Alright, kids. Let's get right down to it. These past... Hell, it's been a while... I've been doin' some writin'. I've been working hard to get these ideas down on coded paper and make something of the stories I tell. I'm gonna start you off with a story of getting in over your head. This is a series I have fleshed-out in bullet form, but by the time I'm done bullets will be flyin' off the page. And I ain't gonna stop 'til the story is told. Like it or not, you're with me to the end.
"American Dreams" tells ya the story of Brendan Carllyl and the gang he runs in: The Wolves. In their high school life, their only enemies are the richer kids to the North: The Hellhounds. Takes place in the 50's, y'know? Besides the usual scrap, it's nothin' to write home about. Just small time drama in a small time town. But when a real gang moves in, they're gonna give these kids one option-- move out of the way.
The town of Ellisville is based on the town my family is from, name of Sweet Home, Oregon. One thing this town ain't is its namesake. I took the brutality of small life and put it to the page. Perhaps as a way to laugh at the obstacles we faced, perhaps as a reminder of heritage.
Either way, get shit-faced, drag-race, and skirt-chase, friends. But don't get caught up in the hunt.
* * *
PAGE
1
PANEL:
DONALD
CLIFTON hunches over the engine of his truck, intent on fixing this
thing before the day is through. The sun beats on his back as he
hides his head in the shade of the propped hood. His left hand leans
on the edge of the truck, his other arm dug deep into the guts of his
old pickup. We see him from the back from about 50ft away.
VO
BOX
Welcome
to Ellisville.
PANEL:
We
see DONALD in the same position, but about 20ft closer this time.
HUNTER
[OFF-PANEL]
Hey,
Clifton!
PANEL:
DONALD
CLIFTON spins around, his face in shock. We're right up to his face
now, his fingers just poking from the bottom of the panel as he's
about to raise an arm in defense. It won't work.
PANEL:
HUNTER
COLLINS, hunched in the last steps of his running haymaker, his right
arm clenched around the pipe, he smiles as he makes the run past
DONALD CLIFTON, whose one foot is raised and the other almost not
touching the ground anymore. DONALD CLIFTON is falling backwards in
mid-air, his face made a punching bag with a lead fist.
VO
BOX
Leave
your gods at home.
VO
BOX
Believe
in us.
PAGE
2
PANEL:
We
look through the passenger window of the car JAMES BRENNAN drives.
In the foreground, we have BRENDAN CARLLYL with his jacket sort of
over his head, as if asleep, but he's looking right at us with his
visible eye. JAMES BRENNAN holds his signature cigarette in his
right hand, but holding his speeding ticket with both, studying the
slip of paper over his shades. Through the rolled-down driver
window, we see a cop walking towards the back of the car, his hip and
his swinging arm barely visible.
JAMES
Fucking
prick.
PANEL:
The
OFFICER turns around, looking at JAMES BRENNAN who leans out the
window to talk back to him.
OFFICER
What
did you say?
JAMES
I
said 'Good day, Officer.'
OFFICER
Oh.
PANEL:
The
OFFICER turns away as JAMES BRENNAN leans back in his car to face
forward.
OFFICER
Fucking
punk.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN sticks his arm and head back out the window to get a better
listen. The OFFICER keeps walking back to his cruiser without
turning around.
JAMES
Sorry,
what was that?
OFFICER
I
called you a fucking punk.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN turns back to the road, his ticket resting on the dashboard.
JAMES
Oh.
PANEL:
JAMES
puts the ticket into the glove compartment as the cop car is seen
rushing off down the road away from JAMES BRENNAN and the "sleeping"
BRENDAN CARLLYL.
BRENDAN
Smooth.
JAMES
Hey,
you're supposed to be asleep, Brendan. You just keep pretending to
have those wet dreams you like so much until Officer Asshole is out
of sight or I'll give you some nightmares, dig?
BRENDAN
Sorry,
man. You know I can't have any sort of run-in with the law around
here. My parents and all...
