UNDER THE SILVER LAKE" (2018)

Under the Silver Lake

David Robert Mitchell

Registration Number : 1603341

The front window of the coffee shop is covered in black Sharpie writing. A sweaty, but very cute lesbian in an apron scrubs a wet sponge over the writing. It's not going away.

SAM, 33, and trying not to appear so, wipes sweat from his face and neck as he turns toward the bright sun. His hair is uncombed and his clothes don't match in the appropriate ways.

He stands in a long line, waiting for coffee, behind beautiful hipsters and a few old people - all in various stages of perspiration.

"Never My Love" by the Association plays over the house speakers. No one sings along.

Sam glances over at the front window, looking at the backwards and inverted text across the glass. Poor penmanship, even for graffiti. It says:

Sam stares at one of the shop's many attractive, tattooed bakery girls as she smiles to another customer. He glances over and spies two other bakery girls in a private conversation near the espresso machine.

Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter.

So many unknowable things wrapped in beauty.

Sam sips his coffee and walks casually down the sidewalk, passing sad kittens in a pet shop window.

A street fruit vendor watches Sam from behind his glass fruit case - oddly suspicious and grim.

Sam stops and looks up at a giant billboard across the street. On it, a beautiful young Indian woman smiles - staring outward through sparkling eyes.

A contact lens logo stretches below her face. The ad reads:

I Can See Clearly Now

Sam sighs and shakes his head, moving on.

Sam walks alone, carrying his iced latte and LA Weekly through the lush garden paths of his modest apartment complex.

We see his POV as he steps along a concrete trail surrounded by carefully manicured shrubs, giant trees and a man-made stream which flows alongside the walkway.

Sam passes a blue vested worker cleaning leaves from the pond in a somnolent state. The man stares, as if in a heat-trance.

Turning a corner, Sam takes a sip of coffee through the straw.

He hears a terrible rattle in the tree above him. Sam looks up as the branches shake.

Suddenly something with mass falls from the tree.

THUD!

A squirrel lands hard across the concrete walkway - on all four paws - right before him.

Sam steps back, his breath leaving him for a second. The momentary primal fear of seeing flesh impact with stone.

The animal looks at Sam then darts away into the bushes.

Sam smiles for a second, feeling stupid about displaying shock publicly, especially over a squirrel. Looking around, there are no obvious witnesses.

But there are so many apartments... so many windows... so many balconies.

Sam reaches for his keys as he steps up to the door. There's a note taped below his apartment number. He pulls it down and reads it covertly.

It says:

"Your Rent is Seriously Overdue. You have 7 Days to PAY or be EVICTED."

Sam crumples the paper in hand, fumbling to unlock the door. Hitting it open, he bangs his shoulder into the wood - the way some people punch walls.

Sam sits on a patio chair smoking a cigarette and finishing his latte. A pair of binoculars hang from his neck.

Smoke drifts through the sliding screen door - a dim apartment within. The cartoon thermometer suction-cupped to the glass reads: 94 Degrees.

This little patio enclave is hidden by railing, low hanging branches and thick shrubbery. It offers wonderful views of the surrounding apartments and the community pool below.

Sam looks at the cover of the LA Weekly. It features a studio photo of some local indie band. The headline reads:

East LA Resurrected... or Never Dead?

Who are Jesus and the Brides of Dracula?

According to the pic, Jesus is an emaciated hipster. His brides are gorgeous but unique women in 1920's hand-stitched gowns.

An unseen bird CAWS loudly.

Sam lifts and focuses his binoculars through the green foliage of the neighboring balconies.

A beautiful middle-aged woman walks topless along her third story patio. She feeds her caged birds as she struts to a tinny-sounding jazz tune.

Sam’s cell phone rings. Peeking through the binoculars, he answers.

The half-naked bird woman pets her parrot lovingly. Sam cradles his cell phone against his ear - watching.

The bird woman scratches her ass - unaware that she's being checked out.

Sam rubs the stubble on his face - his eyes are tired.

The topless woman walks inside - half visible through a shaded window.

Sam lowers his binoculars and takes another drag.

Sam sighs staring out at the empty balconies and windows.

The parrot caws again - something resembling words.

Sam coughs and drops his cigarette into a cloudy yellow Evian bottle.

Reflections of music draw near...

Common, but catchy indie-rock music approaches... growing louder and louder.

A voice echoes through the surrounding courtyard. A tiny bell rings.

Sam leans forward and looks down through the trees. He sees a young woman in a bikini, SARAH, walking along the garden path - a portable sound system in hand.

The music is louder and clearer now. It's the latest hit song "Tongue & Teeth" by the indie-rock band Jesus and the Brides of Dracula.

Holding the gate open, Sarah waits as her little dog, COCA- COLA, follows her inside. A small bell on its collar rings and dings as it scampers along the hot concrete.

Sarah's face is half covered by a white and frilly Easter- style hat. Colored straw and soft pink ribbons.

The white, toy-like Bichon Frise barks and runs in circles around the woman's legs. She smiles and nods at the animal, finding a place for herself in the sun near the pool.

Sam looks through his binoculars at the girl as she removes her hat.

Big stoned eyes.

Light freckled cheeks.

White skin on a California body.

She looks like a mid-western Monica Vitti with a hint of Sharon Tate. A sex that induces an almost guttural reaction in any man or woman within proximity. But the girl seems unaware of her power.

Sam watches her coddling the animal... stretching her long body across a lounge chair in the sun.

He leans closer, peeping over the rim of the balcony - a gentle grin forming on his face.

The song's chorus repeats loudly from the portable speaker:

You and I...

turning like teeth...

loving beneath...

the surface.

A neighboring balcony door slides open with a bang - reverberating over the pool courtyard. Sam sees the topless bird woman emerge from her apartment. A scowl on her face.

Sarah nods, leans over and acts like she's turning the stereo down - twisting her hand inches from the volume knob.

The song remains at its irritating volume.

Sarah looks up towards the topless woman's balcony and shrugs her shoulders with a grin.

The topless bird woman shakes her head, waves her hand in disgust and slams her sliding patio door closed. The bikini girl laughs and giggles as she stands, lifting her toy dog into the air - bell rattling.

The caged bird shouts once more. Some unrecognizable words.

Sarah smiles and bobs her shoulders to the beat - staring into her dog's eyes.

As she sways, Sam aims his binoculars at the young woman's ass.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone pounds on Sam's front door.

Sarah hears it, turns her head and looks straight into Sam’s viewfinder.

Sam lowers the binoculars and scoots back from the balcony’s edge - out of view.

Mouth slightly agape, Sarah stares up through the over-growth, turning her head and squinting for another glimpse of the phantom face and lens.

Sam crawls inside his apartment, staying low to the carpet.

Bang! Bang! The mystery visitor continues to pound on Sam's front door.

From a stooped position on the floor, Sam pulls the blinds closed.

Sam opens the front door...

Standing in the hallway is a pockmarked brunette in a German dirndl. The ACTRESS holds a bag of carry-out over her otherwise exposed cleavage.

The thirty-something actress is pretty from the right angle - the physical traits of someone who's had a brief bout with meth addiction. Something is just a bit off.

Sam makes a puzzled face - trying to figure out why the actress is wearing a German servant-girl outfit.

The actress points down at her dress. She stands awkwardly - body gangly - terrible posture.

Sam lets the young woman into his living room, closing the door behind her.

Old wallpaper covers the walls... lined with movie posters, pop culture paraphernalia, and 30-something-male crap.

We can still hear the rock song from outside.

The girl spins around and faces Sam with an overly excited grin. The imperfections on her skin are more visible against the sunlight.

The actress lifts up a large bag of restaurant food.

The actress lowers her smile, sniffing the air.

Sam points toward the side of the building.

Sam fucks the actress doggy-style on the bed. He slaps her ass as hard as he can, keeping an eye on the bedroom television. He's watching the Wimbledon Finals. A women's match between an Eastern European and some Swedish model.

Hitting her stride, the actress grunts louder and with more force than the tennis queens on tv.

A framed and signed poster of Kurt Cobain hangs over Sam's bed. It's the famous black and white close up from his Rolling Stone cover.

Still grinding her ass against Sam, the actress stares up at Kurt Cobain.

Sam leans forward and grabs the actress' jaw in his hand, twisting her face towards his. They kiss and make-out on the bed. Connected like insects.

Suddenly, the tennis match is interrupted by a news break... a stylish woman stands with her microphone below some enormous gated mansion in the hills of Los Angeles.

The graphic chyron below her reads: "Billionaire Mogul Missing!"

Sam watches the television.

The actress turns her head and looks back at the tv, still taking it from Sam.

A picture of JEFFERSON SEVENCE appears on screen. He's an older man, though handsome, and with still blond hair.

The television cuts to a shot of MRS. SEVENCE, a thirty- something woman more than suitable for providing progeny and affection to a wealthy man.

Standing behind the woman are the Sevence's FIVE CHILDREN, ranging in age between 8 and 24. The oldest daughter, MILLICENT SEVENCE, stares ahead coldly - covered in piercings and giant yellow sunglasses.

Mrs. Sevence breaks down and begins to cry. Her teenage SON steps forward, putting his arm around her shoulder. His own face shakes and contorts as he weeps.

We watch the tv and the fucking from the periphery of Sam's room.

Porn, Playboys, notebooks, "Lady from Shanghai" lobby cards and bags of Doritos litter Sam's dresser.

A 70's OUI magazine sits on his guitar amp - the cover model's bush hidden beneath an old can of spray paint. Red circle marks dot the cover like coasters under cups of cranberry juice.

The woman covers her face - weeping uncontrollably.

Sam and the actress lay naked in bed next to each other, cooling off.

The neighbor's parrot shouts loudly.

The actress fans herself, blowing cool air onto her chest and neck. She's still in her German dirndl tights.

They listen to the parrot as it continues to caw and shout.

The actress shrugs as she grabs an old 1970's Playboy from the stack of magazines next to the bed. She flips through it.

The artsy cover shows a naked woman floating upside down through the bluest of water.

The actress laughs, spinning the magazine around to examine the submerged playmate on the front cover.

Sam chuckles. A big grin. The actress laughs along with him.

The actress looks over and sees some papers, previously covered by the pornography. She grabs the handwritten sheets and stares at the complicated lines of text and numbers.

Sam grabs the papers from her... very embarrassed to share it.

Sam stuffs the papers underneath an old Playboy from the 1980's. He stands and puts on his underwear.

Rock music is heard. Sam peeks outside through the cheap white blinds. Looking for the source.

He sees Sarah walking away down the garden path with her dog - her stereo blasting. A trail of wet footsteps behind her.

The bird shouts again.

Sam keeps peeping through the blinds, ignoring the naked actress behind him. She doesn't notice or care as she reapplies her lipstick - using the video screen of her "iPhone 4" like a mirror compact.

Sarah unlocks her apartment door and goes inside. Sam watches as the little poodle dog follows her in.

The door closes as the parrot cackles and yells the same unknowable phrase once more.

Sam drives his black Mustang down Sunset Boulevard. He passes Sunset Junction.

The shops. The restaurants. The beautiful and blessed people of the neighborhood.

Sam browses the aisles of comics. He grabs an issue of Spider Man and adds it to the small stack in his arms.

Two nearby patrons chat loudly while looking at some Jimmy Corrigan anthologies.

Sam scans the local press, comics and zines - hanging separately on a rotating wire shelf. He notices one in particular.

Rough and xeroxed in an underground art style, Sam picks up a small, handmade and hand-drawn zine. Its title is:

Under the Silver Lake

On the cover are several strange drawings. The local Silverlake Junction sign, the Elliott Smith wall, a naked woman in a mask, a man holding a sign, and some tiny text at the bottom of the page.

Sam flips through the zine. He sees an article titled:

Beware the Dog Killer

Sam stares at the headline then scans the page. He closes the zine and adds it to his pile.

Standing at the register, the CLERK examines Sam's purchases like a curator - nodding approval or staying condescendingly silent. He punches numbers into the register.

Lifting up the handmade zine, the clerk grins and stares down at the small text on the cover page.

The clerk laughs and Sam smiles back at him. Politely.

Sam grabs a pen and writes his name and number down on a comic store business card.

Sam takes the money and puts it back in his wallet.

Sam walks down the dark garden path. The night is quiet except for crickets, the trickle of water, and the occasional siren.

Sam notices movement. A small skunk walks along the hedges - seeming to trail the young man. Sam stops and waits, watching the tail of the smelly animal move further into the darkness.

Turning beyond the shrubs, toward a first level patio, Sam sees the white Bichon Frise from the pool. The dog is tied to the railing, pooping on an open newspaper. Music pours from inside the apartment through the screen door.

Sam steps through the grass toward the dog. He pulls a colorful dog biscuit from his pocket and places it on the ground.

Coca Cola nibbles at the biscuit. Enjoying his treat.

The door slides open and Sarah stands before Sam. She's wearing her white bonnet and a casual, but beautiful dress. Black reading glasses sit atop her nose.

Sam leans closer, watching the dog eat. Sarah kneels near her pet and rubs his back.

The dog just continues to eat - chewing small and fast bites.

Sam doesn't follow, but he plays along, watching Sarah's chest through her low hanging dress.

Sam rubs the dog's ear. Coca-Cola doesn't look up from his food.

Sam just nods along, looking from Sarah's grinning face to her hanging chest - as she leans far forward.

Sarah looks at Sam's eyes. He tries to smile a bit, but it comes off a little sad.

Sarah hands Sam a cocktail. He stands in the middle of her cluttered living room. Women's things.

Sarah falls back and stretches across her recliner. Sam sits next to her on the couch.

Sarah giggles to herself. Uncontrollably.

She shakes her head and smiles. Laughing a bit more.

She cackles silently - having to turn her head away.

The girl makes a face - waiting for him to tell the truth.

Sarah smiles to herself, bunching her legs up on the chair, and gulping her drink.

Sarah seems stuck on the thought. A mixture of odd innocence and naivete. She interrupts...

Sarah reaches over and lifts up a large bong from the floor. It's a glass ice bong, filled with pink spiral percolators. Top of the line.

The pair are fucked up. Stoned and eating snacks on Sarah's white, old-lady, flower-quilted bed.

