SALAD DAYS

Written by pmlove

INT. KITCHEN - DAY Its a food battlefield. A tray of TOMATOES, stalks pulled across as berets, is pulled by a HAND#1 across a counter top, the sound rumbling like a tank. A food processor in the background provides occasional low bursts of drone. The staccato CHOP CHOP rings out in the distance. INT. FRIDGE - FLASHBACK TOMATOES march around a pantry, led by a SPRING ONION. They sing marching songs. SPRING ONION I dont know but Ive been told (TOMATOES echo the chant) That you get frozen when you get old. INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER The rumble of a large waterfall as the tray skids to a halt by the sink. TOMATO #1 Ripen up boys and girls. (flexes skin) Were going under. Hand #1 grabs the tray and passes it under a flowing tap. The tomatoes arrive next to a chopping board, with a salad bowl waiting at the end. TOMATO #1 (CONTD) (doffs beret) Righto chaps, this is it. For the good of humanity. Tomato #1 waves the other tomatoes on as they are taken onto the chopping board. TOMATO #2 Once more unto the - EEEK! SLICE! The knife cuts the tomato in two and we follow as the chopped pieces into the salad bowl where they fall next to piece of LETTUCE. SPRING ONION stands proud in the salad bowl next to the lettuce. SPRING ONION APPLY THE DRESSING YOU WET LETTUCE!

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LETTUCE (drippily) Yes, sir. Lettuce droops its leaf a little and allows some salad dressing to slide onto the tomato piece. TOMATO #2 Aahh.. SPRING ONION You see son! What did I promise you. Extra virgin olive oil. A LOUD BLAST! The oven is ready. The hand opens the doors and the heat and flames ROAR out in a billow of smoke. The smoke parts to reveal ROWS UPON ROWS of CHIPS, uniform and identical marching in beat. A drop of acid oozes down onto the chip tray and we pan up to reveal a PIZZA. Fat drips down, sizzling on the tray. Hand #1 touches the chip tray and RECOILS - its hot! A gloved hand returns and we follow the chips as they are carried to the TABLE, the footsteps booming out and we see the salad on the counter cowering. The camera moves to the salad bowl which reveals the pizza is now on the chopping board, being chopped by HAND #2. Pointed triangular pieces look evily over the edge, looking down on the salad bowl. Hand #1 arrives with two plates, already piled high with chips and puts the pizza on the plates before- WHOOSH! - the salad bowl is swept into the air by Hand #2. The salad bowl flies in parallel with the two plates but is elevated and we look down on the plates each with a mountain of chips and two slices of pizza that are oozing grease. The salad bowl stops moving as the two plates are placed in front of a BOY and a GIRL and we sweep back into the salad bowl, still held aloft. SPRING ONION (CONTD) Get ready chaps, this is (salad servers descend in the background) -iiiiiittttt!! Spring onion is plucked out of the salad bowl alongside other bits and we CRASH down onto the plate.

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We are facing a pile of salad, tossed and disorderly. Spring onion is at the front facing them and as he gets his bearings his eyes WIDEN as he turns to reveal A MOUNTAIN of chips, salt pouring from the air forms little snow caps. A DESERT of pizza, filled with oil lakes and bubbling cheese is separated only by a RIVER of ketchup. CUT TO: SERIES OF SHOTS -- CHIPS menacingly grind grains of salt into their hands, as if it were broken glass. -- GREASE oozes from the pizza like lava towards a piece of lettuce and as it touches, the lettuce turns black and dies. -- A CHIP is torn in two with a flash of BLOOD - no, ketchup! -- A bold tomato makes its way up the mountain and is FLUNG aside by an incoming fork. -- A fresh tomato looks on as a dried, withered tomato boils in cheese on the pizza and looks forlornly to his brother and we follow the pizza as it is swept up and down into the darkness of the Girls mouth. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN - LATER The battle is over. Chips and pizza are no more, just a bloody battlefield remains on one side of the plate, with the salad still intact but severely wilted on the other side. TOMATO #1 What.. What did we do wrong, sir? SPRING ONION Nothing, son. Dont lose hope yet. We could be a palette cleanser. It aint over til the fat lady Hand #1 returns in the background and is revealed to belong to MUM, an overweight woman who scoops up the plate and swishes the salad into the bin. SPRING ONION (CONTD) - siiinnnggs.

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The bin lid swings and Spring Onions voice is heard alternately with each opening, gradually fading away.