INT. BASEMENT – DAY Smoke stings her eyes. The obscenely long ash on the end of her cigarette sags under its own weight. MARGARET, 67, with a recently permed mop of white hair on her head, focuses through her reading glasses at a tangle of black wires running through what appears to be some sort of bomb. An ominous, electronic ticking can be heard over the hum of a clothes drier. Sitting across from her at a card table under a single incandescent bulb is her son JIM, 43. JIM: Maybe you should put out the cigarette so you can see what you’re doing. She lowers the bomb and squints at him over her glasses. MARGARET: You wanna go at it? He just raises his hands as if to say, I ain’t touching that. MARGARET: Thought so… Y’see, problem is, movies always get it wrong. Colored wires? Really? No self-respecting munitions expert is gonna give you a clue as to which wire does what. It’s always about sequences and circuits. Simple electrical engineering. JIM: Maybe you could hurry it along a bit. Start cutting or something? I mean… we got a house full of 12 year olds. He looks to the basement ceiling. The patter of footsteps on the floorboards acts as a reminder. Margaret turns the bomb over in her hands, studying it. MARGARET: We got time. At least a minute, best I can tell. The sound of a door opening followed by a female voice from the top of the stairs: FEMALE: Jim? You and Mom about finished down there? We’re almost ready for cake. JIM: Just a minute dear. He looks to his mother, imploring. MARGARET: I don’t like how she calls me “Mom”. JIM: She’s trying, okay? I didn’t even want to invite you. It was her idea. It would be nice if you made an effort. MARGARET: (re: bomb) You think you could handle this on your own? JIM: If you weren’t here, do you think there’d be a bomb in my basement? She points at a toolbox on the table. MARGARET: Just hand me the needle nose pliers and the dikes. He does so quickly, then wipes his brow and looks up to the ceiling at the muffled laughter. Margaret nimbly rearranges and then cuts some wires. She really seems to be enjoying herself. She separates the bomb from what appears to be a detonator and sets the business end into a grocery sack on the floor. The drier BUZZES loudly. Jim jumps from his chair, knocking it over. She stubs out her cigarette into an ashtray. MARGARET: There. Let’s go have some cake. She rises from her chair and grabs the detonator, studying it. She smiles. MARGARET: (to herself) Looks like a Hector. Thought he was taken out last year. She stuffs it in her purse as she makes for the stairs. Jim points to the grocery sack containing what we have to presume is deadly explosives. JIM: What about that? MARGARET: (tapping her purse) Harmless without this. I’ll send someone for it later. Jim gently slides it under the table with his foot and then follows his mother up the stairs, shaking his head.

Smoke stings the Witch’s eyes. She closes the oven door. GRETEL: So…? WITCH: Let’s just say we’re not going to win Confectioner Of The Year with those cupcakes. Gretel sweeps the mixing bowl and ingredients angrily off the table. The witch’s cat flees, flour-dusted and yowling. GRETEL: Arrgghh! I told you ten minutes! WITCH: ‘Foolproof’, you said! GRETEL: ‘Guaranteed to lure Hansel back here,’ I said. You think I wanted this to happen? As long as Hansel’s alive, the inheritance goes to him! No happy return home for me, no smiles and hugs – they’ll all be for Daddy’s darling boy! WITCH: I’m hungry. She eyes Gretel thoughtfully. She can think of a way to solve that! GRETEL: Hey! Mind on the plan, Miss Pointy-Nose! Once we get Number One Son back into our clutches, then you eat. What have we got left in the larder? WITCH: Marzipan. Sugar. Yellow food coloring. GRETEL: Really? I have an idea.