Antique furniture, almost girlish in nature, fills the room. White silk hangs from the tall bed posts.

They are watching a scene from "How to Marry a Millionaire" on the little bedroom tv. Marilyn flirts and glows onscreen.

Coca Cola lays in the bed next to Sarah.

Three collectible Barbie dolls sit on top of the television. They are modeled after Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable, and Lauren Bacall. A perfect match for the movie playing below them.

Sam notices a simple silver bracelet around Sarah's wrist. He touches it, moving his fingers over it and onto the back of her hand. He gently caresses her skin.

Playful. Flirting.

Sarah stretches her leg out and turns her ankle in Sam's direction. On it, is a tattoo of a cartoon zebra hang gliding.

Sarah giggles and smiles as she grabs two saltine crackers in one hand and a glass of orange juice in another.

Sarah puts the crackers in her mouth and immediately takes a big sip of OJ. She chews and swallows it all as she talks.

Sam stares at the freckles on her chest.

Sam holds his grin.

Sarah picks up two more saltines and holds them up before Sam's mouth. She leans very close, studying and guiding the the wafers like a jeweler focused on a diamond.

Sam moves his head past the crackers and kisses Sarah's parted lips.

They make out for a moment on the bed.

Sam pulls away, and Sarah continues to chew a bit of the cracker in her mouth - staring into Sam's eyes.

She smiles and laughs. Just the sound of air through her nose.

The front door opens. Voices and shuffling interrupt the game.

Sam and Sarah look through the bedroom door to the living room. Sarah's pretty roommates, a 22 year old BLONDE and a 24 year old BRUNETTE place new bags of clothes and boxes of shoes all over the floor and couch.

Behind the girls is a 40-something man with a large beard, an earring and a brown leather vest. Some bad HIPSTER PIRATE.

Sarah watches as her roommates swarm the space. Noise. She looks around, trying to decide what to do. Sam leans towards her on the bed.

Sarah climbs off the bed.

Walking toward the door, Sam passes Sarah's roommates. They don't pay any attention to him, moving around like bees with their boxes of designer shoes. Not even a smile or a nod.

They are probably models... or aspiring to be.

The pirate dude sits on the couch with his legs crossed - staring the other way. Aloof.

A flash of light.

Through the patio door, Sam sees fireworks exploding in the sky beyond the rooftops.

The girls say nothing. Awkward silence. Sam shrugs.

Sarah seems troubled as she turns away from the fireworks and faces Sam. She tries to grin, but it reads false.

Sam walks outside as Sarah closes the door.

Sam walks along the lamp-lit sidewalk, passing the houses and decrepit apartments of his east side neighborhood. He spins his key chain in his hand.

Sam steps into the street, reaching his car, a late model black Mustang.

He stares in shock.

The whole side of the car has been keyed. Scratch marks cover it from fender to rear panel.

A very large cartoon penis is scratched into the hood. Deep in the paint.

Enraged, Sam grabs the door handle, but quickly pulls his hand back. Chewed gum sticks to his fingertips, stretching over his palm in elongated wet strands.

Sam wipes the gum onto the concrete and sits there, staring at the scratch marks up and down his car. Overwhelmed.

He breathes slowly but deeply.

Sam hears a noise. Distant. He looks down the street and sees a few teenage boys crossing by some parked cars - creeping suspiciously.

Standing up, Sam sneaks closer, using the cover of trees, garbage cans and a parked van. He gets within sight of the kids.

Three boys. Probably thirteen to fifteen years old. Stupid grins on their faces. Keys in hand. One of them has a carton of eggs.

The boys chuckle as the smallest of the three kids drops his pants and starts to pee on the passenger side door of some old BMW.

Near silent laughter. Open mouths shaking in vandal's delight.

The boy finishes then plays with his fly - zipping up.

Sam walks up to the boy casually from the darkness. The kid turns. Sam grabs his t-shirt under the collar and pulls him toward a heavy punch - to the face.

The boy grunts - exhaling his pain.

STUPID BOY #1 Uhhhh.

STUPID BOY #2 What the hell, man?

The kid drops the carton onto the grass. Sam grabs an egg from the carton and pushes it into the boys mouth. He chokes and screams as the egg mixes with the blood in his teeth.

One of the boys tries to help, but Sam punches him in the balls. He rolls over onto the grass. Moaning in agony.

Small fireworks crackle in the distance.

Sam punches the first kid again - blood flies out of his mouth.

Jumping up, Sam kicks the other boy in the stomach. The kid coughs and rolls in pain.

Sam turns to head home.

All we hear are the footsteps of the third boy as he races down the center of the street.

Running away. Running away from Sam.

Inside, the television is on...

A news program highlights the life of missing billionaire Jefferson Sevence.

STILL MISSING!

The program shows archival news footage of Sevence performing Evel Knievel style stunts and Howard Hughes-esque exploits.

Sam sits alone on his balcony drinking several beers - a six pack resting on the spare patio chair.

Sweat on his face. A sad look in his eyes.

He's reading a page from the local zine "Under the Silver Lake" - holding it delicately with his sticky fingers.

The headline reads:

Beware the Dog Killer

On the page is a drawing of a hooded man lifting an impaled dog into the air with his bowie knife.

We see xeroxed pics of 20's era Edendale, and silent film photographs, as Sam reads quietly to himself.

Sam walks through a long tunnel. He hears dogs barking ahead.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, Sam emerges onto a dark and wooded street.

More barking - just out of sight in the trees. He steps off the road onto a wooded path.

Sam walks slowly along the tree-lined dirt trail. Moonlit.

Dogs continue to bark in the distance. Sam follows their sound.

He notices a dog biscuit on the ground below his feet. Picking it up, he examines it, twisting it in his fingers. He knows this brand.

Sam sees another - just ahead.

He follows the dark trail of multi-colored dog treats, deeper into the woods.

Flies buzz over a small dark mass alongside the path. Sam stops and looks down.

Partially covered by leaves, he sees the rib cage and half- buried head of a dog in the dirt. A Bichon Frise.

Strange sounds... up ahead.

Sam hears the odd noises and walks closer to them - further down the trail.

The sound of chewing?

Entering a clearing, Sam sees the back of a woman - Sarah's dress, white bonnet and slippers.

Is that Sarah?

She's hunched down over a man's body. Eating something.

As Sam steps closer, he sees the dead man's face in the moonlight. It's the missing billionaire, Jefferson Sevence.

The chewing intensifies. Lips smacking.

Sam hears a dog bark behind him. He doesn't look. It barks again.

The woman turns around and faces him... it's not Sarah.

It's an UNKNOWN MAN with blood on his mouth and face. Flesh in his teeth. He stares at Sam, beneath the white bonnet.

Curious and innocent like a dog.

Jefferson Sevence's body is in two pieces. Clearly severed at the waist.

The strange man barks. It sounds like the little dog, Coca Cola, yapping.

Sam stares as some unseen force pulls the body's two halves in opposite directions. Each dragged across the grass into the woods - as though pulled away by fishing line.

Gone in a flash.

Sam opens his eyes into the bright sun.

He's curled up and drooling on the couch. The TV is still on. Beer cans nearby.

Sam rolls over and grabs a Spider Man comic from the floor. It sticks to his fingertips. He shakes his hand, but the comic is stuck.

Sam peels it off, then looks at the chewed gum, still covering parts of his hand.

He exhales and shakes his head.

Sam walks along the garden path towards Sarah's apartment.

He knocks on her front door. No one answers.

Sam walks around back and steps onto Sarah's patio. Coca Cola isn't there. The patio chairs are missing. The old newspapers and dog poop are gone.

The young man peeks in through the patio door. The blinds are open.

There's no furniture inside. The apartment is completely empty.

Inside the glass-walled, log-cabin office, Sam leans against one of the desks.

A greasy haired MANAGER with a puckered face, looks up from behind his monitor. His contempt is obvious. He stares at Sam as though he's looking into an unflushed toilet.

Sam says nothing. He stares at the smug manager - anger brewing.

Sam drinks whiskey in the dark bar. Sunlight occasionally cuts across the shadows, as patrons enter or exit.

A heavy man, with a half-bald head, shifts on his stool. Sam's 43-year-old BAR BUDDY gulps his beer and rubs his ear in contemplation.

Two drunk women, behind tall beers, carry on their own conversation at the bar. We hear pieces of it...

BAR BUDDY OLD DRUNK WOMAN Have you heard about these The only thing I hate more dog killers? than getting patted on the

head is looooove on a schedule. SAM

There's more than one? YOUNG DRUNK WOMAN

They always say to me "you're BAR BUDDY too pretty to be this nice"

Who knows. Creeps me out. or "you don't look like you've It's one thing to get mugged, had a child." God I just want but to have some dude stab to find somebody with a little your dog right before your financial security. I can eyes... that would traumatize dream, right? a person... fuckin' horrible.

Sam takes a sip from his glass.

Sam shrugs... Sure, evidence. Why not? He takes a big swig of whiskey.

Sam steps behind some shrubs, locating Sarah's bedroom window. He's sweaty. A bit drunk.

He looks back and scans the neighboring balconies. Seems clear. No one's around.

The young man slides a screwdriver behind the window screen and pops it out. Quickly, he climbs inside with a thud.

Sam twists the blinds closed - covering the open window.

He turns and faces the empty room. Dust sits along the carpet edges where furniture once stood.

Sam looks down the hallway into the vacant living room. He casually spins back and sees the closed closet door.

He walks over and opens it. The clothes and shoes are gone. But at the top of the shelf is a box. Sam pulls it down and looks inside.

He sees some music CDs, a dance trophy, three collectible Barbie dolls from the "How to Marry a Millionaire" series, an open pack of Fruit Stripes gum, a pink vibrator and a photograph of Sarah. Sam grabs the picture of Sarah smiling in her white hat, and puts it in his pocket.

He hears a sound. Keys rattling. The front door begins to unlock.

Sam puts the box back on the shelf, steps out and closes the closet door. He hears the front door click as it starts to open.

Thinking fast, Sam climbs back out the bedroom window. He reaches in and settles the shaking blinds.

Sam remains there, behind the bushes, peeking into the bedroom. Waiting to see who's arrived.

A young woman, TROY, in jean shorts and a Joan Jett and the Blackhearts t-shirt, steps into the bedroom. Her hair is thin and "dirty white". Her face is pretty, but a little masculine.

A tomboy, sex-pot and scenester combined.

Sam watches the girl open the closet and go inside - a cloth Trader Joe shopping bag in her hand.

After a moment, she emerges with the box in her arms.

Setting it down in the middle of the empty room, Troy dumps the contents of the box into the bag. She reaches in, grabs a stick of gum and puts it in her mouth.

Troy picks up the bag and walks into the hallway.

As she leaves, the girl closes the bedroom door - revealing a marking on the wall - previously hidden.

<><>

Through the blinds, Sam stares at the strange symbol.

Drawn in pink nail polish...

Two diamond shapes, joined at the tip...

<><>

Sam stares at the symbol for a moment. Clearly puzzled.

A storm door closes.

Footsteps.

Sam ducks and watches Troy cross by, swinging her bag of goodies along the garden path.

Trailing the girl from the opposite side of the street, Sam walks slowly, stepping behind trees and parked cars.

Troy strolls along the sidewalk.

A car pulls up in the intersection before her. It's a 1984 Volkswagon Rabbit Wolfsburg convertible.

Two other hipster girls are inside. A black haired girl is driving. A freckled redhead in back.

Familiar indie-rock pours from the speakers.

Troy races up and hops into the passenger seat. The car takes off towards Los Feliz Boulevard.

Sam sprints to his car.

Sam drives along Los Feliz keeping the Rabbit convertible in his sights - just a few cars ahead.

He follows the girls, turning left onto Griffith Park Boulevard.

Sam watches their car slow down and stop in front of John Marshall High School. He pulls over and waits.

Troy and her friends sit still - engine running - across from the football field.

Some local teens pass by Sam's car. They point and laugh at the penis drawing covering his hood. He ignores them.

From his center console, Sam pulls out a pen and an LA County parking ticket. He draws the secret shape on the ticket.

<><>

Looking up, Sam notices the girls staring over at the high school scoreboard. Some numbers flash on the visitor's side.

The number 7... then the number 5... and finally the number 1.

Sam writes them on his ticket.

7 5 1

The white rabbit convertible pulls back onto the road and heads towards Rowena. Sam stays in pursuit.

Traveling down Sunset Boulevard...

Sam follows, trailing the car toward Echo Park.

The sun begins to set over the lake as Sam idles along Echo Park Avenue.

He watches the girls walk up to the nearby boat house.

Leaving his car, Sam follows the threesome.

He looks around the boat house and sees a PARK EMPLOYEE helping the girls into two red paddle boats. Troy climbs in with the brunette - the Trader Joe bag over her shoulder.

They start to pedal away from the dock. The handsome Park Employee eyes them as they float off.

Sam hops in his own blue paddle boat and starts to pedal - churning water and gaining momentum. Paddling out, he follows the two red boats from a distance as they round the bend.

Swishing water.

Shwwww. Shwwww. Shwwww.

Moving under the bridge, Sam turns the corner into the open water. The lake is calm. The orange sky reflects over the park, mixing with palm trees, flowers and the gentle gaze of the Lady of the Lake statue.

The girls stop pedaling. Their boats slow down and begin to simply drift. The redhead waves at her friends in the first boat. They makes faces back at her. A few splashes of water.

Sam stays still, letting his boat float sideways within the lake. He casually turns and watches the girls.

Waiting.

Troy and her friend start to paddle together once more. Faster than before. Their boat reaches the opposite shore line.

Sam watches as a man appears over the hilltop. He runs down over the grass and meets Troy as her paddle boat bumps against the concrete rim of the lake.

Sam recognizes the man. It's the middle-aged hipster pirate he saw at Sarah's.

Troy passes the cloth bag to the pirate. He takes it and runs back up the hill.

He's gone.

Sam looks around, and starts to turn his paddle boat toward the dock.

A few lengths behind the convertible Rabbit, Sam drives his car down 2nd Street towards the city.

Homeless people look up from their shopping carts and cardboard beds as the black Mustang passes by.

Sam enters the tunnel under Bunker Hill. He stares ahead - the girls sit calmly together.

