ANGELA'S SLEEPAWAYS By Wynn Episode # 004: "House 5, Guests 0" FADE IN: The Camp Rolling Hills' dining hall. Int. Night. A spotlight shines down on a small table with a game of Clue set up, hidden in the darkness. The "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" theme music plays as Angela Baker walks into the spotlight. She is dressed in a simple black suit and white shirt, just like Hitchcock himself. When the music fades, she turns to the audience. ANGELA: Good evening. You've arrived at a rather appropriate time, as I was just finishing up a quick game of solitary Clue. The spotlight follows Angela to the table where she sits and looks over a score card. ANGELA: Mrs. White, Professor Plumb, Colonel Mustard. Such stereotypical characters. Have you ever noticed that all of these murder mysteries-- be it a theater performance, a breezy Whodunit reader or even a board game-- they all seem bound by some unshakable cliche? No matter what, the situation stays the same. A murder at an isolated mansion or hotel, a host of unrealistic and shady characters whom all could be suspects, narrated by the Inspector, the only trustworthy character of them all. Well, perhaps some spontaneity would mix well. Angela returns the game to the box and tucks it in the drawer nearby. ANGELA: Keep this in mind... while you watch the next performance, a tale of murder and deceit I call... Lightning crashes and thunder cracks, lighting up Angela's face momentarily. ANGELA: House 5, Guests 0 FADE TO: Madame Eclair's house. Int. Night. The living room is somewhat decorative with ornate furniture, enough seats for 7 people with a coffee table in front. Stage left is a study, with a small desk and chair and stage right is a balcony. When the play begins the lights are directed on the living room. The characters enter the room and sit in this order from left to right. MADAME ECLAIR, PROFESSOR PEACH, CREME BURLETTE, PETE NOKIO, EZMERELDA, ADMIRAL POUTINE, and ABBOTT COSTELLO. Madame Eclair is an elderly dowatcher, wearing fancy turn of the century apparel and plenty of jewelry. Professor Peach is middle-aged, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and customary tweed jacket with leather elbow-patches. CREME BURLETTE wears an outfit similar in style of Rosemary Cloony or Zsa Zsa Gabor. Pete Nokio wears white pants and a customary red and white vertical striped jacket with matching hat and speaks in a slightly effeminate voice. He holds his ventriloquists dummy, Slappy, who wearing the same. Ezmerelda wears stylized Gypsy garb with a babushka, large earrings and a bead necklace. Admiral Poutine is an elderly, grey-haired man with a bushy military-style mustache and general's uniform with several medals pinned to it and is currently smoking a pipe. Abbott Costello wears an oversized brown robe, similar to that of a Monk or Friar. As the music fades, they talk quietly amongst themselves. CREME BURLETTE: I do hope the Inspector arrives soon. Having that poor man lying lifeless in the other room disturbs me so. PEACH: There there, darling. I'm sure the gent shan't be too much longer. MADAME ECLAIR: I truly am sorry. I had no idea when I decided to throw this party, it would become a night of (lightning flash) murder. GENERAL POUTINE: That's quite all right, dear. After all, it's not your fault. PETE NOKIO: Unless, of course, she's the murderer. ECLAIR: What are you implying, sir? PETE: Well, if you were the killer, it would be your fault. I'm just saying we shouldn't assume you're not the killer, because if we did, we would have to do the same for everyone else here. And, we couldn't do that because one of us is obviously the killer. PEACH: I'm afraid he's right. ECLAIR: This is absurd! Tell me, do you even have any experience in detective work? Ha! I didn't think so. Now, let's wait for the authorities, then they can root out the murderer. (Sound of knock at the door) Why, that must be him now. The butler, GREGORY, enters with DETECTIVE MILLS, who is wearing a suit and plain black tie. GREGORY: An Inspector Watson, to see you Madame. MILLS: Actually, it's Mills. Detective Mills. GREGORY: Ah, I beg your pardon, monsieur. I must be bit distraught. POUTINE: Quite understandable, good