H20

H20  

FADE IN:

              EXT. STREET - NIGHT - SUBURBIA

              Langley, Illinois.  A quiet suburb located fifty miles

              outside of Chicago.

              SUPER the legend:  "Langley, Illinois.  October 28th 1998"

              A HOUSE

              nestled in the middle of a tree-lined street.  A Honda Civic

              pulls into a darkened driveway, the headlights are

              extinguished...

              PAMELA WHITTINGTON, a middle-aged woman in full registered

              nurse attire, emerges from the parked car.

              An unlit cigarette dangles loosely from her lips.  She heads

              to the porch, digging through her purse in search of a

              light...

              CRUNCH!

              Pamela stops in her tracks, looks down at her feet to discover

              GLASS

              scattered across the porch.  She looks at the porch light

              hanging above her head.

              A SHATTERED LIGHT BULB occupies the socket.

              Pamela turns her attention to the front door... it's slightly

              ajar.  She pushes on it gently.... the door swings open

              freely, revealing the darkened interior.

                                  PAMELA

                        Shit...

              Pamela drops her purse... darts across some hedges into the

              neighbor's yard...

              EXT. THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

              Pamela runs up to the porch, decorated with carved

              pumpkins... POUNDS furiously on the front door, decorated

              with a CARDBOARD SKELETON.

              NO ANSWER.

              She POUNDS again... HARDER.  Suddenly, the door SWINGS open

              to reveal

              AN OMINOUS FIGURE

              looming in the doorway.  A HOCKEY MASK cloaks his face.

              A PAIR OF EYES

              glare at Pamela from behind the cut-outs in the plastic

              vizard.

              PAMELA

              gasps, stumbles backward.

              THE FIGURE

              flips up his mask to reveal

              JIMMY HOWELL

              a gangly teen, wearing a hockey jersey... skates slung over

              his shoulder.

                                  JIMMY

                        Hey, Mis Whittington, what's up?

                                  PAMELA

                        My blood pleasure.  You scared the

                        hell out of me.

                                  JIMMY

                        Oh.  Sorry.  I'm on my way to the

                        ring and --

                                  PAMELA

                            (interrupting)

                        I think someone broke into my

                        house.

                                  JIMMY

                        No shit?!

                                  PAMELA

                        No shit.

                                                       CUT TO:

              INT. LIVING ROOM - MINUTES LATER

              Pamela sits on the couch taking hits off a lit cigarette.

              Jimmy paces the room, portable phone pressed against his ear.

                                  JIMMY

                            (into phone)

                        3037 Keystone.. yeah... gotcha.

              Jimmy hangs up the portable...

                                  JIMMY

                            (continuing)

                        Said to give 'em fifteen minutes.

                        They'll send someone by.

              Jimmy grabs his hockey stick, heads for the door.

                                  PAMELA

                        Jimmy, what are you doing?

                                  JIMMY

                        Checking out your place.

                                  PAMELA

                        No.  Wait for the police.

                                  JIMMY

                        And miss the big game?  No way.

                                                       CUT TO:

              EXT. HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

              Pamela stands at the foot of her driveway... watches as Jimmy

              climbs the steps to her porch, hockey stick perched high on

              his shoulder.

              JIMMY

              moves toward the front door, stepping on pieces of shattered

              light bulb beneath him.

              He swings open the front door with the tip of his stick...

              looks inside the darkened house.

              He enters cautiously, stick at the ready.

              PAMELA

              lights up another cigarette, watches nervously as Jimmy

              disappears from view...

              INT. HOUSE

              Jimmy enters the dimmed foyer.

                                  JIMMY

                            (calling off)

                        Hey, man, don't mess with me!

                        I'll knock your head clean off

                        your body!

              He moves stealthily through the house, hockey stick poised

              high in the air... room-by-room he checks for intruders...

              Jimmy finds his way to the rear of the home, crosses to a

              back bedroom, stands in the doorway...

                                  JIMMY

                            (continuing)

                        Oh, shit...

              ON THE BEDROOM

              Converted to a home office... ransacked... file cabinets

              overturned, pictures hang crooked on the walls, papers carpet

              the floor...

              JIMMY

              drops the stick to his side, convinced he is now alone in the

              house.

              He crosses back into the kitchen... steals a cookie from a

              cookie jar... opens the fridge... takes a swig from an open

              milk carton... completely unaware that --

              THE BEDROOM CLOSET DOOR

              is opening slowly behind him, then suddenly --

              CRASH!

              An IRONING BOARD topples out from inside, slams against his

              back, hard.

              JIMMY

              snaps the hockey stick into position... spins around...

              swings wildly with the wooden baton.  He makes contact with...

              A POT RACK

              suspended above the island... pots dangling from their hooks

              come clanging down on top of him...

              The dust settles... Jimmy realizes he's been beating the

              stuffing out of an ironing board.  He sheepishly exits the

              kitchen...

              EXT. HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

              Pamela stands at the foot of the driveway, trying to see in

              to the darkened house...

                                  PAMELA

                        Come on, damn it...

              Jimmy emerges from the house... looks like Wayne Gretsky

              after slamming in his record goal.  He smiles at Pamela

              smugly...

                                  JIMMY

                        Nothing to fear.  The coast is

                        clear.

                                  PAMELA

                        You sure?

                                  JIMMY

                        Totally.  I checked all the rooms

                        and closets...

                                  PAMELA

                        Nothing's missing?

                                  JIMMY

                        Don't think so.  But they sure did

                        a real number on your office.

                        Crap everywhere.

                                  PAMELA

                        My office?

                                  JIMMY

                        Yeah.  Oh, and they messed up your

                        kitchen pretty good, too...

                        Goodnight.

              Jimmy scurries off, avoiding any more questions.

              Pamela heads back to the house.

              INT. HOUSE

              Pamela enters the house, LOCKS AND BOLTS the front door

              behind her.  She breathes a heavy sigh of relief, back

              against the door... she flicks on a light switch... NOTHING.