Turning onto 6th Street, the Rabbit drives up in front of the Standard Hotel. Sam trails behind, watching as Troy and her friends hop out - pulling beach towels and pool rafts from the car. The brunette passes the keys off to the SHADY VALET.

The redhead pulls her t-shirt off, revealing a bikini top. She swings the shirt over her shoulder and smiles to the brunette.

Sam drives closer, watching the three pretty hipsters go into the back door of the hotel. Troy laughs as she blows air into an inner tube - disappearing through the doorway.

Pulling into a blue-lined parking space, Sam takes out a handicap-parking permit and hangs it from his mirror.

Sam rides up alone. The elevator doors open. Live music pours in from the rooftop patio.

Standing before Sam is a leggy woman in a bikini and black top hat. Her extended leg in the doorway forces Sam to face her - although he would have done so regardless.

The bikini girl smiles. She pulls a small sewing needle from a plush, cherry-shaped, pin cushion and presents it to Sam.

Sam smirks and slides the pin through the pocket of his shirt as he walks on.

He passes an identical girl, performing an identical greeting to a small crowd exiting the adjacent elevator.

A POET dressed like a 1940's housewife marches by, stepping across the furniture and tables while reading poetry against the loud music. She tears little pieces of paper from her page and drops them to the ground like rose petals.

Sam scans the area for Troy and the girls. He sees them sitting down on a big couch near the stage. A live band is playing before a crowd.

Stepping closer, Sam sees the understated singer and his gorgeous female band. It's Jesus and the Brides of Dracula - made clear by the accompanying signage and drum logo.

The THREE BRIDES are all in white 1920's gowns with pale skin and sad eyes. JESUS is in old blue jeans - bare chested with a cross around his neck.

Sam moves closer as the band kicks into a prolonged music jam.

Faster and faster, the tempo rises.

The crowd parts as a dancer emerges from behind the stage. She draws all attention - including Sam's.

A teenage girl in a green unitard dances provocatively wearing an enormous mass of multi-colored balloons. BALLOON GIRL smiles and gyrates. Her arms wave in the air as her shoulders sway.

Suddenly she begins to scream over the pounding drums. All part of the act, but strange nevertheless.

Balloon girl dances through the crowd screaming as everyone pokes and pops the balloons with their sewing needles.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

The music reaches a crescendo and ends with a final roar.

Sam watches as balloon girl emerges from the mob - she's covered in deflated rubber over her nylon suit. She stares up at the sky, as though healed by Pentecostal powers.

The crowd cheers as the band disappears behind a curtain.

Sam pulls the sewing needle from his shirt and tosses it over the edge of the roof - without thinking twice.

Loud music everywhere.

Sam sits down along the edge of the pool - jeans rolled up - feet in the water. He sips his fruity cocktail and watches Troy and her girlfriends strip into their bathing suits.

Troy kicks off her sandals and dives into the water.

Sam watches Troy swim to the far edge of the pool. The young woman climbs onto a raft and lays back - she pulls a flask from her waist-band and takes a swig.

The redhead, FANNIE, a freckled and slightly plump beauty, stretches and yawns at the edge of the pool. Her teeth are oddly spaced - a missed opportunity for braces - but even this mistake contributes to her appeal.

The black haired girl, MAE, steps cautiously into the pool. She's slim with dark features - girlish compared with her friends - a bob haircut more at home in the 1970's than the millennial teens.

Sam fixes his sights on Troy. She is calmly spinning slow circles on her raft.

Fannie climbs down the ladder into the blue tank. She starts to swim.

Sam drinks and eavesdrops - trying to look like he belongs.

Fannie and Mae laugh together as Troy grins. She takes another gulp from her flask.

Troy climbs out of the water, looking back at her friends.

Sam watches as Troy heads to the bathroom. He stands up and follows.

The toilet flushes and Troy opens her stall. Sam is standing between her and the sink. Troy gives him a dirty look and tries to walk around him. Sam blocks her path, holding up the photo of Sarah.

The girl looks at the photograph, but says nothing. She stares at Sam - looking him up and down.

Troy spits her gum in Sam's face. It hits his nose and falls to the floor. Sam grabs her arm and yanks her closer.

Troy knees Sam in the balls. She pulls away from his grip as he falls to the floor.

She runs out.

A fresh group of drunk hipster girls walk into the bathroom and see Sam on the floor. They make ugly faces at him and bark - strong and very aggressive - flashing gang signs from places they've never visited.

As the girls shout and curse, their barking becomes literal. From their sweet mouths come deep and disturbing dog barks.

The girls cackle and laugh at their explosion of expletives. Sam tries to sit up.

Sam hobbles, hunched over, through the beautiful crowd. It's even louder than before.

One of the Brides of Dracula, a green-eyed beauty in oversized reading glasses and grey lipstick, chats energetically with a gentle giant.

Sam passes by the READING GLASSES BRIDE, moving toward the pool.

GIANT HIPSTER WITH GIANT BEARD I think it works for you.

This conversation, and others like it, plays out in the background - overlapping with the primary story. Altman-esque.

GIANT HIPSTER WITH GIANT BEARD I agree...

Moving past the crowd, Sam finally gets a clear view of the pool area. Troy and the girls are gone.

A HAND lands hard on Sam's shoulder. He jumps.

Sam spins around and sees ALLEN, a grinning guy with floppy hair and a chiseled jaw - laughing and patting Sam's back.

Allen gives Sam a hug. Sam looks down at Allen's attire.

Though very masculine, Allen wears a few pieces of women's clothing - slightly repurposed for irony or comfort's sake.

Allen drifts through the conversation. Floating in both words and gestures.

Sam stands more still than the others - less at ease in this world of artists and secret socialites. Also, he was just kneed in the balls.

Allen grins, nodding and patting Sam on the shoulder a few more times.

A beautiful black girl in a sparkling emerald evening gown walks up to Allen. He smiles to the EMERALD BEAUTY and points to her dress.

The girl smiles and tips her chin in flirtatious recognition.

Emerald Beauty stares over Allen's shoulder.

Both Allen and Sam turn and see a leggy brunette in gold shorts.

It's Millicent Sevence.

She's drinking, laughing and flirting with another girl.

The pair ignore Sam, as they scoff and stare.

Emerging from the crowd in her white gothic gown, one of the Brides of Dracula edges into the circle. A fragile doll.

The MEEK BRIDE waves at the group like a shy schoolgirl - a wicker basket filled with cookies in her hand.

The girl delicately hands both Allen and Emerald Beauty a homemade cookie. The Meek Bride looks at Sam, pauses and gives him one too - like Valentine's day in grade school. Everyone gets a card if you show up.

Sam looks at the cookie in his hand - frosted with green piping - the number 76.

The Meek Bride offers a half-grin then turns to deliver more VIP treats to the crowd. She repeats her pitch.

Emerald Beauty looks down at her iphone, reading her twitter feed.

All eyes turn towards Millicent Sevence. The billionaire's daughter pulls away from a sapphic kiss, and makes a funny face as she reaches for her drink.

Emerald Beauty whispers something to a MALE MODEL. A few people around Millicent start to look up from their smart phones, reacting to some terrible news. More and more people within the crowd turn their attention toward the young woman.

Millicent sways and laughs.

A chain reaction of hushed whispers. Elbowing between friends. Faces looking up from iphones. Chatter and gossip.

Sam watches this from the edge. Everyone waits for Millicent to hear what they already know.

A girl runs through the crowd and whispers into Millicent's ear.

Sam watches the young woman's face. She's devastated, but holds it in.

Millicent walks slowly through the hipsters to the elevator. She's gone.

Sam opens the outer security gate.

Fog drifts across the garden walkways of Sam's complex. A foreboding quality in the night air.

Sam walks alone.

It's quiet except for crickets and the sound of water rippling in the stream.

Sam hears footsteps behind him. He turns and looks back.

No one is there. Darkness.

We move with Sam, tracking through the foggy walkway. The young man steps nervously - alert.

Sam's cell phone rings. He answers.

Sam hears something again. He spins back as a dark figure crosses the path - into the shadows.

Sam stares back. Concerned.

Still watching - no movement.

Sam hangs up his phone and stares into the darkness. Listening.

He sees a shadow lean out from behind a distant building. Gone again.

Sam turns and starts to jog ahead. He looks around anxiously. Through the dark garden path. In and out of the lamp light.

Reaching an intersection of paths, Sam slows down and looks to his right. He notices a man standing in the center of the walkway.

The man is not moving. His body and face are shrouded in darkness.

Sam turns left and starts to run. He doesn't look back. Turning another corner, Sam scrambles and climbs behind a large tree.

Loud rustling - behind him. A strange cry.

Sam turns and sees black fur rising from the brush within the tall grass. It's the rear end of a skunk.

The animal shakes and sprays. Sam covers his head and closes his eyes as the skunk bathes him in its odor.

Sam staggers out of his hiding place, wiping the fluid from his face. His eyes water. He hunches over on the sidewalk and begins to heave.

Sam vomits on the walkway.

Cough. Choke.

Sitting there, he tries to open his eyes. Slow and painful. The fluid stings.

Sam opens his eyelids - just enough. He looks up the garden path and sees no one. The shadow man is gone.

Standing on his kitchen tile, Sam strips off his clothes into a garbage bag. The television is on nearby.

A beautifully decorated cookie sits on his counter-top next to Sarah's photo and a parking ticket covered in symbols and scribbles.

Leaning over in his underwear, Sam watches the news report. We see helicopter footage of a burned up Deusenberg near Silver Lake Boulevard and the 101.

Sam pulls his briefs down and tosses them into the bag.

This catches Sam's attention.

He runs across the room and stands before the television, buck naked. He watches intensely.

Sam watches the crime scene footage. A detective carries an evidence bag into a police van. Reporters and cops everywhere.

Sam tilts his head, and presses a button on his cable box. The screen pauses.

He zooms in with the remote - focusing on the grainy image of the crime scene bag. It's white and charred.

Concerned with neither his odor nor his nudity, Sam grabs Sarah's photo from the counter.

He holds the picture up, examining the details of Sarah's white bonnet - the pink ribbon hanging near her ear.

He compares it against the tv screen, zooming-in once more.

Though it's a fuzzy blur, the burnt white cloth and pink ribbon are clearly visible within the evidence bag.

It's Sarah's hat.

Open tin cans sit on the bathroom sink. Inside the tub is Sam, soaking in tomato juice - scrubbing the skunk scent from his body.

The actress is on the floor, wearing a slutty nurse outfit, and plugging her nose.

She reads out loud to Sam - a page from "Under the Silver Lake".

The actress turns the zine around and shows Sam the picture accompanying the typewriter essay. It's a cartoon depiction of a naked woman in an owl skin mask with a large tuft of pubic hair between her legs.

Sam shakes his head and smiles.

The actress makes a face and returns to her duty.

The actress raises her brow and tosses the zine on top of the toilet.

Sam nods out of respect as the young woman rests her back against the sink. White nylon legs sprawled unshyly over the floor.

Sam listens, scrubbing his face with soap and tomato juice. He dunks his head into the bath once or twice. Rinsing his hair.

With her nose still plugged, the actress's voice sounds extra strange and nasally.

The actress just nods. She looks at Sam.

Sam shakes his head. Not yet.

The actress pets the top of Sam's head. He looks like a big child in the tub... an old baby covered in his food.

The actress stares and listens as Sam continues explaining his strange theory.

The actress smiles nervously, making a slight sound from her throat as she adjusts her legs. Sam speaks faster and faster.

The actress stares at Sam - frozen. She's freaked out, but she tries to hide it.

Frustrated, Sam splashes tomato juice over his chest. He exhales deeply.

The actress starts to stand up. Stretching.

The young woman walks out of the bathroom, leaving Sam alone.

Sam sits on his couch watching Wheel of Fortune - a notebook and pen in his hand.

He hears squeals of laughter and water splashing outside his window.

Sam walks out to his balcony.

Looking down at the pool, Sam sees Sarah swimming alone in the blue water.

Sarah splashes... laughing like Marilyn Monroe.

She swims closer, looking up at Sam. He realizes that she's naked.

Sam watches as Sarah reaches the nearest edge of the pool. She props herself on her elbows and lifts a single leg up onto the deck - mimicking Marilyn. She giggles and laughs with a giant grin.

Sam stares. More laughter.

Sarah climbs out and sits on the edge of the pool. With her back to us, she turns and smiles over her shoulder... teasing her body.

She begins to bark at us - the sound of a large dog - something vicious.

Her face is beautiful but her barks are horrific.

Sam watches as she playfully hops back into the pool and dives underwater.

Splash.

It's quiet now. Sam leans over the railing and looks down.

The water settles... no one is in the pool.

Sam opens his eyes, rolls out of bed and looks straight out the window. He sees police stringing crime-scene tape over Sarah's apartment door.

Sam exits his apartment gate and walks up the street. He notices a leggy woman in a short red dress climbing out of her Prius.

RED MINISKIRT walks daintily ahead of him on the sidewalk - passing a drunk homeless man in the grass.

Sam watches her ass and legs as she prances along.

On the opposite sidewalk, there are more beautiful women, staggered down the block, but marching forward.

A Fellini-esque parade of mini-skirt models moving down the street in Sam's direction.

Sam tilts his head - trying to understand it all.

Red Miniskirt cuts across the road - pulling out her headshots. She slows down in front of an old duplex.

Inside the dirty garage are several gorgeous models standing around, smiling and chatting with a heavy-set man. He sits behind a folding card table like a king. A makeshift sign reads: Movie Auditions!

Sam passes the garage audition, staring at the odd circus.

Now behind him, Red Miniskirt paces, staring up at the trees - wondering if she should leave.

Sam turns a corner.

Several models stand in the center of the street looking down at the pavement. A look of disgust on their faces.

Red spray paint covers the ground. Some sort of graffiti.

Sam approaches them and the strange markings.

YELLOW MINISKIRT makes a few involuntary, hushed sounds - publically advertising her horror at the message below her.

Each grunt is accompanied by a body shiver and a little, involuntary two-step dance on her yellow heels.

Sam keeps walking closer.

Below their high-heeled feet are four giant words - written in red spray paint.

