EXT. MANSION – GARAGE – NIGHT
Tom and Jerry pull ill-fitting ski-masks over their faces.
TOM
(whispering)
I can’t see a damn thing.
Jerry struggles to line up the eye holes so that he can see Tom. The dark outline of his face looks like a gorilla in a ballerina’s dress.
JERRY
Okay, look at me.
Tom is facing the other direction. He tugs at his ski-mask. Tries to pull it down even further.
TOM
Jesus Jerry, that’s the problem…
I can’t fucking see.
Extending unsolicited assistance, Jerry paws at Tom’s face. Trying to find the eyeholes, he begins poking with a firmly extended finger.
JERRY
Is that your mouth?
Jerry pokes around Tom’s face. Searching for the elusive eye-holes.
JERRY (CONT’D)
Nose? Mouth? What am I touching here. What’s this sticking out?
Arms flailing wildly, Tom fights off an unseen Jerry.
TOM
Ear! You’re poking my ear!
With fervent fury, Tom desperately tries to pull his mask off. But it continues to stick to his face like gum on a shoe.
JERRY
I think I figured it out…
Tom finally succeeds in ripping it off, but sends himself spiraling backward. He falls head over heels as he reverse somersaults into an open metal trash-can.
JERRY (CONT’D)
Your mask was on backwards.
INT. MANSION – UPSTAIRS BEDROOM – NIGHT
Gold chain swinging side to side, a Fat Man in a silk bathrobe waddles over to the open window. A partially eaten salami in one hand. A half-empty bottle of Chianti in the other.
His bulbous eyes dart over the property. Searching for the source of noise. Scanning for intruders.
EXT. MANSION – NIGHT – MOMENTS LATER
Floodlights erupt. They illuminate a ski-masked Jerry trying to extricate Tom’s upper torso from the garbage with repeated thrusts. It appears he is doing something far more intimate.
EXT. MANSION – FRONT DOOR – NIGHT
The ornate front door bursts open. Still dressed in bathrobe, Fat Man exits. Salami and Chianti replaced with two ominous machine-guns. Breathing heavy, he waddles towards the garage.
EXT. MANSION – GARAGE – NIGHT
Jerry spots Fat Man through the bushes. Pure terror.
JERRY
Oh my God! Oh my God!
Jerry begins shaking Tom’s feet nervously.
JERRY (CONT’D)
Scarface is after us!
Grunting loudly, Jerry manages to lift Tom up. Then clumsily rotates him a half-circle so that his feet are on the ground. A muffled noise emanates from inside the garbage can.
TOM
I still can’t see! How am I gonna know where to go!
Jerry can just barely make out what Tom is saying.
JERRY
Don’t worry Tom! I gotta plan!
EXT. MANSION – GARAGE – NIGHT
Fat Man reaches the garage. Doesn’t see them. But hears loud voices nearby. He waddles towards them.
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Jerry and Tom sprint. One ski-masked man. One trash-can with legs. Unable to see, Tom drifts directly towards into the path of an oncoming delivery van.
TOM
Marco!
JERRY
Polo!
Tom closes in Jerry’s location. The delivery van HONKS loudly as it swerves onto the curb. Misses him by inches.
TOM
Marco!
JERRY
Polo!
Up ahead, Jerry spots an original model Mini Cooper parked under a street lamp. Rusty seams. Faded paint. Tiny tires.
EXT. STREET – MINI COOPER – NIGHT
Panicked, Jerry pats at his pockets. Turns them inside out.
JERRY
Where are the keys?!
He begins to grab at Tom’s pockets.
TOM
I don’t have them!
Jerry gropes at Tom’s waste.
TOM (CONT’D)
I still don’t have them!
Then Jerry catches something glitter from inside the Mini. His keys – still in the ignition.
His hands pry at the door handle. Locked. Hands cupped to the window, he peers to the passenger side of the car. Also locked.
Unable to think of anything else, Jerry steps back — then punches the window. It doesn’t budge. He looks towards Tom.
EXT. MINI COOPER
Something smashes into the side of the mini cooper. Jerry is using Tom as a battering ram. On the third try, the fragile window finally breaks in a shower of brittle glass. He awkwardly sets Tom down. Then races behind the car.
TOM
Marco!
Jerry opens the trunk. Clears aside fast-food wrappers and moldy food. Desperately trying to make room.
JERRY
Polo!
Tom runs towards the trunk but hits the side of the car and falls down. Begins to roll down the street.
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Fat man bends down over. Struggles to catch his breath. Spots the Mini Cooper up ahead. Aims. Sausage-like fingers about to squeeze the trigger just the Mini engine springs to life.
EXT. MINI COOPER (MOVING) – NIGHT
The Mini’s headlights, while not exactly powerful, are bright enough to temporarily blind the furious fat man. Who, unable to see anything but white, decides to fire anyway.
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Bullets whiz everywhere. High-pitched pings as hot lead strikes street signs, metal mailboxes, and parked cars. Jerry ducks as rogue bullets shatter the front window.
The Mini bounces violently as it runs up onto the curb – and over the Fat Man’s foot. Instinctively drops the guns as he howls.
His last glance clearly revealing a most unusual sight – two feet thrashing wildly out of the rear hatch.