INT. DAY. SUBURBAN HOUSE. KITCHEN.
A man is preparing to leave the house. He looks harassed and anxious.
He is rummaging in a drawer beneath the sink which is crammed full of plastic carriers.
His wife is helping. They rummage through the pile.
He selects one bag and stuffs the others back in.
His wife picks up two spare ones from the floor where there have dropped.
WIFE:Hey, these are a bit stronger. Look, take this one.
MAN
kay, okay. Thanks.
He hands her the one he selected and puts the stronger bag in his back pocket.
WIFE:Look, there's two. Are you sure you don't want another bag? You never know?
MAN:No, I'll be alright.
WIFE:Are you sure?
MAN:This is enough!
WIFE:You could put one in your jacket pocket.
MANh, ffff...
He tries, but it won't be stuffed in in a hurry and he gives up.
MANh! Look, I don't need another bag!
WIFEkay, dear.
She kisses him on the cheek.
WIFE:What time do you think you'll be back?
MAN:I don't know. Fairly soon, er, I don't know, I don't know.
WIFEkay, see you soon, then. Good luck!
He bangs out of the house.
EXT. DAY. HIGH STREET. A BUILDING SOCIETY NEXT TO A GREGGS.
The MAN strides jumpily but purposefully down the street.
He approaches the Building Society.
He pulls a black balaclava from his coat pocket and is pulling it over his head.
He strides past the Building Society and into Greggs.
INT. DAY. GREGGS BAKERS.
There are two girls working behind the counter.
He pulls a pistol a directs it at the younger counter girl.
He pulls the carrier bag from his back pocket.
MAN:Fill the bag!
He throws the carrier across the counter.
She calmly watches it skid over the counter and fall onto the floor by her feet.
GIRL:This is Greggs. It's not a bank.
He looks around and seeing various baked goods, biscuits etc, realises his error.
MAN
Under breath) Shit.
The GIRL stares.
The other girl stares.
The man tries to maintain a calm and direct tone.
MAN:Just fill the bag!
GIRL:What with?
MAN:What have you got left?
POV. MAN
He scans the display. Looking from buns, to sausage rolls, this way and that.
GIRL (O.C): Flapjacks?
His eyes rest on the huge mountain of flapjacks in the cabinet. He waves the gun.
CUT BACK TO SHOT OF INTERIOR.
MAN:Quickly!
The GIRL stoops to pick up the bag.
GIRL:They're two for one.
MANKAY! PUT THEM IN THE BAG! GO! GO!
The GIRL begins to bundle flapjacks into the carrier.
The other girl assists.
The MAN turns to the customers behind him, pointing his gun.
They all look a bit shocked and angry.
MAN
TAY BACK! DON'T LOOK AT ME. STAY STILL!
GIRL(O.C): There's too many.
The MAN turns back.
MAN:What?
GIRL:There's too many flapjacks. Have you got another bag?
MAN is very flustered now. He looks at the girl and the bulging bag and the remaining pile of flapjacks.
MANunder breath) Shhhit.
GIRL
o you want another bag?
They're 10p.
MAN:Errm.. Ye, yes... I'll have another bag.
The GIRL goes beneath the counter for the other bag.
He turns to get his wallet from his back pocket, but he hears a tut and looks round.
He sees the other customers sneering, hatred in their eyes, tutting.
POV MAN
A lady mutters 'Twat'.
An old man glares at him and says 'Prick'.
The MAN sees that they all have reusable carriers and rattan bags with eco-slogans on them.
CUT BACK TO INTERIOR.
MAN:No! No!
He turns back to the GIRL.
MAN:I, I don't want another bag. Leave it! They'll be fine in that one. Just fill it!
The Greggs GIRL starts pushing more flapjacks by the fistful into the bag. She has to really pack them in.
He waves the pistol from her face to the bag.
MAN:Come on, come on.
He looks nervously round at the other customers, one scowling lady pulls her rattan reusable bag nearer her chest protectively.
MAN:COME ON!
The girls have wedged the bag full of flapjacks and the younger one heaves it over the counter.
Flapjacks drop around the place.
He grabs the bulging bag, waves the gun about a bit and scatters from the shop.
The customers and GIRL all watch him in silence.
EXT. STREET. DAY.
He flees from the Greggs and past the Building Society.
As he runs down the street he can feel the handles going.
He puts the other hand holding the gun under bottom of the bag to support the bottom.
He runs awkwardly.
As he runs over a junction he holds out the supporting hand, waving the gun to stop the cars.
The plastic skin begins to rip and as he runs again it excretes fresh, sweet oaty booty all along the street.
He starts to cry as the flapjacks tumble from the ripped bag.
Sobbing and running.
Further on, he stops. Panting.
Leaning against a lamp post, panting, sniffing, gun in one hand, he looks at the two torn, fluttering plastic handles in the other.
He looks around, wild eyed. He shakes his head.
MANhhhit!
He starts runnning again.
Still carrying the handles.
Off and away.
Pathetic.
