This is one of those one's I just had to write to get out of my system.
INT. HALLWAY – DAY
THE DOOR TO NUMBER 12 OPENS. OUT STEPS JASON VOORHIES IN HIS DRESSING GOWN. HE HAS A RED STAIN ON HIS HOCKEY MASK.
HE BENDS OVER TO COLLECT THE MORNING PAPER. NOTHING THERE. HE TRIES UNDER THE MAT. NO JOY.
THE DOOR TO NUMBER 13 BURSTS OPEN. OUT POPS FREDDY KRUEGER. THE RAP SONG 'NIGHTMARE ON MY STREET' BY DJ JAZZY JEFF AND THE FRESH PRINCE PLAYS LOUDLY FROM WITHIN.
FREDDY:
'Sup, blood?
JASON:
(WIPING HIS MASK)
This? It's a tomato juice.
FREDDY:
I meant… never mind. See ya later, man.
HE GOES TO HEAD BACK INDOORS.
JASON:
Can we have a quick chat please?
FREDDY:
Sure, man, shoot.
JASON”
It’s about the noise.
FREDDY:
My tunes?
JASON:
Well, yeah, but more the shouting.
FREDDY:
Tell me about it, man! That Ring chick’s a screamer!
JASON:
I think it was a man’s voice.
FREDDY:
Oh, you mean last night? That was just one of those teenagers I like terrorising.
JASON:
Can you take them somewhere else maybe? The woods or a campsite or something?
FREDDY:
Not my style, man. I got the whole creepy boiler room thing going on in there, you know? I got the scalding pipes and the furnace and all that shit.
JASON:
Furnace, right. And yet your bin bags end up propped against my wall here.
HE INDICATES A BLOOD STAIN POOLING UNDER ONE OF THE BAGS.
JASON:
Can’t you at least take them outside?
FREDDY:
What’s the need? I drop them here and they go right out.
JASON:
Because I take them out!
FREDDY:
My bad, bro.
JASON:
Forget it. I’m just… I’m just pissed off right now.
FREDDY:
You need to chillax. Let’s hit the town – you and me! Put on some mittens and let’s drown some kittens!
JASON:
It’s nine in the morning! No, I just want to eat some breakfast and read my paper. If they’d delivered it that is.
FREDDY:
Oh, sorry about that, man, I borrowed it earlier.
JASON:
You did?
FREDDY:
I needed something to blot up the mess after I finished off that Elm Street kid.
JASON:
(LIVID)
Great.
FREDDY:
I’m just f**king with you, pal! Here!
HE PULLS A NEWSPAPER FROM THE BACK OF HIS TROUSERS.
JASON:
(LAUGHING)
You got me, man.
FREDDY:
I sure did. Here you go.
HE HANDS THE PAPER BACK, ACCIDENTALLY SLICING OFF A BUNCH OF JASON’S FINGERS WITH HIS RAZOR BLADE GLOVE.
FREDDY:
You want a band aid for that?
