Table Read - Landlord - Act 1

Episode Date: October 31, 2023

ACT 1: Feeling unsafe in San Francisco and hoping to start a family, Mika and David move to the small town of Oakcreek Village. Unfortunately, their sleazy new landlord, Johannes, seems to have ulterior motives. In Act 1, strange and terrifying events plague Mika and David, culminating in a vile dinner party from hell.  Listener beware: LANDLORD will suck you in! Featuring the voices of Cynthia Rodriguez, Alan Rosenberg, Karen Austin, Darin Toonder, Nikhil Prakash, David Air, Sydney Schafer, and Wendy Shapero. Narrated by Jack Daniel.  Legendary master of horror, Tom Holland (Child’s Play, Fright Night, Thinner), guest stars and directs alongside our core team! Score contributions by horror icon Harry Manfredini (Friday the 13th, Wishmaster). Screenplay written by Dominique Mouton (THE LOWER BOTTOMS). LANDLORD "Following a traumatic incident, a couple moves into a charming bungalow, but they soon realize that their obsessive new landlord isn't just a greedy opportunist but a bloodthirsty leech feeding on their very lives.." A nod to 80s and 90s horror, inspired by folks like Sam Raimi and Stephen King, with a hint of Grindhouse fun.   * 👻 Calling all horror aficionados! 🎬 Join us in Tom Holland's Terror Time – the ultimate virtual haunt for everything spine-chilling! 🌌 Dive into a world curated by the genius behind "Child's Play," "Fright Night," "Thinner," and more! 💀 Explore a marketplace teeming with horror treasures that'll send shivers down your spine! Visit now and get ready for a pulse-pounding journey into the macabre! 🌟 https://terrortime.shop/   See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

On the count of three, table, read, landlord, give me something spirited. It is Halloween, but you know what I mean. Here we go, one, two, three. Table, read, landlord. Landlord, written by Dominique Mouton. The landlords are like the tapeworm in the belly of the nation, devouring the substance of the people. tapeworm in the belly of the nation, devouring the substance of the people.

Act One. Exterior. Oak Creek Village. Night. Midnight. Thanksgiving. A light wind pushes fall leaves around a picturesque, creek-side Coneo Valley neighborhood. This is Oak Creek Village. Oak Creek is surrounded by rolling hills and old growth oak trees. The peaceful sounds of nature envelop the area. Crickets, frogs, owls, distant coyotes yipping. Exterior, the bungalow, night. At the end of a cul-de-sac sits a quaint bungalow home, still and eerie, illuminated by the bright full moon. Moldy jack-o'-lanterns left from Halloween rot on the porch. Interior, the bungalow, night. Flickering light from a TV flashes underneath a bedroom door. Bedroom.

An inebriated Tim Evans, 40s, is passed out on a bed without sheets. Empty beer cans and wine bottles litter the floor. There's a Twilight Zone marathon on the TV that's been unwatched for hours. On the bedside table, a framed photo of Tim with his wife and young kid in better times. Tim's cell phone teeters on the edge of the table. On the phone screen, six missed calls. The phone buzzes as an unknown number calls again. Vibrations send the phone to the floor. Crack! Tim bolts upright.

Disoriented, he reaches for the shattered phone. He answers it, slurring his words. Yeah, well... On the phone, heavy breathing, followed by deep, drawn-out slurping noises. Tim fumbles for the remote to mute the TV. Gina, is that you, babe? A male voice is muttering on the other end of the line. Need to raise the rent.

What? I paid the rent. Need to raise the rent. You think you can intimidate me? I know my rights. I need... Listen, fuck you, fuck your rent. Consider this my 30-day notice. Tim hangs up the phone, tosses it to the side.

Wide awake, but a bit wobbly, Tim gets out of bed. His jeans are unzipped, his sweater wrinkled, his feet bare. Kitchen. Tim opens the mostly empty fridge, takes out a block of cheddar cheese. The fridge light reveals a gross, cluttered kitchen with toys strewn about. As Tim searches for a clean plate, he knocks over a Lego pirate ship. The pieces scatter everywhere. Crap.

Tim bends over to pick up the broken structure. He looks at it, sad for a moment, then puts it back on the counter. A Lego piece with a sharp edge remains on the floor. A few minutes later, Tim vomits beer and cheddar into the sink. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes back to the fridge. In the darkness, Tim hears the front door creak open. He turns the light on and looks out the window. Nothing.

