The Bricklayer Saga: Foundations of Friendship
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Hello. As many of you may know, my name is Bunny.
The corpse doll Bunny sits propped atop a SpongeBob SquarePants comforter. He is, or was, a relatively large rabbit - once vibrant and alive - has over time and with decay, slowly been replaced by stapled-on stuffed animal parts. His eyes are a mismatched pair of four-holed buttons, one red and one purple.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
If not, please allow me to introduce myself.
The bunny does not move. It merely remains still.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
My name is Bunny. My story begins a long, long time ago, just outside of Chicago. I was one of fifteen kits, the runt of the litter, I-
A pale hand with the word ‘H-O-N-K’ suddenly grabs the bunnies leg, pulling it so it lies prone.
“I’m sorry Bunny, this is the only way,” the high-pitched voice of Jaclyn Pierrot cracks for a moment, before the massive buck knife Pagliacci plunges into the chest of the corpse doll.
(VO)Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
gurgling noises But my story…
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. Jacky doubles over him, her shoulders shaking as she cradles him in her arms. The clown throws her head back in agony screaming, shaking one skinny fist towards the heavens.
“Whyyyyyyy?!”
She falls back on top of him. The sobbing slowly starts to subside and then turns to nothing but a silent shake - before she bursts into laughter. Jacky pushes herself away from the corpse and the gore that remains, brushing bits of blood away from her blouse.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Why indeed? What? Did you forget I was already dead or did you actually want to hear my story leading up to that point?
Jaclyn Pierrot picks up a brick from beside a bed. Her clown face accentuates the small smile that sticks at the corner of her lips as she starts to hum a tune to herself. There is a squish as she forces it into the doll. Her brow furrows as she starts to make room.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
No. You’re not here to hear about me and my misadventures - the galloping, the gambling, and how it all got away. Nobody cares about the story. You’re here for her and here and now - and what she plans to do. Well I can tell you - just like any good assistant, she has something up her sleeve.
Slightly struggling, Jaclyn pulls another pair of bricks onto the bed. She bites down on her tongue as she focuses, squinting one eye - in case a squish became a squirt.
(VO) Morgan Freeman as Dead Rabbit
Then again, what would I know? I’m just a bunny filled with bricks!
Jaclyn Pierrot sits on the paisley couch in the middle of the living room. The television is on, playing old episodes of the Animaniacs, but her eyes are not on the screen. Instead, she is kneeling with her back towards it, her eyes and pigtails peeking out over the back - golden eyes locked on the door. She has been like this for some time, as can be seen by the way she anxiously kicks her feet. The sound of voices from the other side make her grow still.
There is a brief conversation, followed by a deep laugh and then a rattle of the keys. She starts to shake but forces herself to stop. The door opens and she springs to life.
“You’re-!” she squeals, making an attempt to bound over the back side of the couch, only to catch her foot and come careening down towards the floor. Tank and Trevor, armed to the teeth with grocery bags and a set of house keys, look on - first with worry, then amusement as she rolls over onto her side. “…home.”
Trevor shakes his head, turning towards the kitchen.
“Close the door!” she mutters, swiping at the air above her. “I think you’re letting the birds in.”
Tank fights a smile, gingerly pushing the large door shut as she staggers to her feet. She stumbles a step, then comes to a stop in front of him - hands defiant on her hips though her eyes continue to wander.
“What have you been waiting around the house for? You know you can go out,” Tank says.
“I know!” she giggles, smiling sheepishly up at him, her fingers clasped behind her back. “I want you to go somewhere with me.”
“Oh?” Tank turns his head in time to see Trevor, tucking away a few items in the pantry. Though he is not looking over, the expression on his face indicates he was clearly listening, his head shaking slightly.
“I need to go to the bank!” She says, spinning around to scoop up an envelope from the table. Tank watches and barely notices as Trevor steps into the foyer to relieve him of the remaining bags, muttering something similar to thanks. Trevor continues to shake his head.
