The Lost Scripts: "Care Package," by George N. Koulouris

In The Lost Scripts Series, Julian releases the scripts of some series episodes that went unproduced.

INT. JULIAN’S APARTMENT - MORNING

CRISTINA bounces into the room carrying a PACKAGE.

CRISTINA
Special delivery, Julian!

JULIAN
I’m not expecting anything.

CRISTINA
It looks like a gift.

JULIAN
Must be a mistake. Have security check it for anthrax.

CRISTINA
It says it’s from a secret admirer.
(teasing)
Looks like someone has a fan.

JULIAN
Don’t be so surprised, Cristina.
After all, I am a champion for the common man.
Certainly, thousands around the world are
yearning to show their gratitude.

CRISTINA
Yearning, sure.

Julian snatches the package and gleefully rips into it.

JULIAN
It is nothing but random bullshit.

CRISTINA
It’s a care package.

JULIAN
More like an I don’t care package.
(beat)
Look at this shit.

Julian shows off the contents with contempt and confusion.

JULIAN (CONT’D)
Electric toothbrush, toothpaste,
bar soap, hand soap, soap-on-a-rope,
dandruff shampoo, deodorant,
some third-rate cologne
(sniffing; yuck!)
Designer imposter, of course.
There’s more: detergent, air
freshener, candles, gum, Altoids,
LISTERINE?!

Julian seriously doesn’t see the connection.

JULIAN (CONT’D)
What the fuck is all this?

CRISTINA
This is called a gift, Julian. It’s a kind gesture, likely from a fan.

JULIAN
What need do I have for such rubbish?

Julian rushes to his computer.

JULIAN (CONT’D)
I’m going to find out who sent it.

CRISTINA
It doesn’t matter.

JULIAN
I just need to hack into Amazon’s system.

CRISTINA
Surely that’s not necessary. It’s just a gift. Hasn’t anyone ever
given you a gift before?

JULIAN
Don’t be fooled by kindness. I know the mind of a creep.

CRISTINA
I’m sure you do.

JULIAN
It looks like it was sent right here, from London.
I’ll bet it’s the Ambassador’s
wife. I’ve caught her stealing a
sideward glance more than once.

CRISTINA
Come on now, Julian.

JULIAN
She wants me, Christina. I know by
how she stares at me, longingly,
undressing me with her eyes,
silently begging me to tear her
sensible Chanel pantsuit asunder
and ravish her, right there on your
desk, into a fit of total unbridled
ecstasy -- before she tears my neck
out with her teeth, like a Harpy.

CRISTINA
That’s one possibility... But
surely, Julian, if the sender
wanted to remain anonymous they--

JULIAN
Anonymous? Ha! Julian Assange
doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
(beat)
No matter how many aliases, cloned VPNs, or IP scramblers this evil
genius used, I will track them down, even if that means destroying
the entire internet in the process!

CRISTINA
It was me, OK? I sent the package.

JULIAN
Cristina? You? You’re the admirer?

CRISTINA
Yes, OK. I admit it. I’m the
(using air quotes)
“Secret Admirer”

JULIAN
I knew it! I knew you were in love with me!

CRISTINA
What? No! You stink, Julian! Take the hint. You stink. Bad.
Really fucking bad.

BLACKOUT.