Little Monsters

 

 

 

Screenplay by       Ted Elliot

          Terry Rossio

 

Produced by       John Davis

          Andrew Licht

          Jeffrey A. Mueller

 

Directed by       Richard Alan Greenberg

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Fred Savage      Brian

Howie Mandel      Maurice

Daniel Stern      Glen Stevenson

Margaret Whitton    Holly Stevenson

Rick Ducommun    Snik

Frank Whaley      Boy

Ben Savage      Eric

William Murray Weiss   Todd

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FADE IN:

 

 

ON AN OLD ALARM CLOCK

 

TICKING, the bells gone, the little hand missing, the big hand indicating twenty-after-something. It is bound with black electrical tape, time-bomb fashion, to a plastic water-filled spray bottle.

 

The alarm RINGS; the bell hammer tugging the piece of kite string tied to the trigger of the bottle; water is misted onto the face of –

 

BRIAN STEVENSON, a dark-haired twelve-year-old with eyes that don't miss much. Awake now, he shuts off the alarm and snaps on the Tensor lamp next to his bed. We are

 

 

INT. STEVENSON HOME – ATTIC ROOM – NIGHT

 

A huge poster shows the history of train engines. A stairway is cut into the floor. No curtains on the window. A just-past-half moon shines in the night sky.

 

Brian pulls on a pair of thick wool socks. He skates past a cluttered worktable, across the hardwood floor to the stairs.

 

 

INT. HALLWAY

 

Brian moves quietly past a closed door; on it, a plaque reads 'Eric's Room' above a picture of an antique car.

 

Farther down is another closed door. Brian pauses, listening to the sounds of Mom and Dad arguing; no words can be made out, only the tones, the rise, fall, sharpness of voices.

 

Brian looks away from the door. Prepares for his assault on the stairs. He reaches his foot down – and the step CREAKS loudly. Brian freezes. He moves his foot to the left, puts his weight on it. Silence. He goes right for two more, skips the next stair altogether, making his way to the bottom of the minefield of possible creaks and groans.

 

 

INT. KITCHEN

 

Brian whips up a balogna-mustard-onion sandwich. He glances at the clock – 12:27 – working under a deadline.

 

 

INT. LIVING ROOM

 

Brian – silently – pushes an armchair up to the television. He turns the volume knob down, holds the remote control an inch from the set, thumbs it. Brian adjusts the volume so it's barely audible – just in time for the opening of 'Late Night With David Letterman.'

 

He sits back. Unseen by Brian a quick, subtle movement – just a shadow, really – heads for the stairs.

 

Brian takes a bite of the sandwich –

 

– and then there is a SCREAM that could wake the dead.

 

Brian shoves the chair back, remotes the set off on the run, tosses the control on the couch, and races for the stairs.

 

 

EXT. STEVENSON HOME – NIGHT

 

A rambling, two-story mid-western house with screened-in front porch stands dark on a large wooded lot. The SCREAMING continues, going hoarse. A second-story bedroom light comes on.

 

 

INT. STEVENSON HOME – STAIRWELL

 

Brian is only halfway up the stairs when his escape route is cut off: light from his parents' room spills into the hall. Brian melts back into the shadows. HOLLY and GLEN STEVENSON hurry to the already open door of Eric's room.

 

 

INT. ERIC'S BEDROOM

 

No curtains in here, either. ERIC STEVENSON, nine years old with light brown hair and fine features, sits huddled in bed, breathing hard, blinking in the sudden glare of the overhead light.

 

ERIC

Mom! There was a monster!

 

Holly relaxes, smiles. She is a dark-eyed woman on the other side of thirty, pretty giving way to elegant. She gestures to Eric.

 

HOLLY

Skootch over.

 

Holly sits down on the bed beside Eric. She hugs him.

 

HOLLY

It was just a bad dream.

 

ERIC

But I wasn't sleeping!

 

HOLLY

Sometimes you dream you're awake, but you're not.

 

Glen, slightly older than Holly, bearded, stands slumped against the door frame. He is a polished man but worn, the veteran of too many such late night disturbances.

 

GLEN

It was probably just the house settling. You're not used to it, yet.

 

ERIC

It wasn't the house – there was a monster! It zoomed in from the hall and went under my bed!

 

Holly and Glen exchange a look.

 

GLEN

Eric... when you dream, it's just your brain's way of sorting out things you learned during the day. So if you found out something –

 

ERIC

I found out there's a monster under my bed! It ran in from the hall – it grabbed my ankle!

 

HOLLY

There's no monster under your bed. Here.

 

She gets down on one knee and –

 

ERIC

No, Mom! Don't!