As he steps back, his right foot lands directly on the Lego. Oh, shit! Shit! Furious, Tim pulls out the Lego lodged into the bottom of his right foot lands directly on the Lego. Furious, Tim pulls out the Lego lodged into the bottom of his right foot. Drops of blood trickle out. The front door slams shut. At this, Tim begins to panic. He limps over to the front door. Tim observes that the door is locked. Tim observes that the door is locked. No sign of disturbance. Exterior, the bungalow, night. On the front porch, Tim looks around. Nothing but darkness and the silhouette of trees.

Interior, the bungalow, moments later. Tim returns inside, relocks the door, turns out the lights. As he limps back to his bedroom, he stops and listens. A heavy, wet sliding sound approaches. There's no time to respond before something yanks him to the floor. Tim looks down at his bleeding foot. To his horror, a naked, bloated man has latched his mouth onto the foot. The man's skin is slimy, unnaturally darkened and ridged. Tim freaks. Desperate, he tries to kick the bloated man off, but the man sucks and slurps and moans, consuming the foothold. Tim screams in the dark, hopeless. Exterior, Pacific Coast Highway, day.

A perfect day in Malibu. Sunny, 79 degrees. Shimmering green-blue ocean waves. Songs are written about days like this. A top-of-the-line BMW from a few years ago. Drives down PCH. Interior, car moving, day. A woman with unruly curls sits in the passenger seat, her feet on the dashboard.

Mika Deacon, late 20s. She's breezy and granola, but solid. Mike ignores the ocean views. Mika. Just making sure you're paying attention. Mika ignores the ocean views, scrolls her phone as her boyfriend, David Brewer, 30s, drives. Everything about Malibu speaks to his soul right now. Mika, are you seeing this?

These views are insane. According to Wikipedia, 50% of Oak Creek Village's population is over 75 years old. If this is December, imagine what summer is like. Mika stares at David, waits for a response. What? You're moving us into a retirement community. First, we're just looking. Zero obligations. Second, older people means it's safe. A lot safer than San Francisco. What's the point of being safe if you're bored? David looks at her feet on the dash. Ever see what happens to a person's legs when airbags deploy in that position?

Why would the airbags deploy? In a wreck? We're not gonna wreck. Shit happens. Then maybe you should trade this thing in for a minivan. Not gonna happen. Interior, exterior, car moving. Oak Creek Village, day.

David and Mika drive into the tree-lined community. The homes are small, cozy, and folksy. It's cute. I'll give it that. Moments later. They arrive at a cul-de-sac where a charming bungalow home sits. The same bungalow where we last saw Tim. It's far less menacing in daylight. From the porch, a large, sweaty man in a stretched-out polo and jorts waves.

This is Johannes Latimolt, 60s. Is that the landlord? Probably. Be nice. Mika recognizes his nervousness and takes his hand. Probably. Be nice. Credit scores aren't everything. Let's dazzle him with our charm, yeah? Yeah. We got this. Welcome. I'm Johannes. David, this is Mika.

A pleasure to meet you. Johannes extends a handout to David, then Mika. Squish. Mika looks at her hand. It's covered in a viscous layer of sweat. David subtly wipes his hand on his jeans. Lovely place you've got here. I know. How about we get out of this hot sun and head inside?

Interior, the bungalow, day. The home is old-fashioned, but inviting and bright. Large windows overlook the creek. What can I do for you? Fuck off, Siri. Thank you. Fuck Siri.

Sorry, you guys. I don't know how that happened. From the home? Yeah. The home is old-fashioned, but inviting and bright. Large windows overlook the creek. Looks even better in person. The original structure was built in 1901.

You see, it retains a lot of those characteristics. Bet it's worth a fortune now, huh? Rents $5,000. Cash or check only. Getting down to brass tacks. You won't find a better deal in the area. Mika is still repulsed by her soiled hand. I'm gonna look at the kitchen. You're in for a treat.

She nods politely, heads to the kitchen. I'll show you the master suite. Oh, you mean primary suite. Johannes stops dead in his tracks, smiles grotesquely. Master's a bit outdated. Outdated? You mean masters no longer exist? An awkward beat. Johannes serves another grotesque smile.

