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Two Demons and a Dead Man
by Chris Lindsay


A black comedy about a journey to Hell. When a man dies in the hospital, he is tormented in a barrel of boiling oil.


Front Cover Artwork "Deadly" by Jesse Larson.





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TIPS ON READING SCREENPLAYS:
For those unfamiliar with reading screenplays the
following terms may be helpful. EXT refers to an exterior
(outside) camera shot. INT means an interior (inside)
shot. The lines that begin with EXT or INT (known as SLUG
LINES) are similar to scene breaks in a play. A "beat" in
brackets indicates a brief pause. OS signifies dialogue
that is spoken off-screen. POV refers to the point of view
the scene is being viewed from.

FADE IN:

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM -- DAY

BOB HULE, a tax accountant for the firm, Bigg & Butt
Accounting, is lying on a bed at Loaferville Hospital. Bob
is incredibly handsome, dark-haired, and in his late-
twenties. His former fiance, LUCY BIGG, and her friend,
JAMES THWARP, are standing beside him. Lucy is a beautiful
buxom blonde in her early twenties. James is short, wears
geeky horn-rimmed glasses, and is in his early twenties.

                      LUCY
         Bob, are you OK?
                      BOB          
                (gasping)
         I think -- I -- having -- har --
         heart attack.
Bob jerks and shakes in his bed.
                      LUCY          
                (touches his arm)
         Bob, it’s going to be OK. Bob! 
         Wake up!

Bob stops moving. Lucy pulls her hair.

                      LUCY          
         Are you breathing? Bob? 
                (looks up to the ceiling) 
         Oh, God, no!
                      JAMES
         I'll take his pulse! 

James presses two fingers against Bob's neck.

                      LUCY          
                (frantically)
         Oh, dear God! Please don’t let 
         him die. 
                      JAMES
                (grimly)
         He’s dead, Lucy.
         
                      LUCY
         No! Are you sure?
                      JAMES          
                (points)
         Look at the monitor. He has no 
         heartbeat.

Lucy faints and falls forward. James catches her in his
arms.

INT. TUNNEL OF LIGHT -- DAY

Bob’s soul rises from the hospital bed. He floats upward
through a tunnel of blinding white light.

                      BOB
         I feel -- wonderful! My whole 
         being...

As Bob approaches the end of the tunnel of light, SIX
WITHERED HANDS rise from the darkness, and take hold of
his legs and feet. Bob is pulled downward at incredible
speed. He descends through the atmosphere, the hospital,
and the crust of the Earth. His arms are flailing in all
directions.

                      BOB
         Oh, no... Wrong way! Stop! Wrong 
         way!

INT. UNDERGROUND CHAMBER IN HELL -- DAY

Bob crashes on a stone floor. He slowly stands to his feet
between two barrels of oil. Sitting in one of the barrels
is MR. FILTHY, a leather-faced man in his late fifties. He
has salt and pepper hair.

                      BOB          
         Where am I?
         
                      MR. FILTHY
         You're in Hades, boy.
                      BOB
         Hell? No! I can't be. I was in a 
         tunnel of joy.
                      MR. FILTHY
         Yeah, all of us experienced that 
         for a minute or two, but then we 
         changed direction, and got 
         sucked down here.
                      BOB
         Who are you? 
                      MR. FILTHY
                (shakes Bob’s hand) 
         They call me Mr. Filthy. But you 
         can call me Rich. I was a bank 
         robber. A no-good criminal. 
                      BOB
                (thinking)
         So -- you were filthy rich? 
                      MR. FILTHY
         No, I’m -- Rich. My last name 
         is--
                      BOB          
                (sighs)
         I wanted to be rich myself. 
                      MR. FILTHY
         Trust me, son. You wouldn’t 
         wanna be what I was.
                      BOB
         A rich man? Oh, yeah. 
         Absolutely. But not filthy like 
         you are. That bubbling oil must 
         feel horrible.
                      MR. FILTHY 
                (sadly) 
         Yes, I'm in -- torment. 
                      BOB
         Is there anything I can do to 
         help?
                      MR. FILTHY
         Yes, I need a drink, Bob. 
                      BOB
         Yeah, me too... How do you know 
         my name is Bob?
                      MR. FILTHY
         They talk about you a whole lot 
         down here.
                      BOB
         You’ve been watching me? All my 
         exploits with women?
                      MR. FILTHY
         No, the dead can't see what's 
         happening up on the surface.
                      BOB          
         Bummer. You would‘ve been 
         amazed... But look -- I'm not 
         dead. I must be dreaming.
                      MR. FILTHY
         No, you're dead. Just like me.
                      BOB
         I'll just pinch myself and wake 
         up. 
                (pinches his butt) 
         Ow! 
                (pinches his butt again) 
         No, it can't be! I’m really 
         dead?
         