 

– sticks her arm into the under-the-bed. She sweeps it back and forth, pulls it out. It is rather dusty.

 

HOLLY

See? No monsters.

(notices the dust, brushes it off)

All the dust bunnies scare 'em away.

 

ERIC

(a new threat)

... bunnies?

 

 

INT. HALLWAY

 

Brian rolls his eyes. He sneaks toward the attic stairs.

 

 

INT. ERIC'S BEDROOM

 

GLEN

There are no bunnies and no monsters. There's nothing under your bed.

 

HOLLY

Maybe we should get the flashlight.

 

Eric crosses his arms and gives Glen a grave nod.

 

GLEN

Holly, if we humor him –

(off her look)

All right.

 

 

INT. HALLWAY

 

Brian commando-rolls into the bathroom, disappearing just before Glen steps into the hall.

 

 

INT. ERIC'S BEDROOM

 

Holly pulls the covers up to Eric's chin, tucking him in.

 

HOLLY

You want to know a secret? The monsters are more afraid of you than you are of them.

 

Eric looks very doubtful. He inches the covers down to free his arms.

 

HOLLY

Once you realize they don't exist, they're gone. That's a lot of power. I wish I could do that to the heating bill.

 

She pulls the covers back up to Eric's chin. Glen returns, presents the flashlight to Eric.

 

GLEN

Easy on the batteries, kid.

 

Eric takes the flashlight, grips it tightly.

 

HOLLY

We'll leave the hall light on and the door open.

 

HOLLY & GLEN

'Night, Eric.

 

ERIC

G'night...

 

Glen turns off the room light.

 

 

INT. HALLWAY

 

The pair move toward their bedroom door, speaking softly:

 

GLEN

Do you think he heard us?

 

HOLLY

Of course he heard. What do you think scared him? He was –

 

The clicking shut of the bedroom door cuts her off.

 

 

INT. ERIC'S BEDROOM

 

Eric lies on his side, back to the door, eyes wide. He hears something. He can't look. Then he jumps, arms flailing, a scream on its way – cut off by a hand clamping over his mouth. He trains the flashlight on his ankle –

 

– a hand is wrapped around it; the beam runs past the wrist, up the arm, to Brian's face, grinning out of the darkness. His attitude is that of a friendly co-conspirator, a helpful ally in the kids vs. parents cold war.

 

BRIAN

They were lying.

 

Eric stares at him, his mouth still covered.

 

BRIAN

There is a monster.

 

Eric shakes his head 'no' emphatically.

 

BRIAN

It went for your ankle, right? It got mine. Where do you think I got this?

 

Brian takes his hands away. Sticks out one leg, pulls up his pajamas cuff, revealing the old, ugly scar on his ankle. Eric stares at it, a little panicked.

 

ERIC

You got that when your foot got caught in the spokes. When you were little!

 

Brian looks at him and smiles pityingly.

 

BRIAN

That's what...

(jerks his head towards their parents' room)

... they want you to think.

 

Eric, eyes widening, turns to look in the direction Brian jerked his head. Brian's smile gets bigger as he backs toward the door.

 

BRIAN

They're supposed to be comforting – they're parents. I'm your brother.

(reaches for the knob)

Here – I'll close this... you really ought to keep the lights down.

 

ERIC

(a whisper)

Why?

 

BRIAN

(matter-of-fact)

Because monsters are just like moths... they're attracted to light.

 

Brian smiles helpfully, and pulls the door shut.

 

The flashlight beam cuts across the dark room. Eric turns it up to look into it, his worried face now lit from below. He glances quickly around the room. All is silent. Screwing up his courage, he snaps off the light, and the room goes BLACK.

 

Eric's soft, worried back-of-the-throat whimper floats out of the darkness.

 

 

INT. ATTIC ROOM – MORNING – CLOSE ON

 

A gold pocketwatch. The face is unique: a disc with a wedge cut out is set into a numbered ring. The wedge turns, revealing an old-fashioned drawing of a benign sun for daylight hours, a malevolent man-in-the-moon in a starry sky for the nighttime.

 

Brian sits at a worktable covered with disassembled mechanical items. He pores over the dismantled watch, cleaning the pieces with Dust-off.

 

HOLLY (O.S.)

Brian! Breakfast.

(Brian doesn't respond)

Brian!

 

Brian reluctantly sets the watch onto its stand.

 

 

INT. KITCHEN – MORNING

 

Holly fits one last dish into the dishwasher; Glen finishes his coffee and grapefruit.

 

Eric, head down, intently eats his cereal. Brian breezes into the room – then slows, sensing tension. Brian eases down next to Eric.

