Short screenplay for the 2017 Dog Days of Summer contest.

DOGTOWN

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY STREET - RESTAURANT - NIGHT

A taxi cab pulls away from the sidewalk.  Exhaust fumes 
clear, revealing CHERYL standing there.  20s, beautiful 
but vulnerable.  She wears a little black dress... and a 
dog collar around her neck, with a dangling name tag.

She looks across the street at the restaurant.  People are 
inside, seated at tables.  She hesitates, uncertain.  As 
if she doesn't want to be here.

She suddenly remembers something!  She delves into her 
purse and takes out... furry dog ears.  She settles them 
on her head, makes sure they're sitting right.

She takes a deep breath, then crosses the street.


INT. RESTAURANT FOYER - NIGHT

The MAITRE'D also wears a collar with a dog tag.  He looks 
down his nose at Cheryl, as if she's something he's just 
scraped off his expensive shoe.

                      MAITRE'D
          Yes?

                      CHERYL
          Mr. Goodboy's expecting me.

Cheryl can't stand his stare, she looks away, ashamed.

The Maitre'D snaps his fingers.  A WAITER hurries over.  
The Waiter also wears a collar with dog tag.  In this world 
every human does.

                      MAITRE'D
          Mr. Goodboy's "guest" has arrived.  
          Show her to his table.

                      WAITER
          If you'll follow me--

                      CHERYL
          No.  You take me to him.

She's talking to the Maitre'D.

                      MAITRE'D
          I'm afraid I don't--

Cheryl raises her voice.

                      CHERYL
          Take me to him now, or I'll tell 
          him you treated me like sh!t.

He leans forward, in a panic.

                      MAITRE'D
          Will you keep your voice down?

                      CHERYL
          Five seconds.  Four.  THREE.

                      MAITRE'D
          All right, all right.

He leads the way into the restaurant.  Cheryl follows him 
in.  The Waiter stands gaping in astonishment.


INT. RESTAURANT DINING AREA - NIGHT

MR. GOODBOY sits at a table, nibbling a dog biscuit from a 
bowl.  There's also a bowl of water on the table.

Mr. Goodboy is a human/dog hybrid, with the head of a dog 
spliced onto the neck of a man.  His tail sticks out the 
butt of his suit.  He wears a gold collar with a gold tag.

Other diners also have dog heads, some of the ladies are 
human ladies like Cheryl but many are bitches.

Mr. Goodboy's tail wags when he sees Cheryl.

The Maitre'D pulls Cheryl's chair out and seats her.

                      CHERYL
          Thank you, you may go now.

The Maitre'D leaves, silently fuming.

Mr. Goodboy pushes the biscuit bowl closer to Cheryl.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Biscuit?

Cheryl smiles and shakes her head, no thank you.

He indicates her ears.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          I see you got my gift.

                      CHERYL
          I did.  They're lovely, thank you.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          I actually wondered if you would 
          come.  I wasn't sure if my charms 
          were enough to persuade you.

                      CHERYL
          Why wouldn't I?  It's not every 
          day a girl like me gets invited to 
          a fancy restaurant by such a 
          handsome boy.

Mr. Goodboy's tail wags excitedly.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Would you like to look at the menu?

                      CHERYL
          That would be lovely.

The Waiter steps up and gives them menus.

                      WAITER
          The house special tonight is steak, 
          diced into cubes and covered with 
          a tasty gravy, the chef's own 
          recipe.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Well, no guesses what I'll be 
          ordering.

                      WAITER
          While you're considering your 
          choices, may I fetch the lady a 
          drink?

                      CHERYL
          Just a glass of water for me, 
          please.  In a glass.

                      WAITER
          Of course.

The Waiter goes away.

Cheryl studies the menu.  Mr. Goodboy leans his elbows on 
the table and rests his jowls on his hands, studying her.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          You know, I think you might be the 
          prettiest girl here tonight.

Cheryl looks around, idly curious.

At another table, a ROTTWEILER-HEAD WOMAN with a mop of 
purple hair winks at her.

                      CHERYL
          Oh, I don't know about that.  So 
          what is it you do... Mr. Goodboy?

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Good heavens, do you mean you 
          haven't heard of the Goodboy food 
          brand?

                      CHERYL
          Of course I have, but... you mean 
          that's you?

                      MR. GOODBOY
          My sire, actually.  But he's getting 
          older now.  He's practically given 
          me control of the company.

                      CHERYL
          That must be a huge responsibility 
          for you.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          You have no idea.  It's quite the 
          weight, I can tell you.

Activity outside in the street attracts their attention.  
A disheveled, exhausted MAN staggers by.  He isn't wearing 
a collar.  He's pursued by FOUR DOG-HEAD POLICEMEN who 
bark and snarl as they chase him.

They all run out of sight.  Cheryl stares for a few more 
seconds before she turns her attention back to the menu.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          How unfortunate that you had to 
          witness that.  That's why the 
          collars are so important.  I'm 
          afraid there are those who simply 
          refuse to be, well, good boys.

                      CHERYL
          They've made their choice.  I've 
          made mine.  I think I'll have the 
          shrimp starter, and lamb for the 
          main course.

The Waiter returns with a glass and pitcher of water.  He 
pours Cheryl a glass.  Leaves the pitcher on the table.

                      CHERYL
          Thank you.

                      WAITER
          Are you ready to order?

                      MR. GOODBOY
          I'll have a marrowbone for my 
          starter, and the steak special.  
          The young lady will have shrimp, 
          and the lamb.

                      WAITER
          Very good, sir.

