Script

1. Piano Man (working title)
by
Nicholas Walker
Nicholas Walker
3816 S. Figueroa St.
760.445.5354

2. INT. NICHOLS’ HOUSEHOLD - LIVING ROOM
JOSEPH NICHOLS sits in what is obviously his recliner. He
watches his large flat screen television, drink on the table
next to him. He eases back in his chair, on the verge of
dozing off when...
BEN NICHOLS darts past, screaming, followed closely by RILEY
NICHOLS who squirts him with a brightly colored water pistol.
Joseph, startled, sits straight up in his chair, knocking his
drink to the floor.
JOSEPH
Damnit Ry! Not in the house! That’s
an outside toy!
The two children either don’t hear or don’t care.
Joseph gets out of his chair and grabs a roll of paper towels
from the kitchen.
As Joseph dabs up his spilt drink from the carpet...
DING, the door bell.
RILEY
Someone’s at the door!
Joseph stands and heads to the door, towels in hand.
I/E. NICHOLS’ HOUSEHOLD - FRONT DOOR
A PIZZA GUY stands at the front door, large heat bag in hand,
patiently waiting.
Joseph swings open the door and gives the Pizza Guy a puzzled
look.
JOSEPH
Can I help you?
PIZZA GUY
Joe Nichols?
Riley chases Ben back past the front door, squirting him,
behind her father.
JOSEPH
(to Riley)
Hey! No more!
Riley freezes, seeing the Pizza Guy.

3. 2.
RILEY
PIZZA!
JOSEPH
No, it’s a mistake.
PIZZA GUY
You’re not Joseph Nichols?
RILEY
Piz-za, piz-za, piz-za!
JOSEPH
No, no, I am, I just didn’t order
any pizza.
Riley shoots her Dad in the back with her water pistol.
JOSEPH (CONT'D)
AH! HEY!
He spins around and Riley takes off to the other room.
The Pizza Guy reaches into his bag. Joseph turns back towards
him, trying to halt the transaction.
JOSEPH (CONT'D)
Just wait, I didn’t order...
Pizza Guy removes a semi-automatic hand gun, with silencer,
from his pizza bag and fires two shots into Joseph’s chest
sending him to the ground.
The paper towels rolls out away from Joseph out the front
door.
Pizza Guy throws his pizza hat off, and steps over Joseph. He
shoots him one final time in the head, before walking away.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. PIANO BAR - NIGHT
SCOTT MCTIERNAN, a man in his late fifties, is closing down
the bar. He cleans a few glasses and loads them into a
carrier taking them into the back.
The Pizza Guy, now dressed in a suit with no tie, enters the
bar.
Scott returns from the back, and greets the KILLER with a
smile.

4. 3.
Scott checks the clock on the wall, 1:15 am.
SCOTT
Late night, pal. What’ll ya have?
The Killer plants himself on a bar stool.
KILLER
Scotch and soda.
Scott mixes the drink.
KILLER (CONT'D)
Appreciate it.
The Killer takes a sip and nods in approval.
KILLER (CONT'D)
Decent.
Scott turns to clean up some more glasses.
SCOTT
Anything else I can get ya? I got
last call comin’ up.
KILLER
You Scott McTiernan.
Scott turns, his face betrays him.
The Killer pulls his gun from inside his jacket.
KILLER (CONT'D)
I’ll take another.
Scott makes his drink. He moves to bring it to the Killer,
but he motions for him to stop.
KILLER (CONT'D)
Slide it.
Scott obliges, sliding it with the ease of a practiced
barkeep.
KILLER (CONT'D)
You don’t seem surprised.
SCOTT
I guess, I always thought it might
catch up with me.

5. 4.
KILLER
The others didn’t.
The Killer stands.
KILLER (CONT'D)
Come out from behind the bar.
He motions with his gun.
Scott moves slowly; stopping before making it all the way
around the bar.
SCOTT
Wait...
The Killer holds.
SCOTT (CONT'D)
Just. Wait.
Scott looks around the room for something, anything.
He finds the old PIANO on the far side of the bar. He motions
towards it.
SCOTT (CONT'D)
Can I...?
The Killer walks slowly to the front door and locks it. He
flicks Scott towards the piano with his gun.
Scott goes to his piano, again moving slowly, trying to
extend every moment.
Scott slides his hands across the old, wooden piano. He
takes his time and lifts the cover over the keys.
Scott lays his hands on the keys and plays a chord, and then
another.
He freezes.
Scott takes a few long deep breaths, lays his hands on the
keys, and starts to play.
The music starts simply, a pair of repeating chords, played
with one hand. Scott hovers over the keys with his other
hand; unable to start the melody.
He stops, half expecting the end to come right there.

6. 5.
After a moment, Scott adjusts himself on the bench and starts
again, slower.
The piece takes shape; it’s some unknown tune, one you
couldn’t place, even on a bet.
As he plays, Scott enjoys the music, losing himself in it,
letting it take him to some other place.
BLAP! The music stops with the sound of the silenced gun
firing. The blast blows through Scott’s forehead, leaving an
exit wound the size of a golf ball.
Scott falls face first onto the keys, as blood splayed across
the piano
The Killer sits, gun smoking from the shot, and slams back
the last of his drink.
He holsters his weapon, stands, buttons his jacket, all the
while never breaking focus from Scott.
He leaves, as Scott’s blood seeps into the cracks between the
keys of the piano.