Call it what you like. It remains the same. Come. Interior-exterior. Kitchen. Day. Mika washes her hands in the sink. She looks out the window where water flows down the tree-shrouded creek. On the opposite side of the creek, two boys roughhouse playfully. The intensity increases. The bigger boy violently pushes the smaller one, takes out a knife. Disturbed, Mika bangs on the window.

Hey! Stop that! They don't notice her. The large boy jabs his playmate in the gut with a knife. A moment later, both kids are laughing. The knife is a wooden toy. Relieved but still shaking, Mika regains her composure. Interior, bedroom, day. David walks around the large bedroom johannes watches him carefully unblinking what do you do for a living i started out in tech now i mostly invest in startups a little crypto on the side stocks ah silicon valley Big money. I sold an app last year. For how much? Let's say seven figures. Yet you're looking to rent. We just sold our condo in the Bay Area. Don't want to get

tied down to another mortgage. So you like to buy things, sell things, but no steady income. I'll show bank statements if you want. Or my investment portfolio. No security in your line of work. Very unstable. Unpredictable. David hesitates, unsure how to respond to his bluntness. David is a creator.

Mika steps into the room. An entrepreneur. It takes imagination, passion, instinct to do what he does. He's not a nine-to-five worker bee. There's high risk and high reward in what he does. All investments are risky. As a landlord, you're in the same boat. Your wife wears the pants well, doesn't she?

We're not married. Johannes's eyebrows raise at this. Are you planning to work? I'm, uh, I was a teacher, but I'm taking a break. We're starting a family soon. A baby? Maybe. We'll see. Johannes' eyes go wide.

His wet lips quiver. He wobbles. Are you all right? Diabetes. I give a little light-headed if I don't eat. Exterior. Bungalow front porch. Day.

Johanna sweats even more profusely than before. Mika and David stand around, uncomfortable. Let's do this another day. You're a nice couple. Know what? I have the lease. You can sign today. Really? We need to think it over. There's many applicants. If you don't want it, I'll move on. Could you give us a moment? No. Johannes looks at his wrist as if there's a watch on it.

I have another person coming by in a few minutes. We have other properties to look at too, Johannes. Fine. Three minutes. He totters towards his truck parked across the house. We should go for it. Are you kidding? This guy's weird. Maybe. But it's kind of perfect. He didn't even ask for a credit check. You don't think that's sketchy? The house is cute as hell. You're outside, Ella. It's a safe area.

Sure, but something is off. Mika, this could be our best chance at finding a place. We've barely looked. I can't take the humiliation of having to explain my bankruptcy over and over again. Mika knows he's right, but she's unhappy. Please, it'll be just for a year until we get things back on track. Interior kitchen, day. David signs his name on the lease. He hands the pen to Mika, who hesitates a moment before doing the same. Johannes takes the paper, folds it into his pocket. The contract itself is just a piece of paper. It's your word that matters. So many previous tenants have been disappointing. They made promises they didn't keep. You make renting seem so serious. It's how my family and I eat. There's nothing more serious.

Absolutely. That makes sense. One more thing. Do you have pets? Two cats. Is that a problem? The more, the better. Exterior, the bungalow, day. Mika carries a crate with two brother cats, Carl and Max. Super, day one. David alternates between looking at his phone and directing the movers as they unload boxes from a moving truck. Working hard, or? Hard working.

I'm going to bring Carl and Max inside. Make sure the movers don't open the office door. Yep, got it. Interior, office, day. Mika releases the cats from the crate. They sniff around, wary. Max, skittish, runs back inside the crate. Mika strokes his head.

He responds with an angry, grrr. Aw, Max. You'll get used to it. Exterior, the bungalow, day. David sits on the front steps with his laptop. He puts a vape pen to his mouth. His phone buzzes. Hello? Brandon? Can you hear me? Hold on.

I have no bars. I'll call you back. Exterior street, day. David walks away from the house, phone in the air. A decrepit elderly woman, Mrs. White, pushes a friendly wheelchair-bound Dr. Daniels, 80s. David gives them a tight, obligatory smile as he walks by. Hello there. You're the new Oak Creek resident. David Brewer.