INT. ALVIN'S BODY AND AUTO REPAIR - DAY Smoke stings his eyes. Pain rouses him from his stupor. ALVIN: Shit. Ow. Shit. Alvin scans his surroundings, looks down to see his feet bound to a steel chair, arms bound to its back. Deborah takes a long draw from her cigar and as she straddles him, she blows a jet of smoke into his face to draw his attention. She glares at him, menace in her eyes. DEBORAH: Just the three of us. All alone. What do you say? ALVIN: I don't know anything. DEBORAH: Alvin, Alvin, Alvin... how long have we know each other? Do you honestly think I can't tell when you're lying? ALVIN: Seriously, I can't help you. DEBORAH: You just need the right incentive... You and the people you work for know all about the power of incentive. ALVIN: I'm telling you again, I don't know anything. I swear. DEBORAH: Fine, we can do this the hard way. Deborah glances over his shoulder. Alvin turns his head to look behind, only to find Grace handling a dangerous looking power tool. DEBORAH: So many toys to play with in here... it's just a question of time before we find something that will help you remember. Deborah pulls away his work shirt, presses the burning end of her cigar into his shoulder. We hear a slight sizzle. Alvin screams in excruciating pain. Fear crosses his face as he realizes just how deep the shit he's in is. DEBORAH: Let's start with you telling us where McIntyre's holding our daughter.

INT – BOY’S BATHROOM – DAY Smoke stings his eyes as Johnny steps through the door. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes for a moment before realizing he’s not alone. JOHNNY: Hello? The door on the last stall CREAKS and 3 boys, each bigger than Johnny, emerge, cigarettes in hand. The tallest boy, the LEADER, steps ahead of the others, eyeing Johnny with contempt. He wears a denim vest with a black shirt underneath featuring a flaming skull. LEADER: Hello Narc. Johnny glances down at the Hall Monitor sash across his vest. He steps backward only to run into the wall. Only, it is not a wall. Johnny turns and stares at a giant chest. Craning his neck upward he looks upon the face of HOSS REYNOLDS, a fifth grader by title only. A bit of stubble dots his upper lip. LEADER: Hoss don’t like Narcs. Johnny steps away from the brute, bumping against one of the sinks. He has never been this scared. JOHNNY: Um, hey fellas.. I just need to use the bathroom. This is my first day and I’m, um, I’m not really on duty yet… The four boys crowd in closer. The Leader takes a long drag on his cigarette, stifles a cough. LEADER: You sure look like you’re on duty. What do you think boys? The boys respond with a nods and yeahs. Hoss merely grunts. Johnny trembles and tugs on his sash. He somehow summons a bit of courage. JOHNNY: I don’t, um, think you guys are supposed to be smoking.. The Leader laughs and the boys follow suit. LEADER: You gonna stop us Narc? Johnny starts to slide away when Hoss’s giant paw stops him. The big boy shakes his head. The Leader steps closer and blows smoke at Johnny who coughs. LEADER: Since you’re new here, let me show you how things work in this school. Johnny begins squirming but Hoss’s vice-like grip will not let him move. He clinches his eyes shut as the Leader draws his right hand back into a fist. VOICE (O.S.): Am I interrupting something? Everyone in the room turns toward the new voice. A sixth grader stands at the door. It is RYAN MOORE, captain of the Hall Monitor Corps. His sash is covered in medals and ribbons. His demeanor screams authority. The boys instantly straighten and flick their cigarettes into the sink. The Leader's tough exterior is gone. LEADER: Oh hey Captain. We was just introducing one of your new officers to our school. That’s all. Right fellas? The boys nod. They are the ones scared now. Hoss’s expression never changes. RYAN: Aren’t you all the nicest? I think he’s been introduced enough. Get out of here. Not needing to be told twice the Leader and his stoolies hustle out of the bathroom. Hoss lingers a moment then stares daggers at Ryan as he leaves. Johnny nearly collapses in relief. RYAN: I bet they don’t make em like Hoss where you come from do they? JOHNNY: No sir. At my school, my old school, boys like that are on the football team. And seniors… Ryan chuckles and extends his hand. RYAN: Captain Ryan Moore. And you must be JOHNNY EDWARDS, our newest transfer. Johnny stands to attention and shakes the Captain’s hand. RYAN: Welcome to Pinewood Elementary.

