Ranger Bob – Jarrett Oliver

Ranger bob is a comedy about the one and only district ranger bob. he's the control rod that keeps the powder keg of misfit USFS employees from destroying the world.

play the theme song

meet the core of the chaos

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Coming soon........

EXT. USFS BUILDING - EARLY MORNING
An expansive view of the beautiful, foggy Olympic National Forest. The sun rises over tall mountains in the background. Birds glide through the morning mist.
The camera slowly pans down and zooms in on a USFS building -- a large, sturdy structure built of heavy timber. A pair of squirrels skitter across the grounds, chasing each other in circles.
A USFS pickup truck pulls into the parking lot and stops. TIMMY (25, skinny, dorky, eager as a golden retriever) leaps out in full USFS uniform and sprints toward the front door.
INT. RANGER BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
RANGER BOB (50, slightly overweight, the look of a man life has leaned on -- but with something warm still in his eyes) sits at his desk in full USFS uniform, filling out forms.
His POV: Over the top of his computer monitor, he spots Timmy tearing through the lobby toward his office.
Bob sighs the sigh of a man who has learned that running feet mean bad news.
Timmy bursts in, snaps to attention, and fires off a salute. An awkward beat. Timmy holds it.
Bob looks up.
BOB
We're not in the military, Timmy. You don't have to salute me.
TIMMY
I respect your authority, sir!
Bob reluctantly returns the salute. Timmy drops his hand immediately.
BOB
To what do I owe the pleasure on this beautiful morning?
TIMMY
There's a situation in restroom facility number five at the Searcy camp, sir! Specifically stall B!
BOB
And what would that situation be, Timmy?
TIMMY
It exploded, sir.
BOB
Exploded?
TIMMY
Sir, yessir. The report said that shi-- I mean, human excrement is all over the stalls. And the ceiling.
BOB
Were there any injuries?
TIMMY
No, sir. At least none were reported.
BOB
That's good. I wonder what happened.
TIMMY
I think it was subterfuge, sir.
BOB
Subterfuge?
TIMMY
Yessir. It's a trick or a dishonest way to achieve something. It can also be a deception by--
Bob raises a hand. Timmy stops.
BOB
Yes, Timmy, I know what subterfuge means. I'm just surprised that you do.
TIMMY
(undeterred)
Well, yeah, that's true. Should I have Frank look into it?
BOB
Oh, dear God, no. He'll waterboard every camper within a twenty-mile radius to squeeze a confession out of somebody.
TIMMY
What do you think happened, sir?
BOB
Well, toilets rarely explode. But it can happen if there's a build-up of methane in the septic tank that somehow got ignited.
Timmy squints.
TIMMY
Subterfuge.
BOB
But that would have blown up the whole septic tank. Or every toilet. Not just one.
TIMMY
Subterfuge.
BOB
Anyway -- this is really something the park rangers should look into since it involves a campground. I'll call Jeff.
TIMMY
What do you want me to do, sir?
BOB
We're closer than Jeff's station, so grab a mop and start cleaning it up until a park ranger gets there.
Timmy looks like he's just been handed a prison sentence.
TIMMY
Uhh... okay.
BOB
But first -- block off the entrances to that facility and put up the appropriate signs. We don't want any campers getting blown up if it happens again.
TIMMY
Sir, yessir!
Timmy salutes. Bob returns it with the enthusiasm of a man watching paint dry. Timmy bolts out of the building.
Bob picks up the phone and dials.
BOB
(into phone)
Hey, Jeff. Happy Monday. Say, one of the toilets exploded in facility five at Searcy. Timmy's heading over there to start the cleanup. Can you send one of your guys to look into it?
He listens.
BOB
(cont'd)
Come on, Jeff, you know that's not our job. We take care of the forest -- you take care of the parks and campgrounds. But I'll make sure Timmy keeps helping once your guy gets there. Fair enough?
He listens again.
BOB
(cont'd)
Who knows. Could be a methane explosion in the septic tank, but I don't think so. Timmy thinks it was subterfuge.
Bob laughs -- a rare, genuine laugh.
BOB
(cont'd)
Okay, thanks, Jeff. I'll let Timmy know that Sam is coming.
Bob hangs up and reaches for his coffee. He turns toward the window, gazing out at the forest. His eyes drift to a framed picture mounted beside the window -- a serious-looking man bearing a faint resemblance to GIFFORD PINCHOT. A colorful but unfocused reflection of a person walking into Bob’s office can be seen in the window.
BOB
(to the picture)
Oh, great-great-grandpa... was this kind of stuff happening back in 1898? No. Probably not. You were lucky. All you had to deal with were bears, poachers, and maybe a few rogue Indians. Not this crazy wild-ass crap that I--
The reflection in the window focuses and reveals a figure entering behind him: MISTY (late 30s, voluptuous, impossible to ignore) in a red blouse, a tight black skirt, and red heels.
MISTY
(soft, warm, sexy)
Good morning, Ranger Bob.
Bob startles. He spins around, eyes going wide. Coffee erupts from his mouth and sprays across his desk.
MISTY
I'm so sorry, Ranger Bob. I didn't mean to scare you.
Bob grabs a fistful of paper towels and starts mopping up the disaster.
BOB
That's okay. I was just... lost in thought. And look -- you don't have to call me Ranger Bob. You can just call me Bob.
MISTY
I know. I just like the way it sounds.
Misty closes her eyes, takes a slow, deep breath -- her chest rises dramatically.
MISTY
(exhaling slowly)
Ranger Bob.
Bob gulps. He looks wide-eyed at the camera for a second, then looks back at Misty. His voice comes out as a squeak.
BOB
Okay. Fair enough.
Misty sets a paper bag and a coffee cup on Bob's desk. Both bear the logo of a local diner: "BREAKFAST BOMB."
MISTY
I brought you some breakfast. Timmy told me it's your favorite. I hope you're hungry.
Bob glances down at his trash can. Sitting inside it: a crumpled Breakfast Bomb bag and an empty Breakfast Bomb coffee cup.
BOB
Uhhh... thank you. I'm starving.
He opens the bag, pulls out a breakfast sandwich, and takes a couple of bites. Then a sip of coffee. Misty grins and points at the cup.
MISTY
Two creams and two sugars. Just like you like it.
BOB
Thank you, Misty. It's perfect.
Misty's grin widens. Her eyes land on a framed photo on one corner of Bob's desk. She picks it up. In it, a little girl smiles brightly -- but the person standing beside her is hidden behind a yellow sticky note.
MISTY
Is this your daughter?
BOB
Yep. That's my little Emma.
MISTY
She's so cute.
Misty peels back the sticky note. Beneath it: a smiling, attractive woman.
BOB
(flatly)
And that would be my ex-wife, Susan.
MISTY
She's beautiful.
BOB
Only on the outside. Inside, she's a seething cauldron of pure hate and evil spawned straight from the soulless depths of hell. Unfortunately, it took me way too long to figure that out.
Misty nods with genuine understanding. She notices several other framed photos on the walls and on top of some of the cabinets -- each one has a yellow sticky note covering someone.
BOB
I just haven't gotten around to taking new pictures. Without the demon in them.
MISTY
Say... I'm pretty good at photography. You know, composition and all of that crap. I could take some new ones for you sometime.
BOB
That would be nice.
Misty carefully replaces the sticky note and sets the photo back on the desk.
BOB
(cont'd)
Your uniform should be here in a few days. They couldn't find one that fits your... you know... your...
Bob holds his hands out in front of his chest, approximating two large melons. He realizes what he's doing and drops them.
BOB
(cont'd)
...Anyway. They're having one specially made.
CUT TO:
INT. CLOTHING MANUFACTURING FACILITY - DAY
A SEAMSTRESS calmly tapes two soccer balls to the chest of a unisex mannequin. She steps back and studies her work. She nods. She then looks down at her own flat chest and shakes her head.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. RANGER BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Misty nods.
MISTY
So -- I heard about the shit bomb that happened this morning. Do you know what caused it?
BOB
Not yet. I sent Timmy over to start the cleanup. Sam from parks should be there soon to look into it.
MISTY
So weird.
BOB
Yeah. So weird.
An AWKWARD PAUSE. Bob eats his breakfast. Misty watches him eat. Nobody says anything.
CUT TO:
EXT. RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - SEARCY CAMP - EARLY MORNING
Timmy sets out tall orange cones in front of both entrances to the heavy timber restroom building. He hammers DO NOT ENTER signs beside each door.
Below the warning, a hand-drawn map reads: "MAP TO THE NEAREST RESTROOM FACILITY." The map looks like a Pac-Man maze. In real life, it's probably a mile long.
Timmy sits on a bench and pulls sanitary shoe booties over his boots. He squares his shoulders, steels himself, and walks inside.
He reappears almost immediately -- sprinting -- and vomits with the force of a fire hose.
He recovers. He walks to his truck, opens the toolbox, and retrieves a GAS MASK. He straps it on, takes one slow breath, and walks back in.
INT. RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
Timmy moves through the space slowly, eyes wide behind his mask. Every surface -- walls, floor, stall doors, mirrors -- is coated in a thick layer of brown devastation.
He looks up.
TIMMY
(barely a whisper)
Oh, my dear Lord in heaven.
The toilet from stall B is embedded halfway into the ceiling.
Timmy walks back outside.
EXT. RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
Timmy pulls off his mask just as a second truck rolls in. SAM (30s, laid-back, the kind of guy who conserves energy on principle) climbs out and ambles over.
SAM
Hey, Timmy.
TIMMY
Hey, Sam.
Timmy hands Sam the gas mask and a pair of shoe booties. Sam eyes them with suspicion.
TIMMY
(cont'd)
Trust me. You'll need these.
Sam sits on the bench, puts on the booties, stands up, straps on the mask, and walks inside.
Timmy waits outside. He picks his nose. Inspects his finger. Sniffs it.
Sam walks back out.
TIMMY
What's the verdict?
Sam says nothing. He removes the mask and hands it back to Timmy.
TIMMY
Can you fix it?
SAM
Yep.
Sam walks to his truck and unstraps a large RED GASOLINE CAN from the side. He walks a slow, deliberate loop around the entire building, splashing gasoline on the exterior walls -- making sure to get plenty into both entrances.
He strikes a match.
He lights the building on fire.
He sits back down on the bench, peels off his shoe booties, and tosses them into the flames. Then he climbs back into his truck.
SAM
Bye, Timmy.
TIMMY
Bye, Sam.
Timmy watches Sam drive away as the building burns cheerfully behind him.
CUT TO:
INT. RANGER BOB'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
Bob pulls a folder from the cabinet and settles back at his desk. After a moment, Misty appears in the doorway.
MISTY
Hi, Ranger Bob.
BOB
Hi, Misty. What's up?
Misty steps forward and hands Bob her iPad.
MISTY
I have an idea for a new marketing campaign. Just hit play.
Bob watches. His eyes go very wide. He exhales slowly, cheeks puffed.
BOB
Uhh... don't get me wrong, Misty. I like the overall message. It effectively communicates the importance of forest conservation, the proper use of forest-based resources, and how we partner with various organizations to reach those goals. But... why are the women naked?
MISTY
Everybody likes hot naked women.
BOB
Yes. Yes, that's very true. I grant you that. But I don't think it's appropriate for an official department of the United States government to-- I mean, if you put them in casual uniforms, the message still comes through.
He starts to hand the tablet back. Stops. Pulls it back toward himself.
BOB
(cont'd)
Hold on.
He quickly taps the screen, forwarding the video to his own email address. Then he hands the tablet to Misty.
BOB
(cont'd)
Good work, Misty.
Misty smiles.
MISTY
Thanks, Ranger Bob.
CUT TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - LOBBY - CONTINUOUS
Misty walks out of Bob's office toward the lobby. Halfway there, she stops and looks directly into camera. She throws her hands up in a "what the hell?" gesture.
MISTY
(to camera)
I don't know what the big deal is. Hot naked women always works.
Timmy appears from around the corner. The moment he sees Misty, a dopey, lovesick grin spreads across his face -- the classic expression of the class nerd spotting the head cheerleader.
TIMMY
(blushing)
Hi, Misty.
MISTY
Hi, Timmy. How did it go with the shit bomb problem?
TIMMY
Oh, uh... Sam took care of it.
MISTY
Great. See you later.
TIMMY
Bye.
Misty walks away. Timmy watches her go -- specifically, watches her walk -- with the expression of a man gazing at a double rainbow.
CUT TO:
INT. RANGER BOB'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
Bob is at his desk. He glances up and spots Timmy power-walking through the lobby. He sighs.
Timmy enters, snaps to attention, and salutes.
Bob reluctantly returns the salute.
TIMMY
Sorry to bother you, sir. But a camper just reported that he saw Bigfoot.
BOB
Oh, come on, Timmy. Every year, a handful of campers swear they've seen Bigfoot. The only "official" evidence we have is one grainy video from 1967. I can assure you -- Bigfoot does not exist.
Behind Bob, a massive shaggy HEAD slowly rises into frame of the window -- peering inside with large, curious eyes. Timmy lights up and points frantically.
Bob turns to look. The head drops instantly. Bob turns back to Timmy.
BOB
What?
TIMMY
I... I thought I saw something.
BOB
Like I said -- Bigfoot does not exist.
The giant shaggy head slowly reappears in the window. Timmy points at it again, nearly vibrating.
TIMMY
There it is again!
Bob spins around. The head disappears. Bob turns back.
BOB
What?
TIMMY
Aww... never mind.
CUT TO:
EXT. OUTSIDE THE USFS BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
RANDOM BIGFOOT (enormous, ancient-looking, entirely covered in dark matted fur) stands just beside the window. He looks into camera.
RANDOM BIGFOOT
I don't know why they call me Bigfoot. I'm a size eight.
The camera tilts down to his feet. They are, in fact, quite small. A delicate TOE RING adorns his right big toe. Camera tilts back up.
RANDOM BIGFOOT
(cont'd)
Now, you should see my brother. His feet are HUGE, man. I’m talking as big as my head. The doctors had to use forceps on those bad boys. He's definitely a Bigfoot if I've ever seen one.
He goes quiet for a moment. Thoughtful.
RANDOM BIGFOOT
(cont'd)
Actually, I prefer the name Sasquatch. Because it sounds so funny.
He says it again. And again. Each time, a small giggle escapes him, growing in volume until they reach a roaring laugh.
RANDOM BIGFOOT
(giggling)
Sasquatch... Sasquatch... Sasquatch...
He closes his eyes. Tilts his big shaggy head. A slow, deeply satisfied smile spreads across his face as he lets out a sigh.
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE

EXT. USFS PROPERTY - EARLY MORNING
FRANK (Late 50s, heavily bearded, long ponytail, unkempt -- every inch of him clad in camouflage, including his official USFS uniform) walks across the parking lot and into the building with the deliberate gait of a man who has never been in a hurry because he has never needed to be.
INT. USFS BUILDING LOBBY - CONTINUOUS
Frank crosses the lobby without glancing at anyone, heading straight for Bob's office.
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Bob looks up from his desk as Frank fills the doorway.
BOB
Mornin', Frank. Look, before you say anything -- the reason I didn't get you involved with the restroom incident is because it was a park ranger problem.
FRANK
But I'm the security officer for this district. I should have at least been notified.
BOB
You're right. I apologize for that.
FRANK
Apology accepted. I'll go take a look.
BOB
Don't bother. It burned down.
A beat. Frank's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.
FRANK
You don't find that a little suspicious?
BOB
Maybe a little.
FRANK
I've told you many times before -- we need to put up cameras around every building. Large or small.
BOB
Frank, you know we don't have the budget for that. Neither does the Park Service.
Frank turns to leave.
FRANK
One way or another, it's gonna happen.
INT. USFS BUILDING LOBBY - CONTINUOUS
Frank moves through the lobby just as TIMMY comes through the front door. They pass each other.
FRANK
Hi, Timmy.
TIMMY
Hi, Frank.
EXT. USFS PROPERTY - CONTINUOUS
Frank steps into the parking lot and opens the door of his pickup truck. The truck is painted in full camouflage -- and it works. The vehicle barely registers against the treeline, its outline creating a strange shimmering distortion as it blends into the background. Frank climbs in and drives away. The truck seems to dissolve into the landscape as it goes.
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - EARLY MORNING
Bob sighs heavily as he watches Timmy approaching through the lobby window. Timmy enters, snaps to attention, and salutes. Bob returns it.
BOB
Good morning, Timmy.
TIMMY
Good morning, sir!
BOB
What's happening?
TIMMY
I completed the perimeter check, sir. Removed a few illegal drop lines from Lake TittyWaWa.
BOB
That's good. Anything else?
Behind Bob, two large shaggy heads slowly rise into the window frame. Timmy's eyes go wide. He points excitedly. Bob turns to look. Both heads drop instantly. Bob turns back.
BOB
What?
Timmy's face falls.
TIMMY
Never mind.
CUT TO:
EXT. FRANK'S CABIN - EARLY AFTERNOON
A large cabin sits deep in the woods, well off any visible road. Timmy's USFS truck pulls up and parks. He climbs out, walks up the porch steps, and knocks on the front door.
No answer.
He tries the handle. The door swings open. Timmy peers inside cautiously.
TIMMY
Frank? Are you here? Frank?
INT. FRANK'S CABIN - CONTINUOUS
Timmy steps inside. The living room is dense with war memorabilia -- weapons, ammunition, gear -- covering every surface. The walls are floor-to-ceiling camouflage.
Timmy moves slowly through the room, looking around. Behind him, on the wall beside the door, two eyes blink open within the camouflage pattern. They track Timmy's every step as he moves around the room.
Then -- Frank steps away from the wall. He was there the entire time, perfectly invisible. He materializes as a full human being directly behind Timmy.
Timmy turns around and SCREAMS.
FRANK
Hi, Timmy.
TIMMY
(hand on his chest)
Frank! You scared the crap out of me. I didn't see you there.
FRANK
That's the point. Never let 'em see you coming.
Frank crosses to a camouflaged table and lays down a camouflaged RPG-7. The weapon lands on the table and promptly disappears into the pattern.
TIMMY
I gotta ask you -- if you're so paranoid, why do you leave your door unlocked?
FRANK
Intruders hone my skills.
Timmy considers this. He nods. He looks around the room.
TIMMY
Interesting place you got here.
FRANK
It suits me just fine. Pardon my manners -- can I get you anything? An espresso, or maybe some homemade sour mash whiskey?
TIMMY
Uhh... an espresso sounds good.
FRANK
Follow me.
INT. FRANK'S CABIN - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
The kitchen is a revelation. It is immaculate -- spotless countertops, organized shelves, everything in its place. The polar opposite of the war bunker outside.
The one exception: in the far corner, a gutted deer hangs upside down from the heavy beam rafters.
Frank gestures to a rack of small labeled metal canisters -- a carefully curated selection of coffees and flavors.
FRANK
Pick your poison.
Timmy studies the options and selects Caramel Arabica.
FRANK
Good choice. I think I'll have the same.
Frank presses two cups of espresso with practiced ease. He picks up a bottle of whiskey from the counter and pours a measured splash into his own cup.
FRANK
For medicinal purposes. Want some?
TIMMY
No thanks.
FRANK
Suit yourself.
Frank pulls a can of whipped cream from the cabinet and sprays a generous swirl on top of his cup. He holds the can up toward Timmy, a silent offer. Timmy nods. Frank sprays some on Timmy's cup.
Frank then taps cinnamon over his own cup and holds the container toward Timmy.
FRANK
Cinnamon?
Timmy nods. Frank sprinkles some over Timmy's cup.
INT. FRANK'S CABIN - BREAKFAST NOOK - CONTINUOUS
Frank leads Timmy to a small, surprisingly well-decorated breakfast nook. They sit across from each other.
Frank wraps his hands around his cup.
FRANK
What can I do you for?
Timmy shifts in his seat. He hesitates.
TIMMY
Uhh... this may sound a little weird and out there on a limb, but... do you believe in Bigfoot?
The question lands. Frank goes very still. Something shifts in his face -- the gruffness giving way to something older and heavier. He turns and looks out the window at the tree line. His eyes narrow. He seems to go somewhere else for a moment.
FRANK
Three years ago to the day, down by Lake TittyWaWa, I met up with one of them face to face.
He turns and fixes Timmy with a hard, direct stare.
FRANK
(fierce)
He was a massive beast that smelled like death! We stared at each other eye to eye for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes were cold and black -- like those of a demon straight from hell.
Frank looks back out the window. His voice drops.
FRANK
(quietly)
And then he vanished in a flash. Just disappeared without a trace. Like a fart in the wind.
A beat. Frank takes a calm sip of coffee and looks back at Timmy as though he'd been discussing the weather.
FRANK
Why do you ask?
TIMMY
I think I saw one the other day through Bob's window. And again this morning -- but this time there were two of them.
FRANK
Did they slowly appear and then suddenly disappear?
TIMMY
Yes.
FRANK
They like to do that.
TIMMY
Are there security cameras outside the main office?
FRANK
More than you can possibly imagine.
TIMMY
Do you have access to the footage?
Frank takes another slow sip of coffee. He gazes out the window at the distant mountains. The silence stretches.
FRANK
Can I trust you?
TIMMY
Uhhh... what?
Frank explodes out of his chair. In one fluid motion he yanks a knife from his belt, wraps an arm around Timmy's neck from behind, and presses the blade to his throat.
FRANK
(yelling)
I said -- can I trust you, soldier???!!!
TIMMY
(terrified)
Yes!! Yes!! By all that is holy and sacred you can trust me, sir!!
Frank releases him. He slides the knife back into its sheath and straightens up as if nothing happened.
FRANK
Follow me.
INT. FRANK'S CABIN - HALLWAY / BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Frank leads Timmy down a short hallway and into a bathroom. He opens the glass shower door and steps inside. He turns and motions for Timmy to follow.
Timmy looks at the shower. He looks at Frank. He looks around the bathroom. He steps inside.
FRANK
Close the door.
Timmy closes the shower door. He immediately starts trembling. His eyes are wet. His lip quivers.
FRANK
Prepare yourself. I'm about to rock your world.
Frank reaches down and starts to unzip his pants.
Timmy GRABS the shower door handle and yanks. It's locked. He yanks again. Nothing.
Frank lowers his pants and underwear slightly. Timmy's face crumples. Frank lowers them a little more -- revealing, on his right butt cheek, a black QR code tattoo.
Frank turns and angles his backside toward a specific tile on the rear wall of the shower. A thin laser beam shoots from the tile, scans the QR code, and the tile glows green.
Frank calmly pulls his pants back up and zips them.
The entire shower stall begins to descend.
INT. FRANK'S CABIN - UNDERGROUND COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS
The shower reaches the bottom and stops. The rear wall slides open.
Before them: a massive room humming with technology. Racks of computer servers blink in the low light. Dozens of monitors line the walls, each displaying different camera feeds. A red light pulses from a scanner mounted near the entrance.
SCANNER
(electronic voice)
Identify yourself.
Frank glances at Timmy.
FRANK
Can't be too careful.
He steps toward the scanner. A laser sweeps his face. The light turns green.
FRANK
One guest.
SCANNER
(electronic voice)
Understood. Will the guest please step onto the blue platform?
Timmy spots a glowing blue circle on the floor. He steps onto it cautiously. The platform begins to rotate slowly as a series of lasers scan him from head to foot. It stops.
SCANNER
(electronic voice)
Thank you. Your bio parameters have been recorded. You may step off now.
FRANK
Okay. Let's see what you saw.
Frank settles into a chair in front of a monitor and powers it up.
FRANK
What day did the first sighting happen?
TIMMY
Monday.
FRANK
About what time?
TIMMY
Late afternoon. Between four and five, I'd say.
Frank types. Footage populates the screen.
FRANK
They somehow evade motion detectors, so we can't use any of that data. But I've built an algorithm that detects unusually large and sudden changes in pixel patterns in the video. A lot faster than watching the whole clip in slow motion.
He types again. The monitor shows the area outside Bob's office window. And there -- crouched below the sill -- is exactly what Timmy saw. A Bigfoot.
TIMMY
That's it!!
Frank rewinds a few seconds and lets it play at reduced speed. For a moment the frame is empty. Then the Bigfoot simply appears -- not moving into frame, just suddenly present.
TIMMY
He just appeared out of nowhere!!
FRANK
They're sneaky bastards. You say the other sighting was this morning?
TIMMY
Yeah. Around nine, I think.
Frank navigates to the morning footage. Same result -- two Bigfoots blink into existence outside the window, rise slowly into view, then vanish in an instant.
FRANK
I've seen this kind of thing happen many times before.
TIMMY
Cloaking technology?
FRANK
Possibly. Either that, or they can transport through space. Maybe both. I don't know. For years I've been trying to figure out if there's a pattern in their appearances. Haven't found one yet.
TIMMY
What do we do next?
Frank glances at his watch. His eyes go slightly wide.
FRANK
What we need to do next is get to that staff meeting that we're probably going to be late for.
TIMMY
Oh, crap!
CUT TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - EARLY AFTERNOON
A conference table. Most of the staff are already seated -- AMANDA (45, steady, dependable), JOHN (40, perpetually suspicious of everything), DAVID (35, never misses an opportunity) among them. BOB stands at the head of the room, ready to begin. He checks his watch.
BOB
Does anybody know where Timmy and Frank are?
The staff shake their heads.
AMANDA
I haven't seen them for a few hours.
John leans forward. He raises his right index finger and begins moving it slowly toward the circle made by his left thumb and forefinger.
JOHN
You don't think they're, you know....
BOB
Let's not jump to conclusions.
The door bangs open. Timmy staggers in and drops into a chair, breathing hard.
TIMMY
(between breaths)
Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen.
Frank fills the doorframe behind him, unhurried. He takes his seat.
The other staff members exchange glances and stifle smirks. Bob gives a small, noncommittal shrug -- the "maybe" shrug of a man who has learned not to ask.
BOB
By the way -- after the meeting, I'll be away from my office for the rest of the day.
DAVID
Getting your butthole checked?
A beat. Bob stares at David.
BOB
Yes, I am going to have my hemorrhoid situation examined. Is nothing sacred to you, David? Are you happy now?
DAVID
I'm gettin' there.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL EXAMINATION ROOM - MID AFTERNOON
A sterile, brightly lit exam room. BOB is wearing a full hospital gown, and is leaning face down on an examination bed. His expression is that of a man awaiting sentencing. HARRY (50s, Bob's proctologist, calm and professional) moves around the room preparing his instruments.
BOB
Is this really necessary, Harry? Do we really have to do this?
HARRY
Just consider it calling in a big favor.
BOB
But do a bunch of interns really need to see my naked ass?
HARRY
Everything will be fine. And be comforted in knowing that you're contributing to their education.
BOB
Oh, yeah. That really comforts me.
HARRY
Don't worry -- they're very professional. And it's not the first time they've seen a naked ass.
A knock at the door. A cluster of hospital interns files in, including KRESKIN (25, cocky), HOBBS (24, his willing accomplice), and SARAH (26, the one who actually studied).
HARRY
Welcome, all. Please, come in. I believe this is your final stop on the observation tour. I'm sure you've seen some exciting things today -- and we've got a fantastic examination here for you.
Harry lifts the back of Bob's gown, exposing the situation in profile. He gently parts the relevant area. Bob's eyes close. He shakes his head slowly.
BOB
(barely audible, to himself)
I'm begging you, Lord. Please kill me now.
HARRY
Can anybody tell me what they see here?
KRESKIN
A butthole?
The interns laugh. Harry does not.
HARRY
That'll be enough out of you, Kreskin. Anybody else?
HOBBS
A big butthole.
HARRY
Okay, Hobbs, that'll be enough out of you too. Let's get serious here, folks.
Harry looks toward Sarah with the expression of a man who knows exactly where his one reliable answer is coming from.
HARRY
Let's hear from Sarah.
SARAH
An external hemorrhoid. Also called a pile.
HARRY
That's correct.
Kreskin and Hobbs simultaneously perform the "brown nose" gesture. Harry ignores them.
HARRY
And what are the common treatment methods?
SARAH
Rubber band ligation, coagulation, sclerotherapy, and surgical removal -- also known as a hemorrhoidectomy.
HARRY
Very good. And what method would you suggest?
SARAH
Well -- due to the size -- I would say a hemorrhoidectomy.
HARRY
Very good. My thoughts exactly.
Harry picks up a pencil and uses it as a pointer, gesturing toward the base of the hemorrhoid.
HARRY
We will start the incision here, and work our way across the--
Bob's eyes begin to drift upward. Harry shifts the pencil slightly and accidentally makes contact. Bob flinches.
HARRY
Oops. Sorry, Bob.
BOB
(barely audible, to himself)
I'm serious, Lord. Please kill me now.
Harry turns back to the interns.
HARRY
We will continue to work our way across the base. Once removed, all we'll need to do is stitch it up and he'll be ready to go.
KRESKIN
Go poop.
The interns laugh again. Harry frowns and shakes his head.
HARRY
It will take two to four weeks for initial healing, but complete recovery can take six to eight weeks.
Harry stands and, in a gesture of casual familiarity, rests his elbow on Bob's backside.
HARRY
Thank you all for joining us on the observation tour today. I hope each of you took something meaningful away from these examinations.
A beat.
HARRY
Well -- I suppose you're free to go. Enjoy the rest of your day.
Bob's whole body deflates with relief. A smile -- small, exhausted, genuine -- crosses his face.
BOB
(barely audible, to himself)
Finally.
The interns begin to file out. All except Sarah, who lingers near the door.
HARRY
Do you have a question, Sarah?
Bob closes his eyes. His chin drops to the exam table.
BOB
(barely audible, to himself)
Seriously, Lord -- if you don't kill me right now, I'll do it myself.
Sarah points toward Bob, who remains in position, gown still raised.
SARAH
Seeing that hemorrhoids are swollen blood vessels, I assume there will be a preponderance of blood once the incision is made.
HARRY
Oh, most definitely. Blood will shoot out all over the place.
Bob's eyes roll back.
He passes out.
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE

EXT. FOREST CAMPGROUND - MID-MORNING
The charred remains of the restroom facility. BOB and FRANK stand at the edge of the wreckage, surveying the damage.
FRANK
If we had cameras at each of these facilities, we would know who needed to be sent to prison for the rest of their miserable lives.
BOB
Come on, Frank. There are ten facilities in this district. Do you realize how much it will cost to install cameras for all of them?
FRANK
Twenty-seven thousand four hundred and eighty-two dollars and thirteen cents.
A beat.
FRANK
(cont'd)
Give or take.
BOB
Neither the US Forest Service nor the National Park Service can do that. The budgets aren't there. It'll probably cost a hundred thousand just to replace this facility. The old septic tank will have to be dug out and a new one put in. And heavy timber is priced out the wazoo.
FRANK
I'm just sayin'.
A park ranger truck pulls in and parks. Two men climb out -- JEFF (90, weathered like old leather, moves slowly but deliberately, has the calm of a man who has outlasted everything) and CHRIS (35, pressed uniform, purposeful stride, the energy of someone who has something to prove).
BOB
(quietly, to Frank)
Oh, great. Jeff brought Chris with him.
FRANK
Is that a bad thing?
BOB
Jeff is ninety years old and will be retiring soon, so he's priming his replacement. Jeff can be a pain in the ass to deal with sometimes, but at least he's fair and he's a pretty nice guy. Chris is just a pure asshole.
FRANK
Would you like me to make him disappear?
BOB
What? No, no. He's not our enemy, he's just an asshole.
FRANK
I don't see the difference. If assholes and enemies didn't exist, it would be a very beautiful world.
BOB
Well, I can't argue with that.
Frank turns to leave.
FRANK
See you later. I gotta go meet up with Timmy. We're working on a special security project.
BOB
You and Timmy seem to be getting along really well.
FRANK
He's a good kid. He can just be a little stupid sometimes.
Frank climbs into his fully camouflaged truck. The vehicle all but vanishes against the treeline. When the door closes, only Frank's head is visible floating in the open window.
FRANK
But at least he's not an asshole.
Frank closes the window. His head disappears. The truck drives away -- or rather, a shimmering distortion in the air moves away down the road.
Jeff and Chris approach.
BOB
Hey, Jeff.
JEFF
Hey, Bob. You know Chris.
BOB
Yeah. Hey, Chris.
CHRIS
Good morning, Ranger Bob. How did this happen?
BOB
Not sure yet. Still investigating.
CHRIS
I'm going to take a look around.
BOB
Be my guest.
CHRIS
I'll get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.
Chris strides off toward the wreckage with great purpose.
JEFF
Take it easy on him, Bob. He's just trying to impress.
BOB
Yeah. I guess I've been there myself. So -- are you looking forward to retirement?
JEFF
Yes and no. I've been a park ranger for my entire adult life. Seventy-five years. Can you believe that? I've seen so much shit you couldn't possibly imagine -- but to be honest, I've loved every minute of it. Wouldn't trade it for the whole world.
Jeff goes quiet for a moment. He looks out at the trees.
JEFF
But it's time for me to move on and pass it down, you know?
BOB
Yeah.
JEFF
All of my ancestors have lived to be over a hundred years old....
CUT TO:
EXT. SPACE
The infinite black. Stars. Silence. And then -- a meteor, large and fast, cutting through the void on a trajectory aimed squarely at Earth.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. FOREST CAMPGROUND - CONTINUOUS
JEFF
My dad is turning a hundred and seven next week. So I think I've got a long way to go before I die.
CUT TO:
EXT. EARTH'S UPPER ATMOSPHERE
The meteor hits the outer atmosphere. Its leading edge ignites, glowing orange and red as it begins to burn.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. FOREST CAMPGROUND - CONTINUOUS
BOB
What are your plans?
JEFF
I think I'll decompress for a while. Then do some travelling. See the rest of the world.
CUT TO:
EXT. EARTH'S CLOUD LAYER
The meteor, now a blazing fireball, punches through the clouds trailing a column of smoke and fire.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. FOREST CAMPGROUND - CONTINUOUS
JEFF
Have you ever been to Scotland?
BOB
No.
CUT TO:
EXT. AERIAL - ONE THOUSAND FEET
The smoking meteor screams downward. The trees below are visible now. Getting closer. Fast.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. FOREST CAMPGROUND - CONTINUOUS
JEFF
I think that'll be my starting point. That's where my great-grandpa is from. He and MeeMaw came ashore in--
The meteor SLAMS into the ground not twenty feet away. A thunderous impact. A massive cloud of dirt and debris erupts into the air, showering both men. The shockwave staggers them.
The dust settles. Both men are still standing. Bob stares at the smoking crater. Jeff looks at it, then looks back at Bob.
JEFF
Whoa. Dodged that bullet. You see, Bob, that right there proves that I've got a lot more years--
A GRIZZLY BEAR explodes out of the tree line. It hits Jeff like a freight train. In three horrifying seconds, Jeff is gone.
Bob stares.
CUT TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - MID-MORNING
The underground command center hums quietly. FRANK and TIMMY stand before a large monitor displaying a satellite map of the district. Scattered across the map are red dots. A few are connected by colored lines.
FRANK
The red dots represent locations where campers have reported a Bigfoot sighting. The different colored lines connect dots where sightings happened on the same day. For the life of me, I cannot see a pattern.
TIMMY
No photos?
FRANK
None. Not since that video in 1967 has a Bigfoot ever been officially captured on camera. They must have a sixth sense -- they always seem to know when they're about to be photographed.
TIMMY
What do the campers report? Anything in common between them?
FRANK
Not really. Some people report different smells. Rotten eggs, rotten potatoes...
A pause.
FRANK
(cont'd)
And putrid death. Just like when I came face to face with that massive beast down by Lake TittyWaWa.
TIMMY
Hmmmm.
FRANK
Some even say they smell lavender.
TIMMY
Lavender?
FRANK
Yep.
TIMMY
That's weird.
FRANK
Yep. And then there's the eyes. Some say they're red, some yellow, some flashing different colors...
Another pause.
FRANK
(cont'd)
And then there's the black soulless kind. Like when I came face to face with that massive beast down by Lake TittyWaWa.
TIMMY
You like saying TittyWaWa, don't you.
FRANK
Yep.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL SURGERY ROOM - MID-AFTERNOON
A bright, sterile operating room. BOB is wheeled in on a gurney. HARRY and a pair of nurses move efficiently around the room -- adjusting trays, positioning lights, checking equipment.
HARRY
Hey, Bob.
BOB
Hey, Harry.
HARRY
Okay, we'll just get some equipment ready.
Harry and the nurses continue their preparations. Bob watches the ceiling.
HARRY
Now -- you remember that in order to have this procedure done free of charge, you agreed to have it recorded and made available for viewing by any medical professional anywhere in the world. Right?
BOB
Yes, dammit. Just get it over with.
HARRY
Do you want to be awake during the procedure?
BOB
What? Hell no! Why would I want to be awake while my asshole is being exposed to the entire world?
Harry laughs.
HARRY
Okay. Turn over on your stomach and turn your face to the right.
Bob does. Harry presses a button. The bed articulates, folding Bob into a jackknife position.
HARRY
Okay. We'll get you all hooked up. Your anesthesiologist is Mary. Here she comes now.
MARY (28, calm, unhurried, the kind of person whose presence alone lowers your blood pressure) walks in. Monitors begin beeping steadily in the background.
HARRY
Hey, Mary. This is Bob.
MARY
Hi, Bob.
BOB
Hi, Mary.
Mary pulls on gloves. She checks the ventilator settings methodically -- monitors, IV lines, equipment placement. She connects a series of syringes to various tubes with practiced precision.
MARY
Okay, everything looks in order. How are you feeling, Bob? A little nervous?
BOB
My bare naked asshole is about to be exposed to the entire world. Of course I'm feeling nervous.
MARY
I understand. I'm giving you some nice relaxing medication through your IV right now. You'll feel something shortly, but it will take a minute or two to take full effect.
Bob's eyelids grow heavy.
MARY
Starting to feel a little better?
Bob nods slowly. A faint smile.
MARY
Good. We'll give you some oxygen now. Take nice deep breaths for me.
Mary places the oxygen mask over Bob's face.
MARY
Doing good. Going to give you a little more happy juice.
She presses a syringe.
MARY
Going in right now. Keep taking those nice deep breaths.
She checks the monitors. Everything steady.
MARY
Okay, looking good. We'll now administer the really good stuff to put you into a nice deep sleep. Are you ready?
Bob nods.
Mary presses the final syringe.
MARY
You may feel a little warmth in your arm. And then the next thing you know, you'll be waking up after the surgery.
Bob's eyes close. He's out.
Mary inserts the intubation tube, secures it carefully to his face, and runs a final check of the monitors.
MARY
Okay. We're ready.
HARRY
Great. Are the cameras on?
A CAMERA OPERATOR gives a thumbs up.
HARRY
Fantastic. Let's spread those cheeks!
A rapid MONTAGE: split screens and quick cuts of medical professionals around the world watching the live feed on laptops, tablets, and wall monitors. Some are laughing and pointing. Some are shooting video with their phones. Some have gone pale. A few are already heading for the door with a hand cupped over their mouth.
CUT TO:
EXT. LAKE TITTYWAWA - EAST SIDE - DUSK
A large carved wooden sign stands at the water's edge: WELCOME TO LAKE TITTYWAWA. The lake reflects the last orange light of the day. Across the water, a small campfire flickers on the far shore.
CUT TO:
EXT. LAKE TITTYWAWA - WEST SIDE - DUSK
Three Bigfoots are gathered around a campfire. They have food. They have drinks. They are entirely at ease.
PETE (Bigfoot #1 -- brown hair, jovial, carrying a little extra around the middle) leans back and lights up a big cigar. BILL (Bigfoot #2 -- black hair, visibly muscular, carries himself like he knows it) holds up a beer bottle and inspects it. SLIM (Bigfoot #3 -- black hair gone mostly grey, older, still and watchful) sits down with his bag of goodies.
PETE
Who did you get this time, Bill?
BILL
The Olivers.
PETE
Hmmm. Not familiar with them. Must be new. What brand of beer?
Bill examines the label on his bottle.
BILL
Uhh... Triple Diamond Lager?
PETE
Never heard of it. Any good?
BILL
So-so. A little too hoppy for my taste. But I did manage to snag a Smash Bomb Burger. Can't go wrong with that.
PETE
Oh yeah, those are good. How about you, Slim? Who did you get?
Slim reaches into the bag beside him and holds up two enormous steaks and a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal champagne. He says nothing. Just lets it speak for itself.
PETE
No way. Not the Franklins?!
SLIM
Yep.
PETE
Awww, man. You lucky dawg. They always bring the best stuff. They really know how to pack.
Slim takes a long, satisfied bite of steak and washes it down with champagne. He nods toward Pete.
SLIM
So. Who did you get?
PETE
The Weissmans.
SLIM
Aww, dude. I'm so sorry. Let me guess -- matzo ball soup and gefilte fish.
PETE
You got it. I passed on the soup, not a big fan. But to tell you the truth, the fish is actually starting to grow on me.
Pete holds up a bottle of white wine -- a very fine-looking bottle of C Blanc du Castel.
PETE
(cont'd)
And they always bring the top shelf wine!
Bill raises his bottle of beer.
BILL
To the stupid ass humans!
Pete and Slim raise their bottles.
PETE AND SLIM
To the stupid ass humans!
Three bottles clink. Three long drinks.
CUT TO:
EXT. CAMPGROUND - DUSK
A large, well-appointed RV is parked at a campsite. On its side, in proud lettering: "RABBISTREAM." Below that, the same in Hebrew. The door swings open and RABBI WEISSMAN steps out -- full Hasidic garb, black coat, white shirt, tzitzit, and a wide-brimmed hat -- looking entirely composed in the middle of the wilderness.
He walks to the picnic table. He looks down at the pan sitting on it. Inside: a few lonely crumbs of gefilte fish. Nothing else. The rabbi stares.
RABBI WEISSMAN
Oy vey! What happened to the gefilte fish?
He turns to the cooler. The ice bucket beside it sits open and empty -- no wine bottle in sight.
RABBI WEISSMAN
(cont'd)
And the wine?
The camera drifts to a small gas stove. On it: a full, steaming pot of matzo ball soup. Untouched. Perfect.
Rabbi Weissman looks at the pot. He looks at the camera. He spreads his hands wide in a slow, bewildered shrug.
RABBI WEISSMAN
(to camera)
What -- the soup wasn't good enough for you?
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE
-- ROLL CREDITS --

