Josh Becker

Note: "This is the Episode that was supposed to star Bruce Campbell"


From within a small, green, wooden garage that’s not connected to a house, we can hear the sound of a TV set playing.


Inside the garage the walls are made of raw 2x4s, although most of the wall space is covered in movie posters, all starring a handsome, dark-haired actor named Bryce Crandall. The garage is decorated with a variety of old junk, like car tires, broken bicycles, black garbage bags full of who-knows-what? Watching TV while eating sardines out of the can is CHAZZ, a thin, tall, geeky-looking 25-year-old. Also for dinner are rye crisp crackers and a big bottle of water. Chazz is avidly watching the local news (which we can’t see, just hear).

                                                                 FEMALE COMMENTATOR (O.S.)
                                . . . But after 18 hours of being locked in the
                                car, without water, and in this record-breaking
                                heat, Happy the dachshund figured out how to
                                unlock the door and open it, finally escaping
                                and making her way to her stricken owner
                                where she barked until someone came and
                                helped. Isn’t that just an amazing story, Bill?

                                                                 MALE COMMEDNTATOR (O.S)
                                                           (fake laughing)
                                It sure is, Holly, and I’ll tell you, that was one
                                “hot dog.”
                                                           (now she fakes a laugh)
                                That’s a good one. In local news, Michigan’s
                                own Bryce Crandall, star of the hit TV series,
                                Scorch Report, as well as the famous Dead
                                Don’t Die trilogy, will be in town this weekend
                                for the Motor City Nightmare/Frightmare
                                Horror Convention down at Joe Louis Arena.

Chazz drops the plastic water bottle, which bounces, falls on its side and pours water on the concrete floor.

                                                                 FEMALE COMMENTATOR (O.S.)
                                Seriously, Bryce Crandall is one of my very
                                favorite actors.

                                                                 MALE COMMENTATOR (O.S.)
                                Me, too, and I just love Scorch Report.

Chazz has a weird, intense expression on his face as he picks up the remote and turns off the TV. He stands and begins to pace nervously.

                                Mr. Crandall, my name’s Chazz, and I’m
                                your biggest fan in the whole world. If I
                                could just work with you once, you know,
                                act with you in something, my whole life
                                would be fulfilled. That’d be all right,
                                wouldn’t it?
                                                           (imitating Bryce Crandall)
                                Sure it would, Chazz. Not a problem.
                                                           (back to his own voice)
                                Oh, that’s so awesome! I knew I could
                                count on you.


A black limousine pulls up in front of swanky, modern Westin Hotel in downtown Detroit. The doorman opens the limo door and out steps BRYCE CRANDALL, tall, handsome, dark hair with a bit of salt and pepper at the temples, and an exceptionally square chin. The doorman opens the front door and Bryce and the bellhop enter the hotel.


Bryce walks into the beautifully appointed lobby of the hotel. He steps up to the front desk. A CLERK immediately steps up and hands Bryce his key.

                                We’re very pleased to have you with
                                us again, Mr. Crandall.

                                My pleasure.

                                Where’s your assistant?

                                He’ll be in later tonight.

                                Have a pleasant stay.

                                I’m sure I will.

Bryce turns and heads toward the elevators. A uniformed BELLHOP steps up behind Bryce rolling a suitcase behind him.


It’s a huge, gorgeous hotel room. The Bellhop opens the door and lets Bryce in, then follows along after him.

                                I hope you enjoy your stay here, Mr.

Bryce hands the Bellhop a ten dollar bill.

                                I’m sure I will.

                                Thank you so much, Mr. Crandall. I
                                just love the Dead Don’t Die movies.

                                I appreciate that.

With a bow, the Bellhop leaves. Bryce rolls his suitcase over to the bedroom, then wanders somewhat aimlessly around the room. He finally stops at the mini-bar. He takes out a drink glass, then two little bottles of Gray Goose vodka and prepares to make himself a drink. Bryce opens the fridge, looks inside and frowns. He steps over to the telephone, picks it up and pushes one button. An OPERATOR answers.

                                Room service, may I help you?

                                Could I please get a bucket of ice?

                                Certainly, Mr. Crandall. It will be right up.

                                Thank you.

                                My pleasure, sir.

Bryce hangs up. He sits down on the couch, takes out his iPhone and is just about to dial when there’s a knock at the door.

                                That was quick.

Bryce sets his phone down, stands, crosses to the door and opens it. At the door stands Chazz dressed as a uniformed waiter and pushing a stainless steel cart. Bryce points at the bar.

                                Just set it over there, would you please?

Chazz pushes the cart into the room and the door shuts behind him.

                                Mr. Crandall. Bryce. You’ve gotta listen
                                to me.