Beware the Dog Killer

GREEN MINISKIRT flips her foot and grimaces, shaking her face with tongue half extended. This really bothers her.

Sam stares at the painted message as he passes the models. Yellow Miniskirt looks up at him.

Yellow Miniskirt waves her hand in front of her nose.

Sam sniffs himself and makes a face.

A loud MECHANICAL SOUND!

Sam looks ahead and sees a tow truck lifting his Black Mustang onto its flatbed.

He starts to sprint, leaving the circle of runway models behind him.

Sam pounds on the tow truck driver's window.

The TOW MAN rolls it down and looks at Sam with a wide and angry mouth.

The tow man throws his truck in gear and drives off toward Los Feliz.

Sam watches his car disappear.

A homeless woman stares, wheeling a shopping cart along the sidewalk.

Squeak! Squeak! Go the wheels.

Sam walks down Griffith Park Boulevard, covered in sweat.

He stares at the blank scoreboard near John Marshall High School as he passes.

A car full of teenagers zips down the road. Sam hears a familiar tune approach and recede with their passing.

You and I...

turning like teeth...

loving beneath...

the surface.

Sam listens, wiping sweat from his face. The sun covers all.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

COMIC MAN opens his front door and greets Sam - now soaked from the heat.

He waves Sam inside. Closing the door.

Sam smiles and looks around, fanning himself. It's a mess of a house. Sketches, papers and books litter the room.

Dust balls collect in corners.

From the dim living room into the far hallway, the walls are covered in LIFE MASKS.

Sam fixates on the dozens of solid-white faces hanging everywhere. Their eyes are closed. Their expressions are frozen in time.

He sees... Basil Rathbone, Debbie Reynolds, Angelina Jolie, Bela Lugosi, Katherine Hepburn, Christopher Reeve, Ashton Kutcher, Linda Blair, Charles Laughton, Patricia Arquette, Lou Costello and Robert Redford.

Comic Man hands Sam a beer. He cracks it open and takes a drink.

Comic Man points to the chalk-white face of Abraham Lincoln hanging from the wall. His eyelids are closed.

Sitting on the couch, surrounded by books, odd tchotchkes and "Under the Silver Lake" zines, Sam draws the double diamond shape on paper.

<><>

Sam's photograph of Sarah sits on the paper next to the drawing.

Comic Man leans in and looks at the symbol.

Comic Man grabs a book from his giant shelf. He opens it and shows Sam a graph of common hobo symbols.

O -- || X r <><> ///

Sam lifts a piece of scrap paper from within the book. It's filled with handwritten translations. A simple KEY for the mysterious hobo code.

Sam stares at the symbols, keeping the code-filled book mark in his hand.

Sam takes a deep breath.

Comic man opens an issue of "Under the Silver Lake", sitting amongst the clutter. Inside it's filled with snapshots of "lost and found" signs from all over the east side of Los Angeles.

Page after page...

Sam listens... wanting to believe, but troubled by it all. He looks at the life masks covering the walls.

Is this man sane? Am I?

Comic Man begins sorting through various issues of "Under the Silver Lake" as he talks.

Comic Man stares Sam down - a little offended by his dismissal.

Sam digs through his wallet and pulls out a dollar. Comic Man takes it, producing a magnifying glass from the drawer.

He holds the glass over the dollar bill, steadying it on the coffee table.

Sam leans in and looks through the magnifying glass. He sees it. A tiny owl is visible, peeking up from behind the crest of the top-right corner's numeral one.

Comic Man hands the dollar back to Sam. He stares at the little bird, previously hidden in his wallet.

More enthusiastic, Comic Man grabs piles of torn magazine pages and ads from old Playboys... waving them in Sam's face.

Sam sees advertisements with concealed words circled in red magic marker...

POWER... LOVE... SEX... FREEDOM!

Naked women in the ice cubes of soda pop ads...

Women's mouths nearly fellating cheeseburgers...

Mae West in the Camel cigarette logo...

Dollar Bills hidden in the lettuce...

On and on...

Comic man pulls a wooden panel away from the wall, revealing a dark crawl space.

Dusty boxes are visible at the head of the narrow passageway.

On one of the boxes, sits a surveillance monitor connected to an old VCR.

Comic Man leans over and crawls into the secret opening, disappearing into the darkness.

Sam looks at the surveillance monitor and VCR. He sees a LIVE VIEW of the living room, the backdoor and the side of the house nearest the garage.

Sam looks around at Comic Man's bedroom. He glances at the ACTION FIGURES and the SKETCHES charting the stages of the moon.

Sam says nothing. He waits - looking into the dark crawl space.

Comic Man crawls back into the light, waving a CEREAL BOX, triumphantly.

Comic Man climbs out and shows Sam the box of MOONSTONES cereal from the mid 70's. He spins it around and points at the East Los Angeles map on the back of the box.

Giant letters announce:

Treasure Hunt! Fun Prizes!

Sam studies the colorful map. Cartoon characters poke their heads out of famous east side locations. Griffith Park Observatory, etc...

Sam points to the Contest Card on the side of the box - loaded with fine print.

Comic Man sighs.

Comic Man stares at Sam with a sweaty and strained face.

Sam avoids eye contact.

Sam passes scooter girls and fedora men as he soaks through his shirt - melting in the heat.

He glances back, looking at the hipsters and homeless men on the sidewalk behind him. They are all wearing similar hats.

Sam divides and steps through an enormous line extending out from the local Intelligentsia Coffee - all parties standing on a long red carpet that ends at the Sunset gutter.

Everyone seems to know each other. A long line of feigned surprise and big smiles.

And on and on. Sam keeps walking.

Everyone is beautiful... or at least very, very interesting.

Griffith Park Observatory is visible high above on the hillside.

Sam crosses a picturesque bridge, staring at the pretty houses.

He looks around, glancing back at the empty street.

Sam walks up the sidewalk and sees Bar Buddy smoking and drinking on his porch. Seeing Sam, he waves and approaches, meeting in the driveway.

Sam ignores his friend, shaking his head.

The two men chuckle to one another. Bar Buddy changes the subject.

Bar Buddy points his thumb towards the backyard.

A medium-sized DRONE rises up from the center of the backyard. Silent like some future monster. Its rotors spin.

The black quadcopter houses a state of the art camera system.

The two men sit on the grass, in front of a laptop - which rests on a cheap folding chair. Their heads are tilted close. Beers in hand.

Sam watches the drone hover and soar through the neighborhood. Disappearing into the black sky.

Bar Buddy operates the controls from his laptop - piloting the drone.

POGO, Bar Buddy's golden retriever walks up to Sam through the grass.

The dog licks his hand and arm. Sam pulls away - a fake smile forming. Bar Buddy notices and tugs gently on his dog's collar.

Pogo steps away. Bar Buddy rubs the dog's head, petting him fondly. Sam relaxes.

The drone soars over Los Angeles. Transmitting a blur of lights, houses, cars and streets.

Bar Buddy sniffs the air. Something is afoul. He smells Pogo's fur.

Bar Buddy accepts the fact with a casual nod.

He taps some buttons, watching the drone's camera-relay next to the computer's mapping system.

The drone settles in place.

Bar Buddy focuses the camera on a large window overlooking a canyon - some modern home in the hills.

The drone's camera shows an empty, but bright living room. Well decorated.

Bar Buddy taps the edge of the chair in anticipation.

Bar Buddy looks at Sam - sees his beaten expression. Understands it. He puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Bar Buddy and Sam look out into the night air. The crickets chirp. The wind blows through the trees.

Bar Buddy smiles and starts to laugh.

Sam laughs along with his friend.

Two nearly middle-aged men in undersized t-shirts sitting on the grass in a dark backyard drinking beer and huddling before a small monitor...

Sam leans in towards the screen - taking note of the empty room.

On the screen, they see a CHESTY WOMAN walk into the room. She takes her shirt off, revealing her bra. They watch in silence as she sits down in a chair and starts to cry.

Bar Buddy moves the controller, turning the drone's camera away from the sad woman's window.

Sam leaves.

Sam walks toward the cemetery entrance.

Hipsters carry cheese plates, blankets and wine through the iron gate.

Sam walks alone down a grave-lined path.

The air has cooled...

Pretty young women walk through the cemetery in their summer clothes.

Orchestral score echoes - as though performed through a loudspeaker.

Dialogue from a film soundtrack carries across the graveyard. Source unseen.

We hear reverb-filled voices. Much like the hollow sounds heard when stepping into the back of a large movie theater, mid-screening.

As Sam steps over the hill, he sees hundreds of people sitting on the grass before a make-shift movie screen. A film is being projected onto the back wall of a mausoleum.

Picnic blankets and lawn chairs fill the space.

Sam steps to the rear of the crowd, and watches the film.

A quiet scene in some suburban backyard. A young mid-western girl smokes a cigarette and flirts with a teenage boy. Her friend watches from a lawn chair opposite her. The pixie girl with the Seberg-haircut flashes a star-making smile.

Sam looks through the crowd. No one familiar.

He makes his way toward a tree-lined path, glancing back at the film.

Onscreen, a pig-tailed teen girl frowns while talking to her boyfriend. Sad but photogenic eyes. Her soft voice echos across the graveyard.

Sam notices a man with a diamond grill smoking pot with two pretty young women. He has his arms around them like trophies. They lean together against a thick-stump tombstone.

Walking closer along the path, Sam recognizes them.

It's the two girls from the movie. Older now, but recognizably the same. A regular pair of SHOOTING STARS.

Their hair is styled exactly as it is in the film being shown tonight. Their attire is nearly inappropriate - like some bad hipster variations on Jodie Foster's wardrobe from Taxi Driver.

SHOOTING STAR #2 flips a pig tail over her shoulder and takes a puff from the joint.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Yeah.

SHOOTING STAR #2 That's us.

The girls smile and stare at Sam through stoned eyes.

DIAMOND GRILL ignores him, smoking his joint and touching the girls' faces.

SHOOTING STAR #2 Thank you.

SHOOTING STAR #1 smiles and nods, looking down at the ground with a shy shuffle. Her short Seberg-hair catches the light.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Do you like the movie?

Shooting Star #2 notices a scent wafting by. She sniffs the air - interrupting.

SHOOTING STAR #2 Gosh, do ya smell that?

Sam takes a deep breath.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Smells like skunks and... pot.

The Seberg-girl displays an exaggerated grimace. Too pouty for a grown woman.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Ok.

Diamond Grill leads them toward a limousine, parked along the inner drive. They stumble in their heels, under the influence.

Sam watches them climb inside, slumping together across leather seats. Light music emanates.

A man's head peeks out from within the dark limo.

It's the Hipster Pirate. Sam reacts - taking a step closer.

The door shuts.

Slam!

The limousine accelerates down the cemetery road, disappearing around the corner.

Behind Sam, on the mausoleum wall, the short haired girl smiles and flirts with a small town boy.

Sam walks up to a TUXEDO BOUNCER standing before a roped-off doorway. Potted plants and Saint statues flank the edges of this marble entrance.

An elegantly designed cardboard floor-sign announces:

Summertime Secret Show!

The rumble of music can be heard from inside.

Sam holds up his cookie invitation. Tuxedo Bouncer examines it and nods his head.

He eyes Sam with displeasure.

Sam looks at the bouncer's face. He's quite serious.

Sam shrugs and shoves the entire cookie in his mouth.

Sam makes his way through a deep crowd, milling about within the large mausoleum hall. Waitresses carry drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the young and fashionable crowd.

Looking over heads and shoulders, Sam sees the small stage near a row of shrines. Spotlights illuminate the main attraction.

Meek Bride stands on the stage, dressed in her 20's gown and 80's tennis shoes.

She leans forward and speaks quietly into the microphone like a cute mouse - nervously pressing her dress down onto her knees.

The small piece orchestra sitting in the shadows of the stage begin to play. A sad and slow version of a famous tune.

To Sir With Love...

The men in the room watch with wistful eyes and deep longing. Sam watches the Bride perform, simultaneously eyeing the crowd.

Sam hears a woman's voice behind him...

Sam turns and sees RECORD GIRL handing out sample albums to the party-goers. Record Girl wears a 1930's cigarette girl outfit - carrying a wooden tray filled with double stacked 45s of the newest Jesus and the Brides of Dracula single. She's straight out of Cocoanut Grove.

The girl holds her tray of records out before Sam - offering him one.

Sam takes one and looks at the cover, smiling quickly to the girl.

On stage, Meek Bride continues to sing like a sad angel.

Making his way to the bar, Sam notices his friend Allen chatting with a cute bartender. He walks up and shakes the man's hand.

Sam signals the bartender. She leans in.

Sam smiles and nods. He passes some cash to the bartender and sips his drink.

Allen looks around, then leans in close to Sam.

Allen grins, tapping his finger on the record in Sam's hand.

Sam glances at the sleeve. Jesus and the Brides pose together like a post-modern perfume ad.

Allen smiles, laughing about the idea.

Allen looks Sam in the eye, smiles and pats him on the shoulder.

He notices a group of mustachioed muscular men in mesh shirts passing by. Allen waves and smiles, stepping away from Sam to engage his friends in a series of complicated hand shakes and man hugs.

Sam watches Allen disappear into the crowd.

Balloon Girl bumps against Sam, wearing an Italian-chic summer dress with sandals - looking like an object of infatuation from an old Rohmer film from the mid 70's.

She leans against the bar - her bare shoulder touching Sam's arm. He looks at her face.

Balloon girl shakes her head with a small grin.

The pretty girl points at the drink in Sam's hand.

Sam looks to the bartender.

Sam pulls the final twenty dollar bill from his wallet and pays for the drink.

Balloon Girl smells something funny, but says nothing.

Sam shows Balloon Girl his photo of Sarah, setting it down on the bar.

Balloon Girl nods her head. Yup.

Sam hands Balloon Girl her whiskey. She takes a drink.

Balloon Girl grabs Sam's hand and pulls him through the crowd.

Balloon Girl hops down the stone steps, dragging Sam behind her.

She reaches a thick wooden door and knocks hard against it. A tiny slot opens, revealing a peering eye.

The door opens and Balloon Girl pulls Sam into the dark room.

Cigarette smoke fills the cavernous crypt club. Rough stone walls, curtained booths, and tombstone tables surround the dance floor.