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN puts the car into drive, his cigarette gripped between his
lips.
JAMES
Hey
no worries there, Brendan-Boy. C'mon, let's go see what the guys are
up to.
PANEL:
The
car pulls off the side of the city road and back onto the pavement of
Main Street. A large hill in the background breaks the horizon.
JAMES
And
gimme back my jacket.
PAGE
3
PANEL:
The
car is only a little ways into the city of Ellisville, one side
heavily developed and the other gets more like the wilderness the
deeper into the land you get. They are at the edge of town so the
shops are few and far between.
VO
BOX
I
don't know when the place was built, I've never cared to know, but
pieces of its history stuck to people's tongues like it was legend.
VO
BOX
It
used to be a good spot for bootleggers back in the day, y'know?
PANEL:
The
car is center of the panel, driving past the record store, the barber
shop, and a fishing supply store.
VO
BOX
Way
out here in the middle of nowhere? With small-time cops not making
shit for cash the legal way? Everyone was on the take.
PANEL:
The
boys continue down the road, the view this time overhead.
VO
BOX
It's
how our city grew. Everyone here has a grandad that used to be in
the running game.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN flicks his almost-spent cigarette out the window at a group
of three Black men in their twenties. They all turn away
defensively.
VO
BOX
Well,
almost everyone.
PAGE
4
PANEL:
A
light signal burns green on an overcast sky.
VO
BOX
Once
the Prohibition was done breathing all its smoke into people's
private lives, the town died once again.
PANEL:
The
same signal turns red.
VO
BOX
The
smoke had cleared. We saw we would have to try our best to be a
legitimate town with something to contribute towards again.
PANEL:
The
four-way stop begins to pump cars from their starting lines a little
into the intersection.
VO
BOX
We
were the same logging town we used to be, but this time with the
bitterness of knowing we used to have it good.
PANEL:
A
driver in another car slams the breaks, looking to his right, his
face tense.
VO
BOX
Our
parents had to deal with the hurt of earning nothing like our
grandparents did.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN's car races past the man who stopped short of the wreck,
dashing past all those waiting respectfully in line for their turn at
the signal.
VO
BOX
And
of course, that aggression just rubbed-off on us.
PANEL:
JAMES
BRENNAN flips the bird out his window, not even a smile to grace the
notion, as he rushes towards the viewer.
VO
BOX
We
were second-generation losers. And ain't no one in town would tell
us different.
PAGE
5
PANEL:
In
a garage not attached to any one house, a single window cuts the
darkness. In its beam of light, you can imagine the amount of dust
that must cover everything. It's not a large window, but it's enough
to light the way. OLIVER SMITH stands next to the record player on a
table against the wall, right below the window, talking with RICK
GRANT, both look like they're in the middle of a joke. HUNTER
COLLINS stands with his back leaning against a shelf, his left hand
propping himself against it, his right hand a visual aid in
explaining something to JON ALLEN, JR across the room, who leans with
arms crossed and a smile on his face. BILL PRITCHARD sits in a chair
against the wall and reads a magazine. The record player plays
"Sh-Boom" by The Crew-Cuts.
VO
BOX
It
was just a matter of time before we found others who shared our
plight.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
CARLLYL opens the side door of the garage. He stands in the light of
the outside world and the shadow of the den of Wolves.
VO
BOX
Lone
wolves became a pack.
PANEL:
The
other Wolves look up to the door to see who enters.
VO
BOX
That's
us, by the way.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
CARLLYL, with a smirk, stands in the middle of his group of friends
as JAMES BRENNAN walks through the door, closing it behind him, and
taking off his sunglasses.
VO
BOX
We're
the Wolves.
PAGE
6
PANEL:
JON
ALLEN, JR puts his hand on JAMES BRENNAN's shoulder with a smile.
RICK GRANT has his dukes up in front of BRENDAN, getting right in his
face. BRENDAN is trying his best to push RICK out of the way with a
smile.
JAMES
A
ticket, man. Fuckin' pusher...
JON
We'll
fight it, Jimmy. To the courts!
RICK
You
hear? We gonna rumble cause of this dumb fuck over here! Get your
dukes up, Brendan! I'll clobber ya!
BRENDAN
What
the hell are you talking about? Rumble who?
PANEL:
BILL
PRITCHARD puts his magazine on the chair as he gets up, facing
BRENDAN. HUNTER smiles off to the side, watching the spectacle the
others are making.
BILL
Six,
seven...
That's
good enough for me. Yeah, and you listen up, too, James. Hunter
over here got into a scrap with Donald Clifton around lunch today.
HUNTER
There
wasn't no scrap!
PANEL:
BILL
walks closer in between BRENDAN, RICK, AND HUNTER.
BILL
Okay,
correction: Hunter here hit Donald Clifton in the head with a pipe
this morning. Now Connor and the rest of the Hellhounds are pissed,
and will probably retaliate somehow.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
shoots a curious face to HUNTER.
BRENDAN
Jesus,
Hunter, a pipe?
HUNTER
What?
He's a prick.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
turns to BILL, the same look on his face.
BRENDAN
So
is he...?
BILL
He's
fine, but understandably pissed. But hey, this is how these things
work. The only thing different here is that Don wasn't on our side
of Main, he was working on his truck in his own yard.
HUNTER
Well...
Who can really say if his place is on our side or their side?
PANEL:
BRENDAN
motions with his hands to HUNTER, stepping towards him, in a way that
suggests HUNTER may be one of the dumbest and reckless people on the
planet.
BRENDAN
Hunt,
he's got the house closest to the frickin' mountain. He's very
obviously on their side.
PANEL:
HUNTER
hangs his head down, not in embarrassment, but almost in modesty,
feeling proud.
HUNTER
Yeah,
well. What's done is done, right?
PAGE
7
PANEL:
BRENDAN
steps closer to BILL as OLIVER takes the needle off the record.
BRENDAN
So
what now? How are we gonna play this?
BILL
We
attack them on their territory, they can attack us on ours. We hit
'em at their own homes, they can hit us at ours.
JAMES
Bullshit.
Hunter did it, not all of us.
BILL
The
Wolves don't walk alone. Especially now. From now on we travel in
packs. At least until the heat dies down. Spread the word to others
that couldn't make it today.
PANEL:
BILL
stands in the light of the window, looking at BRENDAN.
VO
BOX
The
Wolves aren't led by a leader. We're a democracy, unlike all those
other jokers in the Hellhounds. There is no leader of the pack. But
that doesn't stop us from picking who we look up to.
BILL
Agreed?
PANEL:
BRENDAN
just looks at BILL in wonder. He looks amazed to stand before this
man. But BRENDAN is silent.
VO
BOX
Bill
Pritchard is the brains. Always has been. Always has a plan.
PANEL:
We
can only see BILL's eyes, and we can get the amount of seriousness
from this Wolf's stare alone.
VO
BOX
Always
an escape to get us out of the fire.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
speaks with the same face of wonder as before.
BRENDAN
Agreed...
PAGE
8
PANEL:
BRENDAN
and HUNTER walk up to the other side of a street they were crossing,
up to a convenience store on the corner of Main Street.
VO
BOX
And
while Bill is the brain of the Wolves, every Wolf needs the muscle to
bite. That comes down to our other "non-leader" we look up
to.
HUNTER
Fuck,
man. I don't wanna be the one to have to talk to him.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
shoots a look to HUNTER as they step up to the entrance of the
convenience store.
VO
BOX
Ed
St. John
BRENDAN
Hunter,
you started this shit! If anything, be grateful no one offered to
beat your ass!
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks to the entrance.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks back at HUNTER, whose head kind of hangs in shame.
BRENDAN
Know
what? Snacks are on you.
HUNTER
Ffffffine...
PANEL:
BRENDAN
stands on the corner of the convenience store, slumped up against the
wall, waiting for HUNTER to return with nourishment, or the teenage
version of nourishment at least.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
closes his eyes and sighs in boredom.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks slightly back behind him around the corner in his peripherals,
noticing a conversation around the corner.
OFFICER
[OFF-PANEL]
That's
not even the worst, though...
PAGE
9
PANEL:
The
OFFICER that gave JAMES BRENNAN his ticket from before is having a
conversation outside of his parked cop car with A MAN DRESSED ALL IN
BLACK and rockin' his shoulder-length hair in what appears to be his
mid-twenties. They both carry a casual conversation as they smoke.
OFFICER
...It's
these fuckin' kids. I'm tellin' ya, the next generation is nothin'
but hooligans. They ain't got jobs, they ain't goin' to school, they
do nothing but vandalize everything and each other!
PANEL:
BRENDAN
is watching candidly from around the corner, more focused now.
OFFICER
[OFF-PANEL]
If
they're not the death of one another they're gonna be the death of
me!
PANEL:
Focused
on the smiling MAN IN BLACK.
OFFICER
[OFF-PANEL]
One
of these days, I swear I'm gonna--
PANEL:
A
hand lands on BRENDAN'S shoulder. BRENDAN looks back in shock.
HUNTER
[OFF-PANEL]
Yo,
Brendan.
BRENDAN
Gah!
PANEL:
HUNTER
talks to BRENDAN with a bag full of junk food. BRENDAN slicks back
his hair in relief, though he doesn't know why he was so spooked in
the first place.
HUNTER
You
alright?
BRENDAN
Yeah...
I just... Yes.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
and HUNTER walk away from the store and in the opposite direction of
the OFFICER'S conversation.
HUNTER
Come
on, we still gotta talk to St. John.
BRENDAN
You.
You have to talk to St. John.
HUNTER
Damn
it.
PAGE
10 & 11
PANEL:
An
entire layout of the city is drawn-up like a map. Creases in the
page where the map was folded would be cool, too. Probably the
hardest part about this entire project. One long road coming in and
out of the town. Main Street.
VO
BOX
I
might as well give you the lay of the land.
VO
BOX
This
is Ellisville. The sun rises on the Wolves and sets on the
Hellhounds. Simple as that.
VO
BOX
We
control the East.
VO
BOX
They
control the West.
VO
BOX
Simple
as that.
PANEL:
A
river runs wide and quick past some logging developments. Some teens
are throwing rocks in the water.
VO
BOX
There's
another gang that runs on the river. Call themselves the Lumbers.
They're nothin' but some loggers' sons. We think there's all of six
of them. As long as we don't run too far into the woods, Vinnie
Castro and his boys say they won't put the squeeze on us.
VO
BOX
Bullshit.
We ask 'em to join the Wolves and they will. We just don't want
'em.
PANEL:
The
high school imitates something that once stood proud, but time and
negligence put the squeeze on this place. It's nothing but another
prison.
VO
BOX
There
are some places that are neutral for us. Doesn't matter who you run
with, there are some places you can't avoid on certain sides of Main
Street. The drive-in, Francis Park, Lookout Point, they're all
neutral. So's the high school, for what few of us still attend.
PAGE
12
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks out the window next to a booth in the soda shop, his fries in a
basket in front of him, half-eaten. The outside flashes headlights
and shop signs. It's night.
VO
BOX
Doesn't
look like anything will be neutral anymore, though. Not for a while.
OLIVER
[OFF-PANEL]
But
we know when they start something, we finish!
PRESTON
[OFF-PANEL]
Bull!
We say they hit us first, they say we did. You know that's how it
works, Oliver.
PANEL:
OLIVER
SMITH, PRESTON ALLEN, BRENDAN CARLLYL, and TODD MCCORMICK all sit in
a booth together. OLIVER has his hand up to prove a point.
PRESTON
I
mean you've really gotta ask yourself: Who hit first?
VO
BOX
No
one will ever know who scrapped who first. The Hellhounds or the
Wolves. Honestly, I feel like we just hit at the same time. Did we
need to run in gangs? Hell no. There was nothing to run, just
things to run from. We needed to take our aggression and hit
someone. So we started hitting each other. That's all there is to
it.
OLIVER
They
did!
PANEL:
BRENDAN
turns to the rest of the group.
OLIVER
Hey,
Brendan, who do you think--?
BRENDAN
I
think we should check out and get sleep, gentlmen.
PANEL:
TODD
points at BRENDAN from across the table.
TODD
Gonna
go catch some of that midnight poon, ain'tcha?
PANEL:
BRENDAN
gets up from the booth and smiles while he stretches.
BRENDAN
Todd,
you can sit here with Oliver and Preston and pretend you get laid, or
you can get rested and maybe crack some skulls like breakfast eggs
early in the morn'.
PANEL:
OLIVER
gets up from the booth to let BRENDAN leave.
TODD
Yeah,
yeah. We'll come with ya.
PAGE
13
PANEL:
The
boys walk down the street as the city life bustles. OLIVER has his
hands deep into his pockets while TODD has his high up in the air,
talking about something he finds exciting.
VO
BOX
Night
was the time we had to be careful. We knew which side of Main Street
was ours, which was theirs, but we rarely cared who was on what side.
Now, though...
PANEL:
TODD
shouts something at a group of four girls across the street, or looks
like he is, though they more than likely can't even hear him from all
the traffic.
TODD
Oh,
man! There they are! The Girls! Just like we've been looking for!
PRESTON
Like
you've been looking for. Tuck it back in your pants, Todd.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
waves to his friends at the edge of an alley between two businesses.
VO
BOX
Usually
we'd skirt-chase, drag race, or get shit-faced, but tonight seemed
like we were in mourning. We couldn't care about the things we used
to pay attention to: Who won the game or what movie was coming to
town. Because we just didn't know how hard they were going to hit us
this time-- or who.
OLIVER
Brendan,
you're sure?
BRENDAN
Yes,
for Christ's sake, I'll be fine.
OLIVER
They
could be looking at us right now, just waiting for us to split.
BRENDAN
Then
they'd be smarter than they've ever been before about this. C'mon,
it's fine. I'm just a few blocks away.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
walks into the alley, his back to his friends, walking towards the
foreground. As the others walk away, OLIVER Takes the moment to say
his farewell.
OLIVER
Alright...
PAGE
14
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks up to the moon.
VO
BOX
What
can I say? Stupid.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
walks into a split in the alley going four directions, as four
Hellhounds hide behind the corners looking to spring on him.
VO
BOX
Really...
really... stupid.
PANEL:
RYAN
HILL grabs BRENDAN from the back of his shirt, shoving him forward.
BRENDAN looks backward at RYAN in shock.
BRENDAN
What
the f--No!
PANEL:
RYAN
grabs BRENDAN's right arm and puts it behind his back while still
holding onto the back of his shirt with his left. LEONARD THOMPSON
holds BRENDAN's left arm.
BRENDAN
Nonono!
Wait! I--
PANEL:
MICHAEL
"MICKY" MOORE knees BRENDAN in the stomach.
PAGE
15
PANEL:
MICKY
stands smiling in front of BRENDAN with DONALD CLIFTON standing right
beside him with a bandage on his head, smiling also.
MICKY
Tell
you the truth, we were hoping for that Collins kid, so Don here could
have some real payback.
PANEL:
MICKY
punches BRENDAN in the stomach.
MICKY
But
I think you'll do!
PANEL:
MICKY
walks back to DON, slapping him on the chest as they both smirk.
MICKY
Give
'em hell, Donny.
PANEL:
DON
punches BRENDAN across the face with a heavy right hook as RYAN and
LEO hold him up.
DON
I'm
going to give you ten times what that fucking weasel kid gave me!
PAGE
16
PANEL:
DON
kicks BRENDAN in the side.
DON
And
if you think this ends tonight-- right here with just you-- you're
wrong!
PANEL:
DON
kicks BRENDAN in the crotch.
DON
Dead
wrong!
PANEL:
BRENDAN
is on his knees, hunched over from the kick, his arms still held.
DON
You
think you fucking hicks can fuck with the Hellhounds? We're gonna
teach you.
PANEL:
DON
isn't smiling anymore as he stands above BRENDAN, but MICKY is.
DON
One-by-fucking-one.
PAGE
17
PANEL:
MICKY
turns around Inquiringly.
ED
[OFF-PANEL]
Hellhounds?
PANEL:
ED
swings his signature bat into into MICKY's face, knocking him into a
mid-air hover above the ground.
PANEL:
MICKY
scatters away from ED, his nose and mouth bleeding. RYAN is in
shock. LEO has already dropped BRENDAN's other arm. DON has
back-pedaled away from ED. BRENDAN himself looks up at ED from the
ground, a small bit of blood coming from the center of his mouth.
ED
I
don't see anything but a couple of no-brain bitches.
PANEL:
MICKY
has backed against the wall near RYAN.
RYAN
Fuck,
it's St. John.
PANEL:
LEO
has already backed-up a bit into the alley BRENDAN came from.
LEO
Shit.
C'mon, you guys, we can kick their asses la--
PANEL:
LEO
is shoved back into the scuffle by PRESTON's kick from the shadows
into his back.
PRESTON
No
later, Leonard. Right here.
PAGE
18
PANEL:
RYAN
has dropped BRENDAN's arm already and backed-up to the alley MICKY is
in. DON is in the opposite one. OLIVER, PRESTON, and TODD are in
the one BRENDAN came from, and ED is in the foreground looking at the
whole thing. BRENDAN is bent on the ground in the middle of it all
and LEO is getting up, looking behind him towards the larger group of
Wolves.
RYAN
Shit.
What are we--
MICKY
Fuck
them. It's the one with the bat I'm worried about.
PANEL:
DON
is about ready to turn and run down the alley behind him. LEO is
getting ready to do the same.
DON
Fuck
this. Not tonight.
PANEL:
OLIVER
shouts at them as they run off.
OLIVER
Shag
ass and tell Connor if our turf ain't safe than neither is yours!
PANEL:
MICKY
tries to turn and dash.
MICKY
Dammit!
PANEL:
MICKY
is punched in the face by PRESTON, though only his arm is visible.
PANEL:
MICKY
is knocked back onto the ground with PRESTON standing in front of
him, wiping the blood from his fist onto his jeans. RYAN is already
far down the alley away from the action.
PRESTON
Stay
awhile.
PAGE
19
PANEL:
MICKY
looks behind himself in horror.
PANEL:
ED
ST. JOHN kicks MICKY in the face with a sort of hop in his step.
ED
C'mon!
PANEL:
ED
slams his baseball bat onto MICKY's back.
ED
Get
up, you fucking kike!
PANEL:
MICKY
is hit in the stomach with the bat.
ED
You
want to fuck with the Wolves?
PANEL:
ED
hits MICKY one last time with the bat, across the face.
ED
You
fuck with the whole pack!
PAGE
21
PANEL:
OLIVER,
TODD, and PRESTON surround MICKY but look at ED as he walks over to
BRENDAN.
ED
Leave
him. He's out anyway. Fucking faggot can sleep in the alley.
PANEL:
TODD
smiles to ED.
TODD
Yeah...
But he's on our side.
PANEL:
BRENDAN
looks up towards an off-panel ED.
VO
BOX
Ellisville
always had its share of Christians. Jews. Mormons.
VO
BOX
Me?
ED
So
drag him to their side.
PANEL:
The
viewer has the opportunity to look up at ED from BRENDAN's
perspective. In all his glory.
VO
BOX
I
believed in Ed St. John.
TO
BE CONTINUED...
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