On the driveway of a run down house. Tyson pulls up the hard
break.
An EVICTION notice in the center console. He sighs at the
sight of it. Thinks for a second. Taps his fingers. Pulls
out his phone.
TYSON
(into phone )
Mr. Mexico -
An aging home. Vinyl tiles add to the rundown aura. A little
four seater table with a tacky table cloth decorates.
(CONTINUED)
7.
CONTINUED:
Tyson’s wife: KIKI, mid 30s, beautiful Native American woman
with great style - cleans dishes in the sink.
Front door OPENS.
JUNIOR (O.S.)
Daddy!
TYSON (O.S.)
Hey buddy, how was soccer?
JUNIOR (O.S.)
We won!
Tyson carries their son JUNIOR, 7, from the other room.
TYSON
That’s my boy.
Tyson puts Junior down. Junior runs back into the lounge
room as Tyson puts his arms around Kiki and kisses her neck.
TYSON
Hey baby.
KIKI
Hey baby, did you sort that thing? It
has to be paid tomorrow.
TYSON
Yeah, baby, they gave me an advance
in my pay and got me an extra shift
tonight. We're all good.
Kiki turns to Tyson, relieved.
KIKI
Thank goodness for that. I was
beginning to really worry.
Kiki smiles, then opens the oven.
KIKI
Look what I made just for you.
Macaroni and cheese with extra cheese
and extra mac.
Tyson peeps inside. Looking forward to it.
KIKI
Junior, dinner’s ready.
(CONTINUED)
8.
CONTINUED:
JUNIOR (O.S.)
Okay, mom.
Kiki sets the table as Tyson takes a seat. Junior runs in
and sits down next to Tyson.
TYSON
So, what was the score?
JUNIOR
Three - two.
Tyson scruffs the top of his son’s head. Proud as punch.
TYSON
Did you score any goals?
JUNIOR
All three.
TYSON
All three?!
Tyson looks up at Kiki to confirm. Kiki nods with a proud
smile on her face as she serves Junior his num nums.
TYSON
Well, I might just have to stop
working. I heard those professional
soccer players earn big bucks.
Junior laughs. Digs into his food.
Kiki serves Tyson and herself.
TYSON
(to Tyson )
How about we go rustle the chain once
you got your fill, huh?
Junior looks up with macaroni covering his face. Smiles.
End of Chapter Three
INT. TYSON'S CAR (PARKED) - NIGHT
On the driveway of a run down house. Tyson pulls up the hard
break.
An EVICTION notice in the center console. He sighs at the
sight of it. Thinks for a second. Taps his fingers. Pulls
out his phone.
TYSON
(into phone )
Mr. Mexico -
INT. TYSON’S HOME/KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
An aging home. Vinyl tiles add to the rundown aura. A little
four seater table with a tacky table cloth decorates.
(CONTINUED)
7.
CONTINUED:
Tyson’s wife: KIKI, mid 30s, beautiful Native American woman
with great style - cleans dishes in the sink.
Front door OPENS.
JUNIOR (O.S.)
Daddy!
TYSON (O.S.)
Hey buddy, how was soccer?
JUNIOR (O.S.)
We won!
Tyson carries their son JUNIOR, 7, from the other room.
TYSON
That’s my boy.
Tyson puts Junior down. Junior runs back into the lounge
room as Tyson puts his arms around Kiki and kisses her neck.
TYSON
Hey baby.
KIKI
Hey baby, did you sort that thing? It
has to be paid tomorrow.
TYSON
Yeah, baby, they gave me an advance
in my pay and got me an extra shift
tonight. We're all good.
Kiki turns to Tyson, relieved.
KIKI
Thank goodness for that. I was
beginning to really worry.
Kiki smiles, then opens the oven.
KIKI
Look what I made just for you.
Macaroni and cheese with extra cheese
and extra mac.
Tyson peeps inside. Looking forward to it.
KIKI
Junior, dinner’s ready.
(CONTINUED)
8.
CONTINUED:
JUNIOR (O.S.)
Okay, mom.
Kiki sets the table as Tyson takes a seat. Junior runs in
and sits down next to Tyson.
TYSON
So, what was the score?
JUNIOR
Three - two.
Tyson scruffs the top of his son’s head. Proud as punch.
TYSON
Did you score any goals?
JUNIOR
All three.
TYSON
All three?!
Tyson looks up at Kiki to confirm. Kiki nods with a proud
smile on her face as she serves Junior his num nums.
TYSON
Well, I might just have to stop
working. I heard those professional
soccer players earn big bucks.
Junior laughs. Digs into his food.
Kiki serves Tyson and herself.
TYSON
(to Tyson )
How about we go rustle the chain once
you got your fill, huh?
Junior looks up with macaroni covering his face. Smiles.