“Alrighty! Let’s go!” she lifts the envelope into the air in celebration before bouncing past him in her own foppish way of walking. Just as she passes him, she turns and winks before leaning into the door frame. Her golden eyes look down at the handle.
Tank opens it for her and looks to the kitchen, where this time his partner is clearly looking at him. Trevor mouths the word, ‘scorpion’ then tosses a very sarcastic thumbs up his way just as Tank opens the door for the clown and follows her out onto the street.
“Next!”
The two stood in line, but most would say they stood out. Strictly from a security point of view - the two stood out. The moment they walked through the door, the massive man’s head bounced off the frame, and the clown doubled over with laughter in the middle of the lobby - the two stood out.
They stood in line, of course, because that’s what banks are for. Standing in line represented society and when the clown began to unclip the velvet barrier and skip rope with it, a minor uproar occurred. It was quickly quelled by a massive hand wrapping around the clown’s face, though the resulting lather of spit on Tank’s hand may not have been worth it as she wiggled her tongue against it, fighting for her freedom.
Tank nods his apology at the guard, who angrily replaces the rope. He pulls the clown onto his shoes and walks her forward. After a few minutes of stomping and wriggling, she visibly calms. He lets her free, wiping his hand against the back of his pants.
“You good?” he asks.
“The best!” she says, hoisting the envelope into the air once more. He reaches forward and takes it from her hand.
“Jacky this is a cable bill,” His eyes widen as he looks over the fees, “You know you have to pay these right?”
“Next!” the woman cries out from behind the bullet-proof glass. Jacky snatches the bill back and slides down to the teller. Tank instinctively turns back, only to see the four guards all looking their way. And why wouldn’t they? He nods his head and follows after the clown.
“I’d like to cash this!” she says, sliding the bill across. The teller adjusts her bifocals, flipping it over then slides them back down her nose.
“You know you have to pay these right?”
“What?” Jacky asks, doing her best to act surprised. She leans forward, looking over it briefly before popping herself on the forehead. “Oh my!”
Her honking laughter starts low, but quickly builds to the point where Tank considers muffling her once more. The teller nervously slides the bill back. In her haste, Jacky’s hand smashes against the barrier. She winces and then scoops up the envelope. The clown turns to the guards, holding the bill up in a jerking motion causing two of them to reach for their sidearm.
“Blonde moment!” she yells, tossing her blue-and-pink cotton candy pigtails as she begins to laugh once more before casually strolling towards the door. Tank offers his hands up in apology, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ more than once as he follows the rapidly fleeing jester.
“Next!”
By the time he catches up to the wild clown, she is parked in front of a hot dog truck. Her golden eyes watch as the man wearing a short sleeve white shirt and black apron pieces together her order. He hands her the two hot dogs and begins to fish around for her drink in the cooler.
“What was that?” Tank asks.
Jaclyn Pierrot turns, her golden eyes wide and innocent, as she takes a large bite. The vendor extends a sprite and Jacky holds both hot dogs up to her companion to show her hands are full. He takes the soda.
“12.50,” the man says to Tank.
“Jacky?” He turns, but it’s far too late as she begins to stroll down the sidewalk, chomping away at her dog. Tank pays the man with a twenty and rams the remaining bills into the tip slot as he once again tries to catch up.“Jacky!”
The jester turns, smiling up at him once more and extends the second hot dog. He declines and she shrugs her shoulders, peeling back the wrapper. As he begins to match her stride, he tries again: “Jacky, what was that?”
“I was trying to share!” she says with a shrug.
“I mean the bank!” he says, louder than he should. She steps into his path and stops, forcing himself to take a step back to avoid bowling her over.
“What about the bank?” she asks, her voice suddenly serious.
“I mean…what were you doing?” he asks, halting as a couple passes them. He whispers, “Are you high?”
Jaclyn laughs and pirouettes back towards the direction of their apartment, skipping ahead once more. She shouts over her shoulder, “High on life!”
Tank shakes his head, now easily able to keep up with her.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“No, it is…” she takes another bite from the hot dog, talking as she chews, “See, there’s one thing I’ve wanted to do since I go that stupid bracelet locked around my ankle. And it’s not go fuck Tempest, go to Disneyland, or take a shot at a celebrity from a moving vehicle.”
The clown starts to walk backwards in front of him, dumping the wrapper into a recycling bin - after all, she is not a littering heel.
“I’ve wanted to do something far more exciting, my friend, and I want you to help me.”
Jacky walks towards him, standing closer than he was used to. He is hesitant to move back again, this time letting her get closer. There is a faint smell cinnamon rolls as she grabs a hold of his shirt, pulling herself onto her tippy toes. Looking down, he can see her golden eyes dilate as she whispers seductively: “I want to plan a heist.”
“A heist?”
Trevor folds his arms across his chest, turning to look at his partner who sits across from him on the paisley sofa doing his best to stare straight forward. The clown paces in front of them. She has a dry erase board set up and waves a permanent marker around as she speaks.
“I’m glad you asked,” she says, pausing for a moment.“Yes.”
The room is silent. Jacky blinks. Trevor blinks. Tank’s head falls into his hand.
“Well, I’m all in!” Trevor says, leaning towards his partner. He pats him on the shoulder furiously.“When do we get started?”
“That was easy. I guess we can star-”
“He’s being sarcastic,” Tank says. Jaclyn raises an eyebrow.
“Of course I’m being sarcastic. A heist?” he turns to Tank, “What for?”
“Fun!” She says, smiling his way. He doesn’t look away from his friend.
“There’s a lot of money,” Tank relents, “There were four guys armed, two looked like ex-servicemen with the way they went for their guns. One was clearly decorated - the other may have just missed the mark”
“And the others?”
The big man shrugs. One he knew was likely a jughead, probably served his time and left. Likely there was a fight in him, but he looked like he’d seen better days. The fourth? He seemed like he maybe tortured animals as a kid - tried to stare everyone down as they came in.“Push came to shove, I think we have three to worry about.”
Jaclyn blinks her eyes, trying her best not to get excited as the war buddies quickly exchange strategy.
“They seemed pretty heavy on traffic, but not around noon. That’s fortunate because they are minimal on staff. Two behind the register - probably pretty close and easy to turn. Their fate would be pretty dependent on how quickly we could break through the glass.”
“It’s not bulletproof,” Jacky interrupts, excited for her opportunity to add in. Trevor looks to her once more.
“How do you know?”
“The way it rattled when I punched the glass. It’s thick, made to look like the real stuff but either one of you could probably break right through it.”
“Okay,” Trevor nods, cusping his chin in one hand. “So the two tellers we can go for quick. And the others?”
“Looked like a manager and manager-in-training, maybe just an assistant. It was hard to tell. He was a bigger man though and it could take a bit of force.”
“So we drop the guards, put ourselves between the two behind the desk and stop them from pressing the alarm. If we get the draw on them that means one of us still might need to split off to muscle the manager. You said foot traffic was light?”
Jacky nods her head with excitement.
“Two to four tops. The typical for the area, really - small, big business owners. You know - the loud ones screaming of luxuries they’ve placed themselves in debt to afford but still dig themselves deeper. The burgeoning middle class marketing themselves as the next thing even when their ship has sailed.”
“So not much of a threat?” Trevor asks.
“No,” Tank says with a slight laugh, “Not much of a threat, but there’s always that one Guy.
“And the X factor?” Trevor turns to Jacky when Tank looks away. She looks to her larger companion for more information before giving in.
“X-Factor?”
“The thing we’re not thinking of. Cameras, media, an ice cream truck route that runs around then that may lead to you running down the street and us left to fend for ourselves?”
Jaclyn furrows her brows angrily. She crosses her arms across her chest, causing Trevor to grin.
“He’s messing with you,” Tank assures her. After taking a second to compose herself, she continues.
“Right. So I saw a camera in each corner of the room, but one looked ancient and the other seemed to be aimed directly at the wall. The two behind the counter we could likely shut down from a distance.”