                      MR. FILTHY
         That you are, son. Can you share 
         a bit of your water? My tongue 
         is dry, so terribly terribly 
         dry. 
                      BOB
         I don’t have any water. Sorry.
         
                      MR. FILTHY 
                (points)
         There's a bottle there in your 
         pocket.
                      BOB
                (looks down at the bottle) 
         Huh? How'd this get here?
                      MR. FILTHY
         Just one mouthful. Please. 
                      BOB          
                (opens the bottle)
         Sorry, man. I hate seeing you 
         suffer. I really do, but I might 
         need a drink later... I'd better 
         hang onto this.

Mr. Filthy looks longingly at Bob as he takes a drink from
the bottle.

                      BOB
         Why don't you get out of your 
         barrel and look for water?
                      MR. FILTHY 
         I can't. My feet -- they're 
         stuck to the bottom.
         (tries to move) 
         I'm glued solid. 

Bob slips the bottle in his pocket and offers his hand to
Mr. Filthy.

                      BOB 
         I'll help you get out. Take my 
         hand.
                      MR. FILTHY 
         No, it's impossible. Soon you'll 
         be imprisoned in a barrel, too.
                      BOB          
                (shakes his head)
         Oh, no. I am not sitting in any 
         barrel of oil. No way.
                      MR. FILTHY
         He's gonna come for you any 
         moment now.
                      BOB
         Who's gonna come?
         
                      MR. FILTHY
                (gravely)
         Deadly.
                      BOB
         Deadly? Is that his name or an 
         adjective?
                      MR. FILTHY
         Both. He’s one of the chief 
         demons in Hades.
                      BOB          
         Demons! What are demons doing 
         down here?
                      MR. FILTHY
         The demons keep us imprisoned in 
         these barrels of perpetual 
         torment. 
                      BOB          
         P-P... Perpetual? You mean like 
         forever?
                      MR. FILTHY 
         No, we only boil in oil until we 
         appear at the Great White Throne 
         Judgment.
                      BOB          
                (scoffs) 
         White throne? Sounds like a 
         toilet.

The stone door of the chamber rolls open. A five-foot-tall
demon struts into the room. He has a long nose like the
horn of a rhino, bright red eyes, and wears a long black
cloak with the hood pulled over his head. This is DEADLY.

                      DEADLY
         Damn it! I knew I should have 
         moved that barrel to the left.
                      BOB          
         Who are you?
         
                      DEADLY
                (proudly)
         My name -- is Deadly.
                      BOB
         Where am I?
                      DEADLY          
                (rolls his eyes) 
         New arrivals... Such dumb dumbs. 
                (walks over to Bob) 
         Look around. Where do you think 
         you are?
                      BOB
         Am I really in Hell?
                      DEADLY          
         It ain’t Heaven.
                      BOB
         It isn’t fair.
                      DEADLY
         Who said life was fair?
                      BOB
         Yeah, but this is the after-
         life. It should be fair and 
         just.
                      DEADLY          
         If you lived like a big bad wolf 
         on Earth, your after life will 
         be -- one age-long hangover, 
         Bob. 
         
                      BOB 
         It looks more like a damned 
         nightmare. 
                      DEADLY          
         Indeed it is. And very soon -- 
         it gets worse. Now... Would you 
         like to get in that barrel 
         yourself? Or should I just slam-
         dunk you in?
                      BOB          
         I'm not sitting in any barrel of 
         oil.
                      DEADLY          
         Oh, yes you are.
                      BOB          
                (raises his voice)
         Oh, no I’m not!
                      DEADLY          
                (calmly)
         Oh, yes you will.
                      BOB
                (more loudly)
         Oh, no I won’t!
                      DEADLY
         Oh, yes you is.
                      BOB          
                (shouting)
         No, long nose, I’m not getting 
         in any barrel. That’s the last 
         time I'm going to tell you!

Deadly grabs Bob by his hospital gown, flaps his black
wings, rises into the air, and thrusts him feet-first into
the barrel.

                      BOB
                (despondent) 
         On second thought, I guess I’ll 
         have an oil bath.
                      DEADLY          
         Yes, that you will. And don't 
         insult my nose again!

Bob reaches below the oil and pulls out his water bottle.

                      BOB
         So what now?
                      DEADLY          
         The heat will gradually 
         increase. And the pain. And the 
         agony... Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, 
         such a good day in Hell.
         
