BLUE MOON MOTEL!

Shane Dawson's Song Is Shawty Who Is Like A Melody In My Head

readimg thru th tsh miniseries script i wrote is so . 🧎🏽‍♂️🏃🏽🚶🏽‍♂️ :-( </3  n e ways i wnt 2 embarrass myself & attract tsh nation & also make this spam a lil more personal rathr thn spontaneous soo .! pls feel free 2 ignore this :-))) ･:⋆ᵕ̈

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

TEASER

FADE IN:

EXT. MOUNT CATARACT - DAY, EARLY MORNING

Not all in this dry, sickly light is doomed itself to be a dry, sickly thing. MOUNT CATARACT sits grand and dormant, sheathed by a THICK VEIL of SNOW like a lavish royal BRIDE. Something pools around it, something charmingly sinister, something beyond nice queer physicalities. Nobody knows. Nobody can know. Nobody ever will know.

RICHARD (V.O.)
The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.

CUE MONTAGE, ALL IN FAST, HAZY SUCCESSION -- WHEELS grappling desperately through mud. The flash of a CIGARETTE flickering to life. DAISY-BLONDE hair whipping over an ELEGANT, BLAZER-CLAD SHOULDER. TWO LIPS landing on each other, quick and fervent, like fate. The LEGS of a CHAIR being drawn back, the queasy, moody scrape of it on wood. An irrelevant PAINTING on a yet-to-be-relevant WALL, gathering dust; in the background erupts a SPATTER of LAUGHTER, quivering with the weight of its youth like water on a leaf, so beautiful and joyous it could only BREAK ONE's HEART.

RICHARD (V.O.)
He'd been dead for several days before they found him, you know.

CUE MONTAGE, MORE GRIEVOUS THIS TIME -- A view from the patio of the country house. WHEELS racing through the mud, bumping along. JULIAN's face, a thin but somewhat indulgent smile spreading lustrous across it; the focus shifts to a GLASS he raises in front of himself, and merrily the glass gleams. An FBI BADGE. The TWO LIPS that are kissing still, as though if they stopped they would die. A POSH GREY SUIT JACKET slung over a WEATHERED WARDROBE DOOR.

RICHARD (V.O.)
It was one of the biggest manhunts in Vermont. State troopers --

CUE MONTAGE, NOW GAINING INTENSITY -- One shot of GRUFF-LOOKING POLICEMAN stepping out of his VEHICLE, grabbing a WALKIE-TALKIE from his pocket, interrupted by brief singular snapshots of JULIAN raising his glass to toast, THE GREEK CLASS (minus BUNNY) visible through the WINDSHIELD of a CAR as they speed through the woods, and a FOUNTAIN PEN hastily scrawling a sentence on YELLOWED PARCHMENT in GREEK.

RICHARD (V.O.)
-- the FBI, even an army helicopter.

GRUFF-LOOKING POLICEMAN says something UNKNOWN to the viewer into his WALKIE-TALKIE. Worm's eye view of an ARMY HELICOPTER sailing over the woods from the BOTTOM of the RAVINE.

RICHARD (V.O)
The college closed. The dye factory shut down. People coming from New Hampshire, upstate New York, as far away as Boston.

CUE MONTAGE, SHARP, SUCCINCT -- KEYS jangling. A GREAT DOOR being slammed shut. BUNNY's body, being carried off on a STRETCHER, at the bottom of the frame, just the BAREST suggestion of a YELLOW RAIN SLICKER peeking out from underneath the hubbub of SHEETS and CLOTH; drizzle is pouring down, ambulance lights are pulsing red-blue-bright like a FIGHTER BOY's HEART, and a VAST CROWD is watching from behind crude neon SAFETY TAPE, all PALE-FACED and in HORRENDOUS SHOCK.

RICHARD (V.O.)
It is difficult to believe that such an uproar took place over an act for which I was partially responsible, even more difficult to believe I could have walked through it: the cameras --