BREAKING BAD
by
Vince Gilligan
5/27/05
AMC
Sony Pictures Television
TEASER
EXT. COW PASTURE - DAY
Deep blue sky overhead. Fat, scuddy clouds. Below them,
black and white cows graze the rolling hills. This could be
one of those California "It's The Cheese" commercials.
Except those commercials don't normally focus on cow
We do. TILT DOWN to a fat, round PATTY drying olive
the sun. Flies buzz. Peaceful and quiet. until •••
shit.
drab in
ZOOOM! WHEELS plow right through the shit with a SPLAT.
NEW ANGLE - AN RV
Is speeding smack-dab through the pasture, no road in sight.
A bit out of place, to say the least. It's an old 70's era
Winnebago with chalky white paint and Bondo spots. A bumper
sticker for the Good Sam Club is stuck to the back.
The Winnebago galumphs across the landscape, scattering cows.
It catches a wheel and sprays a rooster tail of red dirt.
INT. WINNEBAGO - DAY
Inside, the DRIVER's knuckles cling white to
got the pedal flat. Scared, breathing fast.
wide behind the faceplate of his gas mask.
the wheel. He's
His eyes bug
Oh, by the way, he's wearing a GAS MASK. That, and white
jockey UNDERPANTS. Nothing else.
Buckled in the seat beside him lolls a clothed PASSENGER,
also wearing a gas mask. Blood streaks down from his ear,
blotting his T-shirt. He's passed out cold.
Behind them, the interior is a wreck. Beakers and buckets
and flasks -- some kind of ad-hoc CHEMICAL LAB -- spill their
noxious contents with every bump we hit. Yellow-brown liquid
washes up and down the floor. It foams in a scum around •••
••. Two DEAD BODIES. Two freshly deceased Mexican guys
tumble like rag dolls, bumping into each other.
Completing this picture is
bag lies leaking twenties.
wafts around in the air or
the blizzard of MONEY. A Von's
Fifteen, twenty grand in cash
floats in the nasty brown soup.
CLOSE on the driver's eyes. He's panting like a steam
engine. His mask FOGS UP until finally he can't see.
2.
EXT. COW PASTURE - CONTINUOUS
The Winnebago comes roaring over a berm and down into a deep
gully. Too deep. BAM! The front bumper bottoms out,
burying itself. WAAAAAAHI The rear wheels spin air.
The engine cuts off.
open and out stumbles
mask, lets it drop.
Silence again.
underpants man.
The Winnie's door kicks
He yanks off his gas
He's forty years old. Receding hairline. A bit pasty.
He's not a guy who makes a living working with his hands.
He's not a guy we'd pay attention to if we passed him on the
street. But right now, at this moment, in this pasture?
Right now,