For those who don't mind images of chained hands but are allergic to four-letter words, here's a little WARNING:  The following contains strong language.  And while we're on the subject, the final film will, in all likelihood, receive an R rating for the afore-mentioned strong language plus some violence, nudity, and sexual content.

By the way,
Survey
, including this portion as well as the sides found via the casting page, is copyrighted and registered with the WGA.


Survey the Script

(but only a portion)




FADE IN:

 

CLOSE ON --

 

An upper-middle class house.  Small, manicured lawn.  Urban.  Very still.  Nothing moves.

 

TITLE SEQUENCE BEGINS

 

Pull back to reveal that the image of the house is a photograph on a desk.

 

Another photo flips down on top of the one of the house -- a close-up of the front door and house number.

 

More follow:

 

A night shot through the kitchen window of a MAN and WOMAN eating dinner.

 

The woman out for an early-morning jog.

 

The man carrying groceries toward the house.

 

The man, in a robe, retrieving the newspaper from the front stoop.

 

The couple embracing in the yard.  Talking.  They look very happy.

 

A Beamer in the drive.

 

The car’s tag.

 

As the credits end --

 

FADE TO BLACK

 

FADE IN ON:

 

INT. OFFICE - MORNING

 

Very modern.  Almost Spartan.  Very little color.  Desk and computer.  Two chairs for visitors/clients.  A couple of modernist black and white photos adorn the walls. 


The closed door swings open.  The man from the photographs enters.  JARROD PRUITT, late 30s and very GQ, closes the door behind him. 

 

Ready to start the day, he turns toward his desk.

 

INT. BEDROOM – EARLIER THAT MORNING

 

This is not the room of an unemployed slacker.  Spacious.  Sparse like the office.  A bedside table.  A desktop computer against the wall.  A few artsy paintings and photos.

 

The neatness cannot be missed.  Nothing appears to be out of place.  No clothes litter the floor.  No frame is even a centimeter off center.  There isn’t even that thin layer of dust on the computer screen.

 

In the king-size bed, Jarrod sleeps on his back, rigid as a corpse.  Beside him --

 

A woman, sprawled on her stomach, face toward the far wall, but it must be the same woman from the photos.

 

The ALARM CLOCK HUMS.

 

Though the low sound wouldn’t dent most people’s sleep, Jarrod awakes immediately and with ease. 

 

He sits up and shuts off the alarm.  If it wasn’t clear before, it is now evident that he has kept himself in excellent shape.

 

INT. OFFICE

 

His briefcase now on his desk, Jarrod removes his suit coat and, with great care, hangs it on a rack on the back of the door.

 

INT. BEDROOM

 

Jarrod leans toward the woman --

 

Places a gentle hand on her bare back and caresses.

                                                                        JARROD
Time to get up, baby doll.


He kisses her shoulder.

 

INT. OFFICE

 

Sitting at his desk, Jarrod presses the button to fire up his computer.

 

While it’s booting up, he shifts to his briefcase and pulls out a file folder.

 

He closes his case and sets it on the floor beside his desk.

 

INT. BEDROOM

 

Jarrod, in his boxers, stands at the foot of the bed.  His wife still hasn’t budged.

 

His hand goes to her blanket-covered ankle.  A gentle tug.

 

                                                   JARROD

Come on, Molly, you need the car today, remember?

 

She stirs.  Rises to her elbows.  Rubs her face.  Twists her body around to look at Jarrod.

 

MOLLY is a good ten years younger than her husband.  Even three-quarters still asleep, her face exudes a sort of naïve innocence.

 

INT. OFFICE

 

With the file spread out on his desk, Jarrod reaches forward to get a pen from the holder.  Stops --

 

Returns it --

 

Slides open a drawer, instead --

 

Retrieves his hands-free phone attachment.

 

Puts it on, his movements almost prim.

 

With it in place, he dials a number. 

 

On the second RING --


                                                 FLORIST (O.S.)