                      BOB
         I demand that you get me out of 
         here.
                      DEADLY          
                (stares at Bob)
         OK. I usually delegate it, but 
         as you wish.

Deadly pushes Bob's barrel to the door.

                      BOB
         That's not what I meant.
                (turns to Mr. Filthy) 
         Hey, I hope you can find some 
         water. 
         
                      MR. FILTHY
                (sighs)
         There's no hope of that now, 
         son.
                      DEADLY          
         Oh, yes. I almost forgot.

Deadly stops pushing the barrel, snaps his fingers, and
the bottle in Bob’s hand vanishes.

                      BOB          
                (angrily)
         Hey! I needed that!
                      DEADLY
         You didn't share, so now you 
         lose it. You're not a nice guy, 
         Bob. But I guess that's why 
         you're here.

Deadly is about to push Bob out the door, but Bob gives
him a shove on the shoulder. Deadly is knocked off
balance.

                      BOB          
         Mr. Rich! You never told me what 
         happens at that Great White 
         Throne.
                      MR. FILTHY 
         After we are judged and burned 
         -- He will become all in all. He 
         isn't willing that any of us be 
         damned forever. 
                      DEADLY
                (walks over to Mr. Filthy)
         Shut up, old man!
         
                      MR. FILTHY 
         It's gonna be each one in his 
         own order -- in his own time. 
         Those who knew him before death 
         were chosen. They were the 
         firstfruits.
                      DEADLY
                (punches Mr. Filthy in the chin)
         Silence! 
                      BOB
         You're talking in riddles, old 
         man. I don’t get it.
                      MR. FILTHY 
                (rubs his jaw)
         In the fullness of time, after 
         our second death, all of us will 
         be reconciled.
                      DEADLY          
                (turns to Bob)
         Mr. Filthy is a liar. He was a 
         no-good bank-robber -- and a 
         murderer. Don’t believe a word 
         he says. The damned fool even 
         thinks I'll be back in the good 
         books with The Big G one day.

Deadly walks back to Bob and cuffs him across the nape of
his neck.

                      DEADLY
         Time to go, Bobby boy!
                      BOB          
                (to Mr. Filthy)
         I'm sorry for not sharing my 
         water with you, old man.
                      MR. FILTHY 
         It's OK, son. You was just being 
         yourself.

Bob stares sadly as Deadly pushes him out of the chamber.
SIX DEMONS materialize and drag Bob's barrel down a long
passage. They push him inside another chamber and roll the
stone door shut. Deadly and the six demons vanish.

INT. UNDERGROUND CHAMBER IN HELL -- DAY

Bob struggles to get out of his barrel of oil, but his
feet are stuck to the bottom. JIM JAHN, an African-
American man in his late thirties is sitting next to him,
also in a barrel of oil.

                      BOB
                (frantically) 
         What’s going on? Where am I now? 
         Who in Hell are you?
                      JIM
         I’m--
                      BOB
         I can't believe this is 
         happening to me.
                      JIM
         Yeah, the emotional transition 
         is kinda difficult.
                      BOB
         Who the hell are you?
                      JIM
         My name's Jim. Jim Jahn.
                      BOB          
                (sighs)
         Sorry. I'm Bob... I think I'm 
         losing it... What's gonna happen 
         to us?
                      JIM
         We'll get judged at the Great 
         White Throne. Then we'll receive 
         our degrees of punishment 
         depending on what awful stuff we 
         did. After that we'll be tossed 
         into the Lake of Fire. 
                      BOB
         The Lake of Fire?
                      JIM          
         Yeah, it’s one large body of 
         molten lava. It's the place of 
         our second death. I call it The 
         Big G’s barbeque.
                      BOB          
         I've gotta to get out of here!
                (looks up)
         I didn't deserve to die. 
                (crazily)
         Oh, hee, eeh, gah... Mother!

Jim slaps Bob across both cheeks.

                      JIM
         Calm down. Be a man.
                      BOB          
                (rubbing his cheeks)
         Sorry. I was getting wimpy, 
         wasn’t I?

Jim nods in agreement. They are both silent for a moment.

                      BOB
Hey, so how did your life end?
                      JIM
         I was driving a pizza delivery 
         truck. Got promoted to driving a 
         three-ton. I was backing in and --
                      BOB          
                (snickers)
         Boy, that’s a sucky job. How 
         long did you do that?
                      JIM
         Since grade eleven when I 
         dropped outta high school.
                      BOB
         That's beastly. My brother had a 
         mindless automaton job like 
         that. Spent ten years working in 
         a hotel. 
                      JIM
         No, I didn't mind it. I got ten 
         bucks an hour plus free pizzas.
                      BOB
         What happened? How did you 
         croak? 
                (laughs) 
         One of your hip-hop buddies 
         shoot you? 
         