I'm Dr. Daniels, president of the Oak Creek HOA. And this is my sister, Mrs. White. You're young. What do you do? Like, for work? I'm not interested in your hobbies. Yes, what's your line of work? Long story short, I work from home. And you can afford to live here?

Confused by the question, David considers how to respond. That's not something you need to worry about. My sister doesn't mean to be rude. That's not something you need to worry about. My sister doesn't mean to be rude. That's fine. You know, everybody calls your bungalow Hansel and Gretel on account of it being so darn cute. You can't afford it, can you? Ah, we should head back. It was nice to meet you, David. He turns to his sister and waves his hands in the air. Horse, make tracks. Mrs. White spins her chair around, gives David a last glance.

Exterior, the bungalow, day. Mika spots David up the road as he walks back, his phone still in the air. There you are. Do you know where the cat food is? I'll take a look. Okay, thanks. Who were those people? Crackpots. They're in the HOA.

I didn't know there was an HOA. That's right. We've got friends in high places now. David walks toward the house. We need to get Wi-Fi ASAP. Interior, the bungalow, night. Half-eaten Chinese takeout and half-unpacked boxes everywhere. Mika tidies up.

David sits on the floor with his laptop right next to a brand new modem and router. The face of his fast-talking best friend fills the computer screen. Brandon Rao, 30s. Dude, BroCoin is blowing up. We're up 20% in one week. One week. Dude, that's insane. So what's it gonna take for you to make the leap? Now's the time. Mika shoots daggers

in David's direction. My portfolio is so packed right now. Don't lose your edge, man. Mika's got you playing Little House on the Prairie, living out some house frow fantasy. At this, Mika storms over to the computer screen. She flips Brandon off with both hands. Hi, Brandon. Mika, classy as ever. Brandon flips two birds back. Mika sticks her tongue out.

Jeez, I gotta go. David slaps the laptop shut. Mika smiles, pleased. That was very unnecessary. He sets the computer aside, kisses her. Interior, bedroom, night. In the dark, Mika and David are under the covers. You're not gonna let Brandon screw you over again, right? Obviously not my plan. Good. This housefrau doesn't feel like hiding your body in the creek. Housewife, you are not. I like being a firm mama too much. Mika looks at Carl and Max, snuggled at the edge of the bed. Since we're on the topic of babies... Are we? We can't keep them frozen forever. David, we just moved. Let's get settled first.

We've got our nest egg from the condo. Promising investments. Not the money, honestly. You really want to raise a kid in a crazy world like this? What happened to you is horrible. But we're not in SF anymore. You're safe here. Mika smiles. Appreciative, but uncertain.

Interior, bedroom, later. In bed, Mika stares at the ceiling. The symphony of nocturnal wildlife keeps her up. David snoozes next to her. Her eyelids flutter as she finally drifts off. Low, vibrating, throbbing noises. Rhythmic pulsating, slow, as if the house is breathing. Max the cat looks up. He goes to the windowsill and looks out into the darkness. Outside the window, the shape of a human face stares back. Interior, kitchen,

day. The next morning, Mika unpacks dishes into the cabinets. Super, day two. David walks in, disheveled. Are the woofers here yet? Nope. You're up early. Couldn't sleep. Figured I might as well get up and be productive. David approaches her, concern on his face. Nightmares?

Changing settings didn't magically make them go away. Go figure. They will. Mika wants to object, but doesn't have the energy. David touches her arm reassuringly. Sure. Interior. Office. Day. Dressed for jogging, Mika refills the cat food bowls. Carl happily gobbles the kibble.

That was a funny one. It really is. I just like it. Max cowers in the corner. Mika calls him over with a sound. He doesn't budge. Exterior road, day. Mika jogs up the road, takes in the scenery.

Mrs. White's house. Mika runs past Mrs. White, who tends to her garden. What you running from? Excuse me? Last time I saw someone run that fast, it was from a bear. Mika doubles back, comes closer to Mrs. White's house. I like your garden. Mrs. White can hardly suppress a pleased smile.

It's the best in the neighborhood. Interior. Mrs. White's sitting room, day. Mrs. White... Interior. Mrs. White's sitting room. Day. Mrs. White pours Mika a glass of ice water from a pitcher. A large fly buzzes around Mika.

She shoos it. Oak Creek was built on Chumash Indian land. It's why everything grows so nice. How they got those people off the land. Not so nice. I they got those people off the land. Not so nice. I can only imagine. Your bungalow was the very first house built

in Oak Creek. Really? I didn't know that. Surprised Johannes didn't tell you. He's very proud of that fact. Do you know him well? Known him since I was a girl. He's older than me, believe it or not. Right around 115.

Mika nearly spits out her water. 115 years old? God's honest truth. At the turn of the 20th century, our grandfathers were business partners who sought to purchase this land for cattle ranching. Of course, there was already a Chumash village here, but that was only a mild inconvenience to them. The fly continues buzzing in Mika's ear. She's very skeptical, but very captivated by Mrs. White's story. Anyway, first they had to acquire the land from the Reyes family. The Reyes were one of the original families to receive land grants

from the Spanish-Mexican government. In the end, a lot of blood was spilled on this soil. Mrs. White is lost in thought. Mika grins, uncomfortable. Don't tell me it's cursed or something. I like to think it's blessed. Mika goes to take another sip of her water. Before she can, Mrs. White reaches over, puts two fingers in her cup. What are you doing? Mrs. White opens her wet hand, a dead fly in her palm.

Mika recoils as Mrs. White's eyes grow wide and intense. I can smell your trauma. It's that husband of yours, isn't it? He's not my husband. Thanks for the water. I should go. He can't protect you. I for the water. I should go. He can't protect you. I have to unpack. Hold on!

Mrs. White opens a drawer, hands Mika a tiny bag of seeds. Seeds! To get your garden started. Best heirloom tomatoes you'll ever eat. And they're HOA approved. Mika hesitates before she takes them. Exterior, the bungalow, day. Mika returns home, feathers still a little ruffled. Outside, Johannes stands with David. Johannes wears the same clothes as when they met him. He looks plumper now, and his shirt fits significantly tighter. What's going on? Apparently, someone complained that we left furniture outside.

But we're literally moving. I know. People around here have time on their hands. Busybodies. Sorry you had to come all this way for something so silly. I'm just a few minutes away. Call any time. I'll be here in a jiffy.

Thanks, Johannes. Appreciate it. Mika observes David's fawning expression. Interior. Office. Day. Mika sorts through a box of clothes. Carl rubs against her leg, needy for attention.

She looks around for Max. Max? She makes the... sound. Nothing. Panic begins to settle in as she realizes he's not in the room. Exterior, the bungalow. Day. Mika runs out to David, who still chats with Johannes. Where's Max? What do you mean? He's gone. Did the moving guys go in the office? I don't know. I don't gone. Did the moving guys go in the office? I don't know. I don't think so. You sure you looked in the house?

Of course I did. Help me look outside. Exterior. Road. Day. Mika and David frantically search for Max. They approach an elderly neighbor who walks down the street. Excuse me.

Have you seen a black cat around here? No, sorry. Max! You think he went along the creek, looking around. They head downstream. Behind their bungalow, Johannes stands near the water. No luck with your kitty. He's a smart cat. He'll turn up. Near Johannes, Mika notices a black mass near the water.

Is it Max? She runs towards it. David, confused, follows. Sure enough, it's Max. Mika pulls him up, soaking wet and unconscious. Mika cradles him to her chest. Oh my God, is he alive? David leans in, puts his ear close to Max's face.

Max's breaths are short and small. He's breathing. But Mika isn't concerned about his breath. David, look! Max is covered in juicy, shiny, black leeches. They're bulging, sucking on the small, bloody animal. David puts his hand to his mouth as if he's going to be sick. Do you have the car keys?

We've got to get to Yvette now! Johannes watches as the horrified couple run to their car. The muse's smile crosses his face. I love that. Genius. Interior. Vet clinic. Day. Mika and David sit, anxious. The veterinarian approaches. Alright, so those were definitely leeches.

They've been removed. Unbelievable. I've never even seen a leech in my entire life. They're not common around here, let alone in the creek. Poor little guy. Max lost a lot of blood, but he'll be okay. Make sure he stays inside. There's a lot of predators out there that a house cat doesn't stand a chance against.

The vet walks back to the office. I don't get it. He's terrified of going outside. Cats hate change. He probably freaked with everything going on. David squeezes her hand, but Mika isn't at all reassured. Exterior. The bungalow. Day. A bright, sunny day. Mika tends to her garden out front. She sprinkles diatomaceous earth on the ground.

Super. Day 60. Mika picks up a large rock, moves it out of the way. Underneath, a dozen squirming slugs. Disgusted, she pours diatomaceous earth directly on them. The white powder clumps and dries them out. Squishy wet footsteps from behind. Mika turns to see Johannes getting out of his truck. He's more bloated and engorged than ever.

His oily hair is plastered to his head. Johannes, hi. I'm here to look at that drain David's been complaining about. Oh, from two weeks ago. It's not a perfect world, is it? Johannes, excuse me. You asshole. Johannes signals to the garden tools.

The HOA is particular about plants. I spoke with Dr. Daniels. We're in the clear. What a relief. He steps closer to her. I have a birthday next week. My family always does a big dinner.

You and David must come. That's so nice of you. I'll check with David to make sure we're free. Johanna stares at her, unblinking, unsmiling. But I'm sure we can go. That's great news. By the way, it's probably better if you call ahead next time. I'm sure we can go. That's great news. By the way, it's probably better if you call ahead next time.

I'm old enough to remember days people managed fine without phones. 115, right? He makes a confused face. That's what Mrs. White said. Johannes explodes in jovial laughter. Mrs. White is nice, but the poor old thing is senile. I'm 69. Not as sensational as 115, but there it is. He heads back to his parked truck, starts the engine. Hey, what about the drain? Bad Johannes is already pulling away. Interior, office, day.

David hunches over at his desk in front of several computer monitors. Mika stands at the doorway. Please don't tell me you said yes. You think I want to go? But he really insisted. Fine. Whatever. He's on edge, anxious. Mika steps closer. Is everything all right? I have a headache and I need to get back to work. David turns back to his computer screen. Mika picks up Carl. You don't have to be a dick about it. She leaves, slams the door shut behind her.

Interior, bedroom, night. Under the covers alone, Mika watches TV in the dark. Carl sleeps at the foot of the bed. Mika turns to her side, closes her eyes. Begin Mika's dream. Interior, nursery, day. A pretty colorful room. In the center, a cradle sways back and forth. Mika, dressed in black, steps to the cradle.

Mika pulls back the blanket to find an unmoving dead baby, completely covered in black leeches. Interior, bedroom, night. Mika's eyes shoot open. She's in bed but can't move, can't talk. Her eyeballs dart around in their sockets. On the side of her bed, the silhouette of a man stands over her. He's large, scary, evil, familiar.

The man prods Mika's lower abdomen with his fingers. He presses harder and harder until his fingers pierce her skin. End Mika's dream. Interior, bedroom, night. Mika's eyes jolt open. Again, she's covered in sweat. The TV is still on, the lights still off. Max stands on her stomach, kneading her belly with his claws.

His yellow eyes seem to glow in the dark. Ow, get off! She pushes him away. He hisses at her. Interior, car, night. David and Mika pull into Johannes' driveway. David already seems fed up as he parks the car. Super, day 65.

Let's agree to leave by nine. Deal? It's eight now. An's agree to leave by nine. Deal? It's eight now. An hour should be plenty of time. Fine. You make the excuse. Exterior. Johannes' home. Night. Mika knocks on the front door, David sulking behind her. The door opens.

Georgia Lattamult, forties. A big woman with a friendly smile. Beams at them. You must be the Brewers. Oh, well, I'm Georgia, Johannes' daughter. Actually, I'm Deacon, Mika Deacon. He's David Brewer. Uh, don't follow. Georgia is truly confused. Mika opens her mouth to further clarify, but thinks better of it. You know what? Never mind. Brewer is fine. A relieved smile returns to Georgia's face.

Okay, good. Interior. Johannes' home, night. Georgia walks Mika and David through the house. It's straight out of a gothic nightmare. Dark, dingy, stale. Decades of dust permeate every inch. Old-timey portraits of long-dead European ancestors hang, crooked. They're all as frail and decrepit as the house. They stare blankly at the couple as they enter with Georgia. Everyone, meet the new tenants of the Oak Creek Bungalow.

I have seats for you both here. Georgia directs them to two chairs. Could I use your bathroom? Oh, certainly. It's just down the hall. I'll be right back. David disappears as Mika, annoyed by his departure, takes her seat. She looks at the dry, motionless faces around her. Georgia grips Mika's shoulder. Daddy will be here soon. He's just finishing some business nearby. He works pretty late. Landlording is a 24-7 job. I didn't realize he owned multiple properties. Oh, yes, many. Georgia gives another big, empty smile.

I've got a few things to finish in the kitchen. Make yourself at home. She scampers away, leaving Mika alone with strangers. A brittle man with tattooed sleeves gawks at her from across the table. He wants to say something, struggles to speak. Maddie. Way to hold it together, Jack. Sorry? The man holds out a

bald fist towards Mika. He drops a Lego piece into her open palm. Uh, thank you. That's nice. She tries to give the piece back, but he looks away. Mika pulls out her phone. Texts David. Thanks for ditching me.

Hurry back. Interior. Johannes' home. Hallway, night. David wanders down a long, narrow corridor with numerous doors. A dim light bulb flickers. Where the hell am I? Impatient, he tries to open one of the doors. It's locked. He tries another. Locked.

David continues down the hall. He chooses a random door, turns the knob. Locked. David continues down the hall. He chooses a random door, turns the knob. It opens. Interior. Johannes' home. Bathroom. Continuous. David walks into the dark room. He fumbles around for a light switch on the wall. Finds it. Turns it on. To his shock, a gigantic man stands at the toilet bowl, his pants down. Fred Lathamult, 20s. He's not a nice guy. Fred turns his head to look at David.

Sorry, dude, uh, I didn't... Fred pees in the toilet, not moving. Stares at David with beady eyes and a head too small for his body. stares at David with beady eyes and a head too small for his body. As David backs away, he catches a glimpse of what should be the guy's genitals. Instead, Fred holds a large, deformed leech with sharp teeth with both hands. Too stunned to speak, David scrambles to get out. He falls on his rear.

Fred zips up his pants, walks over to David. Hey man, it's all good. I'm Fred. Interior. Johannes' home. Dining room. Night. Mika is miserable. Finally, she stands up from the table.

Pardon me. Predictably, the decrepit dinner guests don't respond. Mika's about to go down the hallway when she bumps into Fred. She's astonished by successive height. Are you with that dorky guy? One more time. Are you with that dorky guy? David?

He told me to tell you he'd probably be in the bathroom for a while. Some kind of stomach thing. That's weird. He was fine when we got here. I texted him. Good luck getting reception in this place. Fred extends a sweaty hand. Mika takes it. Squish. Ugh. I'm Fred. Mika.

She looks back at the dinner table. And who are they? They don't say much. Grandpa's friends. Johannes is your grandfather? Uh-huh. Yep. Fred looks Mika up and down, inspecting her closely. Uh-huh. Yep. Fred looks Mika up and down, inspecting her closely. Grandpa told us you intended to have children soon. Pregnant women get so big. That actually works in this scene. I was thinking that. Yeah, it actually works.

I was thinking I was going to keep it. That's funny. Grandpa told him. Grandpa told us you intend to have children soon. Pregnant women get so big. Full. Full. Ew.

His lips quiver. His chin trembles. He's salivating. Grossed out, Mika takes a step back. Yeah, they do. But we'll go through a surrogate when the time's right. Why? I'd rather not discuss it.

Why not? Because it's none of your business? Fred's jaw goes slack. So, no babies? Frederick, enough! Johanna stomps into the room, glowers at Fred. Fred immediately falls back, petulant.

My nephew bothering you? You mean grandson. Sure. Mika looks at her phone. It's 8.30 p.m. It's late. I should check on David. You're leaving? I just got here. He has a lot of work to do.

She tries to go around Fred, but he stands in her way. What about my birthday? Happy birthday. We need to go. Johannes' face contorts through a range of emotions. Disappointment. Fury. Finally landing on indignation. My sister cooked. All day.

Just then, David stumbles into the room. Mika runs to him. He goes weak as she supports him on her shoulder. Let's get you home. Johannes shoots a pointed look at Fred, who looks away. Georgia comes out of the kitchen with a gigantic pot of food. A goulash of some kind. She sets it on the table.

Everybody ready to dig in? Thank you, but David's not feeling well. We appreciate your hospitality. Georgia's face drops. An old woman at the table coughs uncontrollably. Blood droplets splatter across the table and into the pot. Mika winces, unable to hide her disgust. End of Act One.