Gayle’s Florist.  We deliver only the finest.  Our regular business hours are  --

 

Jarrod disconnects.

 

INT. BEDROOM

 

Fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, Jarrod reenters.

 

As he passes the foot of the bed, Molly’s hand darts out and grabs the towel, pulling him toward her.

 

He resists, staying at arms length.

 

On her knees at the edge of the bed and wearing panties, one of Jarrod’s unbuttoned shirts, and a mischievous smile, Molly maintains her grip.

 

                                                 MOLLY

                                   We have time.

 

                                                 JARROD

No, baby, you have your meeting and I still have a few things  to prepare for today.

 

Her smile fades into a pout.

 

                                                  JARROD

We can save it for tonight, okay?

 

Jarrod takes her hands and steps close.  He kisses her on the forehead.

 

                                                  JARROD

My princess will be ready for tonight, won’t she? 

 

Molly nods, resigned.

 

                                                  JARROD

                                    Good.  Now, I need my shirt.


Ever obedient, Molly shrugs it off.

 

INT. OFFICE

 

Pen in hand, Jarrod examines the report before him.

 

EXT. HIGH-RISE OFFICE BUILDING – MORNING

 

The car from the earlier photo pulls to a stop alongside the curb.

 

INT. CAR

 

Molly shifts the car into park. 

 

Now all suited up, Jarrod unlatches his seatbelt.

 

                                                  MOLLY

                                    Pick you up at five?

 

                                                  JARROD

                                    Absolutely.

 

He leans over for a hug and a peck.

 

Their faces remain close.

 

               JARROD
I’m really looking forward to             tonight.

 

               MOLLY

And it’s going to be a long one, so       make sure you don’t wear yourself    out today. 

 

A deeper, longer kiss.

 

His right hand caresses her waist and hip.

 

                                                    JARROD

What did I ever do to deserve you?

 

She answers with a final peck at his lips.


Briefcase in hand, he opens the door to get out but stops.


                                                    JARROD

                                    What time is your meeting?

 

She glances at --

 

THE DASHBOARD CLOCK -- 8:40

 

                                                    MOLLY

                                    Twenty minutes.

 

                                                    JARROD

                                    Enjoy yourself.

                                                                      MOLLY                                      (laughs)

Yeah, right. 

 

Jarrod gets out of the car and leans back inside.

 

                JARROD
I love you.

 

                MOLLY

I love you, too.

 

EXT. CAR

 

Jarrod closes the door and steps back.  He watches as --

 

Molly pulls away.

 

Then he turns and heads for the building’s entrance.

 

INT. OFFICE

 

Jarrod continues his examination of the document.

 

A KNOCK --

 

The door opens before Jarrod can speak -- 

 

BILL LUMLEY, Jarrod’s boss, pokes his head inside.

 

                                                      BILL

                                    Hey, Jare, what’s up?


                                                      JARROD

                                    Not much, just got in.

 

Unbidden, Bill walks on inside and plops down in a chair.

 

                                                      BILL

                                    Where’s Grace?

 

                                                      JARROD

                                    She hasn’t made it in yet.

 

Bill crosses one leg over the other and picks tiny bits of lint from his pant’s leg.

 

Jarrod watches Bill flick the lint to the floor.  He works at not scowling.

 

                                                       BILL

Why not? 

 

                   JARROD

I came in early.

 

                    BILL

She’s your assistant.  How can       she assist if she ain't fucking             here?  Get your coffee all that            good stuff.

 

                    JARROD

It’s okay, Bill, I didn’t even tell           her.

 

                    BILL

You’re gonna have to work on this       nice crap when you move                   upstairs.  Can’t be making the             rest of us look like hardasses.

 

                    JARROD

I’ll work on that.

 

                    BILL

Speaking of stepping up, you           ready to roll?


                    JARROD

Just an adjustment or two and it’ll       be perfect.

 

                     BILL

             (standing)

Good deal.  We’re counting on           you, buddy.

 

Jarrod smiles and nods as Bill crosses back to the door.