INT. DINING ROOM 'BLACK CAT' - Evening Smoke stings her eyes, she looks at the burned food in the wok. Mikey gets in a sweat, coughs, opens the door. Her gut tells her the four men in the shabby dining area aren’t forgiving. Where the hell is their cook? He should have been here by now. BLACK JACKET MAN: hey (he snaps with his fingers) …how long before we have to eat you? He points his finger at her, a smirk on his face. The other men laugh, clap his hand. He must be the boss. MIKEY: doing my very best to serve you only the best Mikey serves the burned food on the plates. It looks like trouble is on its way. She must extend time to make something eatable. A black cat whips onto the counter, smells the food, runs off. MIKEY: you don’t like my food either, huh The door bell announces a new guest. A man and a girl walk in. Before they can sit one of the men shows them the door. Out. MIKEY: that’s a customer, you can’t do that BLACK JACKET MAN: we did Mean laughter. BLACK JACKET MAN: when is your friend here? He has something that belongs to us MIKEY: I told you, I don’t know MIKEY cast a look into the refrigerator. She mixes some fruits and pours whiskey on top of it, ready to serve them a desert before dinner, that will give her extra time. MIKEY: why not celebrate this evening and start with something delicious first (serves the men the desert) One of the men pinches her butt. OTHER MAN: looks delicious to me MIKEY runs off to the kitchen. She mixes some detergent in the sauce, adds lots of chili, and covers the burned food with lots of the sauce. That will hold them back, she thinks. Nervously she walks up to the men to serve them the food. MIKEY: enjoy gentlemen Like hungry pigs they gobble their meal. MIKEY looks scared. Where the hell are her friend and the police? The black cat wraps its tail around her leg before it takes off. Feedback appreciated.

love this, a new take on the story. Curious how this will end.

CLOSE ON an OLD WOMAN, smoke stings her eyes. We are-- INT. COTTAGE - DAY The smoke emanates from a century-old IRON STOVE, where the old woman, ADELA, stokes a fire with a POKER. This is no cooking fire though. Through the open door of the stove we see COLORFUL CANVASES-- Impressionist paintings-- poking out of the KINDLING. Her son, ALEXI, paces nervously behind her. He stops next to two additional OIL PAINTINGS-- a VAN GOGH and a RENOIR, stripped of their gilded frames, blasphemed on the worn tile floor of this dark hut. ALEXI: Come on, we have to get these in there. ADELA: Patience, Alexi. It will starve the flame. Alexi returns to pacing. Adela continues to stoke the fire, her shoulders tense as Alexi circles at her back. ADELA (CONT’D): Will you stop that walking you are like a caged leopard it’s making me anxious! Alexi abruptly stops. ALEXI: You don’t seem to be at all worried! ADELA: I am not. ALEXI: These are not nice men, mother, they will rip ou-- KNOCK KNOCK. Alexi is cut off by two ominous pounds on the heavy wooden door. Adela turns slowly to look at her son. He stands there like a petrified antelope waiting for the lion. Seeing she’ll get no help from him, she strides over to the door. When she gets there, she grabs a WOODEN WALKING STICK that is leaning against the wall and leans on it heavily, faking frailty. She opens the door a crack, a sliver of daylight streams in. Alexi runs over and shoves the VAN GOGH and RENIOR PAINTINGS into the fire hastily. ADELA: Hello, Dinu. Now is not a good time. Adela opens the door a little wider and we see a sweet old Romanian gentleman, DINU, with his hat in his hand. DINU: Accept my apologies Adela, for surprising you. But I wanted to ask if you would have dinner with me tomorrow evening? ADELA: Yes, sure. Delighted. See you then bye now. Adela closes the door on the smiling Dinu and turns to Alexi with a twinkle in her wrinkled eye. ADELA (CONT’D): He wants to sleep with me, you know. ALEXI: Are you really talking to me about having sex with Dinu? Adela goes back to stoking the fire. ADELA: You are such a prude, you know that?

INT. CORRIDOR, DEPT. HOMELAND SECURITY - NIGHT Smoke stings Kyle's eyes as he and Stan hustle down the corridor. KYLE: (coughing) Jeez, how many grenades did you use? STAN: All of them. KYLE: Seriously? I told you to just use two. You put all six in the main air vent? STAN: Don't be stupid, Kyle. I put four in the main vent and the other two in the secondary. KYLE: Oh, just four in the main vent... Stan, why on God's earth would you do that? It's not going to take me even two minutes to boost Cartman's vault. STAN: Yeah, but I figure we need more time to deal with the last minute wrinkle he put in place for extra security. KYLE: What are you talking about? What extra security? As they approach the end of the corridor, we hear a deep growl from around the corner that leads to Eric Cartman's office. An ornery looking black panther pads into view. It stops, blocking their path, stares at them and growls menacingly. STAN: Did I mention the big cat? Kyle stares incredulously at Stan, then at the panther. KYLE: (nervously) Kitty, kitty ??