Music thumps as the crowd hops and sways to a classic pop tune. Something recognizable from the 1990's.

Sam and Balloon Girl are sitting together at one of the tables - their drinks and elbows resting on a perfect replica of Jayne Mansfield's tombstone.

The pair share a cigarette - taking turns with their drags. They shout over the painfully loud music. Conversing!

Sam holds up his 45 record, displaying the cover of Jesus and the Brides. He points to it as he talks.

Balloon Girl laughs.

Sam says nothing as he nods. He takes a drag of his cigarette. Ballon girl slides the photo across the table to him.

Balloon Girl reaches into her dress and pulls out a piece of flaccid red rubber. She holds the balloon up to her mouth and blows into it.

Tying it off with her fingers, the girl raises up the inflated balloon and moves her cigarette closer and closer to it.

Balloon Girl presses the cigarette against the rubber, popping the balloon in her hand. She smiles to Sam.

Sam takes a gulp of his drink, eyeing Balloon Girl with curiosity.

A powerful and loud power chord blasts from the club's speakers.

It's REM's "What's the Frequency Kenneth".

On the dance floor, under the strobing lights, the pair begin to feel the music. The energy of it.

Sam dances wildly to the song - a giant grin rarely seen in the context of this story. He dances, jumps and swings his arms like a whirling and mad Michael Stipe. The girl laughs joyfully along with Sam.

Sam dances and stares into the girl's beautiful but young face. She moves to the beat... though clearly unfamiliar with the tune or the lyrics he's chanting. Sam is the only one singing along, but he doesn't care.

They are separated by age and the ever shifting tectonic plates of pop culture.

The dance floor is half full. Most of the crowd sways casual and cool. Sam and Balloon Girl smile and jump, shaking along with the heavily tremoloed chords - using their power to remain unique and alive.

Sam's world grows large. The crowd twists and transforms. Color stretches into unbelievable hues.

Sam grabs his face. Rubs his eyes. His legs grow weak.

He turns and staggers off the dance floor. Balloon Girl follows.

Sam vomits into the toilet. Loud and terrible.

Sam walks out of the bathroom - dizzy. He holds his head - nauseous and pale - as he scans the crowd. His table is empty.

Balloon Girl is gone.

Near the entrance, he sees Troy, one of the Rabbit convertible girls.

As he steps closer, focusing his eyes, Troy spots him and pushes through the crowd - rushing out the door. Sam follows - picking up the pace.

Sam chases the girl through the dark cemetery.

Troy is quick. She darts between the graves and trees. Sam dodges and leaps in pursuit.

A long stretch of open grass separates them. Sam kicks into high gear. His breathing intensifies. Sweat everywhere.

He gets closer and closer, staring ahead at the girl sprinting along in her jean shorts.

Everything starts to slow down... turning purple... then black...

Sam falls to the ground - holding his head.

Darkness.

Morning birds chirp.

Ring. Ring. Buzz. Buzz.

Sam opens his eyes and lifts his cell phone to his face. He's laying in the grass, just below a tombstone. Beer and wine bottles litter the ground.

Sam answers, rubbing his head. Pain.

Old women and old men walk through the cemetery with somber expressions. Their clothes and outfits are identical matches to several of the outfits worn by the young women and men in this same place the night before.

All these old hats and colorful slacks... utility over fashion... fashion over utility... utility over fashion...

Sam watches the seniors go about their business delivering flowers to distant graves.

Sam hangs up the phone. He lifts his head and looks at the tombstone before him...

Janet Gaynor

1906-1984

Sam sees an empty beer bottle sitting atop the gravestone. He stares at it, shaking his head.

Sam pulls himself up, grabs the bottle and throws it angrily into the far-off trees.

Wait for it...

A tiny and soft sound - the crush of glass in the distance.

Sam passes by the Contact Lens Billboard. He stares up at the beautiful Indian woman with sparkling eyes.

She watches over the road and smiles.

I Can See Clearly Now

Warping sounds and scrambled music surround us...

Sam sits on the floor, listening. A bag of Trader Joe's frozen veggies on his head. An old hardcover version of "The Code- Breakers" sits nearby.

The turntable plays the Jesus and the Brides of Dracula 45 record backwards. Strange sounds emanate from the speakers. Demonic? Certainly odd. No words or messages.

Sam listens. Staring at the speakers across from him.

Lifting the needle on the turntable, Sam adjusts the rotation. He lowers the arm and plays the record properly.

A familiar tune bathes the room in hi-fi glory and well designed indie-rock.

You and I...

turning like teeth...

loving beneath...

the surface...

Sam scribbles the lyrics down on an empty tomato-stained pizza box with a black sharpie marker.

Sam and Bar Buddy sit in front of the television playing Super Mario Bros on the 8-bit Nintendo. Sam is flipping through a stack of old Nintendo Power Magazines - reading about cheats and tips. They are eating a fresh pizza from Tomato Pie.

Bar Buddy points at Sam's "Code-Breakers" book sitting next to the old lyric-covered pizza box.

Bar Buddy listens, guiding his Luigi across the side-scrolling world.

The friend nods. He understands and relates.

Bar Buddy's Luigi is hit by a twirling hammer.

Bar Buddy smiles and laughs. Sam grins back, concentrating now on the game. He guides Mario along a dangerous path.

The neighbor's parrot screams something unintelligible in the distance. Neither Sam nor Bar Buddy notice.

Sam continues playing, making a complicated series of jumps.

Mario hits a hidden block. A fire flower grows from within it.

Sam controls his character, destroying several Goombas and a Piranha Plant with his fireballs.

On screen, Sam's Mario sinks down into a secret green sewer pipe - accompanied by a sound effect - the sound of discovery.

Bar Buddy chuckles to himself. Sam smiles.

Sam lays out a Playboy centerfold, a Victoria's Secret catalogue, an Urban Outfitters catalogue, Sarah's photo, a People magazine, and an open Hustler on the bed around him.

He starts to masturbate, flipping through the newest LA Weekly.

Sam stares at an image of the Brides of Dracula. Their eyes appear to stare back at him. A sexual understanding between a photograph and a man.

Sam strokes himself, glancing at the other images...

A naked Penny Baker from 1984...

A submerged and nude Carol Willis from 1970...

A modern supermodel in a purple bra...

A sardonic hippy chick in tight red jeans...

Sarah in her white hat...

Mrs. Sevence and Millicent, crying on the cover of People...

A giant breasted porn star...

Continuing to pleasure himself, Sam flips the pages of the LA Weekly to the smut section in the back of the paper.

Strippers and whores. Phone numbers for escorts and sex chat.

Sam notices a quarter page advertisement featuring the smiling faces of several pretty young women. Different than the average stripper or sex ad. Sam looks down at the girls' faces. He's seen these girls before.

Very short hair on one. Pigtails on the other.

It's the two Shooting Star girls from the cemetery movie.

Sam stops jerking off and examines the ad more closely. It reads:

Shooting Star Escorts

Enjoy the Company of Hollywood's Up and Coming Ingenues

Grab Hold of a Shooting Star Tonight!

Call Now

Sam grabs his cellphone.

Sam presses play on his CD player. "Modern Love" by David Bowie plays loudly. Sam sways along with the beat.

Sam dances to his door. He opens it and leans outside. No one's there.

Leaving the door ajar, Sam steps back into his apartment. He grabs a beer from the fridge while dancing to the tune.

Sipping from the can, Sam dances back to the doorway. He peeks out again and sees Shooting Star #1, the short-haired ingenue, walking delicately into the lamp light towards his front door.

Shooting Star #1 sees Sam and smiles with a little wave. She's dressed provocatively in a white dress.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Hey! It's you.

"Modern Love" is still playing. Sam sits on the couch watching the young woman wander around his living room. Shooting Star over things.... examining and admiring the oddities. Sam stares at her as she stands on tiptoes to see the books on his shelf.

SHOOTING STAR #1 What do you do?

SHOOTING STAR #1 I mean for work.

Shooting Star #1 rolls her eyes.

SHOOTING STAR #1 People have to work.

Sam nods, turning down the music with the remote.

SHOOTING STAR #1 You know, I made one little indie movie - didn't make a penny off it. I moved out and here and I was waitressing. I could barely pay rent. You know how expensive it is here?

The young woman begins to unbutton her dress with a grin...

SHOOTING STAR #1 (putting on a show) You want a blow job from the supporting actress Academy Award nominee from last year? Call Shooting Star.

She starts to shift and pull down on her cotton dress.

SHOOTING STAR #1 (putting on a show) You wanna go down on the girlfriend of the lead character from your favorite sitcom? Call Shooting Star.

Shooting Star #1 takes a step closer to Sam, still undressing.

SHOOTING STAR #1 (putting on a show) You wanna fuck an IT girl? It's not that hard.

With her her bra strap revealed, the girl points at Sam.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Youuuu are a patron of the arts... and I can pay my bills.

Sam laughs. The Shooting Star smiles and laughs along. She pulls her dress down, stepping over it with her heels.

SHOOTING STAR #1 You gave them your credit card, right?

The young woman stands before Sam in her bra and panties.

Shooting Star #1 walks over to Sam. She leans forward and rubs her hands through his hair - her chest close to his face.

SHOOTING STAR #1 (whispering) Shhhhhhhh.

Shooting Star #1 rubs her hands down Sam's head to his back and shoulders. The young woman sways a bit to the music.

SHOOTING STAR #1 I have no idea.

The girl lowers herself down against Sam. Brushing her leg against his crotch. She moves slowly, shifting into some form of a lap dance.

The short haired beauty continues to rotate her body in minor circles - slightly seductive pivots.

SHOOTING STAR #1 No. He was... anonymous.

SHOOTING STAR #1 Eh eh.

Shooting Star #1 stares directly at Sam, offering him a sweet and innocent look of naivete. A shoulder shrug and a pout.

SHOOTING STAR #1 You have any food?

The girl opens the fridge and pulls a slice from the cardboard box inside. She scans the photos and pictures hanging from magnets along the door of the icebox.

Taking a bite of pizza, Shooting Star #1 looks at a production photo from "Something's Got to Give". In it, Marilyn Monroe swims nude in a very blue pool - staring back at the camera with seductive eyes.

Sam watches the girl from across the room as she notices something else on the counter. Shooting Star #1 lifts up the photo of Sarah, holding it out toward Sam.

SHOOTING STAR #1 I know this girl.

SHOOTING STAR #1 She was at this party I went to a couple years ago.

Shooting Star #1 walks over, bringing the picture with her. She sits down next to Sam, gobbling her food.

SHOOTING STAR #1 No. That would've been impossible.

The girl laughs and continues.

SHOOTING STAR #1 She was in this glass cube in the middle of a living room. Some kind of bad performance art I guess. She was just sitting on a stool in a dalmation fur bathing suit. Not moving or making eye contact. These drunk old men kept tapping the glass but she wouldn't budge.

Shooting Star runs her hand over Sam's lap. She flirts and teases as she talks.

SHOOTING STAR #1 This asshole producer. He brought me and a few other girls as his dates.

SHOOTING STAR #1 I don't remember... he makes those big action movies based on household cleaning products.

Shooting Star #1 lays back, putting her head in Sam's lap.

SHOOTING STAR #1 So we get to this place and they let us in the gate. They check our ID's, we just wander the streets of this luxury neighborhood... walking into whatever house we want, whatever room we want. There's food everywhere. Music. Dancers. Craziness. It was this big open party, like straight outta Gatsby.

SHOOTING STAR #1 No one ever said. It was really weird. But at the end of the block, the biggest house on the block, this grey stone mansion... (MORE)

SHOOTING STAR #1 (cont'd) we weren't allowed to go near it. It was the only place off limits.

Shooting Star presses her head back against Sam's crotch with a knowing grin. She rolls her head in place.

SHOOTING STAR #1 When I was cleaning up in the bathroom, I heard some girls gossiping about the place. One of 'em said she'd heard it was owned by some songwriter.

SHOOTING STAR #1 No shit.

The pair begin to kiss.

Sam sits on his balcony with his Martin acoustic guitar. He strums a few familiar chords, then glances down at the lyric- covered pizza box.

Sam takes his sharpie and scribbles the chord-names above the lyrics.

It's the music for "Turning Teeth" by Jesus and the Brides of Dracula.

Across the courtyard, Topless Bird Woman washes her patio door with windex. Her parrot caws loudly.

Sam moves his fingers over the fret board. He strums lightly - bringing the song to life.

Sam begins to sing or half-sing the words...

Stopping again, Sam stares down at his fingers - stretched across the frets. He repeats the pattern, arpeggiating the chords, and watching his finger placement.

Sam jumps up and moves inside his apartment.

Sitting on the floor, and using another pizza box as a sketch pad, Sam writes out the chords as tablature. He simply writes out the chord formations in a numeric form in reference to their place on the fret board.

Sam counts off the numbers as he moves through the various parts of the song - jotting each down on the box.

Sam lays on the couch. Holding the tablature-filled pizza box over his head. He stares up at the numbers, turning the box in a circle. Looking for a way in.

Sam sits near the window reading "The Code-Breakers". The turntable is on, playing the 45 once more. He flips a page and looks down at the Chapter Heading:

The Anatomy of Cryptology

Sam continues to read.

Sitting on the carpet, with the guitar in his lap, Sam lifts up the 45 record sleeve. He looks at Jesus and the Brides, then turns it over, examining the track listing and liner notes.

Sam looks at the first number on his box. It's the number 3.

He looks back at the liner notes. Starting from the first letter of the first word, Sam counts forward three letters. He ends up on the letter R. Sam writes this down on the box.

As he works, Jesus and the Brides sing their beautiful melody.

The neighbor's parrot screeches and calls out for something indistinguishable.

Sam scratches his marker across the cardboard...

Finally...

He stops. Sam looks down at the pizza box... at the message below him...

RUB DEANS HEAD AND WAIT UNDER NEWTON

Sam stares at the message scribbled in sharpie. A mix of print and cursive.

Sam stands up and rubs his head. He walks to the glass patio door and looks out. He stares at the Topless Bird Woman as she cleans one of the many cages.

Sam leans close and breathes against the glass. A small circle of moisture forms near his nose and mouth.