 

Halfway out, he turns back.

 

                                                          BILL

And I’m serious about Grace.            Make sure she toes the line.

 

                      JARROD

Will do.

 

The door closes.

 

Jarrod glares at it for a moment.

 

                                                         JARROD

                                     Asshole.

 

EXT. CAR

 

The beamer turns a corner.

 

INT. CAR

 

Steering with one hand, Molly punches a button on her cell phone with the other.

 

Waits for an answer.

 

                                                          MOLLY

                                    Hey, it’s me.

                                              (listens)

                                    Yeah, I’m on my way.

                                              (listens)

I know.  I don’t want to                     either, but it’s the only way                until. . .


INT. OFFICE

 

Jarrod circles something on his report.

 

The PHONE RINGS --

 

He looks at it a moment, hoping that Grace has arrived and will answer. 

 

No luck.

 

                                                           JARROD

                                    Jarrod Pruitt.

 

                                                                               TONI (O.S.)
Mr. Pruitt, I’m conducting a               survey --

                                                                              JARROD
Miss, I’m at work.  I really don’t have time for telemarketers.

 

                        TONI (O.S.)

Oh, no, Mr. Pruitt, I’m a psych   student at State.  I despise               telemarketers just as much               as I’m sure you do.

 

Jarrod leans back in his chair, relaxing a bit.

 

                       JARROD
I doubt that you are that                    venomous.

 

                      TONI (O.S.)

                 (laughs)
You might be surprised.  The             reason I called is I’m                         conducting a survey for my                 senior project.

 

                       JARROD

How did you get my work                 number?

 

                       TONI (O.S.)

Your wife was kind enough to --


                        JARROD
I’ll have to speak with her                 about that.  How long will this take?

 

                        TONI (O.S.)

Not long at all, just a few                 questions.

 

Jarrod slides open a desk drawer and removes hand grips, which he begins squeezing.

 

                                                         JARROD

                                    Okay.

 

                     TONI (O.S.)

First, a couple of background             questions.  Your age?

 

                      JARROD

Thirty-eight.

 

                      TONI (O.S.)

Socio-economic status?  Working class, middle class, upper --

 

                                                          JARROD

                                     Upper middle.

 

Realizing how mindless the questions are, Jarrod puts down the grips and leans forward to examine his report.

 

                       TONI (O.S.)

                                      Race?

 

                                                            JARROD

Caucasian.  Thought that was            illegal to ask?

 

                        TONI (O.S.)

Not for scientific studies.

 

Jarrod picks up his pen to make a mark as the caller pauses for a response that is not coming.

 

                         TONI (O.S.)

                                    How long have you been                                                         married?


                                                             JARROD

Three years.  Didn’t you get             this from my wife?

 

                         TONI (O.S.)

Last boring question, I                     promise.  How long were the             two of you together before                 marrying?

 

                          JARROD

Four months.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

How many serious, long-term             romantic relationships have             you had?

 

                          JARROD

You lied.  This is another                     boring one.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

My apologies, we’re almost                 to the good ones.

 

                          JARROD

Depending on your definition             of serious, we’ll say three                 before my wife.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

And you were married once             before?

 

                          JARROD

How did you know that?  Did             Molly tell you?

 

                          TONI (O.S.)
Has a significant other ever               been unfaithful to you?

 

                          JARROD

No.


                          TONI (O.S.)

That you’re aware of, of                   course.

 

                          JARROD

I suppose.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Have you ever been                         unfaithful?

 

                          JARROD

Of course not.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Have you ever killed anyone?

 

This one captures Jarrod’s undivided attention.

 

                                                              JARROD

                                    What?

 

                                                              TONI (O.S.)

Have you ever killed anyone,            say as a member of the                      military in Desert Storm or              anything like that?

 

                          JARROD

No, I haven’t served in the                military and I’ve never killed              anyone.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Hypothetically, if you caught             your spouse with a lover,                 which one of them would you             kill?

