Hungry on the Highway By Bernadette Hanna

INT. A CAR - DAY We are looking out the front of a car towards a flat and empty highway. On both sides of the road are grazing farms and tall wheat fields with a stretch of mountains behind them. Muffled sounds of the engine and the radio can be heard. The windscreen dominates the shot as bugs get squashed on it. The windscreen wipers go on for a few seconds, smearing the bugs across the screen. Titles appear HUNGRY ON THE HIGHWAY. EXT. THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY - EARLY AFTERNOON A tall and lanky 20 year old man walks along the side of the highway. The fingers on his left hand slide across the stems on the edge of the wheat field like its a picket fence. His other hand grasps the strap of his bag as it slings over his right shoulder. The bottom of the bag is torn and dirty. The man is wearing washed out black denim jeans with a wrinkled dark grey belt wrapped around his waist. There are some small spikes on them, suggesting that most of them have fallen off. Looking up to the sky, he puts a hand over his eyes as the sun beams down upon him. He undoes the top buttons on his flannelet shirt. He sees a petrol station in the distance through the blurring heat and paces towards it. A car passes by in the opposite direction, bringing along a gust of wind. The dirt from under his dirty and torn red converse shoes blows through the wind. EXT. KAZ PETROL STATION - EARLY AFTERNOON The man approaches the entrance of the lone structure. KAZ PETROL STATION reads in black text above the glass doors. It is a small, corroding establishment with white paint peeling off the building, exposing corrugated iron. A land cruiser is parked next to one of the two petrol tanks with three children in the backseat. The car belongs to a sunburnt woman, apart from the white sunglasses outline around her eyes. She walks out of the entrance holding 3 Cornettos and drives off in the car. The man peers through the doors from a distance. A long shelf in the middle of the store is over stocked with snacks and magazines on both sides. A small oven full of pies sits next to the counter. Against a wall, a large refrigerator is full of a variety of drinks. Next to this is a florescent slushie machine with a sign (CONTINUED)

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reading SPECIAL - LARGE FOR $1. A loud and painful rumbling is heard. The man looks down as he puts a hand to his stomach. After a few moments, his hands rush to pull out his pockets. Nothing but a scrunched up bus ticket falls out. He quickly looks down and nervously searches the floor for fallen coins. His eyes light up with hope after catching a glimpse of a shining object next to the second petrol tank and paces towards it. The hope in his eyes quickly disappears upon discovering the potential shiny coin is nothing but the foil from a bit of a Cornetto rapping. He closes his eyes, placing his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath. He throws his head back and exhales a frustrated grunt. After a few moments, he slowly comes back to reality and curiously scans his surroundings. His gaze fixes upon a dried squeegee placed across the top of a bucket in between the petrol tanks. He cautiously approaches it, frequently watching the position of the store clerk whose head is face down on the cash register. He stands behind the bucket in an attempt to block its view from the unconscious store clerk. As he bends down to take the squeegee, a car speeds past the petrol station. He quickly straightens up and awkwardly leans against the petrol tank looking around as if hes bored. An overwhelming silence returns as he takes the opportunity to quickly pick up the squeegee and hide it under his shirt. He uncomfortably runs to the back of the petrol station. EXT. BEHIND KAZ PETROL STATION - EARLY AFTERNOON He takes out the squeegee and admires his haul. We see the view from behind the petrol station. A vast stretch of flat land with great blue mountains in the distance occupies the screen. One side is abundant with tall wheat fields harmoniously blowing in the light wind. On the other side are pastures with cows congregated in the cool shadows under the trees. After he takes in the overwhelming beauty of his surroundings, his awed face corrects itself to concentration. His attention is drawn to the overflowing bin. Rummaging through the chip packets, coffee cups and to his disdain, a Cornetto wrapping, he triumphantly pulls out an empty plastic bottle.

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INT. THE BATHROOM - EARLY AFTERNOON He enters the petrol stations one-cubicle bathroom. It is covered in dirty white tiles and lit up with a single florescent light bulb which hangs dangerously low from the ceiling. As he cramps himself into the small space, the squeaking of the closing door is overshadowed by a large truck passing by. The light bulb rattles and flickers giving the image a strobe effect. He remains still as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He appears as if he is looking at a familiar, yet unwelcome stranger. When the light ceases to flicker, he slowly looks down at the sink and pauses for a moment. He quickly holds the opening of the bottle under the soap pump and fills a small portion of it with the purple soap. He turns on the tap at high speed and fills the bottle up with water. He jumps in shock as a large amount of water splashes his torso. He half smiles as the cool water appears to be a welcomed relief. EXT. THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY- LATE AFTERNOON He stands on the side of the same highway with similar wheat fields and pastures, only the petrol station is nowhere in sight. The bottle of soapy water stands at his feet next to his bag. He nervously fiddles with the squeegee while he stares blankly across the road. The wind blows around him, tossing around leaves and rubbish across the dirt path. He does up the buttons on his shirt. Its getting cold. The sun begins to dissapear behind the mountains that he is facing away from. He impatiently looks left and right, desperately scanning the hazy distance for cars. He looks down, pacing a few steps onto the road and back onto the dirt path. The squeegee hangs lose from his hand as he kicks the sponge end with every step. He pauses and lets the squeegee swing from his hand. He stands on the side of the road and turns to face the right. The fairly silent moment of peace has been interrupted by the distant revving of an engine. He squints his eyes as if he is attempting to see beyond the horizon of the straight, flat road. Eventually, a car becomes visible through the heat waves emitting off the gravel. The sound of its chainsaw-like engine gets louder. He eagerly picks up the bottle and shakes it to stir the soap. As the car gets closer, he awkwardly holds out the squeegee (CONTINUED)

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and lifts up the bottle to signal his intentions to the driver. The car begins to slow down and pulls over onto the dirt path. The dirt from under the wheels of the small, grey Porsche blows towards him. He quickly steps back, rubs his eyes and coughs. As the dust clears, the drivers window pulls down whilst the protagonist approaches the window. Snap!s, RHYTHM IS A DANCER blasts from the stereo causing the surrounding ground to vibrate. He bends down to the window and flinches from the overwhelming cool gust of wind exploding from the air conditioned interior. He struggles to fake a friendly smile at the smug yuppie in the drivers seat. The driver wears a blue silk button down shirt and black trousers, complimented with tightly combed back brown hair. He stares back and nods at the protagonist through reflective aviator glasses. With a smug smile, he outstretches his thumb and index finger, making a shooting motion towards the dirty windscreen. The protagonist awkwardly places his palms together over the bottle and squeegee, and subtly bows his head to gesture thanks. He leans over the bonnet and aggressively shakes half the contents of the bottle onto the windscreen. The driver cringes in horror as he witnesses the spikes on the mans belt pressed against the car. He places the bottle on the bonnet and begins to scrape the bugs of the windscreen. The driver beeps to get his attention. The man scrapes the water off the windscreen that is blocking his vision of the drivers face. He leans forward and peers through with a squinted, open mouth expression. The driver takes of his sunglasses and glares at the man. He points towards the bottle and over dramatically mouths a NO. The man cringes and mouths a SORRY. He takes the bottle off of the car, although the driver was actually pointing to his belt. The driver impatiently looks away, aggravated by the mans incompetence. As he slides off the bonnet, a faint screech is heard as the spikes on his belt scratch the side of the car. The sound is drowned out by the engine and the blaring music. The man cautiously finishes cleaning the windscreen. The rubber on the squeegee creates a piercing screech as he clears the dry glass. He eagerly approaches the drivers window whilst adjusting his shirt. The driver pulls his window up as the engine revs unusually loud.

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The sound of spinning wheels on the dirt and gravel is heard. A dirt cloud rises from under the car. The man is confused and still. His mouth is slightly open as he tries to register the situation. The car begins to move and slightly swerve. The man quickly steps out of the way and tightly clutches the bottle and squeegee to his chest. The Porsche speeds away. The loud and disrupting sound of tires screeching on the gravel, rapidly changing gears and the engine overwhelms the shot. The man appears dissapointed and sad as he watches the car dissapear into the distance. After a moment, he looks down at the bottle. We hear the tranquil sound of the water as he fiddles with the bottle. It drowns out the continuously fading sounds of the car driving away. The man looks around, appearing dazed and weary. He shuffles on the spot, turning around in search for any sign of refuge. The sound of the dirt and rocks crunching beneath his feet becomes the only sound apart from the slight breeze and brushing of the wheat field. He drops his equipment and walks out into the middle of the road. EXT. THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY - LATE AFTERNOON He lays down and indulges in a moment of peaceful serenity under the blue sky. He closes his eyes to achieve a meditative state and avoid envisioning the clouds in the shape of food. His fingers outstretch and press into the gravel as if to keep himself grounded. The sounds of the wind and rustling of the wheat fields become louder as his senses heighten. His eyes widen as a trembling beneath his hands grows strong. He slowly sits up and rests back on his elbows. He waits a few moments for something to appear beyond the horizon. The trembling grows stronger and carrys a thunderous rumbling. The man turns around and sees a glistening eighteen wheel truck advancing towards him from about a kilometer away. The man is caught off guard seen through the alarm in his widened expression. He rolls over, pushing himself up and diving into the dirt path in one swift movement. After a few seconds, the truck speeds past the man as he sits on the dirt path. He shields his eyes from the dirt blowing through the breeze from the truck. He grabs his bag and lays back, placing the bag behind his head.

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EXT. THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY- LATE AFTERNOON The sun has descended further behind the mountains. The sky is almost entirely orange and red. The man still lays on the ground, only now, he is chewing on a small stem from the wheat field. The scene is entirely silent as the brushing of the wheat field has ceased. The man suspiciously sits up onto his knees. He leans forward onto his hands and looks out into the distance on his right. He waits for something, anything. He bites his lip impatiently and his eyes look pleading. A car miraculously appears on the horizon. The mans face immediately springs into focus and doesnt hesitate to jump to his feet. He runs his hands through his curly black hair and shakes the dirt and traces of wheat from the tangled mess. He picks up the squeegee and half full plastic bottle. He shakes it in an attempt to maintain some appearance that a trace of soap still remains in the water. All the while, he does not take his eyes off the approaching car. He holds out cars engine as it slowly at the light sight. the squeegee and dangles it back and forth. The sounds old and gritty. The sound begins to fade rolls to a stop on the gravel. The man stares yellow Toyota Corolla as if it is a familiar

He cringes at the paint peeling off from the scratches leading to a large dent with traces of red paint on the door behind the driver. The sound of the car, along with its appearance, led the man to believe it coincidentally broke down right in front of him. His anxious and amazed face is loosened upon hearing a small, yet frightening bang from the exhaust pipe followed by the rumbling of the engine. He then appears to be slightly traumatized upon hearing a musical thumping from within the car. The drivers dodgy, black tinted window rolls down as Nirvanas, SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT pours out. The man stares at the cassette tape pressed into the stereo then smiles approvingly at the driver who whole-heatedly smiles back and laughs. The driver is a young woman, possibly in her late teens or early twenties. Her long, dirty blonde hair falls down over her face covering her white Ray-Ban wayfarers. Underneath the rims, her cheeks are bright red. She takes off her sunglasses and looks up at the man.

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He sees her watery, bloodshot eyes and appears worried and uncomfortable. He is simultaneously amused by her surprisingly green eyes behind the green tinted lenses. She takes a deep breath and flashes another genuine smile, eager for her unexpected encounter. He lifts up the bottle and shakes it back and forth, giving her a questioning look. She smiles and bows her head to the side whilst closing her eyes. She simultaneously holds out an open hand to the windshield smeared with bugs. He appears appreciative of the womans etiquette invitation. As he reaches for the windscreen, she pulls the lever to spray it. The windscreen wipers come on, wetting the mans face. They both start laughing. As the wipers continue, the windscreen is covered in a murky residue. They become more hysterical watching the poor job that the dilapidated cleaning system achieved. Jokingly, the man heroically lifts up his collar and springs into action. The woman rubs her red eyes and breathes out a laugh. She rests back and closes her eyes. The man doesnt take his eyes off her whilst cleaning the windscreen. He wipes over the same spot on the drivers side five times before coming back to reality. Finishing the job, he pushes himself off the car causing it to shake, and to his concern, rattle. He approaches the driver and knocks on the side of the door to get her attention. She springs up, making a throaty sound to clear her voice. She widely smiles, appearing more than grateful to the man who brought her a much needed moment of joy. She is about to speak whilst holding out a ten dollar note. The man holds up a hand to stop her and gently pushes it back. He takes her other hand which grasps the window sill, and shakes it. He smiles back, sympathetic to her apparent state of distress. Still shaking hands, she sneaks the note into his pocket. He awkwardly fumbles a few steps back and lets out a throaty laugh. The woman enthusiastically waves goodbye. Luther Vandross and Janet Jacksons, THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE plays on the stereo. The man holds his hand up and repetitively hits his fingers to his palms. She honks her horn as she drives away. The man grabs his bag and holds the bottle and squeegee in his hand. He puts his other hand in his pocket and walks away in the other direction. He appears inquisitive as he feels the note in his pocket.

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He takes it out as he lights up with surprise at the sneaky gesture. He freezes and turns around to see the car dissapear into the distance. He smiles as at it whilst scrunching the note back into his pocket. He continues walking as the sun almost completely descends behind the mountains. He still holds the note as if to hold onto to the memory. EXT. KAZ PETROL STATION - NIGHT The light from the moon and petrol station keep the highway from total darkness. The eerie silence rouses suspicion as the man approaches the entrance. The only light within the store comes from the fridge and slushie machine. The man runs up to the doors and feezes centimetres before hitting the glass. He looks up until his gaze falls upon a sign stuck to the door that reads, CLOSED DUE TO UNFORSEEN CIRCUMSTANCES. The man falls forward as his confused face becomes expressionless. His head thuds against the glass. Raising his arm above his head, he presses it against the door and tightly scrunches the note in his hand. He drops the bottle and squeegee from his other arm. The screen cuts to black. THE END