Written by Peter Vazquez
INT. CELL - NIGHT
Darkness. Darkness. Nothing can be seen. The sound of indiscriminate movement begins to permeate throughout the room, followed by a flick. Another flick. With a third flick, a small flame pops up. It's a lighter.
A young woman (early 20's), named PALMOLIVE, lies on a concrete floor holding the lighter in her left hand. She jolts forward, but hardly moves. Using the flame as a light, she discovers that all of her limbs are locked in chains.
Suddenly, a small, white ceiling light illuminates the room.
She can now see she's locked in a filthy cell. She hears a man laughing in the distance. There's a purple bruise over her right eye.
She looks around the cell, and finds blood-stained nail scratches on the left wall, a glory hole on the right wall, and a trail of piss running from her shorts.
Again, she jolts forward, but doesn't budge.
She tries to kick her legs upward, but they barely move. She reaches for her right side, but can't quite reach it. She pushes her torso to the right, inch by inch, until she is finally able to reach her side with her right hand.
She grabs a box of cigarettes out of her right pocket. She opens it, and holds it up to her mouth. It's about three inches from her face. She hits the bottom of the box with her pinky, ring, and middle fingers, trying to knock a cigarette out of it. She holds the box with her thumb and index.
She hits the box three times, until one cigarette falls out, she catches it with her lips. She uses the lighter in her other hand to light it, and she takes a puff.
PALMOLIVE(V.O.)
There is no light at the end of the tunnel. And I'm not sure why I expected there to be one.
She puts the box of cigarettes back in her pocket, then raises her fingers as close as she can to the side of her head and fires them like a gun.
CUT TO:
TITLE CARD:
"AIN'T
IT FUNNY"