Note: My smart-ass comment about tiny houses in yesterday’s post prompted a great comment from my stepsister, which in turn led me to write this. Not quite what she was asking for, but I like it.
HAUNTED TINY HOUSE
EXTERIOR – NIGHT: A dark, cloudy moonless night. The wind whips through the trees surrounding a clearing. In the clearing sits what looks like a child’s playhouse.
INTERIOR – NIGHT: We’re inside of a tiny house, 8 x 10 if that. We enter through the door and into a kitchen/living area, with a tiny fridge and a tiny stove and a tiny table. The camera tracks left and up a tiny ladder to a tiny loft where a white hipster couple — CLEMENTINE and DJANGO — sleep. Clementine has dark black hair cut into a bob. Django has red shaggy hair and a giant beard. Both have multiple piercings and tattoos.
A LOUD BANG IS HEARD — awakening the CLEMENTINE, who sits up too fast and bangs her head into the ceiling.
CLEMENTINE (whispering to herself):
Ow. Shit.
THE BANG HAPPENS AGAIN
CLEMENTINE:
What was that?
THERE’S A THUMP, SEEMINGLY INSIDE THE TINY HOUSE
CLEMENTINE (shaking Django furiously):
Babe. Django. Wake up.
DJANGO sits up too fast, banging his head against the ceiling.
DJANGO (rubbing his head):
Ow. Shit.
CLEMENTINE:
Shhhhhh.
DJANGO:
What? What is it?
CLEMENTINE:
There’s something in the house.
DJANGO:
What do you mean there’s something in the house?
CLEMENTINE:
There was a noise. You should go check.
DJANGO turns from her, looks over the side of the loft to the rest of the house: Don’t see anything.
CLEMENTINE:
You call that checking?
DJANGO:
Where else do you want me to look?
CLEMENTINE:
I don’t know. Maybe inside the bathroom?
DJANGO:
I’m sure it was nothing.
CLEMENTINE:
How do you know?
DJANGO:
Because I don’t SEE anything. Maybe it was the cat.
CLEMENTINE:
We had to give the cat away to move in here, remember?
DJANGO:
Oh yeah. … Well maybe it was mom and dad?
CLEMENTINE:
Babe. C’mon. Are you even awake? It’s been a whole month since we moved out of their backyard.
DJANGO:
Yeah. True. Blah blah blah. Running up their electric bill. Blah blah blah. City ordinances.
THERE’S ANOTHER THUMP. CLEARLY INSIDE THE TINY HOUSE.
DJANGO and CLEMENTINE grasp each other and hold their breath.
THERE’S A CLANG AND A BUMP.
A VOICE:
Owwww. What. The. Shit.
DJANGO:
Who … who … who’s there?
THE VOICE:
Who who who. What are you, an owl?
THERE’S ANOTHER CLANG AND A BUMP
THE VOICE:
Damn it!
CLEMENTINE:
Who is that?
THE VOICE (as the visage of an old man materializes):
It is I, Jebediah Trufflesworth, owner of this land and all the land around as far as the eye can see.
CLEMENTINE, giggling:
Trufflesworth?
DJANGO:
Great grand-dad?
JEBEDIAH:
Great grand-dad? Who are you?
DJANGO:
I’m your great grandson. Django Rosenblatt.
JEBEDIAH:
Come again.
DJANGO:
Django Rosenblatt. I’m your great grandson on my mom’s side.
JEBEDIAH:
Django? Rosenblatt? Has the family been kidnapped by gypsies? Or Jews? Or Jewish gypsies? And what’s going on with your face? All that metal. And both of you have more tattoos than a Samoan. And clearly neither of you have a passing acquaintance with a razor. What is going on here?
CLEMENTINE:
Listen, old man, things are a lot different than when you were around.
JEBEDIAH:
No. You listen to me. I won’t be spoken to by a woman like. You can ask the first Mrs. Trufflesworth what a smart mouth got —
THERE’S ANOTHER CRASH, AS THE COPPER BOTTOMED POTS HANGING OVER THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVING SPACE CLATTER AGAINST ONE ANOTHER
JEBEDIAH:
For the love of all that is holy! Why are there pots hanging in the middle of the room?
CLEMENTINE & DJANGO:
It’s a tiny house.
JEBEDIAH:
A house? This is a tool shed with a bit of plumbing. And not a good tool shed, either. Probably couldn’t fit a proper scythe in here without putting a hole in the walls.
DJANGO:
A scythe?
JEBEDIAH:
Yes. A scythe. You do know what a scythe … Nevermind that. Where is the actual house? I’ve come back to haunt a house. But this… This is all a bit too much.
DJANGO:
Well, your house burnt down decades ago.
JEBEDIAH:
I know that. Don’t you think I know that? I was in it when it happened. Who do you think set the fire?
DJANGO:
You?
JEBEDIAH:
That’s right. Me. Had gotten in a bit of financial mess. But nothing a little insurance policy couldn’t cover.
DJANGO:
That’s horrible!
JEBEDIAH:
Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t burn to death. I took a handful of pills and bourbon first. Didn’t feel a thing.
DJANGO:
No. I mean ten other people died in that fire.
JEBEDIAH:
Ten other people? How is that possible? I made sure the family was on a European tour.
DJANGO:
The staff?
JEBEDIAH:
Oh, yeah. The staff. Hmmmm. That might explain a thing or two. … Anyway. Where’s the actual house? Surely I wasn’t sent back topside to haunt a broom closet occupied by you two circus freaks.
CLEMENTINE:
Hey!
DJANGO:
This is it. There is no other house.
JEBEDIAH:
Is the family broke?
DJANGO:
Well, no. Richer than ever, I guess. Just no one wanted to rebuild here. They moved into the city.
JEBEDIAH:
The city? Who would want to live in a city? The city is for working! It’s no place for a family.
DJANGO:
Yeah, well, that’s what happened. But we were tired of such a consumerist lifestyle and didn’t want to be gentrifiers in a blighted urban neighborhood.
CLEMENTINE:
Especially after that incident in the last one. You’d think those people would welcome us.
DJANGO:
So Clementine and I moved out here.
JEBEDIAH:
But you’re building a proper house, right?
DJANGO:
No. We don’t need that kind of space. We don’t want to leave that kind of carbon footprint.
JEBEDIAH:
Wait. Are we mining coal on the property now?
DJANGO:
What? No. We just decided that as responsible citizens of the planet that
JEBEDIAH:
Wait. Is there a one-world government now?
CLEMENTINE:
We wish.
DJANGO:
No! We just thought we could do more with less. Simplify. Lead a less cluttered life.
JEBEDIAH:
You know what would be less cluttered? Not cramming everything into a closet!
DJANGO:
It’s the choice we’ve made. And we’re sticking with it.
CLEMENTINE:
At least until we have kids.
DJANGO:
Wait? What? Don’t we want to raise kids in just this environment? To model appropriate
CLEMENTINE:
Seriously dude?
DJANGO:
Yes, seriously. After all —
JEBEDIAH:
Ok, ok, ok. Enough of that. I’m supposed to haunt you, not the other way around. So what you’re telling me is there is no other house. There will be no other house. This … thing … is all the house on the property and all the house there will be.
DJANGO:
Yup.
JEBEDIAH takes three seconds to pass through the tiny house.
JEBEDIAH:
Hey, why is there a bicycle in the bathroom? You know what? Nevermind. I’ve seen enough.
DJANGO:
What do you mean?
JEBEDIAH (holding up a hand):
Give me a moment. I need to make a call.
JEBEDIAH turns his back on the couple and mutters to an unseen force, gesturing with his hands, clearly pleading.
JEBEDIAH (turning back to the couple):
Great. All settled then. I’ll be off and leave you two in … well, I’ll leave you to it.
CLEMENTINE:
That means you’re NOT going to haunt us?
JEBEDIAH:
Exactly.
DJANGO:
Where are you going?
JEBEDIAH:
I’m going back to hell, where at least I’ll have some elbow room.
JEBEDIAH starts to fade a way.
JEBEDIAH (waving):
See you there!
END
KEN WHEATON 