STOCK PHOTO STORYBOARDS

Deadly Confrontation In Suburbia Leaves Maureen Fighting For Life

That’s right… it’s another Stock Photo Storyboard adventure from everyone’s favourite Penguin Worldbuilder.

Here’s the second instalment of Stock Photo Storyboards. This is a little suburban drama involving a woman called Maureen and a surprise visitor. As I’m a world builder by nature, I should let you know this confrontation is taking place down the road from Eric and his dysfunctional penis. AND it’s taking place at exactly the same time

I don’t know where exactly they all are, but I can tell you this for free. It’s one hell of a street to live on.

FADE IN:

INT. LIVING ROOM — DAY

A suburban living room, whiter than a KKK Christmas party. It’s the middle of the day but the curtains are drawn. Despite the daylight streaming in a candle has been lit, presumably to mask a smell. We’re being bombarded with vanilla.

KATYA (38) sits opposite MAUREEN (49), they have been here a long while. The sound of a ticking clock cuts through the silence.

KATYA speaks with an Eastern European accent.

KATYA: I vill ask again…

MAUREEN: I’ve told you, I don’t know.

KATYA: You don’t know?

MAUREEN: No.

KATYA: You call me over to ‘problem solve’ but you don’t know how he died?

MAUREEN: He was fine yesterday.

KATYA: Yesterday shmesterday. What is so difficult about understanding your job as ‘agent who sleeps’

MAUREEN: We say ‘Sleeper Agent’

KATYA: No, we say whatever I say we say… or with, how you say, one flick of a lickedy split, you will have Polonium drinkshake. Now… where is body?

MAUREEN: I put him behind the sofa.

KATYA: Out of view. Very good… and you draw curtain to hide from nosy neighbours and light small Wannilla candle to mask smell from his shitting pants as he died, yes?

MAUREEN: It’s actually vanilla and hibiscus, I got it from the market…

KATYA: Always, in the West, with the… markets.

MAUREEN: Look… it’s my first time killing someone… I panicked, I need you to get rid of the body.

KATYA: Da, In good time.

MAUREEN: There’s no time! My neighbour‘s marriage is on the rocks and she comes over twice a day to complain about her feckless husband.

KATYA: I vant to know vhat happened.

MAUREEN: I… I…hit him.

KATYA: With vhat?

Maureen points to the corner of the room

MAUREEN: See that hanging plant?

KATYA: Da

MAUREEN: Also from the market, I used it as an improvised mace.

KATYA: With chain?

MAUREEN: yes.

KATYA: Then it is flail, not mace, your weapon training is poor. You hit him, and he went over like…how you say, sack of shit?

MAUREEN: Yes.

There is a moaning sound from behind the sofa.

VLAD: She’s… the… double…. agent.

A pause lasting somewhere between a milisecond and an eternity. MAUREEN makes her move but the remote controlled chip inside her brain activates and she is struck with a migraine.

MAUREEN: Wha… what have you done?

KATYA: You are poor agent of sleeping. We have microchip in all agent brains… Blistering headache when attack… we steal idea from Buffy the Slayer of Wampires.

MAUREEN: I…

KATYA: And we learn at training camps not to hit at back of head with houseplant or other decorative items, is for amateur, the Buster Keatons or Lauren and Harldy.

MAUREEN: Laurel and Hardy?

KATYA: We, how you say, chop with extreme precision just above the fourth cervical vertebra at the point at which the common artery bifurcates into the Internal and External arteries, simultaneously stopping the flow of oxygen to the brain and the rest of the face and head.

MAUREEN: (Stunned) That’s exactly how we say it.

KATYA strikes, quick like a viper catching Maureen off guard.

KATYA: HiiiiiYAH!

KATYA: Now, I will take your fluffy cushions, your wannilla candle, your odd external brick wall finish, and also your whole house. I will live as Maureen’s visiting sister from Bognor Regis and put you in cellar for safekeeping.

VLAD(O.S): Is she dead?

KATYA: Did chop at throat.

VLAD (O.S): Classic.

KATYA: Old ways are the best. Now get up before angry neighbour with floppy penis silly husband comes round for complain.

FADE TO BLACK

Want to know who the floppy penis silly husband is? Got you covered.