“And how do we do that? Are you good with technology? I’m not and I know he isn’t.”
“Him,” she says with resolve, pointing between them. The two turn and look down in unison, only to see the Bunny corpse sitting with a tiny Hawaiian shirt on, Chromebook in its lap. It has a pair of shades that just barely cover the buttons. Unexpectedly, Trevor starts to laugh.
“We’ll have to use code names, of course.” Jacky continues, “My name will be Robin. Robin Banks.”
“You don’t think they’ll suspect anything?” the bald man says, smiling merrily.
“Why would they?”
“You should just call yourself ‘Give-Me-All-Your-Fucking-Money’” he suggests.
“Robin will be fine,” Tank interrupts, “Just don’t use the last name.”
“Well we have to use it at some point, otherwise they won’t know why we’re there.”
“She makes a good point,” Trevor admits. He pushes himself to his feet and looks over the dry erase board, nodding his head.“Only one problem: not gonna work.”
“Why not?” the clown questions.
“Well first of all, we don’t actually know how much is back there, as far as liquid finance” he begins holding up fingers.
“Secondly: I think we’re missing something else, some variable that would reveal itself better with time. And finally,” Trevor turns and points to the rabbit, “I question his credentials. I don’t know what it is, maybe something about him.”
The rabbit does not respond.
“So you want to wait?” Jaclyn offers.
“Maybe.”
The group sits in their silence, thinking over the plan. For a moment, just a moment each of them felt alive. Tank looks up at the board, tapping his chin as he slowly begins to nod.
“What if we went for the money first?” he pushes himself to his feet. The two turn his way to watch him walk past, pulling the marker away from the clown. He circles the area indicating the vault, then turns back to them.“It’s still a heist right, but think of it more like the ring…”
Stepping back, Jacky and Trevor drop into the seats and watch as Tank begins to shift the plan around - detailing how he would break through the thickest line of defense first. The vault became a symbol of the money that represented the Enterprise itself and the rest of the pieces?
Well they just fell into place, it was just became a matter of how you looked at them.
The scene opens up to the back stoop of Morgan Freeman’s home. Jaclyn Pierrot stands in front of the small brick staircase while the two bodyguards, Tank and Trevor sit just behind. Bunny sits just between the larger man’s legs, it’s button eyes staring into the distance. She has the UGWC Cross Hemisphere championship pulled around her waist. Tapping her chin in though, she looks up to the camera.
“In chess it’s called castling.”
She squeezes between the two men on the stairs, standing behind them.
“You put the wall between the warriors and the king in an attempt to keep their forces at bay. It’s a strategy long known and often practiced - the understanding and the balance that takes place between sanctuary and salvation.”
Jacky sits down, still only a few inches taller than the two.
“But in the end, what is it really? A shelter. A sanctuary, sure, but does it offer that salvation? What happens when the winds whip and tear at those walls? What then matters is the foundations.” Her hands land on their shoulders, “For over six months, we have laid those foundations with the bodies of those that stood before us. With each victory, we grew stronger and with each loss? What did we do: watch our walls crumble or focus on what mattered. Repairing, restructuring, and returning each time better than ever.”
She leans back.
“What we were before is nothing compared to what we are now. We are now the ones behind the walls, wearing the thrones that showcase us as rules of our castles. They say beware the ides of March but nothing of the ninth of May. Because now, though we are watching those woods walk our way, we will, unlike the forces mounted by the mighty McDuff, not fall because Cervantes is the rightful king. And we?” She motions towards the three in front of her, spreading her arms out wide.“We are the bricks of his unbreakable wall.”
The two men finally look up, their faces set and grim.
“Page, Sebastian, Thaddeus, and their butler must mean well. After all, they see themselves as the changing guard - the new era of UGWC. They took on the Creeps and they’re gonna get us all…” she shrugs, “Well those were the Creeps, but have you seen the Wall? Last time you did, Sebster, I laid you out, one-two-three and so what did you do? Chase a wounded man’s manager.”