INT. PRIVATE HOSPITAL ROOM - EARLY MORNING
Bob is asleep, flat on his back, the stillness of a man whose body has been through something. The room is quiet.
The door opens softly. MISTY slips in -- wearing a Daisy Duke outfit that has no business being in a hospital -- carrying two Breakfast Bomb bags and two cups of Breakfast Bomb coffee. She sets them on the table without a sound.
As she opens one of the bags, Bob stirs. His eyes flutter open.
MISTY
(soft, warm, sexy)
Good morning, Ranger Bob.
BOB
(groggily)
Uhhh... good morning, Misty.
MISTY
I brought you your favorite breakfast. I hope you're hungry.
Bob smiles -- small but genuine.
BOB
Thank you, Misty. I'll get there.
He finds the bed control and raises himself to sitting. Misty wheels the table into position in front of him. They settle in. A few seconds of quiet as they eat -- the comfortable, slightly awkward silence of two people who aren't quite sure what they are to each other.
MISTY
They started excavating facility number five about an hour ago.
BOB
Wow. That happened faster than I thought it would.
MISTY
But...
BOB
What?
MISTY
The crew discovered that it's on top of a burial ground for the TittyWaWa Indian tribe.
BOB
*BLEEP*! Are you kidding me?
Misty shakes her head and takes a bite of her biscuit sandwich.
BOB
(cont'd)
Dear Lord. Have they stopped the excavation and started the paperwork?
MISTY
Yes.
Misty hesitates. She shifts slightly.
BOB
What now?
MISTY
They also found several rare endangered creatures.
BOB
*BLEEP*! How many?
MISTY
Seventy-five.
BOB
That's statistically impossible!
Misty shrugs and takes a sip of coffee.
BOB
(cont'd)
Ughhh. Has the paperwork been started?
MISTY
Yes.
BOB
This is gonna be a shit-storm. The Indians and the tree-hugger idiots are gonna be fighting it out to see who gets rank on this deal. And I'm gonna be stuck in the middle.
Bob takes a bite of his sandwich. Washes it down with coffee.
BOB
(cont'd)
Well, the only good thing is that ninety-five percent of those tree huggers won't respond. They consist of nothing more than a bunch of purple-haired non-gender freaks living in their parents' basements. They usually don't even know what the hell they're protesting. They just like to scream.
Misty takes a bite of her sandwich and nods.
BOB
(cont'd)
But then there's the other five percent.
He takes a sip of coffee.
BOB
(cont'd)
They are ravenous beasts that seriously think that some f'ing beetle is more important than we are.
Misty takes a sip of coffee and nods.
There's more awkward silence.
CUT TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - CONTINUOUS
Dim lights. The hum of servers. FRANK and TIMMY stand before a monitor, studying its glow.
FRANK
Have you seen any more of them?
TIMMY
Nope.
FRANK
A couple of campers filed reports over the weekend. Still can't see a pattern. And I think they're getting bolder. A few cabin owners have reported random things disappearing -- within seconds of them being in a room. Sometimes while they're still in the room.
CUT TO:
EXT. CABIN IN THE FOREST - EARLY AFTERNOON
A quiet cabin tucked among the pines. A pair of elk graze in the meadow nearby. Birds pass overhead. Nothing unusual.
CUT TO:
INT. CABIN - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
A MAN stands at the kitchen counter, putting the finishing touches on a Dagwood sandwich of extraordinary scale -- layers upon layers of meat, cheese, vegetables, and condiments stacked to an architectural height. He smooths mayo and mustard on the top half of the hoagie roll and sets it in place.
He gathers up the jars and squeeze bottles scattered across the counter and carries them back to the refrigerator. He opens the fridge, puts them away, and closes it.
Behind him, a BIGFOOT blinks silently into existence. It reaches out one enormous hand, lifts the entire sandwich off the counter, and blinks back out of existence. Gone.
The man turns around, holding a can of Coke. He walks back to the counter. He looks at the empty spot where the sandwich was. He looks around the kitchen. He scratches his head.
He sets the Coke down and walks back to the refrigerator. Opens it. Peers inside -- maybe he put it in there? He scratches his head.
The Bigfoot blinks back in. Grabs the Coke. Blinks out.
The man closes the refrigerator and walks back to the counter. Stares at where his Coke was. Stares at the empty counter. Stares at the spot where the sandwich was.
He stands very still for a long moment.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - CONTINUOUS
TIMMY
I've also noticed that there are never any footprints leading up to or going away from the places where they've been spotted.
FRANK
You make a very astute point.
TIMMY
They have to be using some sort of site-to-site transporter technology. Maybe matter dematerialization -- like Star Trek?
FRANK
Highly unlikely. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only change from one form to another. Converting a massive beast like a Bigfoot into pure energy in order to beam it from one location to another is practically impossible. First of all, there would have to be a machine at the destination point to convert it back into matter. Second of all -- do you know how much matter was converted into pure energy when the Hiroshima bomb exploded and killed almost a hundred and fifty thousand people?
TIMMY
Not right off hand.
FRANK
Between zero point five and zero point seven grams.
TIMMY
Wow. That's not very much.
FRANK
Nope. That's about what an adult monarch butterfly weighs. Converting a Bigfoot into pure energy would probably destroy our entire solar system.
TIMMY
Interdimensional shift, maybe?
Frank shakes his head.
FRANK
That's a theoretical and hypothetical concept relegated to science fiction -- usually involving massive wormholes or shimmering rifts in the space-time continuum.
A pause.
FRANK
(cont'd)
I haven't seen either of those lately.
TIMMY
Then it has to be a small wearable device that bends space -- allowing them to travel any distance almost instantly, like walking through a door from one room to another.
FRANK
My thoughts exactly.
CUT TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - MID-AFTERNOON
The conference table is occupied by two distinct factions, seated on opposite sides.
On the right: TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1 and TITTYWAWA INDIAN #2 -- both stoic, both wearing leather breechcloths, moccasins, and full ceremonial headdresses of colorful fabric and feathers. Behind them, TITTYWAWA INDIAN #3 holds a sign reading: "WHITEY GO HOME."
On the left: three protesters of possibly indeterminate gender. TREE HUGGER #1 -- green hair, wearing glasses so oversized they seem to be wearing the face -- sits next to TREE HUGGER #2, who may be male, with purple hair shaved on both sides and a thick curtain of bangs hanging completely over his eyes. Beside him sits TREE HUGGER #3 -- wild, aggressively messy red hair that bears a striking resemblance to Kathy Griffin in her most infamous photo. Behind each of them, a companion holds a protest sign: "SAVE THE GREEN-HAIRED TREE WOMBAT," "DRILLING IS KILLING OUR JABBERWOCKIES," and "SAVE KATHY GRIFFIN."
BOB enters, moving with the careful, deliberate steps of a man whose backside recently underwent surgery. He takes in the room. He sighs -- the deep, bone-level sigh of a man who knew this day was coming.
BOB
Good afternoon. Thank you for attending this meeting.
TittyWaWa Indian #1 produces a cigarette and lights it with calm authority.
BOB
(cont'd)
I'm sorry, but you can't smoke that in here.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Don't worry. It's not the wacky kind.
BOB
That doesn't matter. You're not allowed to smoke anything in this building.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Like all Native American tribes, the TittyWaWa are also a sovereign nation. Therefore we don't have to follow the laws of any other nation -- including yours.
BOB
That's only as long as you're standing on your tribal land.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Uhh, we have a special relationship with your government. Each member of the TittyWaWa tribe is allowed to have what we call a "tribal bubble" that surrounds us at all times. It extends at a radius of seventy-three centimeters--
TittyWaWa Indian #2 leans over and whispers something into his ear.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
(cont'd)
Seventy-five centimeters from our bodies. Therefore, we are always standing on our tribal land.
Bob looks at him. He looks at the cigarette. He looks at the ceiling. He shakes his head and looks back down.
BOB
Okay, whatever.... Can you spot me one? I've had a bad day.
TittyWaWa Indian #1 extends a cigarette without expression. Bob takes it and puts it between his lips. TittyWaWa Indian #1 produces a plasma torch shaped like a giant match and lights it. Bob takes a long, slow drag. His eyes close. For just a moment, everything is fine.
CUT TO:
EXT. FRANK'S BACKYARD - EARLY AFTERNOON
A massive grill dominates the yard. On it: an entire deer, rotating slowly over the heat. FRANK tends it with the focus of a man doing something sacred.
He pops the cap off a beer bottle with his teeth and hands it to TIMMY. Pops one for himself. They clink and drink.
TIMMY
Space folding should produce a sudden gravitational wave emanating from a specific focal point -- and also at the destination point. They would happen at the exact same time, so we could match them up.
FRANK
You're not as stupid as you look. I can hack into either the Virgo Observatory or the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory -- otherwise known as LIGO -- and see what I can find.
TIMMY
Or I can just call my friend at LIGO and get the data from him.
FRANK
I guess that would work too.
TIMMY
The data is available to the public, but not in real time. However, my friend could probably get us hooked up for real-time access.
FRANK
Sweet.
Frank slices off a thick chunk of venison and hands it to Timmy. He cuts one for himself. They hold the pieces up and knock them together like a toast. They bite.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Bob still has his eyes closed. The meeting attendants look at each other, wondering what's happening. TittyWaWa Indian #1 pokes Bob with his cigarette lighter. Bob rouses.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Are you okay.
BOB
Sorry, I'm on pain meds. I'm a little sleepy.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
I've got something that can take care of that pain. Totally organic.
BOB
No, no, that's okay. But thank you.
Bob takes a deep breath and turns his attention to the left side of the table. He addresses Tree Hugger #1.
BOB
So -- what is your issue with the excavation?
TREE HUGGER #1
You are destroying the habitat of the needle-nosed salamander!
BOB
First of all, there is no such thing as a needle-nosed salamander. Second of all, your protest sign is about a green-haired tree wombat. Third of all, green-haired tree wombats don't exist either. Get the hell out of this building.
Tree Hugger #1 and its companion storm out indignantly.
CUT TO:
EXT. FOREST - MID-AFTERNOON
A GREEN-HAIRED WOMBAT sits on a tree branch, munching a leaf with great contentment. It becomes aware of the camera. It stops chewing. It looks directly into the lens and delivers a slow, deliberate WTF shrug.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Bob turns to Tree Hugger #2.
BOB
So -- why are you here?
TREE HUGGER #2
Your well drilling is killing the Jabberwocky embryos that develop underground. Your excavation site is the only place on the planet that Jabberwocky embryos develop.
BOB
First of all, we're not drilling any wells. Second of all, there is no such thing as a Jabberwocky. It was a fictional creature in a poem written by Lewis Carroll. Third of all, there is no way in hell that the excavation site is the only place on earth that those embryos could develop. Get the hell out of here.
That group storms out.
Bob turns to Tree Hugger #3.
BOB
And that leaves you. Based on your sign, I can guess what your issue is. But go ahead -- state your case for the record.
TREE HUGGER #3
Kathy Griffin is a pure treasure that none of us deserve. We must save her!
BOB
Yeah. You're right about that -- we definitely don't deserve her. But good luck with saving her. Get the hell out of here.
That group storms out.
Bob turns to the TittyWaWa Indians. Now we're getting somewhere.
BOB
(cont'd)
Okay. It's obvious that we have dug into a gravesite. But are you certain it belongs to the TittyWaWa tribe?
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Yes. We recognize the markings on their skin and the traditional burial artifacts arranged around their bodies. There are cheechawbee berries to provide nourishment during their long journey to the afterlife. Clay jars filled with wine made from the fruit of the SkeeWaWa tree to quench their thirst. And expertly crafted thick leather garments to keep them warm.
A pause.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
(cont'd)
For some reason, the journey to the afterlife is very cold.
Bob takes a sip of coffee and gives a measured, noncommittal nod.
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
(cont'd)
The site contains four members of the Mighty Bear Clan -- the bravest of the brave within the TittyWaWa tribe. They all died bravely from the bright green arrows of the Tomatillo tribe. First, there was Grand Leader Johnny One Bear, who bravely died in the Valley of Peace and Suffering.
CUT TO:
EXT. A RUGGED VALLEY - EARLY MORNING
JOHNNY ONE BEAR stands in the open valley, proud and tall. A volley of bright green arrows finds him from every direction. He cries out and falls dead to the ground.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Then there was Johnny Two Bears, who bravely died in the Valley of Suffering and Peace. Not to be confused with the Valley of Peace and Suffering. They are two completely different valleys.
CUT TO:
EXT. ANOTHER RUGGED VALLEY - EARLY EVENING
JOHNNY TWO BEARS stands in a different valley -- one that is clearly, distinctly different from the first. Bright green arrows arrive. He cries out and falls dead.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Then there was Johnny Three Bears, who bravely died in the Valley With No Name.
CUT TO:
EXT. YET ANOTHER RUGGED VALLEY - DUSK
JOHNNY THREE BEARS stands in a third valley. Bright green arrows. He cries out and falls dead.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
Then finally there was Johnny Five Bears, who bravely died while trying to take a crap. He was very constipated.
CUT TO:
EXT. FOREST - LATE MORNING
JOHNNY FIVE BEARS is crouched behind a stump in a moment of profound private necessity, straining with great effort. A salvo of bright green arrows strikes him squarely in the back. He cries out and pitches forward. His bare backside remains elevated toward the sky.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
BOB
Wait -- what about Johnny Four Bears? What happened to him? Were you not able to find his body so that he could be properly buried?
TITTYWAWA INDIAN #1
No, no -- not at all. He ran away at a young age to join the circus. He is currently fulfilling his lifelong dream of being the world's greatest trapeze artist. He is the only member of the Mighty Bear Clan to escape the Tomatillos' bright green arrows of death.
CUT TO:
INT. CIRCUS TENT - MID-AFTERNOON
A packed house. The crowd buzzes with anticipation. High above, the trapeze rigging gleams under the big top lights. The RINGMASTER strides into the center ring, microphone in hand.
RINGMASTER
Okay, folks -- who have y'all been waiting for?
CROWD
(yelling)
Johnny Four Bears!!!
RINGMASTER
That's right! The greatest trapeze artist in the world! The Noble Native! The Incredible Indian! The one... the only... JOHNNY FOUR BEARS!!!!
JOHNNY FOUR BEARS -- resplendent in a colorful full-body leotard -- bursts into the center ring with enormous, flamboyant energy. He takes two deep, theatrical bows. The crowd erupts.
Johnny quickly scales the ladder and steps onto the platform. He spreads his arms wide and turns a slow circle for the crowd. They lose their minds.
The woman on the opposite platform pushes out a hanging bar. Johnny grabs his own bar. He times it. He swings out -- and launches into a perfect quadruple flip. He catches the far bar without a wobble. The crowd goes wild.
He swings to the peak. Drops back. Rises again. Releases -- a crazy flip -- catches the bar flawlessly. The crowd goes wild.
He swings to the peak again. Drops. Rises. Releases -- a vertical multi-twist, rising high above the net--
Dozens of bright green arrows impale him mid-air from every direction. He cries out. He falls.
He hits the ground face up. The arrows that pierced his back get driven clean through, their tips protruding from his chest and belly.
A beat.
A dozen more green arrows land in him.
A beat.
One final arrow strikes him in the chest.
The crowd is silent.
A scrolling text overlay appears across the bottom of the screen:
JOHNNY FOUR BEARS... R.I.P.
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE
-- ROLL CREDITS --

EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - EARLY MORNING
The burned site has been cordoned off. A large wooden sign stands at its edge:
Final Resting Place of the Mighty Bear Clan
Bravest of the Brave of the TittyWaWa Tribe
- Grand Leader Johnny One Bear
- Johnny Two Bears
- Johnny Three Bears
- Johnny Five Bears
A WOMAN peels the backing off a hand-written sticker and attaches it to the bottom of the sign. Written in black marker: "Johnny Four Bears."
Nearby, a large posthole digger finishes boring a deep hole into the earth. TWO WORKERS lower a black body bag into it and begin shoveling the loose dirt back in.
Farther back, a second excavation crew works to install the new septic tank that sits waiting in the background.
CUT TO:
EXT. USFS BUILDING - EARLY MORNING
An expansive view of the beautiful, foggy Olympic National Forest. The sun rises over the mountains. Birds glide through the morning mist. A pair of elk graze in the nearby grass.
The camera slowly pans down and zooms in on the USFS building -- large, sturdy, built of heavy timber.
CUT TO:
INT. USFS BUILDING - MEETING ROOM - EARLY MORNING
The staff is assembled around the conference table -- among them MISTY, FRANK, TIMMY, BARBARA (a USFS employee who takes great offense at things, sometimes before they've fully been said), and LEROY (a USFS employee whose expression makes it genuinely impossible to know if he's joking). BOB stands at the front of the room arranging his notes.
He looks at his watch, looks at the door, then looks at the attendants.
BOB
Okay. I'd like to thank everybody for being here this morning. The buffet should be here in a few min--
The door swings open. An EMPLOYEE hurriedly wheels in a table stacked with breakfast food -- coffee, donuts, breakfast tacos, waffles.
BOB
(cont'd)
Please feel free to help yourself to coffee, donuts, breakfast tacos, waffles, et cetera.
Every person at the table immediately stands up, descends on the food table, loads up, and returns to their seats. The table is stripped in under thirty seconds.
BOB
(cont'd)
Uhhh... okay. According to the new bylaws approved last month, we are allowed to skip most everything in Robert's Rules of Order and get straight to new business. One of those items is the budget for the coming year. The new bylaws also allow us to vote on each budget item anonymously. In front of you, you'll find an electronic tablet for casting your votes. There are ten voting levels, ranging from one to ten. One represents Totally Retarded and ten represents Not At All Retarded. The five budget items with the highest scores will win. All votes are anonymous.
Barbara raises her hand.
BOB
(cont'd)
Yes, Barbara.
BARBARA
I consider that ranking system to be very offensive.
BOB
Duly noted. Okay -- first on the list is the creation of a transgender porcupine petting zoo. The requested funding amount is twenty million dollars. You may cast your votes now.
Leroy raises his hand.
BOB
(cont'd)
Yes, Leroy.
LEROY
Are the porcupines transgender, or are the guests transgender?
Bob stares at Leroy. He looks at the camera with a "holy crap" expression -- then stops, reconsidering.
BOB
Actually... that's a good question, Leroy. It's not very clear, is it? Based on that ambiguity, per our rules, this item must be tabled for further review. I will mark it as a non-vote item. So if anybody has already cast a vote, it will not be counted -- even if your device says it was accepted. You will need to recast your vote the next time this item comes up.
Barbara raises her hand.
BOB
(cont'd)
Yes, Barbara.
BARBARA
It says that my vote was accepted. Do I have to recast my vote the next time this item comes up for vote?
Bob's head drops. His shoulders shake. It appears, to all present, that he may be sobbing.
CUT TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - EARLY AFTERNOON
Bob stands at his window, coffee in hand, gazing out at the vast foggy forest.
The camera switches to a frontal over-the-shoulder shot. In the background, MISTY walks into the office. She is wearing a hot pink thong bikini.
MISTY
(soft, warm, sexy)
Hi, Ranger Bob.
Bob turns around. Coffee erupts simultaneously from both his nose and his mouth. He doubles over, choking, trying to catch his breath.
MISTY
Are you okay, Ranger Bob? Can I get you anything?
Bob holds up a hand and shakes his head, still unable to speak.
BOB
(squeaky voice)
No, thank you. Just give me a second.
He takes several deep breaths. Straightens up.
BOB
(cont'd)
I'm okay now.
He grabs a fistful of paper towels and begins cleaning coffee off his desk.
BOB
(cont'd)
Not that I'm complaining -- but why are you wearing a bikini?
MISTY
It's part of our new ad campaign. It was in the budget. You didn't see it?
BOB
I don't remember seeing anything about bikinis.
MISTY
It was listed as "Frolicking at Camp TittyWaWa." I can show you the line item.
BOB
No, no, that's okay. I'll take your word for it.
MISTY
It's a joint campaign with us and Camp TittyWaWa. Some of the girls over there and I thought it would be a good idea to show all of the great places at the camp -- like the waterfalls, ponds, lakes, rivers, and caves.
BOB
That's a good idea.
Misty gets excited and bounces on her heels. Bob cannot stop staring at her.
MISTY
And all of the games that are available -- disc golf, volleyball, pickleball.
BOB
(slightly glazed)
Yes, those are fun. Frolicking is fun.
MISTY
And the outdoor exercise facilities with the rock walls, trampolines, and parkour arrangements.
BOB
(still glazed)
Yes, those are fun. Frolicking is fun.
MISTY
Anyway -- I just wanted to let you know what I'll be doing for the rest of the day.
BOB
I appreciate that, Misty. I look forward to seeing the final results.
Misty smiles wide. She turns and walks away, her thonged backside swinging with each step. Bob watches.
BOB
(cont'd)
Oh -- say, that reminds me. It looks like your new uniform got lost in the mail. The delivery service isn't a hundred percent sure, but they think it ended up somewhere in North Korea.
Misty stops and turns back.
MISTY
North Korea? That's weird.
BOB
Yeah. Weird.
PRODUCTION NOTE: The running joke throughout the series is that Misty's specially made USFS uniform will never reach her, regardless of how many times it is ordered. Every few episodes, something different happens to it -- wrong address, hijacked delivery truck, truck blows a tire and explodes off a bridge, etc. This is the in-universe explanation for why Misty is always dressed in her signature skimpy outfits.
CUT TO:
EXT. RYONGSONG RESIDENCE - PYONGYANG, NORTH KOREA - LATE MORNING
The immense, manicured grounds of a palatial government residence. Workers tend the gardens in silence.
CUT TO:
INT. KIM JONG UN'S OFFICE - LATE MORNING
KIM JONG UN sits behind a massive mahogany desk. A shipping box sits before him. He cuts the packing tape and opens it. He reaches inside and pulls out Misty's specially tailored USFS uniform -- enhanced chest area and all. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face.
CUT TO:
INT. RYONGSONG RESIDENCE - HALLWAY - EARLY AFTERNOON
Kim Jong Un prances down the corridor in Misty's USFS uniform, complete with the hat, shorts, and a pair of balloons strategically stuffed into the chest area. Palace employees line the hallway and let him pass by, utterly mystified. Not one of them moves or speaks. Nobody wants to go to prison today.
CUT TO:
EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - LATE AFTERNOON
The excavation continues. A backhoe bucket swings up from the earth and dumps its load. A worker sorts through the debris -- and stops. He picks up an ancient clay tablet, roughly two feet by three feet, covered densely in symbols and markings. He turns it over in his hands.
The CREW CHIEF (burly, no-nonsense, says what he sees) walks over, takes a look, and pulls out his phone.
CREW CHIEF
(into phone)
Hey, Bob. We found some type of artifact on this dig.
CUT TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
BOB
(into phone)
*BLEEP*! Are you kidding me? What is it?
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
CREW CHIEF
Some kind of clay tablet with a bunch of markings and symbols on it. We found it in one of the bucketloads from the backhoe.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
BOB
Have you found anything else?
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
CREW CHIEF
Nope.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
BOB
How big is it?
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
CREW CHIEF
I'd say about two feet by three feet.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
BOB
Ughhh. Okay. Don't tell anybody else about it. Put it in storage building number two and keep digging.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. SITE OF FORMER RESTROOM FACILITY #5 - CONTINUOUS
CREW CHIEF
Roger that.
He lowers the phone and signals the backhoe operator -- a circular "get moving" gesture. The machine revs back to life.
CUT TO:
EXT. CAMP TITTYWAWA - WATERFALL - LATE AFTERNOON
A breathtaking natural waterfall feeds into a wide, clear pond. A film crew works the perimeter -- cameras on tripods, drones buzzing into position, crew members conferring in pairs.
In the pond: MISTY, LISA (TittyWaWa NPS -- beautiful, busty, effortlessly at ease), SUE (TittyWaWa NPS -- equally stunning, equally relaxed), and KAREN (a cheerful, pretty extra working her way through beauty college one gig at a time). All four are in thong bikinis.
LISA
So, how's it going with Bob?
MISTY
He doesn't even know I exist.
SUE
Come on. There's no way he doesn't see you.
MISTY
I keep putting myself out there and flirting with him -- bringing him his favorite breakfast and things like that -- but I get nothing.
LISA
Look, I've known Bob for a long time. He's reserved and polite -- the kind of guy that never makes the first move. And he went through a real messy divorce just a few months ago. She took him for almost everything he has. So he's probably just a little gun-shy.
SUE
You need to ask him out. Just point blank -- ask him out. Stop beating around the bush.
MISTY
I've never had to ask a guy out before.
LISA
That's a shocker.
SUE
No shit.
The AD DIRECTOR calls out from the bank.
AD DIRECTOR
Okay, ladies -- we're ready to go. Get in your places.
The four women spread out across the pond.
AD DIRECTOR
(cont'd)
And... go.
A CREW MEMBER throws a beach ball toward Misty. It splashes down right in front of her, spraying water across her face. She laughs, grabs the ball, and faces the camera.
MISTY
Hi -- welcome to Camp TittyWaWa. I'm Misty, and I work for the United States Forest Service here in the beautiful Olympic National Forest.
She throws the ball to Lisa, who has to leap to catch it. The camera drops to slow motion -- a full Baywatch moment, everything in glorious deceleration. She lands. Normal speed resumes.
LISA
And I'm Lisa. I work for the TittyWaWa National Park Service.
Lisa throws to Sue.
SUE
And I'm Sue. I also work for the TittyWaWa National Park Service.
Sue throws to Karen. Same slow-motion treatment.
KAREN
And I'm Karen. I'm just a random extra to provide another pretty face.
Karen throws back to Misty.
MISTY
And we're here to show you all of the beauty that Camp TittyWaWa has to offer -- and all of the exciting things you can do here.
A rapid MONTAGE of the four women -- always in their thong bikinis -- demonstrating Camp TittyWaWa's full range of activities:
They shoot white water rapids in a raft, paddles flying.
[ON SCREEN: WHITEWATER RAFTING]
They ski down a mountain in tight formation.
[ON SCREEN: SNOW SKIING]
They ski on Lake TittyWaWa in tight formation.
[ON SCREEN: WATER SKIING]
They hike a steep mountain trail, backpacks on, thong bikinis on.
[ON SCREEN: HIKING]
They play volleyball, diving and spiking.
[ON SCREEN: VOLLEYBALL]
They play pickleball with fierce competitive energy.
[ON SCREEN: PICKLEBALL]
Split screen: one side shows them scaling a sheer rock face outdoors; the other shows them attacking a gym climbing wall indoors.
[ON SCREEN: ROCK CLIMBING]
They navigate a cave system, headlamps strapped to their heads, thong bikinis on.
[ON SCREEN: CAVING / SPELUNKING]
They run a parkour course -- vaulting, jumping, flipping.
[ON SCREEN: PARKOUR]
The screen splits into a grid: several bedrooms, each containing a wide-eyed ADOLESCENT BOY watching the ad on a phone or computer. One by one, and then all together, they bolt from their rooms.
Each boy finds his father -- in the home office, the workshop, the backyard, the living room.
ALL BOYS
(in unison)
Dad, can we go to Camp TittyWaWa?
CUT TO:
INT. USFS STORAGE BUILDING #2 - EVENING
The ancient clay tablet rests on a worktable under bright examination lights. BOB stands to one side. Beside him: an ARCHAEOLOGIST who looks, speaks, and carries himself exactly like Irving Finkel -- wild white hair, long white beard, round glasses, and the barely-contained excitement of a man who has just found exactly what he's been looking for his entire life.
The Archaeologist leans over the tablet, studying it with a magnifying glass.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
This is fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. This is one of the most well-preserved clay tablets I have ever seen. This type of cuneiform resembles that of ancient Mesopotamia. I recognize a few of the symbols, but the dialect is very unusual.
He points to a cluster of symbols near the top.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
(cont'd)
As far as I can tell -- this one means "forever." This one means "family." This one means "child." And this one means "ocean."
He steps back and strokes his beard slowly.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
(cont'd)
It's possibly a story about a family taking a long voyage on a great ocean.
He looks at Bob. Bob gives a polite, noncommittal nod.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
Can you imagine how long it must have taken the author to imprint all of these symbols onto this tablet?
Bob gives an "I have absolutely no idea" shrug.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
Days. If not weeks. And if he made just one tiny mistake, he would have to start over. This tablet -- and the story behind it -- must have meant a great deal to its author. He poured his heart and soul into its creation.
CUT TO:
EXT. ANCIENT TIMES - MID-MORNING
A long conveyor belt made of leather stretches across a busy workshop. Flat, raw clay tablets move along it in a steady procession.
Above the belt: a large wooden printing press fitted with a panel of wooden dies. A WORKER grips a lever. As each tablet slides into position, he pulls the lever down -- the die panel slams into the clay, imprinting the entire tablet's surface in a single stroke. He releases. The belt advances. The next blank tablet rolls into position.
TWO WORKERS lift the freshly imprinted tablet and carry it to a nearby drying rack. The camera pulls back to reveal the full operation: the conveyor belt stretches far into the distance, loaded with raw tablets. Workers in the background shape and stack new blanks at a steady pace.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. USFS STORAGE BUILDING #2 - EVENING
The Archaeologist moves to the lower right corner of the tablet. There, alone, is a much larger symbol -- round and concave, with dense, intricate markings unlike anything else on the surface. He stares at it. His magnifying glass comes up. He stares longer.
He straightens. He produces a handkerchief and dabs his forehead.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
But this symbol -- this astounds me. Utterly astounds me.
He collects himself.
ARCHAEOLOGIST
(cont'd)
It is completely different from all of the other symbols. I've never seen anything like it before. It may have represented something very significant to the author -- something life-changing. Possibly signifying the dramatic end of the story he has told. Or perhaps it is his personal insignia -- placed on every tablet so that future generations would know who to thank for creating such wonderful masterpieces.
CUT TO:
EXT. ANCIENT TIMES - MID-MORNING
Back at the workshop. The press operator pulls the lever. The die slams down. The belt advances.
Nearby, a group of CHILDREN chase each other around the machinery, tossing a leather-clad ball back and forth -- intricate, creative stitching covering its surface. One child misses the catch. The ball bounces off the conveyor belt and lands squarely on the lower right corner of a freshly imprinted tablet, pressing a perfect round concave impression into the soft clay.
A WORKER calmly picks the ball up and lobs it back to the kids without breaking stride. Then he and a colleague lift the tablet and carry it over to the drying rack.
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE
-- ROLL CREDITS --