The Waiter takes the menus from them and goes.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          I was asking about you.  Your boss 
          seems to think highly of you.

                      CHERYL
          I'm glad to hear it.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          He thinks you may be wasted in 
          distribution.  I mean, they're 
          good people, they do a vital job, 
          I'm not saying they don't.  But 
          we're always looking for talent in 
          production control.  Quality issues 
          are an ongoing concern.

                      CHERYL
          Is that why you asked me to dinner?  
          To offer me a job?

                      MR. GOODBOY
          No, I asked you to dinner because 
          I find you very attractive.  And, 
          haha, to offer you a job, that's 
          if you're interested in bettering 
          yourself.  I don't expect an answer 
          right away, but the offer's on the 
          table.  You can think it over and 
          call my office when you've decided.

Mr. Goodboy leans over his water bowl and laps up some 
water.

Cheryl takes a sip from her glass.  As she drinks, she 
looks out the window.

Outside in the street, the four dog-headed policemen drag 
the man to a waiting police van, he's been beaten and 
bitten, he's hardly able to walk on his own.

As if he senses her gaze, he turns his bloodied face to 
look at the restaurant.  He stares accusingly at Cheryl.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Ah, I see they caught him.  Good.  
          We can't have strays running around.  
          Next thing you know there are wild 
          packs roaming the streets, getting 
          up to all kinds of mischief.

Cheryl tears her gaze away from the man.

                      CHERYL
          I very much appreciate your generous 
          offer, Mr. Goodboy.  I don't need 
          time to decide.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Excellent.  That's that settled.  
          Then let's enjoy dinner.

                      CHERYL
          If you don't mind, I'm going to 
          visit the little girls' room.  
          Please start without me if your 
          marrowbone comes while I'm away.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Thank you, I will.  Don't be too 
          long.

Cheryl gets up and walks to the exit.


INT. RESTAURANT FOYER - NIGHT

The Maitre'D glares at Cheryl.  She ignores him.

She sees the toilet arrow sign and heads that way.


INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE RESTROOMS - NIGHT

Two doors, each with a sign showing a dog raising its leg 
to pee, one dog is bigger and heavier, obviously male.

Cheryl pushes open the female dog door.


INT. LADIES REST ROOM - NIGHT

Cheryl checks the stalls, they're all empty.  She enters 
the last stall.  She reaches down behind the toilet bowl 
and searches for something... wrestles it loose.

It's an automatic, in a plastic bag.  She opens the bag, 
takes the gun out, drops the bag into the bowl.  She pulls 
back the slide.  Thumbs off the safety.

The rest room door opens.

The Rottweiler-head woman enters.  She stops to look in 
the mirror.

In the stall, Cheryl doesn't move, doesn't breathe.

Rottweiler woman takes lipstick from her purse and applies 
it to her dog mouth, giving herself big red lips.  She 
fluffs up her purple hair, styling it until she's satisfied.

Cheryl presses the gun against her head.

                      CHERYL
          Howl and you're dead.

                      ROTTWEILER WOMAN
          I have money, please take it all.

Cheryl drags her into the stall and uses the gun as a club, 
delivering vicious blows.  We don't need to see this.  The 
woman whimpers in pain, then falls silent.

Cheryl steps back out, panting heavily.  She moves to the 
door -- but stops.  She looks at herself in the mirror.  
She pulls off the ears, throws them in the sink.  She 
reaches behind her neck and unfastens the collar.  Lets it 
drop to the floor.

She studies herself without the collar.  A free person.


INT. RESTAURANT DINING AREA - NIGHT

Mr. Goodboy looks up as Cheryl enters.

She stops at a table -- aims the automatic at a dog-head 
diner, who gapes in surprise.  BLAM.

The diner's human companion SCREAMS.  Cheryl aims the woman, 
she ducks under the table, terrified.

Cheryl moves to another table, BLAM BLAM, a dog-head diner 
and his dog-head bitch go down.

Dog-heads flee for their lives.  BLAM BLAM Cheryl shoots 
them down without mercy.

She advances on Mr. Goodboy, who's frozen with fear.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Wait.  I can pull strings.  You 
          won't even have to go to prison.

                      CHERYL
          Your factory recycles humans into 
          dog food.  I don't think we have 
          anything to discuss.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          Please, think of the repercussions 
          of your actions.  We've taken over 
          your government.  We own the police 
          and the military.  This will trigger 
          a slaughter such as your race has 
          never seen.

                      CHERYL
          What you see here is happening all 
          over the country.  The uprising 
          begins tonight.

Cheryl takes aim at his big dog head.

                      MR. GOODBOY
          I suppose this means we're not 
          going to do it doggie style?

                      CHERYL
          Bad dog!

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM


INT. THE OVAL KENNEL OFFICE - NIGHT

The BULLDOG PRESIDENT looks into camera.  He wears a solid 
gold collar with a gold TOP DOG name tag.

                      BULLDOG PRESIDENT
          My fellow Dogmericans.  I have 
          declared a state of emergency.  
          The country is under martial law.  
          The rebels are being very bad boys.  
          Their illegal uprising will be 
          crushed and they will be punished.

DISTANT SHOTS and FRANTIC BARKING.

The Bulldog President looks around, alarmed.

                      BULLDOG PRESIDENT
          Get me out of here, Judith.

TITLE CARD:  NORMAL SERVICE WILL BE RESUMED AS SOON AS 
POSSIBLE

CUT TO BLACK

An electronic SQUEAL as the signal is cut off, and then:

                      CHERYL (V.O.)
          Rise up and take off your collars!  
          We will no longer be their pets!

THE END
                                                        Sep 2017