FADE IN:
INT. HOUSE - DAY
A white curtain blocks the window’s view.
PAUL, stout and tanned, moves the curtain and surveys the outside
GARDEN
Desolate, dry and lifeless except for a giant cactus in the middle of the yard.
Nasty, green, vaguely phallic, it displays a freaky pink flower on top. Opposite to the cactus glitters a mailbox.
HOUSE
Paul pulls the skin on his cheeks, grabs his big gun.
He kneels in front of the door, opens it and crawls outside in the
GARDEN
Like a majestic cobra, on his belly, gun stuck in the belt on his back.
Paul crawls to the mailbox, stands up to open it when
WHOOSH!
The cactus fires a thorn at him. Paul crouches down.
He checks inside the open mailbox from the ground and tries to keep his head down when
WHOOSH!
The cactus fires again.
PAUL
Son of a --
The thorn sticks in his left cheek.
Paul draws out his gun, stands and aims at the cactus when
WHOOSH! BANG!
Another thorn sticks in his hand, the bullet misses the cactus.
Paul falls on his back like a reversed turtle. He kicks the mailbox closed, rolls on his belly and crawls all the way back inside the house.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The thorns fly over his head and impale the door.
INT. HOUSE - LATER
Paul moves the curtain from the window. The thorns fired are grown back on the cactus.
Paul shakes his head and sits at the small desk under the window. He opens a
LAPTOP SCREEN
E-mail sender: Maria
Subject: Help is on the way
Message: Wait for my sign.
BACK TO SCENE
Paul checks the bullets in his gun then throws it on the desk.
PAUL
Bloody Eyetalians with secret codes!
Paul seizes his gun and dashes to the window. The cactus’s flower catches his eye. He aims at it, opens the window and
BANG! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The pink flower explodes. Paul slams the window, the glass blocks the thorns.
PAUL
There you go, old man!
A big smile opens on his face. He closes the curtain, throws his gun away and presses play on a CD player.
“Bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do...” cheers up the house. Paul dances like a warrior around a bonfire.
EXT. GARDEN - DAY
Paul crawls to the mailbox.
WHOOSH!
The cactus misses him. Paul opens the mailbox and retrieves a postcard.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The cactus misses him.
BANG! BANG!
Paul misses the cactus then crawls back to the house with the postcard.
INT. HOUSE - LATER
Paul sits at his desk and examines the
POSTCARD
On the front, an immaculate beach in Sardinia.
On the back, one word: WATER
BACK TO SCENE
Paul turns the postcard in his hands, again and again.
PAUL
Bloody Eyetalians!
He drops the postcard, stands up and spies outside the window.
Paul scratches his head as he sees the exploded flower and the missing thorns on the now naked cactus. His teeth shine.
Paul recharges the gun.
EXT. GARDEN - LATER
Paul confronts the cactus. It has no more thorns to fire.
PAUL
Is that all? Come on, bring it
on!
Paul points the gun to the cactus.
A strong wind brushes his hair with an eerie sound.
Paul looks around him, perplexed. He points the gun again and the wind cries.
Paul lowers his gun. He looks at the mailbox then at the cactus and back.
The wind cries again.
The eerie note gives Paul goose bumps on his tanned arm.
He looks at the mailbox.
LATER
Paul confronts the cactus armed with a plastic bottle. He waters the cactus and waits.
The pink flower grows back on top of it, as well as its thousand deadly thorns.
Paul swallows.
The wind blows. No thorns fired.
Paul lowers his head, smiles and shuffles back inside the house with the empty bottle.
FADE OUT.
