*Formatting modified from FDX.

SUPER: MISSISSIPPI, 1985

INT. DINGY DINER BATHROOM — DAY

A frazzled-looking young WOMAN (30s) dressed in a waitress uniform stands in front of a small mirror on the wall, rubbing her face. She squints her eyes tightly.

Her face distorts, holding back tears.

WOMAN:

Fuck…Fuck. Stupid fucker.

She splashes water on her face and wipes it with a paper napkin. She inhales deeply, then exhales. This is FRANKIE.

KNOCK KNOCK.

FRANKIE

Just a minute.

Her watch BEEPS. She looks at the time then pulls a bottle of pills from her apron pocket. She empties one into her hand and stares at it heedfully.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Frankie pops the pill then opens the door.

She’s greeted by her co-worker CAROL (30s), a sassy spitfire.

Carol

You ain’t gonna let that asshole get to you, are you?

FRANKIE

Nope.

Frankie walks out, repositioning a bobby pin in her hair; Carol follows her down the hall, chattering.

INT. DINER – DAY

The tiny hallway opens up to a run-down country diner. Frankie rushes into an even grimier-

KITCHEN

A greasy food COOK stands at the griddle, meticulously tending to eggs, sunny side up.

CAROL

Good. He’s just got that little man complex. And to make matters worse, I heard he’s only got one ball and the other one’s shootin’ blanks.

FRANKIE

Thank God for that.

Frankie grabs a plate and stands by the Cook, waiting.

CAROL

Speaking of God. After his wife left him for, I guess, somebody more functional, he went off the deep end. Drinkin’ and drugin’. Apparently, he overdosed. But then Jesus came to him in a vision.

The Cooks gestures to the eggs; Frankie approves. THEN, she clears her throat and SPITS on the plate. The Cook covers her spit with perfectly cooked eggs.

FRANKIE

How do you know all this?

CAROL

He’ll talk about it to anyone who’ll listen. He calls it his redemption story.

Frankie grabs a coffee cup on her way out.

FRANKIE

It didn’t help his manners none.

She stops at the coffee pot and gestures to it. Carol pours the coffee for her.

CAROL

Pfft, sheep’s clothing, honey. Cause let me tell ya, Billy down at the station told me that just last Christmas…

Frankie gestures to the creamer pitcher.

FRANKIE

Cream.

Carol pours creamer into the coffee and then stirs it with a PENCIL she retrieves from her hair.

CAROL

He found him at the county rest stop, passed out with a bottle of booze in one hand and his wiener in the other.

Frankie looks at the CUSTOMER, impatiently waiting.

FRANKIE

Well, the holidays are tough.

Carol nods. Frankie walks his way with a plate of eggs and coffee.

She delivers his food with a smile on her face. He pokes the yolk with his fork. It’s perfect.

CUSTOMER

I guess fourth time’s the charm.

He oozes condescension.

CAROL

Hallelujah!

Carol smirks; he grimaces at her. Frankie leaves him while he shovels in spit-soaked eggs.