EXT. USFS BUILDING - EARLY MORNING
MISTY pulls into the parking lot and steps out of her car in something that stops time. She heads inside.
INT. USFS BUILDING - LOBBY - CONTINUOUS
Misty moves through the lobby toward Bob's office, carrying two Breakfast Bomb bags and two cups of coffee.
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Bob looks up, sees Misty coming, and produces an involuntary full-body nervous shudder-sigh.
MISTY
(soft, warm, sexy)
Good morning, Ranger Bob.
BOB
Good morning, Misty.
Misty sets the food and coffee on his desk.
MISTY
I brought you your favorite breakfast.
BOB
Thank you, Misty. I appreciate that.
He reaches into his back pocket.
BOB
(cont'd)
Let me reimburse you.
MISTY
Absolutely not!
BOB
But you've brought me breakfast every day since you started working here.
MISTY
It's my pleasure. Eat up.
Bob nods in acceptance. They settle in. A few seconds of quiet eating -- the comfortable, loaded silence of two people carrying something unspoken. Then Misty starts squirming. It builds. She can't hold it.
MISTY
(boldly)
Would you like to go out with me?
Bob freezes. He looks genuinely shocked. He glances over his left shoulder, then his right, then back to Misty.
BOB
Are you talking to me?
Misty laughs.
MISTY
You're the only other person here, so yeah, I'm talking to you. Listen -- I know you went through a horrible divorce, and you may not be ready for a new relationship, but...
Bob takes a breath and answers at full volume.
BOB
(yelling)
I'd love to go out with you!
Misty smiles wide.
BOB
(still loud)
I said that very loudly, didn't I?
Misty nods.
BOB
(loud, but dialing back)
How about tomorrow night at Le Grande Ronde Bout?
Misty looks mildly uncertain for a beat -- then lets it go.
MISTY
Sounds great. I'd like that.
BOB
(slightly less loud)
I'll pick you up at seven.
MISTY
Okay.
BOB
I'll stop talking loudly now.
They sit in awkward quiet, eating.
CUT TO:
INT. BOB'S HOUSE - LATE EVENING
Bob stands before a full-length mirror in nothing but his underwear, holding up different shirt and pants combinations -- auditioning each one against his reflection and rejecting them all. The bed behind him is buried under discarded options.
The doorbell rings. Bob pads down the short hallway and opens the front door.
FRANK is standing on the porch holding a blender. He takes in Bob's state of dress. He blinks.
FRANK
I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?
BOB
No, no -- I was just getting dressed. Can't decide what to wear for my date with Misty.
FRANK
Oh, yeah. I heard about that.
BOB
Please, come in.
Frank steps inside.
FRANK
I'm returning your blender. I very much appreciate your kindness. It's been properly sanitized to military standards. Where do you want me to put it?
BOB
Uhh -- anywhere in the kitchen. Next to the sink, I guess.
Bob heads back to the bedroom.
INT. BOB'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Frank sets the blender on the counter next to the sink. He then walks directly into Bob's bedroom.
INT. BOB'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Bob turns to find Frank standing in his bedroom, watching him. Bob gives him a long WTF look.
FRANK
Don't mind me. I've seen more shit than you can possibly imagine.
Frank's eyes drop to Bob's left hip. He points.
FRANK
(cont'd)
I'd have that mole looked at. It might be malignant.
BOB
Uhh, okay.
FRANK
So -- when did this happen?
BOB
The mole?
FRANK
No, stupid. When did the courtship commence?
BOB
Well -- she asked me out yesterday morning. Although I could tell she's been attracted to me for a while. But for the life of me, I don't know why.
FRANK
You got that right. She's way out of your league.
BOB
Gee, thanks.
FRANK
Just speaking the truth. Do you have romantic feelings for her?
BOB
Ever since she first walked into my office.
FRANK
Then why haven't you done anything about it?
BOB
I don't know. I guess it's the divorce. It was just so messy.
FRANK
Yeah. I always hated that bitch.
A beat.
FRANK
(cont'd)
No offense.
BOB
None taken. Man, it's been so long since I've been on a date.
FRANK
I see your dilemma. You're afraid of what might happen -- but you're also afraid of what might NOT happen.
BOB
Yeah. Something like that.
FRANK
I understand too well. Love is a mysterious beast. One minute it can mend a broken soul -- and the next minute it can rip you to shreds and leave you on the side of the road like a dead rotting carcass.
Bob looks mildly alarmed.
FRANK
(cont'd)
But you should never fear what may or may not happen in the future. Always be one with the moment and let tomorrow worry about itself.
BOB
Yeah. I guess that's true.
FRANK
Damn straight. Where are y'all going?
BOB
Le Grande Ronde Bout.
Frank nods.
FRANK
A very good choice. I like their roasted duck with steamed asparagus and crème brûlée. If you go with that, be sure to pair it with their 1979 Pinot Gris. It creates a flavor bomb in your mouth.
BOB
Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.
Bob goes back to sorting through shirts. Frank watches him.
FRANK
Now -- what should your focus be while you're on this date?
BOB
Uhhh... I don't know. The best place to sit? Ordering the right food? Uhhh...
Frank closes the distance in three steps, grabs Bob by the shoulders, stares him dead in the eyes, and slaps him clean across the face.
FRANK
(yelling)
I said -- what should your focus be, soldier???!!!
BOB
(stunned)
Uhhh... Misty?
Frank releases him and steps back. His whole bearing softens.
FRANK
Finally. Something smart out of your stupid mouth.
Frank turns and looks out the bedroom window. His voice drops.
FRANK
(cont'd)
There's an old saying that still rings true to this day: Treat a whore like a queen and a queen like a whore, and she will always be true to you.
He turns back to Bob.
FRANK
(cont'd)
You know Misty's past. What she's been through. What she's done, and what has been done to her.
BOB
Yeah.
FRANK
She has always been honest about that -- and that's something I respect her for. She's trying to make a better life for herself.
Frank raises a finger and begins walking slowly toward Bob.
FRANK
(cont'd)
Tonight -- and forever always -- you treat her like a queen....
He stops inches from Bob's face. Dead still. He speaks slower than he's spoken all night.
FRANK
(cont'd, low and deliberate)
Or so help me God, I will kill you in your sleep. And they will never be able to find your body. I will scatter your remains out over a thousand square miles in places unknown to man.
Bob's eyes are very wide.
FRANK
(cont'd)
Do you understand me?
Bob hesitates. Frank's expression makes it worse.
FRANK
(yelling)
I said do you understand me, soldier???!!!!
BOB
Sir, yes sir!
Frank relaxes completely. Normal Frank.
FRANK
Good. Now put on some damn clothes and get to that date.
Bob grabs a shirt and holds it up.
BOB
What about this one?
FRANK
Makes you look gay.
CUT TO:
EXT. USFS EMPLOYEE HOUSING - FOREST - LATE EVENING
A rugged but functional apartment building tucked among the trees. An NPS truck sits in the small gravel lot. A couple of USFS trucks roll in; people climb out, exchange greetings, and head to their units.
INT. MISTY'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Misty stands in her bra and panties while SUE and LISA orbit her, holding up dresses one by one and pressing them against her to check the effect.
MISTY
Thank you guys for bringing over your dresses for me to try out.
LISA
No problem.
SUE
So he's taking you to Le Grande Ronde Bout?
MISTY
Yeah.
LISA
Ooohh. Fancy.
MISTY
I know. I'm so nervous. I've never been to a place like that before. I don't know how to act.
LISA
Just hold your head up high and act like you belong there. You've seen Pretty Woman -- just follow her lead. And don't worry, Bob will take care of you.
SUE
And when he brings you home, give him a light peck on the cheek and say good night -- but don't invite him inside. If you invite him in, it will only prove to him that you're still the nasty skanky slutty whore you used to be.
Misty takes this in with a slow, serious nod.
MISTY
Right. Okay.
She grabs her purse.
MISTY
Wish me luck
She walks out of the bedroom. Sue and Lisa look at each other. A beat. Misty reappears in the doorway.
MISTY
(cont'd)
Maybe I should get dressed first.
CUT TO:
EXT. MISTY'S APARTMENT - DUSK
Bob stands at the door. He takes one steadying breath and knocks.
The door opens. Misty is wearing a black evening gown. She is stunning in a way that short-circuits language. Bob's eyes go wide. He stands completely still, mouth slightly open, nothing coming out.
Misty looks down, scanning herself for problems.
MISTY
What? Do I look okay? Do I got a boog hanging?
BOB
No. No boog hanging. It's just that you look absolutely fabulous.
Misty smiles. Bob takes her hand.
CUT TO:
EXT. LE GRANDE RONDE BOUT - DOWNTOWN - DUSK
Bob's car pulls up to the restaurant. The sign above the entrance reads: "LE GRANDE RONDE BOUT." Below it, in smaller text, the English translation: "THE BIG ROUND BUTT."
Bob gets out and opens Misty's door. He hands the keys to the VALET, who climbs in and immediately floors it -- tires screaming as he vanishes down the street. Bob opens the restaurant door for Misty.
INT. LE GRANDE RONDE BOUT - CONTINUOUS
A HOST escorts Bob and Misty to their table. Bob pulls out Misty's chair. She sits. He sits across from her.
They are completely absorbed in each other -- leaning in, talking, laughing, oblivious to everything around them.
Which is fortunate, because everything around them is going completely to hell.
A PURSE SNATCHER tears through the dining room. A ROBBER holds up the cashier at gunpoint. A massive FIRE erupts in the kitchen, sending plumes of smoke rolling across the ceiling. A HERD OF ELK smashes through the front entrance and plows through the dining room, upending tables and sending diners flying. A MASKED CRIMINAL bursts in from the back and is immediately gunned down by plainclothes COPS. A CAR crashes through the plate glass window and skids to a stop two tables away from Bob and Misty. The building across the street EXPLODES.
Bob and Misty do not look up. They are in their own world entirely.
CUT TO:
EXT. MISTY'S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT
A taxi drops them off. Bob walks Misty to her door.
MISTY
I had a great time.
BOB
I did too. I'm glad nothing bad happened.
MISTY
It was a perfect night.
Misty leans in and kisses him softly on the cheek.
MISTY
(cont'd)
Good night, Ranger Bob. See you tomorrow.
BOB
Good night, Misty. Don't let the bedbugs bite.
Misty grins, steps inside, and closes the door.
Bob walks back toward the waiting taxi, shaking his head slowly.
BOB
(quietly, to himself)
Don't let the bedbugs bite? That's never funny -- and it implies she has bedbugs. Stupid idiot.
He gets in. The taxi drives away.
CUT TO:
INT. BIGFOOT SECURITY & CONTROL CENTER - EARLY MORNING
A vast underground facility. On one side: a wall of monitors staffed by BIGFOOT TECHNICIANS scanning feeds from cameras and sensors across the region. The center of the room is arranged like a theater -- rows of chairs, most of them filled with BIGFOOTS of various sizes, colors, and dispositions.
On a raised deck overlooking the room, STAN steps to the podium. He wears a ceremonial sash heavy with medals and pins of honor. He carries himself with the energy of a man who genuinely believes he runs things -- because he does. He sounds and acts exactly like Michael Keaton in The Other Guys.
STAN
Can I have your attention please!
He slams his gavel twice. The crowd ignores him. He slams it twice more.
STAN
(cont'd)
Hey! Everybody -- turn and look at me!
Still not much response. Stan reaches under the podium and produces an air horn. He gives it one long, ear-splitting blast. The room turns.
STAN
(cont'd)
Okay. I'm sure y'all saw the ad that Misty and the Camp TittyWaWa chicks put out yesterday.
Stan points at SAMMY in the second row.
STAN
(cont'd)
I know Sammy has it on repeat. He's got a little bit of a thangy thang for the human chicks.
A beat.
STAN
(cont'd)
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Sammy looks around with practiced innocence -- then grins and nods, accepting that the secret is out.
STAN
(cont'd)
Anyway -- that ad put Camp TittyWaWa on the map big time. I mean huge nuclear bomb big time, folks. There will be at least twice as many campers as last year. The whole district is booked solid. Lots of families. School's out, so that means lots of kids. And what do we know about kids?
EDUARDO raises his hand.
STAN
Yes, Eduardo.
EDUARDO
They're tasty.
Stan does a full double-take.
STAN
Uhhh... yes. You are correct -- kids are very tasty when properly marinated and cooked. But that's not where I was going with that question. Aside from being tasty -- what else do we know about kids? Anybody?
ALISON raises her hand.
STAN
Yes, Alison.
ALISON
They are very curious.
STAN
Yes! You nailed it! Right on the nose. They are very curious. Look, folks -- we have to be extra diligent for the next two to four weeks. Maybe more. Kids are going to be running around all over the place looking for clues. They've heard about us, and they'll be searching for answers. Deception is the key here, people. Deception. Remember that. Leave clues to lead them in the wrong direction, and monitor their actions twenty-four seven. We've been here longer than they have, and this is our land. They're stupid as a box of rocks and they fear the unknown. We can't let them find us.
In the second row, Sammy has his tablet out and is watching Misty's Camp TittyWaWa ad. Again.
STAN
(cont'd)
Okay -- a little change of pace. For those of you who have been fully certified to mess with the humans, the weekly "Mess With The Humans Lottery" is tomorrow. But there's been a change that I think you'll like. I'm not kidding, folks -- it's a game-changer. If you get chosen, your day of messing with the humans will no longer be taken out of your vacation time.
The room stirs. Bigfoots exchange excited looks.
STAN
(cont'd)
It will be considered a freebie paid vacation day.
The room erupts in cheering.
STAN
(cont'd)
I thought y'all would like that. And for those who haven't applied to be a certified messer with humans -- I think that'll be a good incentive. Look, I know some of you just can't stand humans. Especially the way they smell. But try to think of them as pets. Also, our scientists are working on ways to reduce our sensitivity to their stink -- so keep that in mind.
Several bigfoots nod and murmur to each other.
STAN
(cont'd)
Okay -- regarding smells that you can apply to yourself before you go out to mess with the humans, we've got a surprise for you. As you know, the options have ranged from lavender -- which was suggested last year by Gay Pedro.
Stan scans the audience.
STAN
(cont'd)
Where is Gay Pedro? Is he here today?
A faint "yoohoo" drifts up from somewhere in the back.
STAN
Has anybody seen Gay Pedro?
The camera finds GAY PEDRO -- impossibly colorful, hair streaked in neon rainbow hues that make him look like Sully from Monsters, Inc. who has been tie-dyed by a professional. Every other Bigfoot in the room is brown, dark gray, or black. Gay Pedro is impossible to miss, which makes Stan's confusion funnier.
Gay Pedro leaps to his feet, bouncing, both hands waving wildly overhead.
GAY PEDRO
(yelling)
Yoohoo! Over here!
STAN
There you are, Gay Pedro. Sorry -- not sure how I missed you. Okay. As you know, in the past the smells have ranged from lavender all the way to death. But you'll be excited to hear that our scientists have developed a new smell that's even worse than death -- if you can believe that. It's called putrid death.
The room buzzes with excitement.
STAN
(cont'd)
Some of you were lucky enough to be involved in the test studies over the last couple of months. And let me tell you, folks -- the results were amazing. Absolutely off the charts. After one whiff of this stuff, humans almost explode. I'm talking firehose puking, explosive diarrhea -- you name it. I'm not kidding. It's hilarious.
The room laughs.
STAN
(cont'd)
Finally -- although we still can't officially authorize it, the campers' food is still fair game. Take as much as you want. We'll look the other way.
The room cheers.
STAN
(cont'd)
Trust me -- most of them can stand to miss a few meals, if you know what I mean.
The room laughs.
STAN
(cont'd)
Alright -- let's keep our BF communities safe and hidden. Meeting adjourned.
He slams the gavel. The room begins to empty.
CUT TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - LATE EVENING
FRANK and TIMMY are deep in the data, cross-referencing gravitational wave readouts on multiple monitors.
FRANK
Are you sure we can trust your friend at LIGO?
TIMMY
Absolutely. Ross assured me we have direct access to the live gravitational wave data.
PRODUCTION NOTE: Timmy's friend Ross at LIGO is secretly an operative working on behalf of the Bigfoot communities to keep them hidden from the government and public. The data he will be providing Frank and Timmy has been manipulated to lead them in the wrong direction.
CUT TO:
EXT. FOREST - LATE MORNING
[ON SCREEN: 4 DAYS AGO]
A BIGFOOT and a HUMAN stand in a quiet clearing, deep in the trees. The Bigfoot passes something to the human. They exchange a look. They part ways without a word.
CUT TO:
EXT. LIGO FACILITY - AFTERNOON
Establishing shot of the LIGO building.
CUT TO:
INT. LIGO FACILITY - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
The human from the forest walks down a corridor and stops at a door labeled: GRAVITATIONAL WAVE DATA PROCESSING. He holds his badge to the panel beside the door. The badge reads: ROSS BIGELOW.
CUT TO:
INT. LIGO FACILITY - DATA PROCESSING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Ross plugs a thumb drive into one of the workstation computers. He types a command. Lines of scrolling text fill the screen.
CUT TO:
INT. BIGFOOT SECURITY & CONTROL CENTER - EARLY MORNING
The "Mess With The Humans Lottery" is underway. A GIANT SCREEN at the front of the room displays the results of each drawing in sequence: first, the last name of the target family; then the assigned smell; then the name of the winning Bigfoot.
Three drawings. On the third, the assigned smell appears: LAVENDER.
Gay Pedro sits bolt upright. He clinches his fists and shakes them in eagerness. His eyes are locked on the screen.
GAY PEDRO
(barely containing himself)
Please, oh please, oh please -- let it be me.
The winning name populates the screen.
GAY PEDRO.
He explodes out of his seat and prances in a full circle, arms raised.
GAY PEDRO
(ecstatic)
Yes! Yes! Yes!
He launches into a cheerleader jump -- full commitment, maximum air.
GAY PEDRO
(yelling)
Lavender!!!!!
FREEZE FRAME: Gay Pedro suspended in mid-air, arms thrown high, face split open in the widest, most joyful open-mouthed grin the Bigfoot community has ever produced.
[ON SCREEN: LAVENDER]
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE
-- ROLL CREDITS --

