I’VE GOT A FRIEND ON PHIL

Cast:

Phil Shope: bald Peter Sarsgaard 

Buffalo Philly: bald Johnny Pemberton 

Jan Erikson: fat Christian Bale, à la Vice 

Guy Fictus: Mark Proksch

Voice of “Mother”: Ann Dowd

Guy Fictus has been smuggled into the fantastical Neogenian Content House — the alternate reality for Neogenian top brass — and offered a choice: wake up the world by donating all of his money, or attain enlightenment by donating all of his flesh. By process of elimination, he has chosen flesh. Neogenian bellwether Jan Erikson has wounded Guy via her genetic monstrosity called Loppy, and now beckons two more of her housemates to help her finish the task.

FADE IN

Interior – Neogenian Content House – Phil Shope’s Room

PHIL SHOPE sits in a leather wingback … his “Morpheus chair.” He squarely faces a blank wall without adornments. A small side table is to his left. On it sits a small wooden box. Scuffed. Worn. Afflicted with burn marks. Inscribed across the top: “Shope’s Dope.” An absinthe spoon and sugar cube sit atop an empty glass nearby. Phil’s fingers are in the chapel position; he adopts an intellectual’s pose as he regards the wall in front of him. (Sometimes he spoke to his parents through this very wall. He suspects they can see all his activities. Their presence hangs over everything he does.)

A figure sits on Phil’s knee. It first seems like a child (similar in build and stature), but is revealed to be BUFFALO PHILLY, a smaller variation of Phil himself. BP is Naked. Moist. Covered in some sort of lubricant. He has wild, deranged eyes. Phil begins to stroke and massage Buffalo Philly’s slick bald head. Buffalo Philly cradles a prized possession in his lap: a framed, antique newspaper — Der Stürmer.

JAN ERIKSON (Offscreen) [coming from the living room]: PHIL! GET IN HERE! Bring your little friend with you! YOU’RE UP!

They both seem to activate. (Their time is now.) Phil takes Buffalo Philly’s hand in his and they both head to the door of Phil’s room. On the way out, Phil reaches out and plucks two items from the top of his dresser: a disposable lighter and a custom dagger made to resemble the Morgul-blade of Nazgul. Before switching off the light, Phil looks back at the blank wall.

Phil: Wish us luck.

Interior – Neogenian Content House – Living Room

Jan has sprawled out on the yellowing couch once again, clearly winded. (Loppy took so much energy.) They both burp in unison.

GUY FICTUS is still on his chair – wrists and ankles bound – but his head droops. A chunk of his neck is missing. The blood loss and pain are substantial, but not as severe as a few moments ago. He’s almost gone numb. He now waits for the end.

Phil Shope and Buffalo Philly, his dwarf-like companion, both approach. Their eyes greedily absorb the details of this twisted, macabre affair.

Jan: Phiill! [singing atonally.] PHIL-LIP ISS HE-ERE. Sorry, I’ve been on a musicals kick lately.

BP ignores Jan. His eyes are fixed upon the prey. Phil passes BP the dagger and lighter, then temporarily makes small talk with Jan. Phil has a doting, mawkish tone that emits the charisma of a pharisaical nebbish.

Phil: I LOVE musicals. Especially The Sound of Music [glances at Guy]. Except the Nazis, because I’m not a Nazi [chuckles whimsically]. What’s his deal [indicates Guy]?

Jan [drunk]: I gave him a chance. He’s irrational. He says waking up the world is a fantasy. He’s no different than that Victor freak. Butthole. Selfish Liar. He’d rather support himself than support me.

Phil: Oh, I see. Well, thanks for letting Buff and I do our thing. He’s about to get taught real good.

Jan: Mind fart warfare. You two better plug your noses. We’re the actual serious big kid movement. He isn’t. The end. [Loppy groans.] And Loppy got hungry.

Phil: Aww. We all love and support you, Jan. Please remember that. You did the right thing, just like always. You are always correct. Please understand that we all love, cherish and respect you. And you too, mister man.

Phil gives the neck tumor a peck. A layer of viscous goo now adorns his lips.

Jan: We are so adult and competent. You’d think, “oh hey, we’re all one,” is something everyone would be on board with. It’s so fuckin’ beautiful, man. Let’s rip apart these illusions. Lemme taste you. But oh nooo. Can’t have that.

Phil: It’s okay, Jan. Irrational people find me repulsive, too.

Jan: People are like… imprisoned in their own reality tunnel. Don’t wanna see the alternative truth beyond. Play-Doh’s cave.

Phil sticks two fingers in Jan’s mouth. She slurps, as if trying to suck meat from bone.

Phil: Have a taste of this. Extra spices, just the way you like… but yeah, some people just don’t get it. They don’t want to see how reality works, I guess. It’s frustrating. But just remember that everyone will taste everyone at the Smegma Point.

Jan: Mhmmhmm.

Phil: Now if you’ll excuse me… daddy has work to do. Jan [half-conscious]: Make us proud, daddy.

Phil saunters over to Guy’s location, where Buffalo Philly is attempting to taunt him. Guy is sobbing, refusing to make eye contact with the nude, slick BP.