man. ECLAIR: Indeed. It's all right Gregory. GREGORY: Will Madame be needing anything else? ECLAIR: Not at the moment. Thank you, Gregory. GREGORY (to Mills): And you monsieur? Perhaps a pipe? MILLS: I'm more of a cigar man. GREGORY: I'm afraid we have none in stock. PETE: I would lend one, Pal, but Slappy here just took the last one. Pete raises his right hand, which has the dummy with a cigar in its mouth. The ventriloquist talks through him in a falsetto worthy of a Dick Tracy villain, not even trying to make his lips stand still. SLAPPY: Sorry, Coppa. MILLS: Cute. Thank you, a pipe would be fine. GREGORY: Certainly, Monsieur. Gregory turns and exits. ECLAIR: Oh, where are my manners. Detective, I'd like to introduce you to my guests. This is our resident celebrity, the singing sensation of Paris, Creme Burlette. CREME: Enchante. ECLAIR: Professor Peche. PEACH: Peach. ECLAIR (threateningly): Peche. PEACH (sighing): Peche. How do you do, young man? ECLAIR: Vaudevillian comedian and ventriloquist... Pete walks up and shakes Mills' hand with his free left hand. PETE: Hey there, Pete's the name, Pete Nokio. And this here's Slappy. SLAPPY: Pleased ta make yer acquaintance. Pete/ Slappy sits. ECLAIR: Medium Ezmerelda. EZMERELDA: Hello. ECLAIR: General Poutine. POUTINE: Good on ya. ECLAIR: And our man of the faith, Abbott Costello. COSTELLO: Greetings, my son. ECLAIR: And, myself, Madame Eclair. MILLS: Looks like you've rounded up the usual suspects. Are there any others who work in the household? The butler and..... ECLAIR: Oh yes, Gregory and a Maid. Gregory enters with a pipe on a silver tray. GREGORY: Your pipe, monsieur. ECLAIR: Gregory, the detective would like a word with you. But, before that could you fetch the maid? GREGORY: Yes Madame. Gregory turns and leaves again. MILLS: And the maid's name is... let me guess, Escargot? The guests laugh snobbishly. Gregory returns with the maid, ALLAMODE, who wears the typical tight, revealing French maid's uniform. ECLAIR: Ah, no. There you are, Allamode. MILLS: Of course. ALLAMODE: You wanted to see me, Madame? ECLAIR: This gentleman from the police would like to have a word with you concerning the murder. ALLAMODE: Of course. MILLS: Well, first things first. Who found the body? ALLAMODE: I did, Monsieur, while dusting in the study. I found him lying there, already dead. MILLS: Was the door open or closed? ALLAMODE: Closed. MILLS: And the window? MAID: I'm not sure, Monsieur. I didn't notice. MILLS: All right. Gregory, you go check. GREGORY: Yes, Monsieur. Gregory turns and exits. MILLS: All right, now, did you touch anything? ALLAMODE: I did some dusting on the bookshelf before I found him. MILLS: Thank you. Now, please stay here, so I can ask more questions if needed. Allamode shuffles behind the couch and stands ready, dusting the back of the couch. MILLS: Now, what was the victim's name, by the way? ECLAIR: Ceased. A Mr. D. Ceased. MILLS: Well, good thing you phrased it that way or I'd end up like one of Mr. Nokio's jokes. The guests laugh again. Gregory returns, flustered. GREGORY: Madame, the body is... is missing Dramatic organ music sounds, as heard on Mystery radio programs plays. Mills looks around, as if trying to find the source of the noise. MILLS: I see. This doesn't make things easier. Now, everyone, to the scene of the crime so I can investigate with all of you in my line of site. All walk off to the study. Costello stays behind, reaches into his robe while no one is looking, plucks out a bottle of brandy, takes a swig and hides it again, looking around nervously before going with them. CUT TO: Study. Int. Night. Mills is examining the desk. Papers are strewn around the floor.) MILLS: What happened with these papers? ALLAMODE: They were thrown about like this when I got here, monsieur. MILLS: I see. I believe this is what we call in police terms, signs of a struggle. POUTINE: And evidence? MILLS: I'm afraid there's not much I can do without fingerprint dusting. I'll have to take you all into the station for questioning. Is there a phone around here? GREGORY (hands Mills the phone from the desk): Right here, monsieur. MILLS: Thank you. Mills picks up the phone and listens for a second, then slams it down. MILLS: It's dead. The organ emphasis sounds once more. Again, Mills looks around for the source. COSTELLO: What now? MILLS: I don't know. I'm not used to situations like these... I suppose, the only logical thing to do is... hope that this is an isolated incident. GUESTS (in unison): What?? MILLS: Ah, yes... we all go about our business. And, if the killer should strike a second time, well... the list of suspects will narrow a bit, now won't it? CREME: There must be something else we can do. EZMERELDA: There is. POUTINE: And what would that be? EZMERELDA: I'll show you. To the living room. CUT TO: Living room. Int. Night. The guests and Mills all return to the living room and sit as a semicircle on the floor around the table POUTINE: This is absurd! There is no way the spirits will tell you the name of the murderer. CREME: What are you afraid of, General? PETE: Yeah, only the murderer would object to any method that could prove his guilt. POUTINE: I'm objecting because this is nonsense! Witchcraft, a scam, right-wing shenanigan, superstitious rubbish and plain old Tom Foolery. ECLAIR: Calm yourself, please. Now, we forget that our actions are no longer always our will, nor are we freely democratic. MILLS: Well... although this is highly unorthodox, not to mention inadmissible, the results could never sway my judgment in the matter. However, there is no harm in trying. For curiosity's sake, that is. EZMERELDA: Excellent. Shall we begin then? MILLS: We shall. Ezmerelda hoists a crystal ball onto the table. EZMERELDA: Now, all of you join hands. The guests each hold one another's hands, including Ezmerelda, who closes her eyes. EZMERELDA: Oh spirits of earthly unrest, we come to you seeking knowledge, not in jest. Within the house is one who uses gun or knife, to steal their comrades very life. With hands joined, and circle closed, we wish to have his name exposed. Speak to us, oh spirits, please, to put our troubled minds at ease. Thunder crashes in the background. EZMERELDA: Yes, the killers name is now clear, as if whispered in my ear. We thank you for answering our game, for now I know the killer's name... The guests break hands. EZMERELDA: Of course. The killer is... The lights in the room shut off and soon after, Ezmerelda scream, and then a shot is heard. The lights comes back on, revealing Ezmerelda's corpse slumped over the crystal ball. COSTELLO: Good lord! POUTINE: Check her pulse! Mills gets up and walks over to Ezmerelda, then grabs her arm, holding her wrist up and pressing his thumb against it. MILLS: To be quite honest, I never did learn how to take a pulse. I basically investigate murders where the victim has been pronounced dead an hour or two before I get there. POUTINE: Good god, man, what use are you? ECLAIR: Hush, general. GREGORY: Well, from your assessment, monsieur, is she dead? MILLS: Yes. GREGORY: Yes, what? MILLER: Yes she is. GREGORY: Yes she is what? MILLS: Dead. GREGORY: Now, please, put the two together. MILLS: Why? GREGORY: Humor me, please. MILLS: All right. She's dead. The organ emphasis sound is done again. MILLS: Where does that keep coming from? PEACH: Well, this is just dandy. I suppose we can throw that "isolated incident" garbage out the window now. MILLS: Everyone stay calm. We can't exactly all stay in one area for the entire night. We can all go to our individual rooms, keep our doors and windows locked and stay on the alert. GREGORY: And the body, monsieur? MILLS: Keep her right there. For evidence. If it's stolen, then it's stolen. I don't want to keep an eye on it and I'm sure no one else here does either. The guests break and leave, except Gregory, who breaks off from the group sneakily. He watches them leave before relaxing. GREGORY: It's all right, they're gone. Ezmerelda raises her head off the crystal ball. EZMERELDA: Phew. And not a second too soon. I thought I was going to burst out laughing down there if I stayed any longer. GREGORY: You were great, Sally. The whole rhyming thing. How did you come up with that? EZMERELDA: Come on, Ben, I am a poetry major. GREGORY: You should try out for acting. We could use a talent like that at the Dinner Theater. EZMERELDA: Well, you were great too. "Yes monsieur." Allamode