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BloodBorn · 08-08-2003, 01:00 PM

SAMPSON
Here comes of the House of Capulet.

EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON.

Abra and Petruchio stare coldly toward the boys.

INT. TRUCK. AFTERNOON.

CLOSE ON: Sampson swallowing hard.

CLOSE ON: Gregory; eyes locked to the Capulets. With fake
bravado he nudges Sampson.

GREGORY
Quarrel I will back thee.

CLOSE ON: Sampson trying to quell his rising panic.

SAMPSON
Let us take the law of our sides.
Let them begin.

SUDDENLY: BANG! Gregory and Sampson jump.

WHIP PAN: It was the garage attendant slamming the hood.

Gregory and Sampson are mortally embarrassed.

EXT. MINI-MART. AFTERNOON.

Abra and Petruchio laugh contemptuously and move to their
car:

FOLLOW: The mother and kids exiting the mini-mart.

SUPER FAST SCAN TRACK: To...

INT. TRUCK. AFTERNOON.

Sampson furiously tries to save face.

SAMPSON
I will bite my thumb at them; which
is a disgrace to them if they bear
it.

Sampson quickly bites his thumb toward Abra's back as he
gets into the sedan.

INT. SEDAN. AFTERNOON.

Abra's eyes flick to the rear view mirror.

E.C.U.: The rear view mirror; Sampson biting his thumb.

EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON.

Suddenly, a blood curdling screech of tires - the sedan,
rubber burning, reverses full speed toward Sampson and
Gregory.

The mother in the station wagon brakes to avoid collision -
a sports car shunts into her vehicle. Mother and children
scream.

Attendants scatter.

The Capulet car shudders to a halt inches from the truck,
blocking its path.

INT. BLACK SEDAN. AFTERNOON.

CLOSE ON: A scurry of limbs scrabbling across seats and
reaching for door handles;

EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON.

Abra hauls Sampson from the truck. Gregory leaps out,
Petruchio covers him. Abra slams Sampson against the side of
the vehicle - then, goading him to go for his gun, screams:

ABRA
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sampson's shaking hand hovers - ready to draw.

SAMPSON
I do bite my thumb, sir.

INT. STATION WAGON. AFTERNOON.

CUT TO: The panicked mother in the station wagon. She
motions her children to the floor.

EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON.

Customers run for cover.

CLOSE ON: Abra: An hysterical rage; he shrieks:

ABRA
Do you bite you thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON
(sweating, murmurs to Gregory)
Is the law on our side if I say "Ay"?

GREGORY
No.

INT. BATHROOM. AFTERNOON.

CLOSE ON: The black cowboy boots, trousers down around them.
The sound of a toilet flushing.

PAN TO: The next cubicle, the door opens revealing Benvolio.

EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON.

CLOSE ON: Sampson, still sweating.

SAMPSON
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at
you, sir - but I do bite my thumb,
sir!

CUT TO: Gregory; a ridiculous inquiry.

GREGORY
Do you quarrel, sir?

CUT TO: Abra; a dangerous smile.

ABRA
Quarrel sir, no sir.

CLOSE ON: Sampson; unconvincing bravado...

SAMPSON
But if you do, sir, I am for you. I
serve as good a man as you.

CLOSE ON: Abra; a lethal question.

ABRA
No better?

CLOSE ON: Sampson, trapped.

SAMPSON
Well sir...

INT. STATION WAGON. AFTERNOON.

CUT TO: Inside the station wagon. The mother does not
notice her five year old aiming a toy gun toward the boys.

SPAM!!!!!!!!!

	(#12)
BloodBorn is Offline Senior Member Posts: 321 Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: yrop, sveden (for the rest of the world that means Europe Sweden)	08-08-2003, 01:00 PM SAMPSON Here comes of the House of Capulet. EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON. Abra and Petruchio stare coldly toward the boys. INT. TRUCK. AFTERNOON. CLOSE ON: Sampson swallowing hard. CLOSE ON: Gregory; eyes locked to the Capulets. With fake bravado he nudges Sampson. GREGORY Quarrel I will back thee. CLOSE ON: Sampson trying to quell his rising panic. SAMPSON Let us take the law of our sides. Let them begin. SUDDENLY: BANG! Gregory and Sampson jump. WHIP PAN: It was the garage attendant slamming the hood. Gregory and Sampson are mortally embarrassed. EXT. MINI-MART. AFTERNOON. Abra and Petruchio laugh contemptuously and move to their car: FOLLOW: The mother and kids exiting the mini-mart. SUPER FAST SCAN TRACK: To... INT. TRUCK. AFTERNOON. Sampson furiously tries to save face. SAMPSON I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them if they bear it. Sampson quickly bites his thumb toward Abra's back as he gets into the sedan. INT. SEDAN. AFTERNOON. Abra's eyes flick to the rear view mirror. E.C.U.: The rear view mirror; Sampson biting his thumb. EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON. Suddenly, a blood curdling screech of tires - the sedan, rubber burning, reverses full speed toward Sampson and Gregory. The mother in the station wagon brakes to avoid collision - a sports car shunts into her vehicle. Mother and children scream. Attendants scatter. The Capulet car shudders to a halt inches from the truck, blocking its path. INT. BLACK SEDAN. AFTERNOON. CLOSE ON: A scurry of limbs scrabbling across seats and reaching for door handles; EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON. Abra hauls Sampson from the truck. Gregory leaps out, Petruchio covers him. Abra slams Sampson against the side of the vehicle - then, goading him to go for his gun, screams: ABRA Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sampson's shaking hand hovers - ready to draw. SAMPSON I do bite my thumb, sir. INT. STATION WAGON. AFTERNOON. CUT TO: The panicked mother in the station wagon. She motions her children to the floor. EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON. Customers run for cover. CLOSE ON: Abra: An hysterical rage; he shrieks: ABRA Do you bite you thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON (sweating, murmurs to Gregory) Is the law on our side if I say "Ay"? GREGORY No. INT. BATHROOM. AFTERNOON. CLOSE ON: The black cowboy boots, trousers down around them. The sound of a toilet flushing. PAN TO: The next cubicle, the door opens revealing Benvolio. EXT. GAS STATION. AFTERNOON. CLOSE ON: Sampson, still sweating. SAMPSON No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir - but I do bite my thumb, sir! CUT TO: Gregory; a ridiculous inquiry. GREGORY Do you quarrel, sir? CUT TO: Abra; a dangerous smile. ABRA Quarrel sir, no sir. CLOSE ON: Sampson; unconvincing bravado... SAMPSON But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you. CLOSE ON: Abra; a lethal question. ABRA No better? CLOSE ON: Sampson, trapped. SAMPSON Well sir... INT. STATION WAGON. AFTERNOON. CUT TO: Inside the station wagon. The mother does not notice her five year old aiming a toy gun toward the boys. SPAM!!!!!!!!!