EXT. FOGGY PINE FOREST - EARLY MORNING
A small RV sits in a clearing among tall trees. A campfire burns steadily, a grill resting over it. On the grill: a steaming pot of coffee and a pan of frying bacon and sausage. A pan of scrambled eggs sits off to the side, keeping warm. A MAN tends the setup, then pauses -- something is missing. He looks around, can't find it, and heads back into the RV.
The moment the door closes, GAY PEDRO blinks into existence. He moves with the smooth efficiency of someone who has done this many times. He scrapes every bit of bacon, sausage, and eggs into a container. He pours the coffee into a travel mug. He produces a small bundle of flowers and places them on the table beside the empty grill, then sets a frilly, handmade card against them.
He sprinkles some petals all around and gives the entire area a generous spritz of lavender scent from a small bottle.
He blinks out. Gone without a trace.
The man emerges from the RV. He stops. He stares at the bare grill. He looks around the clearing. He spots the flowers. He picks up the card and opens it. It speaks in a warm, cheerful voice while the words appear inside:
"Thank you so much. You are beautiful.
Never stop being you. Kisses and Hugs."
The man stands in the lavender-scented clearing, holding a talking greeting card, surrounded by flowers, with no food and no coffee.
He considers this for a long moment.
CUT TO:
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - EARLY MORNING
MISTY arrives as she does every morning -- carrying two Breakfast Bomb bags and two cups of coffee. She sets them on Bob's desk.
MISTY
(soft, warm, sexy)
Good morning, Ranger Bob.
BOB
Good morning, Misty.
They settle in. The comfortable, loaded silence of two people who are now something to each other but haven't fully named it yet.
MISTY
Do you have any plans for the weekend?
BOB
I'm throwing a birthday party for my daughter tomorrow. She's turning seven.
MISTY
Aww. That's nice.
BOB
The party was just going to be close family and Emma's friends and their parents.... But would you like to come?
MISTY
Me? But I don't even know her.
BOB
I think it would be a good time for you two to meet.
Misty looks uncertain for a beat. Then she nods.
MISTY
Okay. I'd like that.
BOB
Good, good.
MISTY
And I could take some new pictures of her -- without the demon in them.
BOB
That would be great. I'd really appreciate that. The only thing is -- the demon will be there. Are you okay with that?
Misty's expression tightens. Her eyes go slightly distant.
MISTY'S IMAGINATION:
INT. MISTY'S IMAGINATION - CONTINUOUS
Misty and Susan face each other, both dressed in traditional Chinese female Shaolin training outfits. They perform the formal Bàoquán Lǐ greeting gesture in unison -- then immediately go at each other like they've been waiting years for this.
The fight is a chaotic, spectacular blend of kung fu, karate, taekwondo, and muay thai. It spills across a series of locations in rapid succession:
-- Down by Lake TittyWaWa, trading kicks and blocks on the rocky bank.
-- A Chinese living room, crashing through furniture.
-- High above the city on a steel construction girder, wind whipping around them.
-- A china shop, where absolutely everything gets broken.
-- A Chinese courtyard, surrounded by a crowd of wide-eyed kung fu students.
The final image: Misty channels Bruce Lee -- she stomps down hard on Susan's chest. It is decisive. It is final.
INT. BOB'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Back to reality. Misty blinks. She takes a sip of coffee.
MISTY
I think I can handle it.
CUT TO:
EXT. GROCERY STORE PARKING LOT - LATE MORNING
FRANK stands in the far corner of the lot. A SHADY GUY approaches from a van. Frank hands him a folded stack of cash. The guy counts it, tucks it away, then reaches into the back of the van and lifts out a heavy wooden crate. He hands it to Frank.
Frank slides it into the bed of his invisible truck -- the crate seeming to float briefly before disappearing into the camouflage. Frank climbs in and drives away. Or rather, a faint shimmering distortion moves away through the parking lot.
CUT TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - LATE MORNING
Frank pries open the crate. Inside: a full complement of professional security cameras, mounts, and wiring.
FRANK
(to himself)
I told you, Bob -- one way or another, this was gonna happen.
CUT TO:
EXT. BOB'S BACKYARD - EARLY AFTERNOON
Emma's seventh birthday party is in full swing. Kids tear across the yard in every direction -- bouncing on a trampoline, shrieking down a slip-and-slide, shooting off the pool slide, splashing in the water. Parents cluster near the porch with drinks.
BOB mans the grill, cooking burgers and hot dogs, a beer in hand. BOOGER -- a massive, barrel-chested Cane Corso, brindle-coated and the size of a small bear -- loiters near the grill with unmistakable intent. Bob flips a hot dog into the air without looking. Booger leaves his feet and snatches it.
BOB
Okay, Booger -- that's your third one. You've had enough. Go play with Emma and her friends.
Booger trots down the grassy slope toward the kids.
BOB
(yelling after him)
But don't kill anybody!
Booger joins the group of kids surrounding EMMA (six, almost seven -- fearless, imaginative, not remotely intimidated by a dog that outweighs her by sixty pounds).
The back door opens. MISTY steps out in a colorful blouse, shorts, and sandals -- a different kind of beautiful than usual. She spots Bob, crosses the porch, and kisses him. Bob cracks open a beer and hands it to her. They clink bottles.
BOB
Hey -- you can finally meet Emma.
He looks down the slope.
BOB
(yelling)
Emma! Come up here -- I want you to meet somebody!
EMMA
(yelling back)
Can I ride Booger?
BOB
(yelling)
If he'll let you!
He turns back to Misty.
BOB
(cont'd)
Booger can be a little finicky about when he'll let kids ride him. Depends on his mood -- and the kid. But he's more tolerant with Emma. They get along well, though he doesn't always obey her commands.
Down the slope, Emma has both hands on Booger's back trying to hoist herself up. She slides off. She tries again. She slides off again. Bob watches.
BOB
(yelling)
Booger! Down!
Booger drops onto his belly. Emma climbs on, wraps her arms around his neck, and leans in to say something directly into his ear.
Booger blasts off.
He covers the yard at full speed, taking every creative detour available -- weaving through clusters of parents, hurdling a lawn chair, briefly chasing a cat around the oak tree, cutting back through the slip-and-slide kids. Emma hangs on with both arms, bouncing wildly, equal parts terrified and delighted -- like one of those rodeo monkeys that ride dogs, except with better hair.
MISTY
I'm so nervous.
BOB
Don't be. I think you two are going to get along real well.
Booger comes skidding to a stop at the grill. Emma slides off his back.
BOB
(cont'd)
Hey, sweetie -- I'd like you to meet Misty. I've told you about her. Remember?
Misty crouches down to Emma's level.
MISTY
Hi, Emma. Nice to meet you.
EMMA
Hi, Misty. I like your blouse. Are you going to be my mommy number two?
Bob and Misty look at each other. Bob rubs Emma's head.
BOB
Cool your jets, honey.
MISTY
Uhh -- we're just testing the waters. Seeing where things go.
EMMA
(sing-song)
Daddy and Misty sittin' in a tree -- K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Emma throws her arms around Booger's neck and buries her face in his fur.
The back door swings open. SUSAN steps onto the porch.
SUSAN (44, stunning in a way that requires zero effort, in a tight black dress) pauses at the top of the steps. Every adult on the porch registers her arrival -- men pulling their shoulders back, a few of the women doing the same. She carries herself like a woman who has never once had to ask for a room's attention.
EMMA
Mommy!
Emma sprints up the steps and wraps around Susan's legs. Susan hugs her, then lets her eyes drift across the porch until they find Misty, standing close to Bob. Susan walks over. Unhurried.
SUSAN
And who might you be?
EMMA
She's daddy's girlfriend.
Bob closes his eyes briefly.
SUSAN
Oh, really. Well -- that didn't take you very long now, did it, Bob? Less than six months?
A GUY drifts over to the cooler beside the grill, cracks open a beer, and lingers -- listening without trying to look like he's listening.
Bob's voice is completely calm.
BOB
When a person is no longer in the presence of darkness, he can finally see the light.
SUSAN
What's that supposed to mean?
BOB
I think you know what it means.
The guy grimaces, turns away from the group, and mouths the words: "Holy crap."
Bob rests his hand on Emma's head.
BOB
(cont'd)
Emma, honey -- why don't you ride Booger back down the hill and play with your friends.
EMMA
Okay. Bye, Mommy. Bye, Misty.
Emma presses both hands down on Booger's back. She can barely reach the top of it.
EMMA
Down, Booger.
Booger doesn't move. Bob watches without expression.
BOB
Say it like you mean it. But reverse the words.
EMMA
(with full authority)
Booger! Down!
Booger glances at Bob. Bob gives the tiniest, barely perceptible hand signal. Booger drops to his belly.
EMMA
(amazed)
He did it, Daddy! He finally did it!
BOB
See -- you just gotta let him know who's boss. Now go have some fun.
BOB
(quietly, to himself)
Because Lord knows sure as hell I won't.
Emma climbs onto Booger's back and grabs hold.
EMMA
(loudly)
Booger!
Booger's ears snap up.
EMMA
(loudly)
Launch!
Emma hangs on and screams as Booger blasts back down the slope at full speed.
Bob turns to Susan.
BOB
Susan -- this is Misty.
Misty extends her hand.
MISTY
Nice to meet you.
Susan looks at the hand. She does not take it.
SUSAN
Hmmm. Misty. What a cute and childish name. In my lifetime, I've personally known only two other girls named Misty. And both of them ended up becoming crackhead whores.
Misty's expression goes somewhere else for just a moment.
MISTY'S IMAGINATION:
INT. MISTY'S IMAGINATION - CONTINUOUS
Misty stands in full ancient Chinese battle armor, sword drawn. One clean stroke removes Susan's head. A second stroke -- diagonal, shoulder to opposite hip -- takes care of the rest.
EXT. BOB'S BACKYARD - CONTINUOUS
Back to reality. Misty turns to Bob. She takes his face in both hands and kisses him -- slowly, deliberately, and with full commitment. Then she releases him with an audible smack. She wipes her lipstick off of his lips with her thumb, then sticks the thumb in her mouth and pulls it out with a popping sound.
MISTY
I'm going to go take some new pictures of Emma.
She turns and walks away without looking back.
MISTY
(over her shoulder, to Bob)
So you can finally replace those old ones in your office.
She puts just enough weight on "old" that Susan catches it.
Susan watches her go.
SUSAN
I can't believe you, Bob! First thing tomorrow, I'm going to check up on her. And if I find out anything bad about her, I'll--
BOB
(barely audible, to himself)
Oh, dear God, please kill me now.
SUSAN
I heard that! You know, if you keep asking God to kill you, He'll eventually do it.
BOB
What's your point?
CUT TO:
INT. FRANK'S SECRET SANCTUM - LATE EVENING
FRANK and TIMMY sit before a monitor. Frank's phone rests on the desk, text app open. A previous exchange between Frank and Timmy is visible on the screen.
TIMMY
I'm texting you the LIGO web address and login info that Ross sent me.
FRANK
Excellent.
The new text appears on the monitor. Frank clicks the web address. A login screen loads.
Timmy holds out a USB drive.
TIMMY
Ross said this contains the same program they use to analyze the data and display the results visually.
FRANK
I'm going to do a virus scan first.
He plugs the drive into a secondary computer dedicated solely to scanning. Lines of text scroll rapidly up the screen. The "Name That Tune" melody plays. After a moment, a single word fills the screen: CLEAN.
FRANK
(cont'd)
So far so good.
He moves the drive to his main computer, installs the program, and runs it.
FRANK
(cont'd)
Alright. Let's see what we've got.
TIMMY
Ross said you can select any geographical region and it will show real-time gravitational disturbances. We can also pull historical data.
After a few seconds, a map of the United States fills the screen. Bright expanding rings of different colors pulse and bloom at random points -- gravitational wave signatures. Frank clicks on Washington State and keeps zooming in, drilling down until the display centers on their park district. The rings grow larger and more detailed.
FRANK
Hmmm. This is going to take some time to interpret. I think we're going to need to get your friend a little more involved.
TIMMY
Are you going to let him into the sanctum?
FRANK
Are you out of your f'ing mind? Your presence here disturbs me beyond all measure. It's all I can do to keep myself from killing you at any given moment of the day.
Timmy's eyes go wide.
FRANK
(cont'd)
I'm just kidding. I'm not going to kill you. You're one of the few people I can actually tolerate. But Ross will definitely never set foot in my sanctum. I still don't trust him.
TIMMY
What do you want me to do?
Frank straightens up, takes a breath, pondering.
FRANK
You will meet him in a public place of my choosing. You will set up the date and time -- and I will monitor your conversation from an undisclosed location.
Timmy nods.
FRANK
(cont'd)
You will discuss the intricacies of the LIGO software and see if he is willing to explain exactly what we are seeing. If he resists, I will instruct you from my undisclosed location on how to handle it. By the end of your meeting, we will have Ross's full cooperation.
Timmy nods.
CUT TO:
EXT. BOB'S BACKYARD - LATE EVENING
The party is winding down. Bob scrapes the grill, packs leftover burgers and hot dogs into containers. Guests filter out with waves and goodbyes. Down the slope, Misty throws a football back and forth with Emma in the fading light.
Booger materializes at Bob's elbow, stub tail working overtime, eyes fixed on the container of hot dogs.
BOB
Seriously? I don't know, buddy. You've already had enough wienies today to give you the squirts.
Booger dances in a small anxious circle. Bob picks up a hot dog. The tail accelerates.
BOB
(cont'd)
Okay -- just one more. But you're sleeping outside tonight.
He tosses it. Booger catches it without leaving his feet this time, lies down on the grass, and chews with great satisfaction.
Bob's eyes drift to the far end of the porch. SUSAN is leaning against the railing with SINGLE DAD (35, tall, absurdly muscular, the kind of guy who has never once struggled to open a jar) -- making sure Bob has a clear line of sight to all of it.
SUSAN
So -- you're a single dad?
Single Dad nods.
SUSAN
That's very noble, taking care of a kid all by yourself.
She runs a hand along one of his arms and glances at Bob.
SUSAN
(cont'd)
You must work out.
SINGLE DAD
Did my arms this morning.
He flexes. She smiles.
SUSAN
It certainly shows.
Bob shakes his head. He sighs.
Then -- Booger farts. It is loud, sudden, and authoritative. Booger, as dogs do, appears genuinely startled by himself. He twists to look at his own rear end and sniffs it with scientific curiosity.
The odor arrives at Bob's location.
BOB
Oh, dear Lord, Booger!
Bob grabs a large pan and starts fanning the air frantically.
BOB
(cont'd)
Yeah -- you're definitely sleeping outside tonight.
Booger contributes a second fart, longer than the first.
BOB
(cont'd)
Sweet Jesus!
On the far end of the porch, Susan rubs Single Dad's chest.
SUSAN
How much can you press?
SINGLE DAD
I'm up to five-twenty.
SUSAN
Awesome.
Bob watches. He shakes his head. He looks down at Booger.
BOB
(quietly)
At least I'll still always have you, my good and faithful friend.
Booger delivers a third fart. It begins loose and flabby, transitions into a sustained squeak, then trails off. Bob rolls his eyes.
Then a slow, sly grin spreads across his face.
He looks at Susan. He looks back at Booger. He has an idea.
BOB
(cont'd)
Booger!
Booger looks up eagerly. Bob executes a sequence of deliberate hand signals: both palms pressed to his chest -- then his stomach -- then pushed away from his body -- then the classic crazy-person finger-circle beside his right ear.
Booger's eyes shift immediately to Susan. He rises. He begins a slow, casual, completely non-suspicious approach toward the far end of the porch.
Bob pulls a chair around to face Susan's direction. He pops a beer. He sits.
Booger gets into position behind Susan -- directly behind her, in a play-bow posture, backside aimed with precision. Susan is fully absorbed in Single Dad and hasn't noticed.
Booger strains.
Single Dad leans slightly to look past Susan and sees what's happening. His expression shifts.
SINGLE DAD
What's that dog doing?
Susan turns around. Booger is still in position, still straining.
SUSAN
(dismissively)
Oh, that's just Booger wanting to play.
She bends down slightly and shakes her head at him.
SUSAN
(cont'd)
I can't play with you right now, Booger. Can't you see I'm busy?
Bob watches from his chair. The camera settles on his face. Then shifts to his point of view -- slowly zooming in on Susan, Booger, and Single Dad at the end of the porch.
BOB
(V.O.)
Three.
The camera zooms in closer.
BOB
(V.O.)
Two.
The camera zooms in all the way.
BOB
(V.O.)
One.
Booger unleashes. It is biblical. Liquid. Total. Susan screams. Single Dad takes collateral damage. Neither is spared.
The camera cuts back to Bob. He smiles. He takes a long, satisfied drink of his beer. He turns and looks directly into the camera. He raises the bottle toward it -- a slow, gracious tilt, as if to say: you're welcome.
FADE OUT.
END OF EPISODE
-- ROLL CREDITS --

