INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT GERTRUDE, age 60, slips into the bubble bath.

She has a spinsterly appearance about her. Severe bun for a hairdo and wire rim bifocals. Even in the bath she does not let her hair down. It is silent except for the intermittent plopping of water from a slightly leaky bath faucet. There is a knock at the door. GERTRUDE Ernie, what did I tell you about disturbing me when I'm in the bath? ERNIE (O.S.) Um... You said don't do it? GERTRUDE That is right. And do you know why? ERNIE You said, wait, you said after the accident... Gertrude cuts off the dim-sounding Ernie, abruptly but without a hint of sympathy for the simpleton on the other side of the door. GERTRUDE Like I told you a thousand times, my bath is the only thing that brings me peace anymore. When they removed that tiny part of my brain that makes a person feel good, this bath was the only thing remaining that allows me to feel anything. Do you understand? ERNIE Um yeah, I think so, but... GERTRUDE (sharply) Now go away. There is the sound of shuffling of feet, many sets of feet, a commotion. ERNIE Arggh! Gertrude raises her eyebrows. The door is kicked in and two members of a black clad paramilitary swat team are standing at the entrance of the bathroom, assault rifles sweep the small room quickly and methodically before coming to rest on Gertrude's face.

SWAT #1 Clear! He is nearest Gertrude, he holds up a fist. In the background three other SWAT team members can be seen, along with SWAT #2 still standing on the threshhold of the bathroom. GERTRUDE (incredulous) Why I never... Was all she managed to say before SWAT #2 stepped forward, and cracked her across the temple with the butt of his assault rifle. She is fading to black. SWAT #2 That was for... INT. PANEL VAN - NIGHT The van is a non-descript late model work van. No windows, no seats. Gertrude is now wearing her fuzzy purple monogrammed bathrobe, she is tied to a lawn chair with zip ties, four of the five SWAT members squat on their haunches around her, rifles at the ready. SWAT #5 drives. The gas is pressed down hard, the van racing, it takes a corner and Gertrude nearly tips over. Her Eyes flick open, fluttering, and she rights herself before falling over. GERTRUDE What in the name of God is going on here? SWAT #2 Shut up you old bag. You didn't think you'd get away with it, did you? Swat #1 grabs a black bag, pulls it over here still severe bun of a hairdo, and then places a pair of noise cancelling earphones over that. The van is going fast and suddenly SWAT #5 hits the brakes. From his POV we see that it is too late. There is a gravel truck speeding across the intersection. The van clips the tail bumper of the gravel truck, knocking open the back gate and millions of little pebbles slide out the back. The van is going so fast that clipping the bumper causes it to flip over and roll 14 times. Everyone is killed instantly, except Gertrude who was somehow saved by the lawnchair. GERTRUDE Shoddy work, gentlemen. She eyes the carnage, bodies twisted in unfathomable directions and angles.

As luck would have it, one of her hands was broke loose by the impact. She grabs the bobby pin holding her bun in place, shakes loose her hair, a majestic wave of white. Going to work on the zip ties like a pro, she is free of her bonds in three seconds. SWAT #2's walkie talkie squawks. She grabs it, an assault rifle, and a black bandana from #2, kickin the dead #2 in the nuts before exiting the upturned van. GERTRUDE And that is for interupting my bath. EXT. RURAL CROSSROADS - NIGHT Gertrude opens the gas tank, dips in the rag, goes back around and lights one end of it with the vans cigarette lighter. She races around and sticks it into the tank, then begins to run in the direction of the gravel truck. The TRUCKER stumbles out of the cab, dazed, a bloody spt on his forehead. Gertrude is upon him, walkie talkie strapped to her fuzzy bathrobe belt, assault rifle slung across her back. TRUCKER What happened? GERTRUDE Nothing to see here, friend-o. She gives him a karate chop across the neck and he falls to the ground unconscious. She is cackling loudly, laughing as she climbs up into the cab of the truck. GERTRUDE (hollering at the top of her voice) Anyone know the way to Albuquerque? KABOOOM!!! The van blows up as she shuts the door. INT. GRAVEL TRUCK - NIGHT She revs up the truck, pulling away and leaving a quarter mile trail of pea gravel. WALKIE TALKIE Team leader Bosco, status? Gertrude glances at the walkie on her belt, amused. WALKIE TALKIE Come in, Team leader Bosco. We need an ETA on the package. GERTRUDE (into the walkie)

Did you think it would be that easy? A fumbling sound is heard over the walkie. It sounds like it is changing hands. WALKIE TALKIE This is General Amistad Burnsides. With whom am I speaking? GERTRUDE Your worst nightmare. And I'm aiming straight up your rectum with a Mack truck... General. WALKIE TALKIE That would be inadvisable. GERTRUDE Well I got notches on my belt that say otherwise. Lady Di, John Denver, Curt Cobain, Bruce Lee, half the Polish government in that plane crash... You think I'd take advice from some tin pot general? WALKIE TALKIE (static) GERTRUDE I'll be seeing you. Over and out. Gertrude throws the walkie out the window. FADE TO BLACK.