INT. URBAN BLIND PIG — AFTER MIDNIGHT Smoke stings her eyes as NOE sits through another set, slowly nursing a vodka-rocks. She watches guitarist KAL to the exclusion of the rest of his bandmates. KAL watches NOE, too, blinking away the filmy haze of cigarette and pot smoke as he performs. The set ends. KAL breaks down and stows his portion of the equipment on the band’s dais. NOE stands, abandoning what’s left of her drink to pace in front of her table as she watches and waits. CLOSE ON KAL as he approaches NOE, leaning in tight to whisper in her ear KAL: You deliberately teased the fuck out of me all evening, didn’t you? NOE: Who, me? Hell no, I— KAL cuts her off, gripping her chin in his hand as he kisses her breathless, pulling away only after he feels her relax. NOE’s eyes are heavy, her mouth slack, prompting KAL to smirk. KAL: Yeah, you. Your nasty little skirt kept slipping all night. Every time I looked down I got a flash of your thighs. Muffled shouts and breaking glass wrenches KAL’s attention away from NOE. Their heads turn in tandem, looking for the source of the noise. KAL grips her upper arms and pulls her toward him as he whispers in her ear. KAL: It’s a raid. NOE: (panicky) Shit, I can’t be here, my husband— Wild-eyed, she clutches at his arms as he jerks her along, dragging her toward the back door.

Argh...why do I always find the typo/grammar error AFTER the editing window closes? *sigh* wrenches = wrench

Great stuff, people! Smoke from cigars, cigarettes, pot, cooking. And interestingly almost all the scenes are dark, edgy. Perhaps the combination of "smoke" and "stings" connotes that. I'm impressed at how these scenes end in such a way as to create a question. Something happens, but they're [by and large] open-ended which naturally makes me want to turn the page. That is a good thing! So a hearty well-done to everyone. Come back Monday for another week of scene-writing exercises. And again, if you have any suggestions for prompts, post them here.

I'm almost tempted to write it and find out... :)

Recently, I saw a video talk in which the director of Elizabeth explained how he introduced this famous character in the movie. This brings up the suggestion: write an introduction or openings scene for a famous, iconic or historical person (may also be a living one). Another suggestion: write a robbery scene for a bank or something else.

INT. LAB - NIGHT Smoke stings her eyes. ADDISON, a relentless busy bee with no time for lunch, whips her face away from the sparks and smoke pouring from the ROBOT. ADDISON What did they do to you? Addison's lab coat is filthy to put it kindly. She pulls tools from the deepest parts of her pocket. ERIC, her slave of an assistant stumbles across the brightly lit lab. Equipment, used parts, failed experiments litter the cramped working space. A mostly sterile environment isn't immune to dirty corners. ADDISON Extra wires, now. ERIC How many? ADDISON All of them. Eric disappears through the double swinging doors. Addison prods under the robot's chest plate. Another spark. An arm twitch. Limbs seize in nonrhythmic fashion. Scuffling and struggling from beyond the door grabs Addison's eyes. DOUBLE DOORS Doors blasted open. MR. JENKS, shriveled inside a suit, is a strong faced and weak bodied 50 year old. Two SOLDIERS loyally stay on his flanks. JENKS Get her our of here. ADDISON One mistake will not be my fate. He will operate. JENKS It was over the minute you let that thing loose on my people. ADDISON They were worth it. And they aren't the only ones. JENKS You are done. This has to end. ADDISON This is something that can't be ended. Addison slips her hand behind the robots neck. Eyes light up. Arms tense and cocked. The soldiers charge the robot. Two smashes and a crack leave the soldiers incapacitated. Addison leans back behind her confident smirk. Jenks raises a remote device. JENKS This button on this little gadget will reduce your robotic mistake to nothing more than an art sculpture. Sure, all the equipment in a 500 foot radius will meet the same fate, but it's worth it. A BANG echoes shatters Jenks train of thought and his ribs. Jenks assesses his abdomen. Blood waterfalls down his shirt. Security alarms wake up and scream for attention. Addison keeps the hot, smokey gun aimed at her dying target. Black gun lead brushed on her finger. The smoke stings her eyes.