Trevor covers his mouth to prevent himself from laughing. The clown notices this and smiles excitedly, rising to her feet. She steps between them and approaches the camera.
“Sebastian, can we level with one another? You’re not good enough to be a World Champion. You were given - and I can’t stress that word enough - given three opportunities back-to-back to win a title and finally, yeah you did, but only when Tony stretched himself a little too thin,” she extends her arms towards the camera, clapping slowly at the camera, “They say you should be proud of all you’ve earned, which is really to say, there’s not much you should be proud of, but way-to-go anyway. Third time’s a charm so it just goes to show - a rose by any other name. Speaking of names…”
Jaclyn rolls her eyes.
“I see you brought along your mentor, ‘Chronic’ Chris Page. Has anyone ever told you how truly appalling you are? Just as a person and on a personal level. Your shameless self promotion must be one of the most monotonous things going on in the business today, beyond tuning in weekly to watch Danny Danger struggle with the controls of his own podcast. What would happen if you all focused on what actually matters, which is what happens in the ring, and stopped worrying about what doesn’t, which is the world wide web? Maybe you’d have seen some success here so far - you know - the one place that matters: The United Global Wrestling Coalition.” She makes a mock frowning face. “Aw, what are you gonna say? It doesn’t? Why else would you and your tag along Thaddeus be here then?”
She turns to Trevor to gauge how she’s doing. He motions back towards the frame.
“You know the sad thing is the only thing that I can tell is different between you two is your age beyond that you’ve become so basic and generic, you’re essentially the same person, just with a different way you talk about your money. I heard Thad’s known as quite the Chad and I’m sure that just makes everyone glad except when he gets mad. You would think the one thing money could buy was class, but hey, at least it bought you some help.”
Jacky holds a hand over her eyes and squints as if she’s looking into the distance.
“Your janitor, right? Rumor has it he won four titles, but others say he just dug them out of the trash. Hey, can I ask you - how long did you hold them and follow up, how long are you going to hold onto that claim? Most people would say you’re not really a champion until you’ve actually defended a title, so with that said, how many did you really hold?”
She rolls her fingers along the faceplate of her belt.
“I’ve held mine. Every single one and I’ll hold these gates against each and every one of you.” She beckons towards herself, slowly stepping forward. One after the other, Tank and Trevor rise. “Come crashing down - you’ll find we are not weak. Come climb the walls - you will find we are waiting. Come - stand face-to-face with us in the middle of that ring and you will find we stand firm and tall like the terra-cotta warriors. We will not budge and we will not fall for we are unified in our desire for one thing: protect the king.”
She stops and the two stand flanking her. Tank reaches Bunny forward. She takes him, dropping him against her hip like an infant as she continues.
“Your problem is that while each of you wishes to wash us aside, deep down, each of you has the same goal: get the gold. So what happens then in those moments where you see your shot - but your own ‘brother’ stands in your way? Will you act without a second thought or will those hesitations become what truly matters? In the end, our mission is clear - to stand between you and your path to our partner.“
Jacky shrugs.
“In most instances, I would say you would have a lot of luck but this time you’re facing the Big, the Bad, and the Bunny and just believe me when I say…”
She lets the rabbit fall and it lands with a thud causing Trevor to look down and Tank to look away. The clown’s cheshire smile spreads across her face.
“If you hesitate for even a moment - we plan to beat the bricks off of you, one way or another”
Jaclyn Pierrot begins to swing the doll around in a circle, losing her balance - only to be righted by Tank. She stumped towards the screen, still smiling.
“See you Monday night, and remember,” she hefts the bunny doll onto her shoulder, “Empires Come and Empires Go - it’s the ones with foundation that last.”
With a huff, she raises the brick-stuffed rabbit into the air and slams it down onto the camera.
The scene cuts to black.
“Hmm…”
Montague Cervantes stands in his room, surveying a set of object scattered about the floor as Rett bounces along absently beside him. Above him, a tile in the ceiling slides aside and the corpse doll bunny, still and lifeless, slowly lowers down. He is wearing an oddly tight fitting black outfit, complete with little bunny booties and a pair of safety goggles.
