Hotdog

This is a short story I wrote, as a challenge to create something with a limited scope - taking place within a single room, with no dialogue.

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FADE IN

INT. THE BOX - DAY

FRANZ opens his eyes, face to face with a HOTDOG. He sits in a metal chair. There is nothing else in the room. He checks his jacket pockets. His outfit is different than he remembers. He wears business casual.

In his PANTS pocket is a REMOTE. Franz clicks the remote. A FLAP opens and a MICROWAVE comes out. Franz clicks another button. A STOVETOP is behind another flap. There is a POT OF WATER on it.

Franz gets up from the chair. He checks his other pockets more thoroughly. There is nothing else.

He surveys the room. There are minimal features in There is nothing else that Franz has not found.

INT. THE BOX - LATER
Franz sits in the chair, and stares at the hotdog.

He gets up, pops it in the microwave, and eats it. hotdog falls from the ceiling.

Franz grabs the hotdog, boils, and eats it. The stove timer barely dings before Franz attempts to eat it. He looks at the CENTER of the room. Another hotdog is there. Franz deflates.

Franz reflates. He grabs the hotdog and cooks it on the stovetop. He eats it, watching a new hotdog drop. Franz deflates.

INT. THE BOX - NIGHT

THE BOX is filled with half eaten hot dog scraps. A pristine hot dog has already been dropped in.

Franz has fashioned a CUP out of a hollowed out hot dog. He takes the pot off the stove and dumps it in a corner. When he places the pot back, it fills from a TAP in the ceiling. Franz glances at the HOLLOW HOTDOG, then the POT. Franz resigns himself to drinking straight from the pot. He spills more often than not.

Franz curls up in a dry corner, and gives up for the night.

INT. THE BOX - DAY

Franz brushes off hotdog pieces from the chair and sits down. He stares at the hotdog. He grabs it, throws it at the wall. Another hotdog drops. He throws it again.

INT. THE BOX - LATER

The box is filled with hot dogs. Franz lays dejected on the floor. He is emotionally defeated, half-eaten RAW hotdog on his chest. Another hotdog drops to the center of the room.

Franz licks his lips and dry coughs. He is thirsty. He slowly gets up to the stovetop. The pot still has cooked hotdogs in it. He sighs. Franz drinks the HOTDOG WATER.

A door opens.

FADE OUT.

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