 

GLEN

I hope whatever you watched last night was worth your allowance.

 

BRIAN

... huh?

 

Holly turns on the dishwasher.

 

HOLLY

We found the sandwich.

 

BRIAN

(beat)

What sandwich?

 

Eric winces – he knows the shit has just hit the fan.

 

HOLLY

Brian, you are the only person in this house who eats bologna and onions. Every time you get caught, you think you can lie your way out of it.

 

GLEN

You want to end up a politician?

 

BRIAN

... No.

 

Water pipes, visible through a hole above the sink, start to knock. Holly, expecting this, turns on and off the hot water. The knocking subsides.

 

ERIC

Gotta catch the bus.

 

HOLLY

This conversation is not over.

 

ERIC

It's not fair you get mad at me every time you get mad at Brian.

 

The pipes start knocking again. Holly takes a deep breath, gestures that Eric can go. He grabs his lunch bag and leaves.

 

Holly repeats the hot water ploy; it doesn't work. She tries it once more; again, nothing. She shuts down the dishwasher; the knocking stops for good.

 

HOLLY

Damn! Damn, damn.

 

Glen goes to her. Brian is torn between escape – and his lunch. He edges toward it. Glen puts an arm around Holly's shoulder, tries to cheer her.

 

GLEN

The plumber'll be out next week.

 

HOLLY

Great. Can I leave him the dishes?

 

GLEN

Just keep saying to yourself: 'It's our dream house.'

 

HOLLY

I never dreamed of seventeen hundred dollars in plumbing problems.

 

Glen leans against the cupboard; a strange look crosses his face. He turns: melted strawberry ice cream stains his shirt, and drips out of the cupboard. He pulls open the door – a soupy half gallon of Carnation sits on a stack of dishes.

 

Brian looks incredulously at the gooey mess, snags his lunch, and beelines for the door –

 

GLEN

You're a deadman.

 

BRIAN

I didn't do it!

 

HOLLY

Just like the sandwich.

 

Glen, disgusted, plucks the carton out of the cupboard.

 

BRIAN

... Okay, it was my sandwich – but I didn't have any ice cream! You always blame me for everything –

 

HOLLY

Somebody puts scuff marks on the doors kicking them open. And somebody sticks gum under the table –

 

BRIAN

Not me.

 

Glen throws an ice cream-bloated sponge into the sink.

 

GLEN

We'll let this go as an accident. But I'm laying down the law. No more intentionally disobeying the rules. You know the difference between right and wrong. Start acting like it.

 

BRIAN

(downcast)

... yes, sir.

 

 

INT. STAIRWELL

 

Brian sits on the stairs, bookpack between his knees. Glen, tie over his shoulder, buttoning a fresh shirt, hurries past. He kisses Holly goodbye and goes out the front door.

 

Holly turns, regards her glum son. Sits down beside him.

 

HOLLY

Brian, your Dad and I are worried. You and Eric have been at the new school the same amount of time. Eric's already made some friends –

 

BRIAN

Grandpa was my friend.

 

HOLLY

Yes, I know. I know you miss Grandpa. We all do.

(beat)

But you should get out more. Find somebody to play with.

(remembering)

The lawyer who handled the estate – Mr. Coleman? He had a son about your age.

 

BRIAN

(stating a fact)

Ronnie Coleman is a toad.

 

HOLLY

He seemed like a nice kid.

 

BRIAN

We can have him over for milk and dead flies.

 

Holly reacts with a small smile despite herself – then they hear a LONG, SCRAPING, CRUMPLING METAL SOUND from outside.

 

 

EXT. STEVENSON HOME – DRIVEWAY

 

Brian's Beachcruiser lays twisted in back of the idling Honda. Glen sternly guides Brian out through the garage. Holly follows as far as the garage door.

 

GLEN

Right there. What do you see?

 

Brian spots the bike, breaks away from Glen. He stares down at the ruined bike.

 

BRIAN

You ran it over.

 

GLEN

Guess why?

 

Brian looks at him; a light dawns.

 

BRIAN

Oh no – no way.

(pointing to the side of the garage)

It was there! I parked it right there!

 

GLEN

It was behind the car. I didn't see it this time because it was lying flat.

 

BRIAN

My bike... all those stupid seeds I had to sell.

 

GLEN

You're lucky – the car wasn't damaged. As it stands you are grounded for a month, no TV for a month, and you can consider yourself at poverty level until the next century.

 

HOLLY

Isn't that a little rough?

 

GLEN

Don't make me the villain here, Holly.

 

BRIAN

Wait... I'm out my bike. Your car's fine. You ran over my bike and I get punished.