BP: I create near-infinite movements of pleasure and pain within the cosmic composition.

Phil: Pleasure IS pain. I want to please you. 

Guy: Y-you’re sick… this is wrong.

Phil: Living ethically is a constant challenge, so we redefine ethics in Neogenian terms. Flesh unity is the only good. Resisting New Terra is the only evil.

Jan [from the couch]: New Terra is a teleocracy.

Phil: Yep, that’s right, Jan. A world based on connection and… [licks gooey lips] satisfaction.

BP [breathes heavily]: I can’t wait to make you hole, baby. How do you think it’ll feel?

Phil: Remember, I am you and you are me. Daring to experience our diversified otherselves — to be inside their skin — is an act of kindness. The ultimate connection. I’m an empath.

Guy: What’s wrong with being separate?

Phil: Absolutely nothing. Unity explores diversity. Me and Buff here. Jan and

Loppy. The Morgues. This is diversity in action. One becomes many. We love diversity. But the outside world has made you forget our unity. We are here to wake up your world! Cast your flesh aside!

BP stabs his fingers into Guy’s gaping neck wound. Guy hollers in agony. 

BP: SONATA!

Jan stumbles forward and sticks a puffy craft pom pom into Guy’s open mouth. (She made these “lumps” as a cute dedication to Loppy.) Phil lays a tarp down on the floor by Guy’s feet.

BP (Cont’d): I like how you feel! You want me to puppet you? Lie down on the floor… [expands fingers inside wound]. I said lie down on the fucking floor!!

Guy has no choice but to comply. His restraints make the task burdensome, but he leans, shifts weight, and falls onto the tarp-covered floor. The pom pom falls out in the process.

Phil: We are an eternal unity that likes to dress up in the clothes of diversity. And that is so cool. But it’s an illusion. Take the clothes off, and become me, so I can experience you. I can taste you. So can Jan.

Jan burps.

Phil (Cont’d): The act of tasting is love. Unifying love. I love you. I become you, and we return to unity for a divine moment. Guy: What happens after we unite?

Phil: Awesome question. I am a teacher, so I’ll return to myself and continue world shaping. Such is my burden. But you! You’ll be freed from your shame prison. You’ll be reborn, much wiser this time. We have been going through this process forever.

BP: There can be no rebirth without the endless night…

Phil: …a total annihilation of the separateness you believed in… the person you thought you were.

Guy: Why’re you doing this? Do you hate me? What’ve I done to you?

Phil [scrunches face in confusion]: My love for you is unconditional. You are the one who hates you. You hate pretending. Going through the motions. You’re tired of acting like this fragmented person is the real you. You cry out for us… for unity. We need this… we need you. I love you… who you are beneath this flesh… and I want to unite with you. Will you love me in return?

Guy: I don’t want to “unite.” I don’t want to be one with you.

BP: I will transform you, my little dumpling. Tear down your walls. Let me in.

Phil: Shhh. Don’t cry now. This is great news. Really. You are not your body. Your body is just a person-suit I get to wear. It’s fun! The flesh that separates us is revealed to be an illusion. You are free. We have enlightened you.

Jan: You’re so smart, Phillip. You’re beautiful. [To Guy.] Dude, you’re actually doing the thing… actually donating yourself to New Terra. Lotta people wish they could be ultimate donors.

Phil: It’s an honor. [Teardrops form.]

Guy lies on his back. Mouth dry. Body exhausted. He now gets a proper look into Buffalo Philly’s eyes. They are wild and unhinged. Possessed, even.

Untethered to reality. No human being lives behind these eyes. BP produces a container of Lubriderm and proceeds to generously apply it to Guy’s skin. He uses the Morgul-blade to slice and strip away Guy’s clothes as he goes.

BP: I want you to savor this next part. We coalesce by my hand. I win. I am power and glory incarnate. I step into you, thereby negating you. I am the victor! I am the conqueror!

Phil: We are all in this together. My success is your success because you are me.

Guy’s body glistens – now fully moisturized. Jan, Phil, and Buffalo Philly surround him. Each one gazes intently into his eyes. BP uses the lighter to heat the dagger’s blade and keeps stealing glances at the region below Guy’s waist. His gaze returns to Guy’s face, eyes ravenous and mouth drooling.

Guy: Please, this is not real, what you’re saying. This isn’t the way the world works. I’ll forgive you if you let me go… please… face reality.

Phil [scowling]: The outside world. 

BP: The cruel and abusive master.

Phil: Break your chains and be free. This is the only reality that matters. We’ve made a new heaven; in time, we’ll make a new earth too. We teach you unity. Consent to our lesson.

Jan: Get in, loser. We’re goin’ to New Terra. Phil: Relax.

BP: Submit. Jan: Allow.

BP: Embrace the endless night! Allow the Nábrók. Let me live inside you, Muffin. Do I have your blessing?

Guy: What? No.

Phil: These britches both recall our history and foretell our future. Supported by these pants, we’ll travel to the very stars themselves!

BP: The fate of the universe is held within the palm of my hand.

Phil: You and I dissolve at the point of Nábrók’s creation, where we are reunited as one! Will you permit this oneness? Will you embrace your destiny?! Say yes.

Guy: No.

BP traces Guy’s body and face with his LOTR dagger. It lingers around the bite mark on his neck. The red-hot blade is unbearable to the touch.

Jan: I am my own cause. Do you support my sacred cause? Guy: Aghh — No!

Phil: Unite our disjointed oneself! Become hole! Do you consent?

BP: Become hole so I can fuck you. Death to the outside world! Death to oppressive normality! Do you consent?

Guy: No!!

Jan turns to the cheese balls once again and grabs a handful. She drops to the floor, in line with Guy’s ear. She creates “mouth-sound” ASMR. Guy holds back vomit. At this moment, BP presses the blade’s tip into Guy’s wound with increasing pressure. Guy cries out to the heavens.

Guy: HELP ME GOD!

Phil: Do you consent?

(Anything to make the pain and ASMR stop. Guy physically feels himself giving up. Tired of fighting. He was never a fighter. He’s ready. “I’m almost home, mom. Save me a spot in paradise.”)

Guy: Oh Christ, I… Agghh… Y-yes… YES, FINE… please make it stop!! BP: Hail One Flesh! Hail New Terra!

Phil: Now, Jan!

Hovering over Guy’s face, Jan commands Loppy to deliver the final strike. With a hefty GUAHHH, it sinks its razor teeth into Guy’s neck again, this time deeply. The massive bite strikes the carotid artery. Blood gushes back onto Jan’s neck and pours down over the lumpy folds of her hooded sweatshirt, staining it red. BP squeals and lines the knife up with Guy’s hip bone. He makes his first cut as the camera moves to Phil, who is watching his housemates do their work. A tranquility presides over him, as he addresses Guy’s near-lifeless body.

Phil: This instance of hurt is to protect yourself from prolonged hurt. You deserve to heal and grow from this on your own terms. We mustn’t fear  unity.

Phil smears Guy’s blood over his face.

Phil (Cont’d): We will never give up Neogenianism or back down from our movement’s goals. The goals in “The Unity Document” are my goals for life, not including my… [lustfully eyes Buffalo Philly] personal goals. We embrace Christ consciousness and align with the universe. We work toward healing its great flesh divide. Only the Neogenian reality dares to attempt this.

There’s offscreen squelching as BP continues making the necropants.

Phil (Cont’d): Death to the outside world. They anticipate and glorify violence. They remain ignorant… and hate us for spreading knowledge. They hate righteousness. But… [gathers blood on finger and licks it] the flavor… of ignorance… I’ve developed a taste for it.

Jan [cackles]: Yeeaaahhh.

Phil: I’m ready to make some content! Booyah! FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN TO EPILOGUE

We open once again on the living room of The Neogenian Content House, with a front view of the couch (as if it were from the TV’s POV). On it, sit all three of our death dealers – Jan Erikson, Phil Shope, and Buffalo Philly. Jan teasingly feeds Loppy one of Guy’s severed fingers. Phil wears Guy’s face on top of his own, secured by a strand of twine fastened around his head. BP, no longer fully naked, wears britches made entirely of human flesh. Although they are clearly too big for him, they seem to stick to his body, eliminating any immediate need for a belt. Nevertheless, BP has crafted a makeshift belt of twine (in trying to secure the snuggest fit possible), and uses it to secure the pants at hip level. The excess flesh is pulled up crudely through the “belt” and hangs back down over it. Phil and BP both “wear” Guy, while Jan digests him. The wall clock still reads three.

This group is watching a film on the TV: Cannibal Holocaust.

TV (offscreen): If I were in New York right now, I’d probably be out shopping [chuckles].

As we hear the weeping, dramatic music from the film begin to swell (the infamous turtle scene), Jan wrinkles her nose. BP feeds himself popcorn with bloodstained fingers.

Jan: Y’know I really don’t like how they treat animals. It’s really dehumanizing. It’s abusive and gross.

Phil: You’re so right, Jan. The outside world is disgusting. They form cults of hate and abuse.

Jan: A religion of violence.

Phil: They’ve persecuted us since the dawn of time. Freedom can only be found here [indicates surroundings].

A rustling and a clacking is heard in the distance, as the deadbolt retracts on the front door to The Content House. Someone is arriving.

A figure cloaked in shadow appears in the space behind the couch. Although we can’t make out their face directly, we see that there’s an awkward bulkiness to their headpiece: oversized and cumbersome. A non- threatening voice rings out.

(Voice of) MOTHER: Hiiiiiii. Oh my god, you guys… I had to walk Brian and… Mom wanted to go and see the dolphins… and Morgen needed help with finding the right… place to buy “Depends” in… uhh… in bulk, and – oh, fuck! I wasn’t supposed to share that… well… we’ve had talks and… uhm… I’m really liking the direction… [trails off; looking at phone] Oh, sorry, I… someone is messaging me… [absent-mindedly]. But anyway, how are you? I heard we have food!

Jan: Yes, I’m STARVING. CUT TO BLACK