enters. ALLAMODE: You two have broken character then? GREGORY: It's all right, Susan. As long as Nadine doesn't catch us. ALLAMODE: Yeah. She's gone REALLY overboard with this whole thing. GREGORY: Well, at least we're having fun. That is what she intended when she planned this entire thing. ALLAMODE: Speak for yourself. This entire outfit is just not my style. GREGORY: I like it. ALLAMODE: You would. Why don't you wear it then? GREGORY: Cause it looks so much better on you. ALLAMODE: Knock it off, Ben. There are people around. GREGORY: Just teasing, Susan. But, I am serious about the costume. Maybe ask Nadine if you can keep it afterwards. ALLAMODE: She can spare the cash. The woman is loaded as it is. GREGORY: Oh, here come Tom and Valerie. Creme and Peach walk into the room. PEACH: Have you seen the rooms? There aren't even any TVs. ALLAMODE: You know what Nadine said on the invitations. ALL (in unison): Absolutely nothing from present day. CREME: But she gets to keep her fancy apparel. I get to play the singer, but she still gets all the jewelry. PEACH: Well, she is playing the wealthy dowatcher. In other words, herself. And what about me? The nerdy professor, what a gyp. I would KILL for Chuck's roll with Slappy, the puppet. We'd be cracking jokes like there's no tomorrow. CREME: And what about the guy who plays the cop. What a terrible actor. PEACH: I know. Why did he change names on you? GREGORY: Beats me, I answered the door and there he was. The briefing card said his name would be Inspector Watson. ALLAMODE: And he just strolls in, dressed to the nines, changing his name while I have to stay as Allamode the maid, in costume none the less. PEACH: And what a costume! CREME: What was that Tom? PEACH: Uh, nothing sweet pea. CREME: I didn't think so. Uh-oh, here comes Nadine. Back into character, everyone. The guests each busy themselves in their role, except Ezmerelda, who slumps back on the table. Eclair walks into the room. ECLAIR: What are you all doing down here? GREGORY: Uh....the two guests are having trouble finding their rooms. ALLAMODE: And I was just dusting. ECLAIR: Well then, show them their rooms. Guest rooms 3 and 5. GREGORY: Yes, Madame. Peach holds two fingers behind Eclair's head, giving her bunny ears and Gregory stifles a laugh. She turns to PEACH. GREGORY mimics her while she has her back turned. ECLAIR: I do hope you find your rooms hospitable, Monsieur Peche. All accommodations are being provided for. PEACH: I'm sure they will be luxurious. Thank you, (chuckles) Madame. ECLAIR: Excellent. Now, I must go. Farewell. Eclair leaves and the entire group bursts out laughing. Ezmerelda resurfaces. GREGORY: Oh, that was priceless. PEACH (mockingly): "Monsieur Peche, Monsieur Peche." It's PEACH, you faux French fool! CREME: Quiet, she'll hear you. PEACH: Let her. Maybe she'll get it right now. EZMERELDA: So, what happens to me again, now? PEACH: You can leave now, if you want. Your body's been "stolen," remember? EZMERELDA: Well, that wasn't on the card. ALLAMODE: Yeah, mine said Greg's body would still be there. GREGORY: That's odd. Oh well, poor Greg probably wasn't patient enough to lie on the floor all day. Can't say I blame him. EZMERELDA: He's probably run off to get some wine. I think Nadine scheduled our murders first so we could get back to town. We both have classes, you know. PEACH: I'm sure you'll find him out there already, waiting to give you a ride. ALLAMODE: Ah, it's late. I'm going to bed. Coming, Ben? GREGORY: Sure. CREME: We should let some rest too. C'mon Tom. The four turn and leave. Ezmerelda pulls a duffel bag out from underneath the table. She pulls out her jacket and pulls it on over her Gypsy costume, takes off her wig and places it in the bag, then starts to put her crystal ball and other seance props in there, humming softly. As she goes through this routine, a figure in black, wearing black pants, a black sweatshirt, gloves and a balaclava stretched over their entire face comes up behind her. The intruder puts a hand on her shoulder. EZMERELDA: Oh! Greg, don't sneak up on me like that. She moves her hand up and puts it on the other. EZMERELDA: Gloves? Is it that cold out? She half turns, sees the intruder, then