It's the long haul into the freezer

Just this morning I was sitting in the sun, taking in the soft glow and warm caress. You don't get much of those around here so you better savour it while it lasts. I remember one of the inmates telling me that the world outside isn't as grand as we thought it would be. Life behind the tall cement walls gets to you, makes you want to tear your hair out and stick your eyeballs in the blistering filth.

We all want out.

But none of us get it easy.

So it was just another day, I digress, and we all looked forward to another day closer to when we die in our cell, our rotting flesh sending out an invite to the resident rats. They're good friends of the wardens because they help clean out the place before they drag the bodies out. It's been a good while since they've fed, and you can see it in their eyes; watching every move you make, waiting for the time your face slum lifeless to the floor. They're attracted to death, and they'll soon be all over you.

"Someone's here to see you."

I'm not used to my door opening. Most of the time I squeeze myself into the corner and let the sun touch me. It's all I can do to remind me of the past.

"Ya hear me? Get your ass out!"

They're going to have to drag me out. There's no way I'm giving up my sunshine. Three hours a day, they allow the sun to come through the walls. I'm always there, waiting and taking everything in.

They're going to have to drag me out.

Pain. I'm losing my sunshine. It's dimming, and I'm angry. I try to fight back, but they won't let me. More pain, and blackness. It's like night time, only warmer.

"Ya hear me? Who sent you?"

Water feels good, even if it's thrown to my face with the pail.

I've lost touch with my past. It comes to me in bits and pieces; something that I want to forget but have and will always fail to do. I often wondered where I would be if he didn't come see me that day. He took away the fall walls around me and threw me into a free-for-all fray where no one wins. I didn't want to think about it anymore. Not now, not ever.

How did I get here? Last thing I remembered was a heavy thud and a gun in my face. I was delivering something for my Sergeant down the enemy lines and the motars colored the skies with dust and smoke. It's one thing working for an asshole, and it's another working for an asshole who orders you to get shot at by your own guys.

I'm tied up, wet, and in pain. I'm pissed. And they're going on and on about who sent me here and what have I to do with the supposed attack force entering their land. Fuck yourself silly guys... nothing's coming out of my mouth.

More water, this time from the kettle. These guys should throw something else - it's not easy to get a drink during the war. More explosions from outside probably means they're nervous and out of time. Something's got their balls and I've a feeling it's not their bitches. I'll hold out and they'll have to kill me.

"Tell us, goddammit!"

I remain silent. The explosions outside shakes the room. They sweat more, throw more things at me.

"That's it! If he's not going to tell us, I'll kill him!"

Just a little bit more. Salvation, here I come.

The Official Stress-Buster's Stress-Buster Diet Plan For Immediate & Non-Painful Stress-Busting

FADE IN BLACK:

CUE TITLE:

TITLE FADE OUT:

ROLL TEXT:

2.4 litres of water, preferrably cold
2 packets of M&Ms (net weight 55g), flavor and quantity to preference
1 standard size writing pad
1 set of playlist, subject to preference

FADE TO BLACK:

V.O. (WITH MUSIC PLAYING IN BG)
Every fuckin' day... in-and-out-and-in. No stop.

BG GETS LOUDER

V.O.
How's a guy supposed to get some rest around here?

BG GETS LOUDER

V.O.
Me? I guess it's always been the music - ya let it loose and it takes over you, running down everything in your path like a freight train derailed; there's no stopping me now. I got my music.

BG GETS LOUDER

V.O.
Oh yeah. It's always been the music.

SOUNDS OF BOMBS DROPPING IN THE DISTANCE

FADE IN:

EXT. WAR ZONE - DAY

Private (PTE) ALFRECINO BALLUCHI turns the music on his IPod up more, successfully drowing out the screeching hail of shrapnel. He continues to stroll down the front, a thin piece of paper in his hand. His pair of sunglasses gleam in the midday sun, hiding his otherwise handsome face which since has been used as target practise by mosquitoes and other bugs. It's apparent that not a lot of washing gets done during times of war.