Sam ponders his thoughts. Considers the possibilities. Tapping his fingers against the glass.

An idea forms. Sam looks up past the trees to the blue sky above.

Sam grins to himself, nodding.

The landscape is wide and bright under the late afternoon sun. Sam walks alone up a dusty trail surrounded by wild grass.

Here in the hills, the city is below him. So much blue sky overhead.

Sam looks up toward the gleaming white structure at the hill's peak. The Griffith Observatory.

Sam trudges higher and higher.

Emerging from the steep bank along the front of the Observatory, Sam looks across the serene courtyard filled with tourists and day trippers.

He approaches the James Dean statue along the side wall, facing the Hollywood sign. Sam stands before the bust commemorating "Rebel Without a Cause". He looks from side to side. Is anyone watching?

Sam reaches out and places his hand on James Dean's head. He rubs the statue, looking around for some kind of reaction. Nothing seems to happen. Sam rubs it once more for luck.

Turning around, Sam steps up to the Astronomer's Monument across from the main entrance. He circles the stone pillar, reading the name's around the base.

Copernicus... Galileo... Kepler...

Newton...

Sam stop and stares at the marble figure representing Newton.

Sam smiles to himself and shrugs as he sits down on the grass, leaning his back against the base of the monument.

He sits and watches the tourists and local visitors pass. Families and young people. The sun shines brightly.

Sam rests against the statue. His head is slumped to the side.

The horizon is now a purple and orange swathe of cotton.

The courtyard is nearly empty.

From the hillside, Sam notices a dirty old homeless man walking toward him. The HOMELESS KING stops in front of Sam and looks down.

The homeless man tosses a dirty handkerchief down onto Sam's lap.

We watch from a distance as Sam ties the blindfold over his eyes. The Homeless King offers an arm, helping him stand. The two men make their way slowly toward the trails, arm in arm.

The Homeless King leads Sam down the hillside. Sam walks tentatively, still blindfolded by the dirty rag.

Sam's feet slip on the loose dirt. The old man keeps him steady.

A woman jogger passes the men without a second glance. Music blasts from her headphones.

Moving through a patch of large trees, the Homeless King guides Sam over the grass.

They step very slowly - the gentle snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves under the darkening sky.

They shuffle along - deeper into the forest.

A family wraps up their food from a nearby picnic table. The site of a child's birthday party.

A few balloons, tied to a bucket, drift in the evening breeze.

No one pays any attention to the blindfolded man and his flea- bitten guide.

The Homeless King leads Sam past a tipped-over trash can. A small coyote digs through the waste - his nose sifting through old hot dog buns and Zesty Taco Doritos.

Sam hears the animal howling nearby.

Sam says nothing. They continue to walk.

The Homeless King turns a lever, opening a rusty metal hatch.

He guides Sam into the dark passage.

The Homeless King stands behind Sam, leading him deeper.

The Homeless King pulls the blindfold off of Sam's face.

Sam looks around. He's standing inside a dim stone corridor. A narrow tunnel descends deep into darkness.

Behind the homeless guide, Sam sees a patch of evening light pouring in from the small hatch. The forest is beyond.

The Homeless King exhales.

The Homeless King extends his arm out, suggesting that Sam begin his descent.

The old man nods his head as Sam walks down the sloping stone tunnel. He runs his hands along the wall as he moves further from the entrance.

Intermittent floor-lights, cemented into the wall, illuminate his path.

The hatch closes with a clang. Sam glances back. The Homeless King is gone.

Sam turns and continues deeper into the tunnel.

Sam follows the chiseled path. The stone walls open up a bit - continuing to descend.

Sam turns a corner and sees a long expanse of branching tunnels. Each dropping lower into darkness. Sam chooses one and walks deeper.

He begins to reach additional pathways and optional turns.

It resembles a maze.

Looking to his sides, Sam sees long expanses of square-cut tunnels sweeping into the earth.

Concrete corridors similar to those found at a sports stadium.

He turns a corner... and then another...

All sense of direction is lost. Earthen walls and sloping floors.

Finally... Sam sees a large stone doorway ahead.

Entering the enormous room, Sam is surrounded by roughly painted dry wall, exposed rebar, construction markings, and nail-filled wooden beams.

In the center of the room is a long dining table with no chairs. It's covered in the dust of concrete.

Thick wooden crates line the inner wall. They are labeled as such...

Food. Water. Batteries. Towels. Liquor.

Walking further into the giant space, Sam passes a roughed-out kitchen area with a massive refrigerator.

A generator is visible behind an unfinished wall.

Inside the bathroom is a tub with gold fixtures, a shower and a dead-end pipe - plumbing for an eventual toilet.

Stepping into a third concrete-walled room, Sam sees a spray- painted mark on the floor, designating the location for a bed. A giant recess in the wall suggests the inclusion of some large format television.

Sam looks around at the odd living quarters...

Sam follows a long corridor upwards. Each tired step brings him closer to some sort of imagined surface.

Higher and higher he walks through the stone tunnels. His face is weary.

Sam inches his way through a dark shaft. His arms are pinned close to the narrow side walls. Sharp-cut stone rubs against his shoulders.

A tiny speck of light is visible ahead.

He hears music. Muzak?

Sam's hand rises up from between the metal floor grates. Milk cartons and frosted dairy racks litter the chilled cooler.

Sam lifts the grate up and sets it aside on the tile. He climbs out of the tight crawl-space and looks around.

It's a supermarket. Fucking Gelson's. Sam laughs to himself.

Muzak plays from the store speakers: a softened, instrumental version of Jesus and the Bride's of Dracula's hit single.

Sam puts the floor grate back in place, and snatches a bottle of milk. Exhausted and thirsty, he takes a big drink.

Sam wipes off his milk mustache as he stumbles through a bright aisle of food - milk bottle in hand.

Sam sees a police car parked in Comic Man's driveway. He stares at it, while approaching the front porch.

A COP steps out of the backyard, waving Sam away from the house.

The cop debates answering....

Sam nods. What else can he say?

Further down the street, Sam hides behind some bushes - spying on the police. He watches the cop car pull out of the driveway and cruise off.

Sam cuts behind some hedges, sneaking into the nearest backyard.

Sam pries open Comic Man's kitchen window.

Sam stands in the doorway of the bedroom. The sheets are covered in blood stains. The bed appears wet.

Removing the secret panel from the wall, Sam crouches before the security monitors and VCR.

He starts to rewind the tape.

Waiting, Sam notices the Moonstones cereal box sitting near the monitor. He glances at the East Los Angeles map on back.

Treasure Hunt! Fun Prizes!

The tape whirls and spins. Sam presses PLAY and watches the security camera footage.

An onscreen clock reads:

3:00 AM

Dull shots of dim and empty rooms. Nothing happening.

Something catches Sam's eye. There's movement on the screen.

A woman climbs through the side window of the living room - feet and legs first. The movement of a dancer.

Sam watches the monitor - transfixed and disturbed by the odd image.

Onscreen is a beautiful woman - naked except for her owl-skin cap, red lipstick and overgrown bush.

The OWL'S KISS walks carefully, nearly creeping across the living room. She steps out of frame on her way to the bedroom.

Sam stares in surprise and a bit of horror.

He rewinds the tape, watching the Owl's Kiss enter one more time. A dangling foot connected to a face of taxidermied bird skin.

Sam presses PAUSE - freezing the naked figure mid-step - in all her disturbing glory.

Gripping the old Moonstones cereal box in his hand, Sam rushes down the street - frightened. He appears more mad than usual by the light of day.

Sam holds his cell phone up to his ear.

A dog BARKS loudly from behind a fence.

Sam steps quickly - eyes darting around the serene neighborhood.

Still in the same clothes, looking sweaty and terrible, Sam sits in the passenger seat of Allen's beat-up Ford Focus. Allen turns the car, driving into a rich neighborhood off Hillhurst.

Allen pulls up in front of a modest white mansion near the Greek Theater.

A BATHING BEAUTY leads Sam and Allen through the large backyard to a small chess table near the pool.

Everyone sits poolside at small tables with chess boards. Pretty girls and handsome guys. Moving Pawns and Pieces.

Old school bathing beauties deliver drinks to the players. Mimosas and other fun late morning cocktails.

A few girls swim in the pool. Aware of their beauty and not concerned with privacy or modesty, they talk and laugh freely.

Allen moves his Pawn forward. King's Pawn to E4. Sam glances at the board and moves his pawn to A6.

Sam grabs a mimosa from a passing waitress. He sips the drink as he scans the yard. Allen stares down at the board, debating and analyzing.

Sam sees the Shooting Star girls, both #1 and #2, seated alongside a chess table with two handsome young men.

Looking further, he sees Meek Bride and Reading Glasses Bride sitting Indian-style on the grass - a checkered board and cheese plate between them. In their lace gowns, they are polished bohemian perfection.

Then... Sam spots Jesus at a small chess table, engaged in a game with the third and last of the Brides - Clara Bow Bride.

Jesus is ever-shirtless. Eternally handsome and miraculously thin.

Sam stares for a moment. Debating his next move.

Sam notices a RED BALLOON floating over the pool past his view. It's connected to a long ribbon tied to the wrist of Balloon Girl. She's sitting on the far side of the pool, playing a game of chess with Emerald Beauty.

Sam waves to Balloon Girl and she smiles in his direction, but quickly turns her attention back to the game.

Allen moves his Knight to F3, nodding to himself, but still debating his choice.

Sam watches as Jesus stands from his chair and walks toward the main house. A lanky and sexual strut.

Sam takes a gulp from his mimosa and sets it on the table, moving his Knight forward to C6.

Allen doesn't look up. He remains fixated on the chess board - particularly Sam's advanced Knight.

Sam follows Jesus, walking toward the back door of the mansion. Allen stares at the Pieces and Pawns shaking his head.

Sam watches Jesus step into the rear bathroom. He closes the old mahogany door.

Sam walks straight down the hall, opens the door and steps inside.

Jesus is on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. He looks up at Sam.

Sam says nothing. He closes the door and grabs the skinny man by the neck, pushing him onto the floor.

Sam punches Jesus in the stomach, silencing him quickly. The man gasps for air as Sam hovers over him - fists shaking.

Two men in a strange position on the bathroom rug.

Sam punches Jesus in the face. Jesus almost starts to cry, exhaling in rough shakes and fits.

Sam pushes his finger in the emaciated rock star's face.

Jesus says nothing, turning his head away, trying to avoid the situation.

Sam grabs his thin arm and bends it backwards, twisting it at the elbow.

Jesus sobs and writhes in pain.

Sam twists harder.

Jesus looks back - pissed.

Sam ignores his reply, twisting him arm back a bit more.

Sam considers this for a moment. Jesus stares up at him with tears on his face - his mascara streaking down over his cheek.

Near the bath house, Balloon Girl is chatting with Shooting Stars #1 and #2 - all dressed in their cute bathing suits and matching shawls. The girls notice Sam approaching fast. He appears hyper-focused and disheveled.

Sam grabs Shooting Star #1 by the arm and pulls her aside. Balloon Girl and Shooting Star #2 hover nearby - concerned.

SHOOTING STAR #1 What is it?

SHOOTING STAR #1 Uh huh.

Sam walks with the girls, passing by another beautiful mansion - a long stretch of perfect green grass. The girls wear their bathing suits and matching shawls. Clickety clacking in their heels.

Sam is in yesterday's clothes - sweat stained and soiled.

SHOOTING STAR #1 And we work together.

SHOOTING STAR #2 We're all Shooting Stars.

Sam looks over at Balloon Girl. She strides down the sidewalk with young confidence.

Sam nods - accepting this as common. The gang walks a bit further down the sidewalk.

SHOOTING STAR #1 It's not far from here.

Sam and the girls stand before a giant stone wall lining a long stretch of some unmarked canyon road. They hug and say their goodbyes.

Walking away, Balloon Girl waves to Sam as he begins to climb the wall.

Peeking out of the trees, Sam sees a wide and perfect suburban street. Several giant houses dot the road. No people or cars in sight.

Sam walks through the neighborhood. It's like a ghost town. He passes deserted estate houses moving through the canyon valley... tarp and plastic over furniture and empty parlor rooms.

Rounding the bend, Sam sees a large stone mansion at the base of the hill - reminiscent of Hearst Castle.

Sam sneaks closer.

Sam walks around back through the trees discovering a Greek pillared pool and grotto.

Towering and enormous windows span the rear of the mansion. Looking through the glass, Sam sees a giant vaulted ceiling. Sweeping arches. An enormous and ornate music hall.

In the center of the room is a grand piano. Behind it, sits a very old and ugly white man. He is the SONGWRITER.

The songwriter tilts his head, seeing Sam in the bushes. He waves the young man inside.

Sam hesitates, but the Songwriter continues to wave him closer.

Sam steps out of the grass onto the marble patio near the sparkling blue pool.

He opens the glass doors, and pokes his head into the grand hall.

Keeping his distance, Sam stands near the doorway looking across the room at the old man on the piano bench.

The Songwriter has wild grey hair. His skin is cracked and brittle. Old beyond belief.

The hall is filled with mirrors, gold and vintage music art - like some warped version of Versailles.

An oversized poster of a vintage 50's album hangs above the piano: "Julie is her Name".

The Songwriter beckons Sam closer. Directing him to a small stool facing the piano.

Sam steps closer, looking at the musical instruments lining the walls and floor. Guitars, a harpsichord, violins, ukuleles, etcetera.

Sam notices a Sonic Blue Fender Mustang guitar propped on a floor stand. He points to it, staring in awe.

The Songwriter doesn't care. He shrugs his shoulders. Sure.

Sam carefully lifts the guitar and sits with it on the stool.

Running his hand along the finish, Sam mumbles and takes note of the guitar's neck and bridge. He strums a G chord and looks up at the old man behind the giant and ornate grand piano.

The Songwriter laughs. He starts to play "Stairway to Heaven" but transitions into "Macarena".

Sam sees clear tubes running into the old man's nostrils - connected to a silver canister marked with Japanese letters.

The songwriter ignores Sam. Humming along to a few random chords. Is that the theme song to "The Facts of Life"?

The old man taps a few notes from "I Want to Know What Love Is".