 

GLEN

Don't get smart.

 

Glen gets in the car as Brian drags the bike out of the way.

 

BRIAN

(muttering)

If you don't want me to get smart, stop wasting your money on public education.

 

 

EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREET – MORNING

 

Eric and his friend TODD walk toward the bus stop, notebooks and lunchbags in hand. Todd's parents force him to wear dress shoes; he compensates by scuffing them at every opportunity.

 

TODD

So you didn't really see anything... All you felt was, like, an eerie presence?

 

ERIC

Yeah. Eerie.

 

TODD

It didn't like, go in the closet, or near it, or even look at it for a second or anything?

 

ERIC

Nope.

 

TODD

– so this is an exclusively under-the-bed phenomenon we're dealing with here.

 

ERIC

Yeah. Under my bed.

 

They join other kids at the bus stop. Todd snaps his fingers.

 

TODD

Trolls! Trolls live under bridges. This lives under a bed. It could be some sort of... sub-species, mutant troll.

(he punches his fist into his palm)

That's it.

 

The bus pulls up; its doors hiss open.

 

ERIC

I just want to get rid of it.

 

TODD

Maybe if you pound a stake through its heart...?

(pause)

Nah... that only works on vampires.

 

They solemnly ponder this subject.

 

ERIC

I think that'd work on anything.

 

 

INT. BUS – DAY

 

Half-filled with kids. Todd and Eric find seats as the bus begins to move – but then it slows to a stop for a late-arrival: Brian. He swings into his seat as the bus lurches forward.

 

ERIC

Why aren't you riding your bike?

 

BRIAN

Let's talk about that. You've got two choices: you can lie, and die slow and painful. Tell the truth, and I'll be merciful.

(he smiles)

You'll die quick.

 

ERIC

What happened?

 

BRIAN

Dad ran over my bike because you put it in the driveway.

 

ERIC

No way. Your bike?

 

The bus slows for its next stop.

 

BRIAN

Looks like it's gonna be slow and painful. We'll start with starvation and work our way up.

 

In an unstoppably quick motion, Brian grabs Eric's lunch and tosses it out the window.

 

ERIC

My lunch! You stupid! I didn't do anything...

(he sees Brian is serious)

Your bike's really thrashed?

 

BRIAN

I put it away. Mom and Dad sure didn't move it. That leaves –

(he points at Eric)

– you. I'm tired of you getting me in trouble.

 

ERIC

I don't touch your bike.

(Brian grabs Eric by the shirt)

If I did, you'd beat me up!

 

Brian pulls back a little; Eric is sincere. Kids file on the bus.

 

BRIAN

What about the ice cream? You snuck some ice cream last night.

 

ERIC

(definite)

No.

 

Brian and Eric regard each other, both frowning, puzzled.

 

TODD

(confident)

The monster.

 

Brian and Eric look at Todd, who nods his head, all-knowing.

 

ERIC

That's it! That's what it was doing!

 

Brian sighs, rubs his eyes in a long-suffering gesture.

 

BRIAN

He told you about the killer attack bunnies under his bed?

 

ERIC

It was a monster.

 

BRIAN

There are no monsters.

 

RONNIE (O.S.)

(yelling)

Who's 'Eric?'

 

RONNIE COLEMAN, a sixth grade version of Pete Rose comes up the aisle, carrying Eric's battered lunch Bag. Ronnie wears a football jersey with "COLEMAN" on the back. A batting glove hangs out of the back pocket of his jeans.

 

RONNIE

Who's the 'Eric' that threw his lunch at me?

 

Todd's horror-stricken look throws a spotlight on Eric. Ronnie, grape juice staining his jersey, zeros in on him.

 

ERIC

It's my lunch, but I didn't throw it.

 

RONNIE

Who did?

 

Eric points at Brian's back.

 

ERIC

My brother.

 

RONNIE

Stevenson? He's your brother?

(Eric nods)

Man, I was going to make you eat this in one bite, but...

 

Ronnie proffers the bag to Eric.

 

RONNIE

(pointedly)

You got enough problems.

 

A few laughs at this; Eric throws in an 'oooooh, burned.' Eric cautiously takes the lunch.. Ronnie grins victoriously at Brian, who fumes. Ronnie raises an eyebrow, daring Brian to make something of it.

 

Brian holds his temper, slumps down into his seat. Ronnie shakes his head in disgust, swaggers down the aisle.

 

A KID grins at Brian from the seat in front of him.

 

BRIAN

What are you lookin' at?

 

The grin is wiped from the kid's face; he turns forward. Brian stares out the window.

 

DISSOLVE TO: