If you read this please contact me I am incredibly lonely

Scene 1: Stacy the School Slööt

{Camera pans past some shrubs as heavy breathing resounds. The distant sound of Spice Girls “Wannabe” pumps through the air, growing louder and the shaky cam approaches an open window. Young, inexplicably pantsless Stacy dances for no reason in front of an open window because Stacy has issues with opening up to people and secretly hopes someone will see her and call her the prettiest girl in school. POV camera stalker breaks a tree branch.}

Stacy: {stops flailing} Hello...? Who’s there? Chad?

{Stacy walks up to the window as the camera darts to the side. Breathing intensifies. Stacy looks around but sees nothing and closes the window blinds. We see her through blind-slits continue her bomb-ass sicko dancefest.}

{The doorbell rings}

Stacy: OH my god if this is you Chad Binnington I swear, I will- I’ll- well I don’t know what I’ll do but-

{Stacy opens the door expecting Chad but finds nothing except a small stick effigy with a bag over its head. It has a cloth sack wrapped around its stick waist in the same color as Stacy’s panties. Why Stacy answered the door without even putting pants on or covering herself with a towel or anything is your best guess. Maybe Stacy’s hatred for clothing comes back to the repressive modesty standards her father espoused to her all her childhood. Or perhaps it’s a statement on the death of innocence and body positivity in a puritanical society, where the coming of adulthood can be signified by the covering of our baser parts as we are told our bodies are immoral. What was I doing again? Hold on... Oh yeah. Stabby Grabby Stacy Baggy. Back to the action.}

Stacy: Huh... What the hell?
{She tosses the thing around in her hands. Camera pans 180 degrees to behind her to catch a large jump-suited man stalk by the kitchen doorway and into the house. Camera pans back around.}
Ugh, this thing gives me the heebie-jeebies. No thanks!
{She tosses the doll into the trash. Suddenly there’s a clatter in the room opposite the kitchen. Stacy eyes it tensely.}
Hello? Jesus, what is up with you punks today. Leaving shit on my door, messing with my window. If you want something, Snapchat me at 2am like normal desperate freaks.
{There’s another noise, like scrounging through garbage.}
Seriously, this isn’t funny! Get the hell out of my house or I’ll- I’ll call the cops! I know tai-chi! I-
{Stacy swings into the room but sees nothing. Suddenly a figure jumps from the closet covered in scarves. Stacy shrieks and falls back into the kitchen. The figure approaches and... reveals herself to be Stacy’s friend Dina.}
Dina: {laughing hysterically} Oh. My. {hoarse gasp of laughter} God. You are something Stacy May.
Stacy: Not funny! I thought you were some creepazoid coming to stake me to a door or fold me in half or something! God, fuck you Di!
Dina: {slowly recovering} Oh- Oh god, I’m sorry but that was too funny Stace. You are like class act scare material, I mean where are your fucking pants? Seriously Stace this is 2019, the objectification of women for voyeuristic gain is a product of centuries of sexual repression wrapped into the ever-present desire for powerful men to make women appear as lesser beings and prey. {the camera pans in on Dina’s face} The endangerment of women’s bodies for shock-value hinges on an idea of inherent weakness in the feminine constitution and-
Stacy: Dina! {Camera cuts back} You were going into an author-insert rant.
Dina: Sorry, Stace. It’s like I can’t control myself sometimes. Anyway, lemme go get changed into something more normal and we can smoke some of that grass you scored from Rickie Fincher.
Stacy: Is it good shit?
Dina: He spells his name with an -ie. You know he’s hardcore.
{Dina leaves Stacy to finally get her fucking pants on. Stacy picks her shorts up from the ground. Y’know, these aren’t even much less revealing than the underwear she's wearing. The camera really captures how arbitrary the distinction here is.}
{Camera watches a clock hand spin to indicate length of time.}
Stacy: Jesus Di, you’re taking forever. Bobby’s parents are gonna be home by the time you’re ready. I mean, it’s just us-
{Stacy swings the door open to find Dina hung from the ceiling fan by her stockings. Again, Stacy trips backwards onto her ass. Years before, Stacy suffered a head injury which impaired her balance while entering and exiting kitchens. Dinettes are iffy though. This is never stated in the film.}
{Stalking slowly forward is the man in the jumpsuit. He is nearly seven feet tall — stocky, with heavy shoulders like a gorilla. His head is covered with a garbage bag. He grabs her and knocks her into the trash can. Stacy’s head splits from the blow and teeth scatter along the floor.}
Stacy: Please! I-
{One punch knocks her out. The man empties the trash can onto the floor and ties the garbage bag around her neck. She comes to briefly to kick her feet, but the man overpowers her with superhuman strength. The camera pans to the side, as the two featureless, bag-headed figures face each other. It is difficult to tell which is which. We watch him leave through the open window, and the camera pans to see Stacy, sprawled on the floor next to the identical stick-figure doll she had received earlier. Cut to black. Title Splash screen.}

                      -COMPACTOR-