The Songwriter looks away, playing "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" across the piano keys.

Sam looks around at the luxurious space.

The Songwriter is quiet for a moment. He looks out at the trees against the hillside.

Sam pulls out the photo of Sarah. He holds it up for the Songwriter to see.

The old man leans forward and looks at the picture. He shakes his head.

The Songwriter slams his hands down forming a low and resonating chord - letting it ring out. He plays another chord, slowly beginning to sing something resembling a funeral dirge.

Sam stares at the man in horror. He glances down at the priceless guitar in his own hands.

The Songwriter holds up his fingers and moves them like spider legs - simultaneously playing the notes to Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" with his other hand.

Plink plink. Plink Plink plink.

The man plays more music, pointing to his chest.

Sam stares in horror. He doesn't want to believe.

The old man coughs and wheezes - dancing his fingers merrily across the keyboard - performing a quick mad mixture of Bach, Jesus and the Brides, Buddy Holly, N.W.A. and The Rolling Stones.

The Songwriter laughs. His cackling along with the plinking keys of the grand piano echoes through the gigantic hall.

The Songwriter smiles and nods as he reaches into his pocket. He lifts up a small HANDGUN, aiming it at Sam's head.

BANG!

The bullet misses Sam as he tumbles sideways to the floor.Cobain's guitar falling on his lap.

With a single hand, the Songwriter begins to play "What's the Frequency Kenneth". He laughs and hums the melody.

BANG!

Sam dodges a second shot, ducking down below the piano.

BANG! Another bullet flies by his head. The music still plays.

Sam charges the old man, raising the guitar over his head like an axe. We hear the roar of guitar feedback. Warped notes.

BANG!

The bullet zips past Sam's ear as he swings the faded turquoise guitar down onto the Songwriter's head.

SMASH !

Bone cracks under the weight of maple and basswood. The songwriter's skull crumbles. Brain matter lands on the ivory keys. Distortion rumbles.

Sam swings it again, breaking the neck of the guitar from the body... wire strings messily join the two pieces. The wooden base hangs down like some holy instrument destroyed before a crowd by Townshend, Hendrix or Cobain.

Sam stands over the old man. He drops the broken guitar, breathing deeply.

The music room is quiet.

Frightened, Sam picks up the gun from the floor and stuffs it into his jeans. He runs out the back door, leaving the room empty and still.

The Songwriter lays motionless near the piano.

Sam leans out his patio door, drinking a beer - visibly shaken. The wind blows through his hair.

A dark pink sky is visible over the rooftops.

Rain clouds approach. Lightning snaps across the horizon, followed by the low rumble of thunder.

The neighbor's bird CAWS loudly.

On the television, an old movie plays. It's the 1956 version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". Kevin McCarthy runs across the I-5 overpass screaming. Cars cruise along, ignoring his crazed warning.

The gas lamps that line the garden walkway offer dim pools of orange light. Sam walks slowly through the apartment complex's twisting paths.

The trickle of running water through the stream follows his footsteps.

Sam sips an iced latte, carrying an LA Weekly under his arm. Jesus and the Brides of Dracula pose on the cover. The partially obscured headline reads:

JESUS PREDICTS... BAD TIMES AHEAD

A DIRTY HUMAN FACE peers out from within a bush - disturbingly low to the ground like a cat or possum. Eyes watch Sam as he passes - he doesn't notice.

Leaves and branches rattle above.

A squirrel falls from the tree in front of Sam. It hits the concrete, and partially splatters on the ground.

The squirrel tries to move but it's mortally injured. Sam stares in horror at the small animal.

Is it trying to say something?

Sam backs away from it and rushes down the path. He turns a corner.

Before him stands a shadowy figure in the center of the garden walkway.

Stepping closer, Sam sees more clearly.

It is a two-dimensional black cardboard figure of a man stabbing a cardboard dog. Sam approaches the cut-out stand and tips it over with his finger.

It lands on the ground with a soft tap - like a leaf coming to rest on the forest floor.

Glass shatters!

Sam lifts his head from the damp pillow. Rain pours against the bedroom window. Thunder rumbles - long and steady.

A cascade of lightning illuminates the messy bedroom - the Playboys on the floor. Issue July 1970.

Sam hears glass breaking.

Sam steps into the living room with pistol in hand. He sees a hole in the glass of the sliding door... it's now half open.

The storm breeze moves across the blinds, blowing his paperwork across the carpet. The pages of "Code Breakers" and "Spider Man" flip wildly.

He moves closer to the patio. A careful step. Then another.

Behind Sam, a small cabinet door opens quietly. Long bare legs fold out from within - like the appendages of an insect - bare flesh stretches.

Now fully emerged from the tight space, the OWL'S KISS stands behind Sam with a kitchen knife in her hand.

Sam turns and sees the naked woman in her owl-skin mask. He jumps back as she silently sprints down the hall into his bedroom. The door closes.

Sam stares in shock at the closed bedroom door.

Sam enters the room carefully, peeking inside with the gun.

He turns on the bedroom light. She's not here.

Sam checks under the bed... in the closet... nothing.

Lightning flashes. A coyote HOWLS in the distance.

Tense. Sam opens his dresser drawer. The gun angled down toward his socks and underwear.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Sam turns toward the sound...

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

Sam looks through the peep hole and sees a Los Angeles Sheriff on the other side.

He holds his dizzy head as the air leaves his lungs in exodus.

Sam tries to breathe as he opens the door. Resigned to whatever happens. His shoulders slump.

In the hallway, alongside the SHERIFF, stands the greasy haired apartment Manager. His face is puckered and sour.

Sam seems relieved for a moment. It could be worse.

Sam takes a step closer to the Sheriff.

The Manager wears a heavy scowl - irritated by the officer's leniency.

The Sheriff turns to the angry Manager.

The Manager nods his head as the Sheriff looks back at Sam.

He holds up two fingers in front of his nose.

The rain has stopped. Water drips from the eaves.

Sam smokes on the patio listening to the parrot caw.

A garbage can falls over.

RATTLE CLANG!

Sam looks down toward the pool and sees a small COYOTE digging through the trash. It stares up at him.

The animal turns and walks down the sidewalk. Sam watches - intensely.

Wearing his white undershirt and pajama pants, Sam follows the coyote down the street.

The coyote glances back at him, then scampers along.

Down Griffith Park Boulevard...

Past apartments and condos...

Into the hillside neighborhood...

Expensive homes... Beautiful cars...

Things you can't possess...

Sam follows the wild animal through the streets. He stares up at the world around him. Voices and laughter within the homes. Families together in front of giant televisions.

The coyote runs up the DRIVEWAY of a LARGE SILVERLAKE HOME. It disappears into the trees.

Sam stands in front of the house and looks through the front window. People are everywhere. A big party is taking place. Music pours from inside.

Sam notices a familiar face in profile through the picture window.

It is Millicent Sevence.

She disappears into the crowd.

Sam walks through the party in his damp white undershirt. He scans the crowd for Millicent.

He passes a myriad of conversations. We hear only pieces of them.

Sam moves deeper, bumping shoulders as he cranes his neck - trying to look above it all.

Sam passes through the swarming patches of conversation and networking. A COMPLIMENTING WOMAN notices Sam's shirt as she walks by.

Sam looks down at his lightly stained, old, Hanes sleep shirt. He tugs at the cotton.

Moving deeper, Sam walks by the PARTY HOST. She's engaged in conversation with a pretty woman. Sam recognizes her... it's Chesty Woman... the girl he spied via the drone's video feed.

The aspiring travelers laugh together. Sam turns and spins, looking for Millicent.

Nearby, GOSSIPING MAN engages in conversation with GOSSIPING WOMAN.

Gossiping Man casually points to a twelve-year-old girl eating cake, surrounded by young adults and two security men in suits. She's the ADOLESCENT PRODIGY.

The Gossiping Woman nods her head, glancing back at the Adolescent Prodigy as the young girl giggles and rudely stuffs her finger in her nose.

A beautiful Indian woman bumps into Sam. He turns and looks into her eyes. It's the girl from the Contact Lens Billboard.

She looks back at Sam - holding hands with a very HANDSOME MAN in a tailored suit. Her name, for the sake of this story, is EX.

The beautiful woman offers Sam an honest and heartfelt look. He's silenced by her sincerity.

Sam looks over, fumbles, then shakes hands with the Handsome Man.

Ex nervously twirls her finger through her hair.

Sam nods and smiles, waiting for it to end.

His face doesn't sell the lie. The beautiful woman plays along anyway.

The girl grins and nods her head - a long and awkward moment.

Handsome Man squeezes her hand gently. Ex glances over, then steps towards Sam to offer a quick goodbye hug.

Sam watches Ex walk away with Handsome Man.

In the distance, he sees Millicent stepping into a nearby room.

Millicent stands before a beautiful flower painting. She focuses on it.

Sam steps alongside her and admires the petunia painting in tandem.

Sam looks back at Millicent with a bright expression.

Sam nods and smiles.

There's a sadness about Millicent that Sam suddenly recognizes. A soft tone guides their encounter.

The WATER within the RESERVOIR is calm, reflecting the moon's glow. A few ducks quack and drift along as herons fly overhead.

Sam and Millicent walk together along the outer fence that surrounds the giant water reserve.

They step together in unison over the remaining puddles from the evening rain storm.

Near the fence, Sam and Millicent pass a DOG MEMORIAL complete with a BRONZE DOG STATUE and a plaque.

Photos of deceased dogs and puppies are taped to the fence. Victims of the Dog Killer.

Flowers cover the ground around it.

Paper signs with handwritten messages surround the photos:

We miss you Fluffy

Benny was the best dog a man ever had

Mr. Spot R.I.P.

God will judge you, dog killer!

Sam and the young woman slow down before the odd little memorial. Millicent reacts with pain at the discovery of each dog's expression. Pictures of the dead.

They walk a bit further. Sam reaches over and takes Millicent's hand in his own.

They walk further, looking out at the water across the reservoir. Moonlight and stars reflect against the mirrored surface of the man-made lake.

Sam look at Millicent's gentle and beautiful face. She looks back at him with a nearly imperceptible grin. They share a moment of connection. Unspoken, and stronger for it.

Two small figures under a dark sky - rounding the giant lake.

Up ahead, a LONG HAIRED WINO sits against the fence. As Sam and Millicent approach, he leans forward and shouts.

Sam glares at the man, moving Millicent to the outer edge of the sidewalk. Street chivalry.

Sam looks down. Irritated by the question. Disgusted by the man.

Sam avoids the man's feet, extended onto the walkway - an intentional obstacle.

Sam and the pretty girl walk away from the homeless man - hand in hand. A beautiful evening stroll.

Long Haired Wino continues to curse in the distance. Shouting like an animal.

Millicent raises her brow.

Sam takes a breath and looks back - still angry about the encounter.

Millicent says nothing, smiling in response to Sam's overreaction. She looks towards the reservoir.

Millicent points to the serene water beyond the fence.

Millicent starts to climb the fence. Designer shoes scuffed through the chain links. Delicate hands pulling her higher.

Sam stands there, watching. She looks down at him - a giant grin on her face. A pretty girl hanging from a fence like a cat.

Standing at the edge of the concrete water basin, Millicent and Sam take off their clothes.

Now in the water, the pair swim toward the center of the reservoir. Quietly. Knowing glances between them. Naked bodies just below the surface.

House lights are visible against the hillside landscape around them. A dark sea in the backyards of people's homes.

This is sacred territory and they both feel it.

Treading water in the middle of the reservoir, Sam and Millicent face each other - occasionally looking up and over at the dark hills which cup them like hands holding bath water.

The night sky, the stars and the moon settle along the surface of the lake.

Millicent moves in. Closer to Sam. She nuzzles her cheek against his neck. Hands touching skin under the water.

She kisses his ear. Whispering very close and quiet...

Under the water, Millicent pulls a silver bracelet off her wrist and slips it onto Sam's arm.

He raises his forearm along the surface of the water and stares at the circular band. It looks like Sarah's bracelet - inscriptions of small letters and numbers etched within the silver.

NPM 1 35 to 37 - C3 to E6

Sam focuses on the inscription.

Pop!

Water splashes in front of them. A bullet hitting the water. A silenced shot from the dark shore.

Tiny splashes appear along the surface of the lake over Millicent's shoulder. Quiet gunfire.

Pop! Pop!

Sam takes a giant breath and dives down beneath the surface. He pulls on Millicent's arm, but they're separated in the chaos.

Deeper he goes.

Bubbles and swirling liquid blur Sam's vision. He swims under the water as bullets spread around him - diving like penguins.

Sam sees her...

Dropping...

Through the blue water...

Millicent sinks down past Sam - on her back - blood streaming up from a small hole in her naked chest. Bubbles pour from her red lips. She appears to stare at us, but it's hard to say.

Her hands cover her breasts, unknowingly mirroring Sam's most treasured Playboy cover. July 1970.

A beautiful woman. His earliest fantasy. Dropping into the depths of the reservoir.

Sam is overwhelmed by the terrible sight.

Water pours off his body as he climbs up the concrete embankment along the edge of the lake.

Naked and frantic, Sam reaches the fence and climbs.

Sam walks quickly down the garden path - still naked and wet.

Sam wakes up. Naked on his living room carpet. The silver bracelet around his wrist.

He stares at the inscription around the band, twisting it with his hand. The sun is bright through the open patio door.

The neighbor's parrot CAWS from across the way.

Sam stares at the bracelet.

Sam opens an old Milton Bradley chess box. He flips the board out and grabs his black Sharpie marker.

Sam circles the square C3 on the chess board - drawing an arrow towards E6 across the checkered boxes.

Sam circles the E6 square with his marker.

He stares at the board, spinning it around on the carpet. What does it means?

Sam looks back at the bracelet.

Sam sits with his laptop, typing the letters NPM into Google Search.

He scans the resulting page... nothing makes sense.

Sam runs his hands through his messy hair in frustration. He looks across the carpet and sees the old Nintendo Entertainment System.

An idea sparks.

Reaching across the floor, Sam grabs a stack of Nintendo Power Magazines.

He sorts through the covers, finding the first issue. Mario smiles, leaping from a mushroom - a carrot in his hand.

