Genre: Horror/Comedy Logline: An alcoholic stilt walker (MORT) must save the town that loathes him from an invasion of zombie midgets. Length: 93 Pages Rated: R. Violence, Profanity, Nudity, Sexual Situations To request the full script or a brief synopsis please email me at michael.g.mclarty@gmail.com
Genre: Horror. Logline: A young man talks with a therapist about his dark urges. Length: 5 pages. A screenplay I wrote for Kenny Pedersen, based on an original screenplay by Kenny Pedersen. Kenny asked me to give the script he was working with for a local contest a look over. While my version didn’t make [...]
Fucking whores. It could all be boiled down to the fucking whores. Everything. Air pollution. NAFTA. Parking tickets. Kids with cancer. His downstairs neighbor’s annoying yap-yap keeping him awake at night. In one way or another, they were all connected to ‘women of loose virtue’ as his mother had called them.
It had taken him quite a while to figure it out. He had no illusions about being a smart man, but he wasn’t dumb either. His whole life things just hadn’t gone his way. Other guys had jobs, girls, friends, nice cars.
Charlie Schmitz never had any of those. He’d been bullied as a kid till he started lifting weights. Things had seemed on the upswing, despite being kicked out of high school, till he was caught with the ‘roids. While in the pen he’d been punked out and gotten on meth. He came out with a bunch of scars, of all kinds, unable to find a job.
He’d never known his dad, and his mom was all he had. If not for her, he would have been homeless a long time ago.
Not just homeless, dead. He would have died, no doubt.
The old woman seemed ancient and ominous to Marco. Her hard, bloodshot eyes stared at him unblinking beneath her hand wove, grayish head scarf. A small, single yellow candle burned on the table they were seated at inside the crumbling, dilapidated structure she called ‘home’. The candle emitted a slight fragrance of corn; sweet and starchy to Marco’s nostrils. Occasionally it would spark briefly as the flame reached a part of the wick more heavily oiled than previously, beating back the cool shadows enveloping the occupants and make-shift furniture, if only for a second. The woman was beyond noticing these intermittent fireworks, intent on her business with Marco. As for Marco, the entire damn town smelled of corn, so the candle was nothing new.