LOUDER SCREECHING ATOP MUSIC

PTE BALLUCHI slows his pace to a crawl and turns to face the battlefield. Dust and metal rain the placid air, coating the pathetic ambience with a smooth layer of misery.

PTE BALLUCHI (STOPPING)
Well, well... Ain't that a pretty sight. We're getting our asses creamed, and all we can do is send letters here and there, in and out... I'd love to meet the genius of this outfit.

He removes his sunglasses, takes a deep whiff of the air and lets loose a flurry of coughing fits, inaudible under the air raid sirens and the singing bombs.

PTE GALLUCHI
Fucking geniuses should shoot themselves before I get to them and tell them what email is.

PTE BALLUCHI continues on his task, popping some month-old M&Ms as he blasts his music louder. He doesn't walk far before he is shoved off his feet by someone. A bomb explodes nearby, sending dirt and metal hurling through the air.

FADE TO BLACK:

ROLL TEXT:

Rugby Tackle: defensive maneuver employed by giant, steroid-popping football players to reliquish their opponents' hold of the ball; PAIN usually ensues.

FADE IN:

INT. HDB FLAT - EARLY MORNING

ARTHUR WONG lies on the mattress, his head up, stretching his neck trying to take a look at what's landed on his chest. There's a numbing pain, and everything's dark - probably due to the sun not having risen.

He can hear a slight breathing, and whatever's making that sound is sitting right on top of him, imposing its weight on his chest, keeping him pinned onto the mattress. He tries to get up, but to no avail - the force of the tackle knocked his strength right out.

ARTHUR (V.O.)
It's looking at me.

The creature looks on, breathing heavily as its piercing gaze impales ARTHUR'S sanity. From a distance, claws clank across the floor, coming closer and closer to him and his assailant.

CREATURE ON CHEST
Hoowreaaoww...

It lets out a cry - the most sissy meow you ever heard. In the midst of his stupor, ARTHUR failed to realize that he was floored by what must be the fattest cat in Singapore - a 8kg (now 6 due to territorial dispute) tabby with a fat sack that resembles Winston Churchill (you have to look close enough).

He kicks the cat off the bed and returns back to sleep.

SOUNDS OF BOMBS DROPPING

FADE TO:

EXT. WAR ZONE - DAY

PTE BALLUCHI throws the body off himself and rushes to regain balance. He searches for the piece of paper he's been holding and finds it firmly in his grip. He turns to face the person who drove him to the ground.

PTE BALLUCHI
What the fuck did you think you were doing?

The stranger looks up at PTE BALLUCHI, dusting off the dirt thathas settled from the blast.

PTE BALLUCHI
Hey! What's the meaning of this? Last thing I needed was someone planting my face onto the ground.

STRANGER
You're welcome.

PTE BALLUCHI
WHAT?!

STRANGER
If it wasn't for me, you'd have been blasted to pieces! So you're welcome.

PTE BALLUCHI
Bullshit! I'm the best damn postman out here! Ain't no bomb's gonna take me out!

Another motar blows up close to where they are. Both men drop to their knees, hands on their necks.

PTE BALLUCHI
Woah!

STRANGER (starting to move off)
We've best get to safer grounds. Follow me.

PTE BALLUCHI gives the STRANGER a weary eye and walks the other way.

STRANGER
We've got no time to waste.

PTE BALLUCHI
So fuck off then! I've a letter to deliver, and you're in my way!

STRANGER
You're not being cooperative. I'm going to have to ask you again - FOLLOW ME.

PTE BALLUCHI
If you think I'll just -

The STRANGER points a gun at him.

PTE BALLUCHI (face pale)
Hey man, there's no need to get all serious over this. I'm just a postman, nothing more. There's no need to resort to violence. Just go away and we can all be good rite?

STRANGER
FOLLOW ME.

PTE BALLUCHI
Yeah, yeah... Sure thing. Just take that thing away from my face!

The STRANGER cocks his weapon.

PTE BALLUCHI
OK! OK! I'm coming.

The two of them walk off into the distance, motars raining down upon their path.

FADE TO BLACK: