As It Crumbles

Anna Skillom

annaskillom2023@u.northwestern.
edu
 1.

1 INT. SAM’S LIVING ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON 1

The BEATING RED SUN scorches through the window of Sam's
townhouse apartment. Sam is seated on the floor in front of
the window with a slight hunch, basking in the bright light
and ferverously scribbling into their journal with a sleek
boujee fountain pen.

They're causually dressed in a black suit and a half-buttoned

white shirt with a black tie loose around their neck. Their
fit is accented with brown loafers. Their hair is the classic
"I-wanna-shaved-on-the-sides-flat-on-the-top" cut. They pause
for a moment to readjust their septum.
PEARL (28, Black, woman, she/her) is resting her head
lovingly against Sam's left shoulder with her eyes closed.
She's doning a forest green jumpsuit, and her curls barely
graze her shoulders. She's barefoot and a few pairs of
various heels and sandals are hapahazardly scattered about
her.
The apartment's starkly white and minimalist decor makes the
pair stand out.
A light CHIME serenades the couple and there's the
occassional crackle and whir of the TV NEWS broadcast from
the living room behind them.
SAM (V.O.)
(mediatatively)
Dear Diary...
Sam looks up at the window and squints through the burning
rays. Through the slightly-closed blinds, they can vaguely
make out missiles racing across the sky like a swarm of
foreboding birds fleeing danger. The ringing of the chimes
seem to hush the faint screaming crescendoing and
decrescendoing. The TV static starts to clear.
TV NEWS ANCHOR
(faintly, with a grim
tone)
It's... sad, sad day...
SAM (V.O.)
So the world's quite literally
ending right now, and Pearl's...
Pearl is still resting peacefully on Sam's shoulder. Sam
stops writing for a moment to kiss the top of her head and
rests their head on hers. Sam flips the pen across their
 2.

fingers a few times before writing again with the same crazed
motions.
SAM (V.O.)
resting her head on my shoulder...
God. I feel like I'm fuckin' 20
again.
Sam wipes the beading sweat from their forehead with the back
of their hand. Striking golden glitter residue sparkles on
their knuckles. Taking no notice, they resume writing.
TV NEWS ANCHOR
(louder now, between sobs)
In the last... of civilization...
reflecting on... human existence...
what has led us... to these last...
6 hours...
A SERIES OF SHOTS:
Sam and Pearl dancing earlier that day in Sam's apartment...
Opening various bottles of liquor...
They take a whole lotta tequila shots...
Screaming gleefully together and laughing...
Crashing on the couch and staring at the cieling...

More bottles pile up by them...

Pearl caressing Sam's cheek and leaving behind trace
glitter...
Reverse shot of Sam staring into Pearl's eyes and leaning
forward for a kiss...
SERIES ENDS.
Sam is still writing in the same hunched position with Pearl.
Missiles now seem to be slowly coming closer than before to
the rooftops of Sam's neighborhood like planes about to land.
The tempo of the chimes slowly starts to quicken.
SAM (V.O.)
You know, I wish I didn't feel like
this becausa what's goin on... but
(beat)
this is the best life's been for me
in like a long fuckin' while. Just
me and her... I always dreamed that
we'd live the rest of lives
 3.

together... And, somehow, I did that

shit.
Sam writes for a couple seconds longer and gently puts the
pen down. They lift their head from Pearl's, tear out the
page, fold it crisply, and clutch the paper like it is the
last piece of evidence for their whole measly existence. The
chimes are now borderline agressive in their song.
SAM (V.O.)
(bittersweetly)
So... see ya in the next one I
guess? Sincerely...
Sam readjusts to reach into their back pocket. Distant booms
can be heard and the chimes are thundering yet the lovebirds
onscreen are extremely calm.
TV NEWS ANCHOR
(patriotically)
GOD BLESS AMERIC--.
SAM
Hey Pearl?
She doesn't look up. Sam slides their hand out and reveals a
SMALL VELVET BOX. Quietly, they lift the lid that shielded
the GIANT DIAMOND RING and gesture it towards her. Missiles
are now mere inches from cleaning the tops of some of the
townhomes outside. We hear a loud final BOOM.
CUT TO BLACK
SAM (V.O.)
... Sam.
CHOIR harmonies fade in. TITLE CREDIT:
AS IT CRUMBLES.

2 EXT. SAM’S TOWNHOUSE - EARLIER THAT DAY 2

Music transitions into soulful R&B. A swarm of birds zip
across the sky. Sam sits on the steps of their gated
townhouse, tapping their foot to the beat of the R&B song
blasting through their headphones. They're dressed in a
simple t-shirt and joggers and barefoot. The sweltering sun
threatens to boil their melanin right off. They surveille the
block from both directions, clearly waiting.
They pull out their phone from their back pocket for what is
probably the 80th time. The time on the lock screen reads
11:47AM and beneath it lay a tower of work email, Microsoft
 4.

Teams, and Discord notifications. They swipe through them

quickly without reading and unlock their phone.
They open Snapchat and swipe to reveal no new notifications
and one read message in the dozens of unanswered messages.
The lone contact is with TRINKET with a PILL and SWIRL emoji
next to his name. Sam swipes to open the chat.

The last message from 1AM reads:

Me: delivery at 11?
The chat says the message was read 2 hours ago. Sam quickly
sends another message.
Me: AM?
They pause for a moment and sigh, lock their phone, and place
it face down on the steps next to them and resume block-
watching.
It's a quiet neighborhood right on the outskirts of New York
City. The houses are modern, sleek, personality-less, and all
use the same bleak "sophisticated" palette of various shades
of grey to black. This is the kind of neighborhood young-and-
already-burnt-out techies live in. So, fitting for Sam.
Suddenly, we hear a distant whistle coming from around the
corner.
TRINKET
EY! I'm here!
TRINKET (27, white Hispanic, guy who wears long skirts,
he/him) is hurrying towards Sam's place in his usual uniform
of earth-tone oversized sweater, billowing skirt, and hightop
sneakers. His tote hops wildly as he gets closer. He pushes
up his glasses as he nears then runs his hand through his
curly brown locks. Sam rolls their eyes as Trinket
approaches.
SAM
Man, where the fuck have you been?
Sam hops up from their seat on the steps and leans against
the gate of their front yard in an feigned interrogative
stance. Trinket slows his pace as he approaches Sam's yard
and slides to stand face-to-face with them.
TRINKET
I've been...
(slightly flustered)
busy.
 5.

Sam raises a questioning brow. Trinket digs through his bag

in an attmpt to hide his blushing face.
TRINKET
Okay, okay! Picked up from a new
mans who was absolutely fiiiinne.
An' I don't kiss and tell, but let's
just say... we both got a little
extra today. You know I'm a
communist.
SAM
Mmmm I actually don't think hooking
up with your supplier is communism.
Trinket punches Sam's arm as he laughs. Sam lets a little
chuckle escape.
TRINKET
You shut the fuck up.
Trinket pulls out a small baggie, and puts the bag in Sam's
hand. Sam immediately is set off by the baggie of just two
pea-size blue pills stamped with lighting bolts in them.
SAM
Woah that's not my usual shit.
TRINKET
Nah, it's even better. It's called
2,5-dimethoxy-4-bromophe--
SAM
Yeaaah no, Trinket. Fuck allat. I'm
not taking any phene, phi, pho, fum-
-
TRINKET
No no no trust me. This shit is
craaazy.
BEGIN CUT SCENE:

3 INT. SAM’S LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON 3

Trinket describes the effects.
TRINKET (V.O.)
Mad euphoric...
Sam is laughing wildly, rolling on their couch as old
cartoons play on their TV, hugging their pillow like a child
with a safety blanket, pure glee.
 6.

TRINKET (V.O.)
... super trippy visuals...
Sam accidentally rolls off the couch, lets go of their
pillow, and climbs up their cushions. As they peer over the
back edge of their couch, their eyes widen. Every inch of
their apartment is covered in glitter.
Sam slowly gets up uneasy. As soon as they're on their two
feet, suddenly they start levitating.
TRINKET (V.O.)
... feelings of extreme
weightlessness...
Sam keeps rising and rotating through the air. They are still
laughing dazed and blissful with eyes closed.
END CUT SCENE.

4 EXT. SAM’S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS 4

TRINKET
Plus the sex on it? One word:
incredible.
Sam's frown turns into a goofy smile.
SAM
Now you know I haven't been fuckin
anybody for the last year since...
you know.
TRINKET
This shit will make you want to
though!
Sam crosses their arms and their stoic stare returns. Trinket
sighs and his usual cheery demeanor fades to seriousness.
TRINKET
Look... it's all I got right now for
you. I'm just tryna lay low right
now. I can't keep bringin ounces
over every other day to this uppity
ass neighborhood that's fuckin 40
minutes out from me. You know how
hard it is to smell like I'm
Doordashing for dispos?
They unfold their arms and stares at the bag for a minute in
their hand. Finally, they regrasp the bag and shove it into
their pocket.
 7.

SAM
Aight fine. I wasn't doing anything
today anyways. How much?
Trinket immediately bursts into a smile.
TRINKET
Bettt. And today's your lucky day
because with your "best friends
since college" discount, it's on me.
Also for not bringing you your usual
BUT I gotchu Monday if you still
wanna reup.
Sam smirks and daps Trinket up.
SAM
You're a real one, Trinket.
TRINKET
Yeah man, anything for you. I know
you been kinda goin through it since
your mom... passed, and even before,
like after you and Pearl split...
Sam rolls their eyes at the last part.
TRINKET (CONT'D)
I just thought... somethin to take
your mind off stuff would help...
Getchu back out there and whatever.
Sam's face cringes a bit.
SAM
Yeah... thanks man.
Sam turns to go back inside.
TRINKET
Oh shit and wait!
Sam turns back as they're halfway up the stairs.
TRINKET
You prob wanna start with half a
pill. Take it orally or crushed. If
you wanna take more, no more than
one and a half in a 24-hour period
if you wanna sleep tonight.
Sam turns back around and gestures to Trinket.
SAM
 8.

No more than one and a half. Got it.

Trinket smiles as his good deed today is done.

5 INT. SAM’S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS 5

Sam plops into their rolling desk chair in their living-room-
slash-home-office. They scuttle back towards their desk and
open their laptop to reveal billions of tabs open. They click
through each; every page is riddled with more TASKS,
DEADLINES, and REPORTS. They click through more and more
tabs. Frustrated, they slam the lid and let out a very
angsty-teen-like groan.
They pull out the baggie in their pocket and hold it up close
to their face. They point a figure scolding the two little
pills.
SAM
You better show me something crazy
like... a unicorn or some shit.
Sam leans over to open a drawer at their desk, inside is a
metal lunch box reminscient of elementary school with
stickers and a young 90s pop icon. They open the box and
inside is all the drug parenphenalia you could imagine.
SAM
Let's get into it.
Song like JUMP OUT THE WINDOW by BIG SEAN begins.
ANOTHER SERIES OF SHOTS:
Sam crushing the pills at their desk.
Sam picking out which credit card in their wallet is today's
victim.
Lining up the crushed powder on their desk til it's pretty
much 50-50.
Looking for any dollar bills in their wallet but sadly, they
don't have cash.
Frantically searching for any paper around the house.
They lock eyes with the journal on their desk.
They close their eyes and flip to a random page and tear it
out.
They roll the leaf up.
 9.

They take a deep breath.

Big SNIFF (wink wink).
SONG PAUSES.
The headrush immediately reads on their face.
SAM
SHIT! GOD! FUCK! It's been a while.
They rub their nose and readjust their septum.
They sit back for a moment and read the time on their phone.
Phone reads 1:22PM and a new slew of work notifications
replaced the old.
They click to lock their phone and shrug.
SAM
Ah, fuck it.
REFRAIN PLAYS AGAIN.
They take another shot to the nasal canal.
SONG ENDS.
SERIES ENDS.

6 INT. SAM’S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS 6

Sam sprawls on the couch. The clock reads 2:34PM. They turn
on the TV to keep them occupied. The middle of an old cartoon
series plays, but they pay no attention. They grab their
journal laying on the floor and a pen from their back pocket.
They open it to a page labelled with today's date, August 11,
2028.
A single entry reads.
1:22PM - took one pill.
They click their pen to write:
2:34PM - A lil buzzed.
SAM
(to theirself)
Fuck. Aren't I supposed to be seein
shit? What the fuck did Trinket say?
Biophemenin- Dioxl...mene?