INT. PADDY'S PUB — DAY
(DENNIS is behind the bar, polishing a glass like it insulted him.)
(MAC is shadowboxing near the jukebox like he's warming up for a crusade.)
(DEE is on her phone, front camera on, practicing faces.)
(CHARLIE is stacking coasters into a "protective rune" shape for no reason.)
(FRANK bursts in through the back door holding the DUFFEL like it's a baby he plans to sell.)
FRANK(slapping the duffel onto the bar)
Alright—listen up. We got product.
DENNIS(without looking up)
No.
FRANK(unzipping it anyway)
Yes.
DEE(clocking the bag)
Is that… drugs?
FRANK(proud)
It's foreign. Foreign means expensive. It's like wine.
DENNIS(finally looks up, disgusted)
It's not wine, Frank. It's a felony.
MAC(sniffing the air like a psycho)
It smells like focus.
DEE(sniffing once, recoils)
It smells like a lawsuit.
CHARLIE(leaning in, fascinated)
It smells like… a haunted dentist.
FRANK(pulling out baggies, fanning them like cards)
Cricket brought it to me because he said I "understand commerce."
DENNIS(icy)
Cricket does not understand commerce. Cricket understands fleeing.
FRANK(already arranging stuff on the bar)
Well, he also said people were yelling "the cart is cursed."
CHARLIE(eyes widening, whispering)
The cart is cursed…
DENNIS(annoyed)
The cart is high, Charlie.
CHARLIE(dead serious)
No, Dennis. Carts don't get high. Carts get possessed.
DEE(already recording herself)
Okay—hold on—this is content.
Dee Reynolds: Live from a cursed Irish bar—
DENNIS(snapping)
Stop filming. Stop filming crime.
DEE(offended)
It's not crime, it's documentary.
DENNIS(tight smile)
You're documenting evidence, you stupid bitch.
MAC(picking up a baggie like it's holy)
If this is cursed, that means it's spiritual.
If it's spiritual, it's warrior training.
DENNIS(flat)
No. It means it's bath salts.
MAC(ignoring)
I can microdose. I can sharpen my instincts.
I can enter a state of—like—holy clarity.
FRANK(already pulling out a lime and a coaster)
We're not "microdosing," we're selling.
We're gonna cut it into profit portions.
DENNIS(alarmed)
You cannot "cut" mystery Japanese street drugs on my bar.
FRANK(matter-of-fact)
It's not mystery. It's imported. That's quality.
CHARLIE(nodding)
Imported means blessed.
DENNIS
Imported means untraceable.
DEE(tilting her phone, trying angles)
What if we brand it as "Cursed Powder"?
Like—people love spooky stuff. It's like Halloween cocaine.
DENNIS(horrified)
You want to do seasonal marketing for narcotics?
DEE(smug)
Uh, yeah. That's business, Dennis.
FRANK(grinning, points at Dee)
See? The bird gets it.
DEE(snaps)
DON'T— I'M NOT A—
MAC(cutting in, laser-focused)
If there are curses, we need an exorcist.
I can be the exorcist.
DENNIS(laughs once, cruel)
You can't be an exorcist. You can't even be a normal person.
MAC(offended)
I have the faith.
DENNIS
You have the delusion.
CHARLIE(lifting a bar rag like a priest robe)
Hold on—hold on—if it's cursed, we gotta do blessings.
We gotta bless the bar.
DENNIS(pointing)
No blessings. No rituals. No—
CHARLIE(already doing it)
I bless the taps.
I bless the stools.
I bless the cash register—because it's evil.
FRANK(pulling out a tiny pocket scale)
Alright, step one: we portion.
Step two: we sell to idiots.
Step three: we franch—
DENNIS(slams the glass down)
STOP SAYING FRANCHISE.
(A beat. Dennis inhales like he's about to do a TED Talk that's also a hostage negotiation.)
DENNIS(composing himself)
Fine.
If you're going to do this—because you're going to do this—then I am managing it.
DEE(immediate)
No.
MAC
Yes.
FRANK(already weighing powder)
Perfect.
DENNIS(pointing like a manager)
We set rules.
No open baggies on the bar.
No "samples."
No discussions of "carts being cursed."
And we do customer service.
DEE(confused)
Customer service?
DENNIS(deadly calm)
Yes. Because idiots buying drugs are still customers.
And customers require containment.
MAC(nodding, impressed)
He's doing a system.
DENNIS(pacing)
We create a line. We create a script.
If someone starts freaking out, we de-escalate.
FRANK(snorts)
De-escalate? With drugs?
DENNIS(sharp)
Yes.
"Sir, thank you for your feedback, but screaming about demons in the alley is not helpful."
CHARLIE(sincere)
That's pretty good.
DEE(still filming)
This is insane. This is so insane.
Okay—Dennis, do that again but like… hotter.
DENNIS(without looking at her)
No.
(From OUTSIDE: a distant SCREAM. Then another. Then a metallic CLANG like somebody headbutted something public.)
MAC(perking up, excited)
That's the city reacting to spiritual warfare.
DENNIS(annoyed)
That's Philadelphia.
(The FRONT DOOR swings open and a PADDY'S REGULAR staggers in—sweaty, eyes too wide, jaw working like he's chewing invisible gum.)
PADDY'S REGULAR(shaking, urgent)
Yo—yo—yo—yo—
The parking meter's lookin' at me, man.
DEE(delighted, whispers to her phone)
Oh my God, yes. Yes. Keep talking.
DENNIS(instantly slipping into "manager voice," fake pleasant)
Hi! Hello! Welcome.
What seems to be the issue.
PADDY'S REGULAR(pointing wildly)
It's cursed. The whole street's cursed.
My buddy tried to fight a mailbox.
CHARLIE(crossing himself)
Mailboxes are gateways.
FRANK(to Dennis, excited)
That's marketing. That's premium pricing.
MAC(stepping forward, puffing up)
Sir. I am trained in spiritual combat.
DENNIS(through clenched teeth)
You are trained in nothing.
(Outside, more SHOUTING—closer now. A car horn just lays down and doesn't stop.)
DEE(eyes shining, still recording)
Okay, okay, okay—this is the moment.
I'm gonna go outside and do my "calming influencer voice."
Like— "Hey babes, we're safe, we're grounding—"
DENNIS(grabs her wrist, low)
No you're not.
Nobody is "babes"-ing a chemical outbreak.
FRANK(peeking out the window)
Uh… we got tracksuits.
DENNIS(freezes)
What.
FRANK(serious now, pointing)
Tracksuits. Four of 'em.
And they walk like they got a plan.
MAC(excited)
Finally. Enemies.
CHARLIE(whispering)
Saints and sinners.
DEE(adjusting hair)
Hot?
DENNIS(deadly calm, straightening his shirt)
Everybody shut up.
Whoever it is: I am not speaking to anyone below a supervisor.
(A heavy KNOCK at the front door. Another. Then the door HANDLE starts to rattle like somebody is deciding between "polite" and "crime.")
SMASH TO BLACK.