I'd appreciate some eyes on this one. I like the idea but I feel like it's missing something. Little help?
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
THREE TEENAGE BOYS ARE HUDDLED AROUND A OUIJA BOARD.
JIM
It's not working, Barry.
BARRY
You're doing it wrong. Give it here!
BARRY PUTS HIS FINGER ON THE SHOT GLASS AND CLOSES HIS EYES. STILL NOTHING.
JIM
I told you.
SIMON
Maybe we should stop.
BARRY
What's the matter, Simon? Scared?
SIMON
No, it's just not going to work.
BARRY
We'll see about that.
BARRY PULLS OUT A PENKNIFE, SLITS HIS OWN THROAT AND FLOPS DOWN, DEAD.
JIM
Oh my God!
SIMON
What did he do that for?!
JIM
I don't know, why don't you ask him!
THEIR EYES DRIFT PAST THE BODY TO THE OUIJA BOARD. SIMON PUTS A FINGER TO THE SHOT GLASS.
SIMON
This isn't going to…
-- THE SHOT GLASS SKIDS ACROSS THE BOARD.
JIM
It's spelling something. Quick, write this down. J-I-M-U-T-W-T
SIMON
It's hard to read but I think it says, "Jim you twat".
JIM
That's Barry's shitty spelling!
BARRY'S DISEMBODIED LAUGH ECHOES AROUND THE ROOM.
JIM
F**k you, Barry!
BARRY
(O.O.V.)
Come and get me, twat face!
JIM
That's it!
JIM PICKS UP THE PENKNIFE AND SLITS HIS THROAT.
SIMON
Christ!
JIM
(O.O.V.)
Barry!
BARRY
(O.O.V.)
About time!
SIMON
What's going on in there?
BARRY
(O.O.V.)
We're having a party.
SIMON
Yeah?
JIM
(O.O.V.)
Yeah. You should come down. There's girls and everything!
SIMON
Girls?
SIMON PICKS UP THE KNIFE AND SLASHES HIS THROAT.
BARRY
(O.O.V.)
Psyche!
SIMON
(O.O.V.)
You bastards!
JIM
(O.O.V.)
Come on, let's get out of here.
BARRY
(O.O.V.)
Yeah, I've got tea at eight.
SIMON
(O.O.V.)
How do we get out? Guys?