                      JIM
         No, I was making a delivery to a 
         Super Bowl party. Backed in on a 
         really steep incline. I opened 
         the rear doors of the truck, and 
         the whole damned load of pizzas 
         fell on me!
                      BOB          
                (cringes) 
         Ouch. That must have hurt. 
                      JIM          
         Not really. Not until the 
         emergency break failed.
                      BOB
         Don’t tell me. 
                      JIM
         The truck rolled right over my 
         leg. 
                (cringes)
         God, I was in pain, flat on my 
         back under that wheel... Then 
         all of a sudden, one of the 
         boxes slipped open. A pizza 
         slice went right down my throat.
                      BOB
         No, don’t tell me. I hate pain.
                      JIM          
         Six pepperoni slices got stuck 
         down my windpipe. I wish I could 
         of hurled. 
                      BOB
                (turns pale)
         I think I’m going to hurl now... 
         You're grossing me out, man.
         
                      JIM
         I was writhing all over the 
         pavement... Foam started comin’ 
         out of my mouth. Then my right 
         leg got stuck under the other 
         wheel of the truck... What a 
         bone-breaking mess. After that --
                      BOB
         Stop! I've heard enough. 

Bob puts his hand over Jim’s mouth. The sound of screaming
is heard.

                      BOB          
                (eyes-wide)
         What was that?
                      JIM
         New arrivals. Oil probably 
         started boiling in their 
         barrels.
                      BOB
         Man, it’s getting hot in here. 
         My skin is starting to hurt.
                      JIM
         Yeah, the pain gets worse and 
         worse. Once your oil bubbles 
         you'll be wailing like a 
         banshee. 
                      BOB          
         Why aren't you in any pain?
                      JIM
         Firehead forgot to re-heat my 
         barrel... That big demon’s brain 
         is totally fried.

The stone door of the chamber rolls open. A seven-foot-
tall demon enters. He has a flattened face and a warped
happy smile. This is FIREHEAD.

                      BOB
         Speak of the devil. 
                (to Firehead) 
         How’s it going, ugly?
                      FIREHEAD          
         My -- name -- Firehead.
                      BOB
                (snickers)
         Firehead? How did Satan think of 
         that? Reading Marvel comics? 
         What a stupid name!

Firehead leans forward, and a stream of fire comes out of
the top of his head, scorching Bob’s face. He roars in
pain.

                      BOB
         Turn it off! Your name's totally 
         -- wicked.

Bob’s face is pitch black with soot.

                      FIREHEAD          
         You -- want know -- how -- get 
         me --name -- Firehead?
                      BOB
         Let me guess... You cause male 
         baldness?
         
                      FIREHEAD
         No... Me -- fall -- in Lake -- 
         of Fire. Accident. Damage my -- 
         brain.
                      BOB          
                (shakes his head) 
         No doubt. 
                (under his breath) 
         Even Hell has morons.

Firehead pulls Jim out of his barrel and throws him on the
floor.

                      FIREHEAD          
         Jim -- come -- me with. 
                      BOB
         Leave him alone, Firehead! I’m 
         sure he didn’t do anything that 
         bad.

Firehead leans forward and a stream of fire shoots above
Bob’s head.

                      BOB
         Take him away! Nice to meet ya, 
         Jim. I loved your stories.
                (quietly)
         Not.
                      FIREHEAD          
         Jim -- loved -- fifty females. 
         Didn't Jim? 
                (Jim nods) 
         Wild kind of man -- is Jim.
                      BOB          
         Fifty? Jim, you’re quite the 
         swinger. I had four girlfriends 
         at the same time though. I bet 
         you never did that!
                      JIM
         I've done some terrible things, 
         Bob. 
                      BOB
         Don't be ashamed. Be proud, man. 
         Fifty women is a real milestone, 
         especially if they were all 
         babes. I think I’ve only had 
         about twenty-five. 
                      FIREHEAD          
         Jim's -- women -- hookers.
                      BOB          
                (aghast)
         What? You paid money for sex?
                (beat)
         Hey, are you some kind of rapist 
         perv? 
                      FIREHEAD
         Jim -- killed -- beauty -- lady.
                      JIM          
                (his head drops down) 
         Yeah, I did. I know it was evil 
         now. 
         
                      BOB 
         You murdered chicks? K-K... 
         Killed them?
                      JIM
                (nods)
         Just one. I'm plenty sorry for 
         it now.
                      BOB          
         That’s terrible.
                <