“Rett.”
Moving slowly, the rabbit descends smoothly at first, but midway down, something goes wrong and he begins to free fall. Right at the last inch before the ground, the doll stops. The marionette carcass shakes back and forth for a minute - inches away from the UGWC World Heavyweight Championship belt. The doll is then lifted upright - its midsection aimed towards cummerbund. From the utility belt around it’s own waist, a tiny suction cup attached to a screen shoot out - sticking to the face plate - followed by a whirring noise.
“Jacky…” The Doctor Professor says, his arms tucked behind his back. “I know you’re here.”
“No, I’m not.” Montague doesn’t answer. After a second, her head pops out from the missing space in the ceiling. “How did you know?”
“The mirrors…” He says, absently gesturing. It wasn’t that exactly - long ago, Montague discovered that he could tell whenever the clown was nearby the smell of tres leche cake in the air. That is, of course, why he decided to set up those mirrors. He spins dramatically on his heel, looking up her way. “Do you need help down?”
Sheepishly, she nods.
Montague plucks a pair of scissors from a nearby table - deftly disconnecting the doll - before holding out his arms, ready to catch his partner. Defying even his expectation, Jacky instead tumbles backwards, falling just in front of him with a thud and a shower of ceiling tile. Montague looks up, shaking his head at the now gaping hole in his ceiling, before kneeling down to check on the clown. She rubs the back of her head as she sits up.
“What are you doing?” he asks, tugging at the string connected to the suction cup. She tilts her head backwards, showcasing the smiley face tattoo that took up the better portion of her throat, then looks back at him with a smile.
“I was going to take the belt?” she offers.
Montague’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
Jacky pushes herself to her feet; the Professor follows. At first, she meets his gaze but then looks towards the ground.
“I don’t want them to hurt you.” she blurts out, frantically. “It’s the only way I can know you’re safe. I can run away with it now that I’m free…”
Montague watches her as she bites her lip. She looks up and he can see the extra moisture building in her eyes before she turns, wiping at her face.
“Don’t you think I can handle them?” he asks, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jacky turns back his way.
“I do but Monty…” she shakes her head, “There’s a lot of them…”
“But you have a plan, of course?” he asks. She starts to grin, winking at him, looking down at the rabbit. “A better plan?”
Jacky’s face furrows in an exaggerated frown. She makes a ‘tsking’ noise, waggling her finger his way.
“Of course!” she says, honking his nose, before leaning around him, “Oooooh…Can I?”
“Oh, right. go ahead" The Professor gestures at what’s laid carelessly on the floor, bending over to retrieve the doll, much heavier than he remembered. He squeezes Bunny in his hand, feeling a distinctive rectangular shape, before raising both eyebrows in admiration.
A plan indeed…
After Credits:
Tank closes the door to his room. The package under his arm is large, bigger than he expected, but for a man his size, the weight was the least of his worries. It was what was inside that worried him. He sets the box down, making sure the door is closed, before flicking on the light.
His room is simple - basic in every way. A mattress shoved to one side of the wall with a tiny nightstand beside it. A single stool sits in the corner, next to a lamp. Tank pulls the seat over, sitting down in front of the box. He peels apart the tape from the top, tilting it upside down, then dumping it’s contents onto the floor.
A pile of fur falls first, clumping and building on the ground, followed by a massive, tan bunny head. He tosses the empty container aside, scooping the head up, looking into its eyes.
“She’s a scorpion…”
Tank stands up, sliding the chair back as he steps over to the closet, nestled in the corner. He opens it wide, revealing a large mirror on the back. Along the edges, pictures and newspaper cut outs of the mad clown Pierrot take up the rim. His hand lands on a promotional photograph, the largest of them, before sliding down the frame.
“She’ll kill you.”
The massive man lifted the rabbit head over his own. He could see himself in the mirror, but that didn’t matter. He looks at the picture. All that mattered was that he could see her. He knew it didn’t make sense, but some things never do.
Sometimes love can simply be…
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