                                                           (inhales deeply)
                                I’ve seen all of your movies hundreds of
                                times. I’ve seen the Dead Don’t Die movies
                                thousands of times. I watch Scorch Report
                                every week. I’m your biggest fan in the whole

                                Well that’s great.

                                So you’ve just gotta make me famous.

                                Me make you famous? How?

                                Uh . . . you could put me in Scorch Report.

                                I don’t put anybody in the show. I’m just
                                an actor.

                                                           (completely confused)
                                What do you mean?

                                I mean, the producers choose the actors,
                                just like they chose me. I just act in the
                                show, I’m not a producer.

                                You’re not?

                                No, I’m not. Have you done any acting?

                                Just in my own home videos.

                                Well, that’s a good place to start. I started
                                off making super-8 movies with my buddies.
                                Just keep going and maybe you’ll do something
                                really good.

Chazz’s face goes slack and pale. His eyes widen in disappointment.

                                You mean you won’t put me in the show?

                                I just explained, I don’t put anyone in the
                                show. The producers do.

                                You won’t make me famous?

                                You have to make you famous, I can’t do
                                it for you.

Chazz grits his teeth, reaches into his waiter’s jacket and pulls out a Smith & Wesson .38 pistol.

                                Oh, yes you can.

Bryce puts up his hands, palms out.

                                Whoa, whoa, whoa, big fella. Better put
                                that way. Somebody might get hurt, and
                                I’d hate for it to be me.

                                Don’t you see, I have to be famous, otherwise
                                what’s the point?

                                Take my word for it, being famous isn’t
                                all it’s cracked up to be.

                                Then I guess I’ll just have to be famous for
                                being the man that killed Bryce Crandall.
                                How’s that?

                                That’s not famous, that’s infamous. That’s
                                the opposite of famous.

                                Then what am I supposed to do? I live in
                                a fucking garage! I eat sardines and rye
                                crisp for every meal! I separate bottles at
                                the liquor store at night so I can afford the
                                fucking sardines and rye crisp! Do you
                                know how fucking cold it gets in there in
                                the winter? Or hot it gets in the summer?
                                It’s unbearable! I can’t go on like this!

Chazz has brought himself to tears and shuts his eyes to clear them. Bryce steps forward, grabs Chazz’s hand and the gun, aims the gun away from himself and applies pressure, but Chazz isn’t giving up the gun. Bryce deftly winds up and gives Chazz a good solid elbow to the side of the head, causing him to immediately release the pistol and fall to the floor on his back. Bryce holds the pistol in the palm of his hand.

                                Look, nobody got hurt. No harm no foul.
                                And since I’d prefer not to make a big deal
                                out of this thing, you can just get up and
                                leave and I won’t call the cops.

Chazz speaks from his position on his back on the floor.

                                Then you won’t make me famous?

                                I can’t make you famous! Are you deaf?
                                But I can let you walk out of here, so start
                                walkin’. Now! Move it!

But Chazz doesn’t move.

                                Can I have my gun back?

                                No, you can’t.

Chazz gets an even more maniacal, insane look in his eyes.

                                I’ll walk outta here, but you haven’t seen
                                the last of me. I’ll be around. I’ll get another
                                gun. Every place you show up, every horror
                                convention, every movie premiere, every
                                everything, I’ll be in the crowd, waiting.
                                And you’ll see me and you’ll know why
                                I’m there. And sooner or later you’ll just
                                have to make me famous.

Bryce takes the pistol, cocks the hammer, aims the barrel at Chazz’s forehead and pulls the trigger. A bullet hole appears in Chazz’s forehead and his brains and blood spatter the carpet. Now Bryce has a weird, slightly evil look in his eyes.

                                OK, now you’re famous. You were killed
                                by the one and only Bryce Crandall.
                                                           (drops the pistol
                                                           on the dead body)
                                Sadly for you, you’re not the only one. It’s
                                just way too bad there are so many fucked
                                up assholes like you around who won’t see
                                reason under any circumstances. I told you,
                                man, it ain’t that easy being famous, either.

Just then the room phone rings. Bryce answers it and hears the agitated voice of the hotel MANAGER. Bryce sits down on the couch.


                                                                 MANAGER (O.S.)
                                Mr. Crandall. It’s been reported that there
                                was the sound of a gunshot coming from
                                your room.

                                Yes, there was. I’ve had an intruder. There’s
                                been violence. Please call the police.

                                                                 MANAGER (O.S.)
                                Are you all right?

                                I’m fine, but the intruder is dead.

                                                                 MANAGER (O.S.)
                                Oh, dear god. That’s horrible.

                                Yes, it’s a tragedy. Terrible. Oh, by the
                                way, please don’t forget to send up that
                                bucket of ice, OK? Thanks a lot.

Bryce hangs up.