lets out a scream which is soon muffled by a hand going over her mouth. The intruder drags her away. Eclair enters and looks at the camera, followed by Mills. MILLS: Ma'am? ECLAIR: Oh, Detective. MILLS: You're not staying in your room? ECLAIR: My guests are about. And, it wouldn't be proper for a hostess to retire to her chambers before her guests now would it? MILLS: Whatever you say ma'am. ECLAIR: Tell me, Detective, have you a key suspect in this matter? MILLS: Yes, but I'm afraid I can't divulge any information as of now. ECLAIR: Of course. I just hope it isn't me. MILLS (chuckles nervously): Oh, no. No, of course not. Why do you ask? ECLAIR: Well, the evidence is stacked against me. MILLS (pulls out a notepad): Oh, like what? ECLAIR: Well, it's my house. I know where all the trap doors and secret passageways lead to. I had been seen arguing with Monsieur Ceased earlier this evening. Oh, and I was missing shortly before the body was found. MILLS: So, in other words, you have method, motive and no alibi? ECLAIR: Well, yes, but... I... I didn't do it. Are you saying otherwise?!? MILLS: Well, no, not exactly, but... ECLAIR: You are, aren't you?! You think I'm the murderer. Well, I never! Eclair storms out of the room, sobbing. MILLS: That's what I'm not so sure of... Creme walks into the room. CREME: Gwyneth alert. Geez, I thought Ben was supposed to be the actor. MILLS: Ben? CREME: The guy who's playing Gregory. He works at a dinner theater back in town. MILLS: Playing? CREME: Well, of course. Oh, don't tell me your trying to stay in character too? Nadine's been a big enough pest already tonight. MILLS: Stay in character? Nadine? Ben? Playing? What are you talking about? CREME: You mean, you actually don't know? MILLS: No, just what's going on here? CREME: Then who are you? MILLS: Just as I told you, Detective Steven Mills. CREME: You're a real detective?!? Oh my god. You must think we're all complete whackos. MILLS: I was getting that impression, yes. CREME: This entire thing is a theme party thrown by Nadine, the one who's playing Madame Eclair. We're all friends of hers. MILLER: So, no one is actually dead? CREME: Of course not. MILLS: Hold on, this doesn't make any sense. CREME: Well, sure it does. You see, I'm not Creme Burlette. I don't even know what-- MILLS: No, not that. The reason I was called in was that someone from this house called 911, saying there was a killer after him. Then, there was screaming and the phone went dead. He said his name was Munson. CREME: Greg Munson? MILLS: That's right. How did you... CREME: That's the guy who was playing Ceased, the first guy to get offed. He's a college student, odds are he got too liquored up and started making some prank phone calls while waiting for someone to find his body. He's known for stuff like that. You, sir, have been Munsoned. MILLER: Well, that changes everything. No one's dead, everything's fine. CREME: Yes. Do you want to end the entire charade then? MILLER: Oh, no need for that. I'm off duty now, I suppose I can have a little fun. Besides, I want to find out who the murderer is. CUT TO: Living room. Int. Night. Costello is sitting on the couch, holding a personal television in his hands. Sounds of a football game play softly in the background. COSTELLO: C'mon. I've got 500 bucks riding on this game. Peach enters the room. PEACH: Jeff, you know you're not supposed to have anything modern. COSTELLO: Screw that, I needs my football. PEACH: You've got the game on? COSTELLO: Yup. PEACH: Well, why didn't you say so? Peach stands next to Costello and puts a hand on the personal TV. The Intruder enters, sneaking up behind both of them. The sounds of the game turns to cheering and Peach grabs the personal TV and starts jumping up and down and shouting as the Intruder hits Costello in the back with the ax. Costello falls to the ground, shouting as the Intruder axes him. PEACH: YES! TOUCHDOWN! TOUCHDOWN! WHOO-HOO!!! The Intruder turns and exits. Peach stops, flips of the TV and looks down at Costello, who's lying on the ground. PEACH: Jeff? Jeff? Hrm, that Brandy packs a powerful punch. Peach turns and leaves Costello lying on the floor, but takes his personal TV with him. CUT TO: Study. Int. Night. Poutine enters the room. POUTINE: Need to find a way to die. Let's see now... Poutine looks around the room for possible weapons. POUTINE: A knife? Too obvious. A gun? Too noisy. Suffocation? Too uncomfortable. Poutine notices a mug on the desk. POUTINE: Aha! Poisoning! Poutine grabs the mug and swigs some of it back. POUTINE: Yeck! Cold coffee. Poutine lies down on the floor on his back behind the desk, leaving the coffee cup on the desk. His shoulders are visible on one side of the desk, his feet on the other. Allamode walks into the room. ALLAMODE: Sean? Sean? Allamode happens upon Poutine's body. ALLAMODE: Ah, good. Allamode stands still, clears her throat, and then screams, and leaves the room. Poutine sits back up and chuckles to himself. The Intruder enters from the other side of the room, carrying a knife and coming around the side of the desk. The Intruder makes stabbing motions while standing over Poutine causing him to groan with each stab. After finishing, the Intruder turns and stalks away. Eclair, Mills, Peach, Creme, Pete, Gregory, and Allamode all enter the room. ECLAIR: My God, it's Poutine! MILLS: Scratch my theory. Alright, you found him just like this? ALLAMODE: Yes. MILLS: And, did you notice anything suspicious? ALLAMODE: Yes. I thought I saw someone running down the west hallway. MILLS: Peaches and Creme (pronounces "Cream"), you go check the west wing. Peach and Creme turn and leave. MILLS: Alright, our suspect list has gotten pretty short. Eclair, Peach, Creme, Gregory, Pete and Allamode. That's... (counts fingers) six. PETE: Whoa there. Don't count our friends out just because they're dead. MILLS: What? PETE: Well, think about it. No one EVER suspects the dead guy. Faking your own death seems to be in these days. Hey, Slappy, ever wondered why that is? You see I thought-- MILLS (interrupting): ANYWAYS, I think we should stick to our original plan of staying together. GREGORY: Except, Madame Burlette and Monsieur Peche, who you just told to investigate. MILLS: Exactly. Well... someone go find them. GREGORY: I will. Gregory turns and leaves. ALLAMODE: I'll check the other side of the house for them. MILLS: Alright. Allamode turns and exits. PETE: I'll check the wine cellar. MILLS: Good. Pete turns and exits. ECLAIR: I'll check the main hall. MILLS: Perfect. Eclair turns and leaves. Mills strolls around the room for a minute or two, looks around and notices he's the only one left. MILLS: Hey, wait a minute! Mills turns and storms out of the room. CUT TO: Living room. Int. Night. Allamode and Pete sit on the couch. Pete has Slappy on his lap. Allamode is obviously annoyed by Pete. PETE: ...So then I say, "If that's your wife, where's the dog?" SLAPPY: Hey, Petey, did I tell you I saw Shelly the ex-proffesional hunchback the other day? PETE: Oh, is her back better? SLAPPY: No, she's just out of work. PETE: Hey, Slappy, I heard you manage a baseball team. SLAPPY: That's right. Actually, I have the team roster right here. PETE: Alright, why don't you tell me who the players are? SLAPPY: Alright, alright. Who's on First, What's on Second and Idunno's on Third. PETE: Whose on first? ALLAMODE (interrupts): Have you seen Ben around here? PETE: Which one is that? ALLAMODE: The butler. PETE: Nope. Hey, where is everyone anyway? ALLAMODE: Well, everyone said they would go check rooms. PETE: Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be checking the wine cellar. I'd better go down there. ALLAMODE (relieved): You do that. Pete gets up and leaves. Allamode reaches over the coffee table and picks up a stack of stapled papers and flips through it. She checks her watch. ALLAMODE: 11:45. The script says I was supposed to be dead by now. Finally, I can get out of this ridiculous outfit. That is, if the killer will ever show up. Allamode sets the script back inside the coffee table, taking a closer look at the top's surface. ALLAMODE: Nadine sure doesn't keep this place very clean. She should hire a... Allamode stops, then reluctantly starts dusting the table with her feather duster and humming. The Intruder enters, creeping up behind her. A creaking sound is heard and the Intruder looks down at the floor. ALLAMODE: Ben? Oh, you know you shouldn't sneak up on me like that. Allamode looks up at the Intruder. ALLAMODE: Oh, oh, you're the murderer aren't you? A little overboard on the costume, isn't it? Who are you anyway? Lemme guess... it's Tom isn't it? So, Professor Peach WAS the killer, I knew it. Ask Ben, I bet him 20 bucks. The Intruder raises the ax overhead. ALLAMODE: Wow, where'd you get that ax? It actually looks real. The lights go off, then we hear Allamode scream and when the lights turn back on, the Intruder is gone and Allamode is lying on the floor. Slappy sits on the couch. Eclair, Mills, Peach, Creme, Pete and Gregory enter the room. Pete's jacket is undone, revealing the black sweatshirt he's wearing underneath. MILLS: Alright, so it wasn't the maid. Scratch another theory. ECLAIR: Good lord, this is turning into a slaughter house. PETE: Don't you think we should know who the killer is by now? MILLS: I'm thinking. Now... let's see... Eeeny Meeny Miny Moe... GREGORY: Ah, why bother waiting? Gregory pulls out a gun. GREGORY: I did it, I'm the killer. MILLS: AHA! I knew it. CREME: Oh, so the BUTLER did it?!? Very original, Nadine. ECLAIR: Quiet! CREME: No, you know what, this is silly. When you first told us about this little game, it sounded like a fun idea, but now it's just tacky. Now, we're all tired, so I'm just going to go to bed. Creme grabs Peach's arm and drags him along. CREME: Let's go, Tom. PETE: Not so fast! CREME: Get over it Chuck. We're leaving. Are you coming or staying? PETE: None of you are leaving. MILLS: What are you talking about!?! PETE: I'm the killer! GREGORY: No, I was, remember? PETE: No, I mean the real killer. CREME: That's cute, Chucky, real cute. PETE: You don't believe me? ECLAIR: She's right, Charles, this isn't any fun anymore. PETE: Maybe not for you. Pete reaches up at his neck and peels away his face, revealing his flesh to be a rubbery mask. Underneath, Pete's face is that of Martin Landau's. MILLS: Martin Landau!? But why?! PETE: Whoops. Pete reaches up and again peels his face away, the Landau face, yet another mask. Underneath, the real culprit is Angela Baker, her head drenched in sweat from wearing not one but two masks. Angela reaches behind the couch and pulls out the ax. The guests gasp in shock. ANGELA: But for me, the party's just begun. Angela hits Peach with the ax. Peach groans, then falls to the ground. CREME: Oh my God! That ax is real! ANGELA: And so is the damage it does. So long, Mr. Peche. Peach sits up, grabbing his stomach where he was hit with the ax. PEACH: IT'S PEACH! Peach falls back down again, this time dead. ECLAIR: Why are you doing this? ANGELA: You barely even knew me, Nadine. Barely knew me, but thought it alright for you to invite me to your little party. Did you even bother to ask what I've been doing for the past ten years of my life? I'll tell you, rotting away at a forgotten campground. When you invite a real murderer to a party of fake murders, problems are bound to arise. Now, to take care of the rest of you. Angela begins to move towards them. ECLAIR: Somebody stop her! Gregory points his gun at Angela and fires. Angela keeps coming. GREGORY: Oh, yeah... It's a fake! MILLS: I'll handle this. Mills pulls a gun out of his jacket pocket, but accidentally drops it. He and Creme fumble for it, only kicking it further. Creme moves forwards to try and grab it, but Angela gets a hold of it and shoots Creme in the stomach before she has a chance to react. Creme falls down, next to Peach. Angela points the gun at Mills. The scene fades to back and a gunshot is heard. FADE IN: Camp Rolling Hills dining hall. Int. Night. Angela is facing towards the camera with a huge grin on her face. ANGELA: Well, that was our story. Perhaps, now my mind can be on the level again so I can think of my game of Clue. Angela unpacks the game onto the table. ANGELA: One thing I've always noticed about this game is, no matter what the outcome of one game, the same thing happens afterwards... the characters are set back, and the game starts again. This time, with a new killer, a new weapon and a new room. Basically, a new murder... (pause; looks straight into the camera) Until now. Angela chuckles as the scene slowly fades to black. www.sleepawaycampfilms.com