 

                                                              JARROD

What kind of ridiculous                     question is that?

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

I’m sorry did I not mention                 that the topic of the study is             infidelity and domestic                     violence?


                          JARROD
No, you did not. 

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

I apologize for the oversight.

 

                          JARROD
Anyway, I am not a violent                 man.  I would never kill                     anyone and especially not my             wife.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Look at the question another way.  With whom would you be most angry?  The lover for invading your home and your wife or your wife for abusing your trust?

 

                          JARROD

Is this the final question?

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Yes, I promise.

 

                          JARROD

My wife.  I suppose I would be most angry with my wife.

 

                          TONI (O.S.)

Thank you, Jason, you have been a big help.

 

                          JARROD

You’re wel -- My name is Jarrod.  Why would you call me Jason?

 

                                                              TONI (O.S.)

Did I?  I apologize.  Man, I seem to be doing that a lot.  Jason’s the next name on my call list.

 

                          JARROD

Well, please, remove my name from your list.


                                                              TONI (O.S.)

                                    Mr. Pruitt --

 

Jarrod disconnects.

 

He glares at the phone.

 

Picking up his pen, he turns back to his report, but --

 

GRACE walks in with a cup of coffee.

 

                                                                GRACE

                                   You’re here early, Mr. Pruitt.

 

                                                                JARROD

Molly needed the car for one of her youth league meetings.

 

She places the cup on Jarrod’s desk.

 

                          GRACE

She is so sweet.

 

                          JARROD

Grace, how many times have I asked you to knock rather than simply barge into my office?

 

                          GRACE

Oh, sorry.

 

Grace heads back toward the door.

 

                          JARROD

Call the florist for me and have them deliver a nice arrangement to Molly about three o’clock.

 

                          GRACE

Any preference of what kind?

 

                          JARROD

Use your own judgment.

 

                          GRACE

A note?


                          JARROD

For my love and my princess.

 

                          GRACE

Nice.

 

INT. PARKING GARAGE

 

The Beamer pulls into a spot.

 

INT. CAR

 

Molly shuts the car off and unlatches her seatbelt.

 

Her CELL PHONE RINGS.

 

                                                            MOLLY

                                     Hey, honey.

 

                                                            JARROD (O.S.)

Did you give my work number to some college student?

 

                        MOLLY

Yeah, she called yesterday.  She was so sweet and needed to talk to --

             

                                                            JARROD (O.S.)

                                    Don’t give my number to anyone.

 

                                                            MOLLY

                                    Okay, I’m sorry.

 

                                                            JARROD (O.S.)

What kinds of questions did she ask you?

 

                         MOLLY

Just little things like how long I’ve known you.

 

                         JARROD (O.S.)

Nothing else?

 

                         MOLLY

Did I do something wrong?


                         JARROD (O.S.)

No, it’s okay.  You know how I feel about strangers, especially nosey ones.  I’ll see you tonight.

 

                          MOLLY

Okay, we’ll --

 

She realizes that Jarrod has hung up.  Stung by his abruptness, she stares at the phone a moment.

 

EXT. CAR

 

The garage is deserted.  Only cars.

 

Molly opens the door and starts to get out, but --

 

Where a moment ago there was no one now stands a large, imposing MAN, wearing a ski mask.

 

He rushes at her and tries to grab the car door.  But he’s just a hair late --

 

Molly yanks it shut.

 

INT/EXT. CAR

 

Panicked, Molly hits the lock button --

 

Fumbles for her keys --

 

A CLICK, Molly’s eyes dart to --

 

The door is unlocked.

 

Her eyes dart back to --

 

The Man holds a keychain remote.  Through the mouth-hole of the ski mask, he grins.

 

Frantic, Molly drops her keys and lurches to lock the door, but --

 

The door jerks open.


The Man grabs her by the wrist, yanking her far enough out of the car to clamp a hand over her mouth before she can scream.

 

                                                            KENNETH

                                         Hello, Molly.




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