The Uglies: An Original Screenplay

By Thomas Burchfield

A hard luck blue collar couple facing starvation and homelessness in a future Depression America find their lives taking a hairpin turn when they join a motley gang of high-spirited outlaws on a cross-country crimes spree.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9780984775507

Thomas Burchfield

Thomas Burchfield was born in Peekskill, New York. His debut novel, the contemporary Dracula tale Dragon's Ark, won several awards in 2012. When not blogging on his "A Curious Man" webpage, he writes for such publications as Bright Lights Film Journal, Filmfax and The Strand. He lives in Northern California with his wife, Elizabeth.

Book preview

6:30

THE UGLIES

FADE IN

ROLL CREDITS

PLACE: GARY, INDIANA. TIME: MAYBE NOW, MAYBE THE NEAR-FUTURE.

EXT. GARY, INDIANA. INDUSTRIAL PARK. DAY.

In the background, a steel mill sits vacant and silent under a gray sky. In the foreground, a sign on a rusted chain-link fence reads:

PLANT CLOSED!

NOT ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS!

EXT. GARY, INDIANA. EMPLOYMENT OFFICE. DAY.

We see a long line of grim, hungry UNEMPLOYED MEN AND WOMEN.

ARCH UGLIAS stands near the back of this line. He’s in his mid-thirties, a short, fat, homely man, the kind most of the world ignores.

At the head of the line, the UNEMPLOYMENT OFFICE MANAGER emerges through grimy glass doors, murmurs orders to two PRIVATE SECURITY GUARDS. The Guards enter the building and chain the doors shut behind them.

You can see the distorted reflections of angry faces of the Unemployed in the musty glass doors. A brick flies in from nowhere, shattering the glass.

EXT. GARY, INDIANA. UGLIAS HOUSE. DAY.

The house, a small working-class cottage type, sits on a small unkempt lawn in a neighborhood of similar houses. Once nice and well kept, it’s now like the surrounding neighborhood, sinking into decay and neglect, despair creeping in like weeds.

TESS UGLIAS, Arch’s wife, wearing an ill-fitting, dingy nurse’s uniform, comes out of the house, her purse slung on her shoulder. In her thirties, she’s overweight and homely, like her husband: No one looks at her twice. Nevertheless, she carries herself with domineering hot-headed dignity. You’d better not get her mad.

EXT. GARY, INDIANA. AUTO PLANT PERSONNEL OFFICE. DAY.

Arch shuffles out the door, his head down, hands in his pocket.

INT. GARY GENERAL HOSPITAL. HALLWAY. DAY.

PATIENTS, all of them poor and needy, jam the grimy, noisy hallway. There are only a handful of NURSES and practically no DOCTORS.

Tess wearily pushes through the chaos. An OLD LADY in a wheelchair tugs at her sleeve. Tess bends down to listen, but can’t hear her through the din. Suddenly, the Old Lady slumps in her chair. Alarmed, Tess checks her pulse then looks around for help.

EXT. GARY, INDIANA. GROCERY STORE. DAY.

A frantic riot in a parking lot between POLICE and angry, hungry CITIZENS.

Arch, already facing plenty of trouble, watches timidly from around a corner, then backs away and flees for safety.

INT. GARY GENERAL HOSPITAL. ADMINISTRATOR’S OFFICE. DAY.

Tess holds a pink slip in her trembling hand, her face pale. The ADMINISTRATOR busies himself with other matters as she turns and leaves.

EXT. THE UGLIAS HOUSE. DAY.

Arch’s car, a late-nineties model, almost like new and well cared for, rolls to a stop halfway up the entrance to the driveway, then rolls back. Smoke creeps from under the hood. Foam dice swing from the rearview mirror. An old bumper stick, its slogan mostly scraped away, reads:

AMERICA: LEAVE IT!

The hood pops open and Arch gets out. He coughs and gags as smoke billows out. It takes him only a brief look at the engine to know what’s wrong. He slams the hood shut, cursing. Then, head down in defeat, he trudges up the sidewalk to his house.

END CREDITS.

INT. UGLIAS HOUSE. KITCHEN. DAY.

The presence of Tess sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space, brings Arch up short.

ARCH: What the hell you doin’ home?

