Meat Crimes - Scene 1

SCENE 1

INT. LOCAL CAFE - MORNING

The cafe is dimly lit, with a flickering neon sign that reads "Cafe Grizzle." Mismatched tables and chairs fill the room, and a tired-looking WAITRESS wipes the counter as she eyes the two detectives, Sargent SHANK and Constable BRISKET, occupying their usual corner booth. Shank is engrossed in a tattered conspiracy magazine, while Brisket stares at his smartphone, eagerly awaiting any message from the nonexistent "Meat Crimes Hotline."

Chief Constable WAGSTAFF strolls in, a grin plastered on his face.

WAGSTAFF (laughing) Shank, Brisket! Look alive, lads. You're on the Special Brunch detail today!

Shank, mid-bite into a gristly spare rib, looks up with a deadpan expression.

SHANK (sarcastically) Oh, a real knee-slapper, sir.

Wagstaff chuckles, slapping Shank on the back before making his exit. Shank pulls the rib out of his mouth, examining it with suspicion.

SHANK (CONT'D) Now listen, Brisket, just because something looks cut and dried… it doesn’t mean it is.

BRISKET (confused) What about Biltong?

Shank shoots him a quizzical look.

SHANK What ARE you talking about, lad? You taking the piss? Look, the way I see it, this is the calm before the storm. Just because we haven’t had a decent case in just over a year…

BRISKET (nodding) I know, Shank. If we don’t get a case soon, we’re up for a right grilling.

A loud commotion outside the cafe catches their attention. Brisket points at a butcher's van stopped right in the middle of the street.

BRISKET (CONT'D) Hang on, Shank, sir, what’s going on over there?

SHANK (squinting) Brisket! What did I tell you? Let’s go.

Chairs scrape as they hastily get up, leaving their unpaid bill behind. The exasperated RESTAURATEUR shouts after them.

RESTAURATEUR Hey, you haven’t paid…

The duo rushes out, ready for whatever mysterious meaty adventure awaits them on the streets of East London.

CUT TO BLACK.