The pages fly past us like a piece of animation, flipped across Sam's thumb.

He settles on pages 35, 36 and 37.

It's a subdivided map from "The Legend of Zelda". Sam smiles as he notices the alphanumeric grids that cover the map. He circles the squares corresponding to C3 and E6.

Outside, the parrot CACKLES. Children splash in the pool.

Sam looks across the room and notices the Moonstones cereal box sitting on the counter. He runs to it.

Tearing it open, he tastes one of the cereal bites. Repulsed by the ancient stale food, he spits it onto the floor as he digs deeper into the box with a single hand.

From the bottom, he pulls out a prize. A plastic-wrapped transparency-map of Los Angeles covered with Moonstone characters and bright colors.

He opens the wrapper and pulls out the map...

Holding the cartoon map of LA over the Zelda map, Sam realizes that they line up perfectly.

E6 corresponds to the Silverlake reservoir.

C3 is a wooded section of Mt. Hollywood.

Sam opens google maps and brings up the Los Angeles overhead map. He zooms in. Tighter and tighter on the rear section of Mt. Hollywood.

A small square of forest is BLACKED OUT. A solid graphic marked with text:

Satellite Image Unavailable

Sam stares at the small hidden square. He hits his hand down against the couch.

Sam races up the path along the LA river on an old BMX bike. He's wearing a red hoodie over his head, looking like a man- child from a Steven Spielberg movie.

He stands on the pedals and lifts his head into the wind - looking toward the tall green hills beyond the river.

He pedals faster. A man on a bicycle heading toward adventure.

Sam hikes through the woods, trudging up the hillside.

Sam reaches the tall wooden fence. He notices several painted marks along the wall.

///

Three parallel lines - diagonal from the top to the bottom of the wall.

What does that mean?

Sam opens his wallet and pulls out a piece of scrap paper filled with handwritten translations of Hobo Code.

It's the paper "key" created by Comic Man.

Sam runs his finger over the symbols, stopping alongside the three parallel lines. The hobo translations is:

this is not a safe place

Reaching a clearing, Sam steps through the trees and looks ahead.

He sees a single straw hut in the middle of an overgrown field.

A few Alberto Giacometti human-figure sculptures stand like scarecrows within the grass. An eerie expression of the emaciated human form. Tall or short... all with appendages like twigs.

Sam walks toward the straw hut, checking the gun tucked into his waist band.

He hears water splashing from inside. Delicately.

Arriving at the doorway of the hut, Sam looks inside. He see a fifty-nine-year-old man in a white gown, crouched on the floor.

This man, the FINAL MAN, is washing the feet of three young women in white rags. Sam recognizes their faces as they look up from their seated positions along the wood floor.

It's Troy, Fannie, and Mae. The girls in the White Rabbit.

The Final Man turns and faces Sam. He remains sitting Indian- style in the center of the straw hut. The three beautiful young women sitting in a row along the wall.

Silence. Sam waits for something to happen.

The girls cock their inquisitive heads as Sam clears his throat.

Sam points at Troy. She smiles as his finger singles her out.

The Final Man calmly pours several cups of tea into tiny porcelain containers. He passes them out to the girls - taking one for himself.

Sam sits against the wall, staring at the man and his triad harem.

The Final Man places a small cup of tea on the floor in front of Sam.

Mae's face brightens with excitement. She looks to the Final Man.

The Man pats Mae on the leg - a comforting "I'll be with you in a moment" gesture.

The girls begin to drink their tea.

The Final Man glances over at his Ascension Brides. He makes a face to them - suggesting that Sam doesn't "get it". Troy grins back in adoration.

Sam glares at them all - growing more irritated with their smug and holy demeanor.

As the Final Man describes the birth-like barrier separating him from his bliss, he tugs at his cheeks - the skin on his face.

Sam stares at the man, trying to make sense of it.

The man shakes his head, smiling at the course of Sam's ignorant interrogation.

The Final Man waves his hand, presenting his future wives.

The Final Man gulps his tea in a single shot - setting the cup back on the tray.

Sam stares in disbelief. This is madness of course.

He glances back at his grateful brides.

The Final Man pulls a bamboo framed photo off the wall near the doorway. He offers it up to Sam.

Looking at the photo, Sam sees Jefferson Sevence in a white gown - his arms around Sarah and her two roommates in white rags. All sitting together within this very same straw shack.

Wide smiles across their faces. No fear or terror.

Looking closer, Sam notices that Sarah's "How to Marry a Millionaire" dolls are visible on the floor behind her.

Sam points downward - growing more disgusted and horrified with each revelation.

Fannie nods her head - a big smile of anticipation across her face.

Sam is taken aback - horrified by it all - a swirling sickness in his head.

The white robed host and hostesses observe Sam as his breathing changes - sweat forms on his skin.

Sam looks down at his lap. He's unable to focus.

The Final man looks around the room in disgust.

Sam's eyes flare with anger. He's had enough.

SMASH!!

He pounds his fist into the wall, knocking several photos and ceremonial statues to the floor.

The Final Man and his Brides are momentarily startled. They watch Sam as he exhales deeply, regaining his composure.

Spinning around in his seat, the Final Man opens up a bamboo panel, revealing a flat-screen monitor and corded telephone receiver. He presses some buttons and waits - listening into to the earpiece.

The phone continues to ring - very quietly from the receiver. Static on the screen.

There's a light click - a voice on the line - unheard by us.

The Final Man presses another button and the television flickers on, revealing a beautiful young woman's face.

It is Sarah - looking straight at us through the video screen.

She appears calm, comfortably covered in a simple summer dress, holding the telephone up to her cheek.

Behind her is a cavernous, brightly-lit living room. Rock formations hang from the ceiling, alongside a diamond encrusted chandelier.

One of Sarah's roommates, the Brunette, is sitting naked on a lazy-boy chair - her legs propped up before a giant television screen. She's brushing her teeth - spitting into a small golden chalice.

Jefferson Sevence is sitting on the couch, nestled up against Sarah's blond roommate.

They're watching an old episode of The Andy Griffith Show on TV Land - sharing a bowl of popcorn.

A mountain of gold bars lines the far wall.

The Final Man hands Sam the telephone. He holds it up to his ear.

Sarah stares into the televison screen - deep in thought. Her face displays a range of feelings. Joy. Fear. Doubt.

Sarah looks back at Jefferson and her roommates - all laughing before the giant television.

She holds the phone out towards her Brunette Roommate.

The Brunette gets out of her chair and takes the phone as Sarah exits our view.

The naked Brunette stands there. She half-listens into the ear piece - bored - with her hand on her waist. A finger twists the curly chord.

The Final Man looks over at Sam. He leans close and whispers.

There's another CLICK as the Brunette hangs up the line.

Sarah looks up at the screen into Sam's eyes. Her voice is softer now - an unsure whisper.

Sam looks at the Final Man before responding.

Sarah exhales with a vocal sigh, stretching her arm out in frustration.

She shakes off the bad feelings.

Sam looks away from the tv monitor and stares through the doorway into the outside world.

Sarah nods at the screen, fidgeting with her dress. Taking a moment to herself.

Sarah places her receiver down as the Final Man turns off the monitor. He takes the phone away from Sam.

Sam nods. His face is pale. He picks up his cup of tea and takes a sip.

Mae reaches out and holds hands with the other Ascension Brides. She looks between them and the Final Man - now ignoring Sam.

Mae turns to Sam.

Sam gulps the rest of his tea. He sets the cup onto the floor. The Final Man looks over at Sam.

Sam watches as Fannie falls over into the lap of her nearby friend.

Troy lays back against the wall and closes her eyes. Mae folds into a little ball on the floor.

Sam stares ahead as the Final Man slumps over, landing on the girls' slack bodies. His head rests on Mae's thigh.

Sam tries to stand. He touches his face and stumbles to the side. Falling down. His head on the wooden floor. Mouth agape.

Sam watches the orange sun cross the skyline beyond the trees.

It's beautiful outside.

Through the open doorway, Sam sees a grass-covered hatch open in the middle of the field.

The Homeless King emerges from under the ground.

Calmly, he walks to the hut and stops at the entrance, looking down at Sam.

The Homeless King leans on the door frame, back-lit against the LA sun, posing like a mock-John-Wayne. Waiting. Patient.

Sam tries to lift his face.

Sam rests his head on the cool wooden tile.

Everything goes black once more.

Sam opens his eyes. He's chained to a chair in a small concrete room. No windows. Very dark.

The homeless king stands before him - blocking the stone doorway.

Sam takes a breath.

Sam opens his eyes completely, looking up at his accuser.

The Homeless King lifts up his hand, revealing a few dog biscuits in his palm.

Sam says nothing.

The Homeless King shuffles the biscuits in his hand and considers their importance.

Sam stares at the dirty man with deep anger.

The Homeless King thinks about this for a moment, narrowing his eyes. He shakes his head - a tiny grin of skepticism on his face.

The Homeless King considers the response - debates a reply.

The Homeless King stares into Sam's eyes - waiting for more. He repeats his question like a mantra.

Sam doesn't answer. He stares back defiantly - angry - resentful.

The Homeless King moves closer, looking down at his prisoner with Christ-like eyes. He unlocks Sam's chains and steps to the side - offering a clear path towards the doorway.

Sam stands up and begins to cross the room - hesitantly.

Sam walks to the doorway. He reaches a tall staircase.

Sam begins to climb up the very long and very narrow row of stone steps.

Where does this staircase go?

Sam lifts a metal door. Bright light pours down into the passageway.

Sam emerges in the parking lot of the 76 gas station near Hillhurst and Los Feliz.

The street is bustling. The sun peeks through the clouds.

Music zips past Sam as cars race by in both directions. Lady Gaga. Neil Diamond. David Bowie. Cher. Jesus and the Brides of Dracula.

Just pieces. Fragmented and warped together by the doppler effect. All songs become one singular melody...

I'm pickin' up good vibrations

She givin' me excitations

Good good good gooooood

Vibraazzzgwuqhewuwjhhajasodasdkasdasda!!!!

Sam walks along the busy road of Los Feliz. Cars race by. Loudly. Sam is in a daze.

Sam stares up at the hills above the trees.

He squints and strains, imagining 8-bit Egyptian mazes and tombs from Super Mario Bros. 2 - superimposed over the hillside.

A sort of X-Ray Vision... sweeping slowly across the horizon.

Sam imagines level after level of Mario-esque tunnels within the majestic green hillside.

Is this what's underneath?

Sam passes some Latino teenagers picnicking near the Mulholland Memorial fountain. The kids are listening to music as they eat their food.

Madonna's "Express Yourself" plays loudly from the cheap portable speakers on their blanket...

You don't need diamond rings

Or eighteen karat gold

Fancy cars that go very fast

You know they never last, no, no

What you need is a big strong hand

To lift you to your higher ground

Make you feel like a queen on a throne

Make him love you till you can't come down

You'll never come down

Sam crosses the I-5 overpass. Traffic is thick. The cars move slowly now - bumper to bumper down Los Feliz. Sam looks at them as he walks along.

Below him, cars idle along the I-5 freeway.

Here is the site of Kevin McCarthy's dramatic plea for help at the conclusion of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers".

Should Sam scream a warning? Yell out to the passing cars?

He says nothing. Watching them pass. Remaining silent.

Sam walks along the sidewalk, passing by the Contact Lens Billboard.

Workers are switching out the signage. The contact lens ad is being replaced with a McDonalds advertisement.

Sam' ex-girlfriend's face is cut in half - partially covered by Ronald McDonald's grin.

The oddly divided girl looks down at Sam and the passing cars of Los Feliz Boulevard. Her subtle expression is supplanted by Ronald's enormous and disturbing smile.

Sam passes by the coffee shop. He looks inside at the pretty bakery girls. They laugh and chatter as they clean the counter and flip chairs onto tables.

He sees them through the window's faded sharpie handwriting - still visible across the glass.

BEWARE THE DOG KILLER

Sam enters his apartment with a bag of groceries.

He ignores the large, spray-painted mark across his dining room wall.

<><>

Sam unloads the bag: A 2-quart container of Tropicana Original Orange Juice and a box of Nabisco Original Premium Saltine Crackers.

He sets the groceries on the counter alongside an opened priority envelope.

Sam is sitting on the couch, staring at the July 1970 Playboy cover.

In the background, the groceries remain along the counter - though opened. Crackers spread like dominos out of their plastic bag. A pulp covered glass of orange juice - half drunk.

Sarah's picture rests on Sam's lap.

The gun sits neatly on the white CB2 tv tray before him.

His dusty VCR is on the carpet - cables and plugs running from it to the back of the tv.

A shaky VHS recording plays on the television. It is "Seventh Heaven". Janet Gaynor cries and emotes with grand perfection and beauty.

Sam's Nintendo lies on the carpet next to the VCR. A tangled mess of chords and old entertainment technology.

The upside down Playmate stares at Sam... from under the blue water.

He hears the parrot cawing.

Sam looks towards the window. Breathing slowly. Debating. Eyes unblinking.

Sam stands in the hallway, knocking on an apartment door.

The Bird Woman opens the door, wearing a t-shirt and no bra. She looks at Sam with a suspicious expression. The look of a housewife greeting a door-to-door salesman.

Sam smiles to her.

Sam and the Bird Woman lie naked on the living room floor - sweaty and tired.

A throw-rug under their bodies. A couch cushion under their heads.

The Topless Bird Woman nuzzles close to Sam. Affectionate. She smells his chest and shoulder.

The parrot caws from outside on the woman's balcony. Sam looks towards it - perched in its cage.

The Bird Woman looks back toward the patio. She shakes her head.

Sam nods his head and stares at the bird. It shouts once more.

He takes it in.

Sam stands alone on the woman's balcony. The birds are quiet in their cages.

Gentle rustling.

Lighting a cigarette, Sam looks across the courtyard to his own apartment - hidden in the trees and foliage.

He looks through the open window into his home.

It's quiet and still.

Finally...

Sam's front door opens, and the Apartment Manager steps into the dimly lit living room. The Sheriff follows him inside.

Sam watches the men, from his hidden perch, as they sift through his things, pointing at the walls and shaking their heads.

Sam exhales smoke...

The End Credits Roll.

We hear REM's "Strange Currencies"...