Ranger bob is a comedy about the one and only district ranger bob. he's the control rod that keeps the powder keg of misfit USFS employees from destroying the world.

Ranger bob is a comedy about the one and only district ranger bob. he's the control rod that keeps the powder keg of misfit USFS employees from destroying the world.

play the theme song

meet the core of the chaos

Bob Pinchot

USFS District Ranger

Misty McKay

USFS Marketing Director

Timmy Cullens

USFS Forestry Aide

Frank Sims

USFS Security Officer

Treatment

Episode 1 Characters

Bob Pinchot

USFS District Ranger

Timmy Cullens

USFS Forestry Aide

Misty McKay

USFS Marketing Director

Sam Clarkson

NPS Park Ranger

random bigfoot

(not to scale)

Episode 1 Script - Facility Number Five

Episode 2 Characters

Bob Pinchot

USFS District Ranger

Frank Sims

USFS Security Officer

Timmy Cullens

USFS Forestry Aide

Amanda

USFS Employee

John

USFS Employee

David

USFS Employee

Harry

Bob's Proctologist

Kreskin

Intern

Hobbs

Intern

Sarah

Intern

Episode 2 Script - Butthole

Episode 3 Characters

Frank Sims

USFS Security Officer

Bob Pinchot

USFS District Ranger

Jeff

NPS Park Ranger

Chris

NPS Park Ranger

Timmy Cullens

USFS Forestry Aide

Harry

Bob's Proctologist

Mary

Harry's Anesthesiologist

Pete

Bigfoot #1

Bill

Bigfoot #2

Slim

Bigfoot #3

Rabbi Weissman

Episode 3 Script - Dodging Bullets

Episode 4 Characters

Bob Pinchot

USFS District Ranger

Misty McKay

USFS Marketing Director

Frank Sims

USFS Security Officer

Timmy Cullens

USFS Forestry Aide

TittyWaWa Indian #1