A Script for The Jell-O Incident

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

Static, sterile, quiet. A water stain on a ceiling tile looks like a pirate's face if you squint.

CARL (10), pale and small in a large bed, squints. He tilts his head. An IV TUBE taped to the back of his hand tugs taut. He winces.

SOUND of a heart monitor's steady, lonely BEEP. Beep. Beep.

Carl sits up. The paper sheet CRINKLES like dry leaves. Outside the window, real leaves are plastered to the glass by a persistent RAIN.

He swings his legs over the side. His bare feet hover above the cold linoleum floor. He pushes his toes into socks. A hole in the right one reveals his big toe, wiggling like a pale grub.

He listens. Faint, distant LAUGHTER from a nurses' station.

Carl reaches for the IV pole standing beside the bed. His metal companion.

CARL

(whispering, voice scratchy)

Come on, Steve.

He pushes the pole. Its wheels SQUEAK softly.

INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

The door swings open onto a hallway that stretches into an unnerving vanishing point. The fluorescent lights above emit a low, angry HUM.

Carl shuffles out, one hand on the IV pole, the other trailing along the bumpy, multi-layered paint of the wall. His oversized gown billows around him like a tent.

He passes rooms, other closed doors. He's looking for the big window at the end of the hall, but the hallway takes an unexpected turn.

He hesitates, then follows the turn.

And sees it. A room with glass walls: THE PLAY ROOM.

Inside, sitting on a squashed blueberry of a beanbag chair, is SAM (10). A clean white bandage is wrapped around his head. He holds a clear plastic cup of orange Jell-O, shaking it gently, watching it wobble.

Carl stops. Steve the IV pole SQUEAKS.

Sam looks up. His eyes are dark and serious.

SAM

It’s not alive.

Carl blinks.

CARL

What?

SAM

The Jell-O. I thought if I shook it enough, it might wake up. But it’s just goo.

Carl slowly pushes Steve into the room. The air smells like old crayons.

CARL

I’m Carl.

SAM

Sam.

Carl rolls Steve closer. The camera becomes more fluid, handheld, moving with him.

CARL

Is that the orange kind?

Sam nods, holding up the cup. The overhead light hits the Jell-O, making it glow like radioactive waste.

SAM

It tastes like soap. But sweet soap.

Carl sinks onto a tiny yellow plastic chair. His knees are level with his chin.

CARL

I had the green one yesterday. It tasted like... grass.

SAM

Grass is okay. Grass means outside. This tastes like the floor.

They sit in silence. The air vent in the corner RATTLES.

CARL

What’s wrong with your head?

Sam touches the bandage, unfazed.

SAM

They took something out. A lump. My brain was growing a rock, I think.

CARL

(eyes wide)

A rock? Like... a pebble?

SAM

Maybe a diamond. They didn't show me. They put me to sleep. I dreamed I was a balloon. I was floating over my house. I could see my dog, Buster. He was barking at a squirrel. But I couldn't bark back because I was a balloon.

Carl leans forward, captivated.

CARL

I have to get a tube.

(points to his stomach)

Inside. The doctor said my pipes are twisted. Like a garden hose when you pull it too hard.

SAM

Does it hurt?

CARL

Yeah. Sometimes it feels like there’s a crab inside. Pinching me.

Sam nods, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

SAM

Crabs are mean.

They look at the Play Room window. The rain streaks down the dark glass, smearing the lights from the parking lot below.

CARL

It looks like we’re underwater. The hospital. It’s a big submarine.

Sam tilts his head, considering.

SAM

No. Not a submarine. A fish tank. We’re the fish.

A short, dry laugh escapes Carl.

CARL

Yeah. And the nurses are the... snails? The ones that clean the glass?

SAM

(eyes lighting up)

Yeah! And the doctors are the sharks. Big white sharks with stethoscopes. Dr. Miller has a big nose. He looks like a hammerhead.

Carl giggles, a wheezy sound.

SAM

Dr. Patel is nice though. She’s like... a dolphin. She gave me stickers.

CARL

I didn't get stickers.

The silence returns, heavier this time. The game is over. They're back in the fish tank.

CARL

(voice small)

I’m scared.

The words hang in the air. Sam stops looking at the Jell-O. He looks right at Carl. His face is pale, the shadows under his eyes like bruises.

SAM

Me too. I don't want to be a balloon again. What if I float away and don't come back?

CARL

My dad says I’m brave. But I’m not. I cried when they put the needle in.

SAM

Crying is okay. My kokum—my grandma—she says tears wash your eyes so you can see better.

Sam pokes his finger into the Jell-O. A soft SQUELCH. He pulls it out, coated in orange goo. He stares at it.

Then, with grave purpose, he brings the finger to his face and dabs a dot of orange on the tip of his nose.

CLOSE ON CARL'S FACE, confused.

CARL

What are you doing?

SAM

(deadly serious)

War paint. If we’re gonna fight the sharks. We need war paint.

A smile, foreign and slow, tugs at Carl’s mouth.

CARL

You look like a clown.

SAM

Clowns are scary. Sharks are afraid of clowns. Everyone knows that. It’s science.

CARL

That’s not science.

SAM

(grinning)

No way. They taste funny. Get it? Funny?

It's a terrible joke. A Dad Joke. But Carl laughs. A real, bubbly laugh that shakes his small frame. The sound fills the room, pushing back the hums and beeps.

CARL

Give me some.

Sam holds out the cup. Carl dips his finger in the cold slime. He paints a dot on his own nose. Then his cheeks. A stripe across his forehead.

CLOSE UP on their faces, smeared with glowing orange.

SAM

You look like a tiger. A tiger with the measles.

CARL

You look like... you got sneezed on by a giant orange.

They both erupt. Helpless, breathless laughter that makes Sam cough and hold his ribs. The crab in Carl's stomach is gone. For a second, they are not sick. They are just boys.

SAM

(whispering conspiratorially)

We should escape. We can take Steve. He can be our getaway car.

CARL

Steve is slow. And he squeaks. The sharks will hear us.

SAM

We’ll grease his wheels with pudding. Chocolate pudding. It’s slippery.

CARL

Where would we go?

SAM

(points to the space cat on his shirt)

To the moon. My cat is already there. We can ride him. In space, cats are huge. The size of a bus. And they purr like engines.

Carl sees it. A giant purring cat soaring through the stars.

CARL

Okay. Let’s go.

INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER

A parade of two. Sam leads the way, bandaged head held high. Carl follows, pushing the squeaking IV pole. The hallway doesn't seem so long anymore.

They approach the NURSES' STATION. A NURSE (40s, glasses on a chain) looks up from a chart. She sees them. Her brow furrows, then softens into a smile.

NURSE

Hey! Where do you two think you’re going?

Sam freezes. He and Carl exchange a wide-eyed look.

SAM

(stage whisper)

Run!

They shuffle-run. A clumsy, giggling burst of speed. Steve SQUEAKS frantically.

CARL

(laughing)

The sharks are attacking!

The Nurse stands, her smile widening. She starts walking toward them.

SAM

Abort mission!

He tries to turn, stumbles into the wall with a soft THUMP. Carl grabs his arm to steady him. They lean against the wall, panting and laughing.

NURSE

(reaching them, hands on her hips)

Well. I see the orange flu is going around.

SAM

(trying to look tall)

It’s war paint. We’re hunting sharks.

NURSE

Is that so? Well, hunting season is over. It’s time for meds.

The word—*meds*—lands like a stone. The game vanishes.

Carl’s shoulders slump.

CARL

Do I have to?

NURSE

Yes, sweetie. And your dad is looking for you. He’s worried.

Carl nods. He looks at Sam, who suddenly looks small again.

CARL

I have to go.

SAM

Yeah. Me too.

(he gives a little wave)

Watch out for sharks.

CARL

You too.

The Nurse gently guides Carl back toward his room. He glances back. Sam stands alone in the middle of the hallway, a small figure under the buzzing lights, a smear of orange on his face.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - LATER

Carl’s DAD (40s, exhausted, red-rimmed eyes) jumps up as Carl and the Nurse enter.

DAD

Carl! God, I was... where were you?

CARL

Just walking, Dad. With Steve.

Dad sees his face. He blinks.

DAD

What is... is that Jell-O?

Carl touches his sticky cheek. He feels brave.

CARL

It’s war paint.

Dad lets out a long, shuddering breath. He pulls Carl into a tight, scared hug. Carl pats his back.

CARL

It’s okay, Dad. It’s just a fish tank.

Dad pulls back, confused. But before he can ask—

A loud CLICK from the wall intercom, then a metallic, amplified voice blasts through the room.

INTERCOM (V.O.)

Code Blue, Room 402. Code Blue, Room 402.

Carl freezes. His heart HAMMERS against his ribs. 402. The room at the end of the hall. The room next to the Play Room.

He runs to the doorway.

DAD

Carl, wait—

INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

The camera snaps to a jarring, chaotic view from Carl's perspective.

The hallway is a blur of motion. NURSES SPRINT past. The smiling Nurse is no longer smiling. Her face is grim as she shoves a crash cart ahead of her. They are all running toward the end of the hall. Toward Sam.

The hallway stretches, distorting like a nightmare.

SOUND of the intercom repeating, the frantic squeak of cart wheels, and the pounding of Carl's own heart.

CLOSE ON CARL'S FACE.

The war paint is just sticky goo. The bravery is gone, replaced by a cold, hollowing terror.

CARL

(a whisper)

Sam?

FADE TO BLACK.