Tess grimly nods at the pink slip on the table. Arch picks it up, reads it, crumples it in his hand.

ARCH (short laugh): What, they run out of sick people?

TESS: Run out of money. Profits are down, they said. No severance. Bastards couldn’t even pay me for my last pay period.

She buries her head in her arms.

ARCH (looking away, drifting toward the refrigerator): Well, what’s to eat?

He opens the fridge. It’s nearly empty except for a jar of pickles and a can of Budweiser. Arch chooses the beer and cracks it open it as he nudges the door shut. Again, he tries to laugh.

ARCH: Gotta lose weight anyway.

TESS (raising her head; stricken): This ain’t funny!

Arch mumbles something like yeah and retreats to the living room. Tess angrily watches him go.

INT. UGLIAS HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY.

Fighting to kick back in his old, collapsing recliner, Arch drinks his beer and watches an auto race on the TV. He’s looks content until the image starts to stutter and fracture into pixels.

Tess walks in behind him.

TESS: You watchin’ that again? You’ll wear it out.

ARCH: Ain’t nothin’ else. Besides, I’m in it. (wistfully) Number 43. Firecracker Red.

TESS: What’re we gonna do, Arch?

ARCH (shrugs, drinks beer, licks his lips): Uh, apply at another hospital, I guess.

TESS: You guess—? Where? Arch, the bank wants the mortgage, like tomorrow! We got no phone, can’t pay the electric, the water—

ARCH: Yeah, the car died and we ain’t got the jack for that. Maybe welfare will come through.

TESS: They reformed it, remember? (shaking) Arch, for chrissakes, we’re goin’ hungry.

Arch jumps to his feet, exploding with frustration.

ARCH: What the fuck am I supposed to do, Tess? What d’ya take me for? Superman?

TESS: Superman would’ve picked up some other skill than race car driver. Superman—

ARCH: Superman’s bullshit, Tess.

Arch looks at the race on the pixelating TV screen. A wan smile creases his face.

ARCH: There I go. Big Leadfoot they called me. Shit, I won this one. Still got that feelin’.

TESS: It’s an old DVD, Arch. It’s over.

Arch downs the last of the beer, crumples the can, pitches it out a nearby open window.

EXT. UGLIAS HOUSE. SIDE YARD. DAY.

The empty beer can lands in a big pile of cans that have accumulated over time. Arch’s and Tess’s voices drift from inside the house.

TESS: What’re we gonna do?

ARCH: Damned if I know ….

EXT. MUNCIE, INDIANA. A SMALL BANK BRANCH. DAY.

A quiet sunny day. A few PASSERSBY roam the streets. Suddenly:

BANK ALARM.

Six armed MASKED BANDITS, a couple of them slinging small bags of money, burst out the door of the bank, split up in groups of three and pile into two getaway cars that are pulling up at the curb.

The cars tear away at top speed. POLICE CARS quickly give pursuit.

INT. FRANK REGIS’S CAR. DAY.

Craggy-faced FRANK REGIS is too old to be a bank robber, but age doesn’t seem to be an issue with him as he leans out the rear window and blasts away with a pistol at the pursuing cop cars.

CARLOS LARIOS, one of his accomplices and many years younger than Frank, blasts away out the other window.

JOE HALLINAN, as crusty as his old friend of Frank, fires his shotgun from the rear seat.

TINY, the driver, keeps his hands on the wheel, his eyes on the road, and the pedal to the metal.

Police bullets spatter the car. Suddenly, Tiny flinches and cries out. He’s been hit!

The speeding car wavers, almost sails off the road, but Tiny manages to hang on.

EXT. MUNCIE, INDIANA. INTERSECTION. DAY.

A LARGE VAN sits on a side street. Behind its wheel sits SHELLY, a very attractive but punky young woman, late twenties, sports close-cropped hair, earrings, and tattoos.

The two getaway cars flash through the intersection.

Shelly drives the van out into the middle of the intersection. Oil sprays out from the rear bumper, coating the street.

As the van zooms away, the Police cars hit the oil slick, spinning out of control, allowing the Bandits to escape.

EXT. INDIANA COUNTRYSIDE. NIGHT.

The six Bandits stand around a