Breaking Bad & Boujee

{[Opening shot]: Nighttime, beneath a busy freeway. Cars zoom by overhead. The booming of a far-off stereo is faintly heard. In the near background is the recognizable skyline of Atlanta, lit by city lights. It’s just stopped raining, droplets still falling from the freeway. A lone shopping cart stands guard on the corner of the sidewalk.

[Next shot]: Outside a dimly lit corner store. The booming stereo can still be heard, now much closer and louder, but still in the distance. Neon lights flash ads for cigarettes and malt liquor. Rows of beer and cheap gas station food can be seen lining the aisles inside. The lights flicker, then return on. Standing out front is a man wearing dark jeans and an oversized hoodie and a Braves cap, dipped low over his eyes. He pulls from a Black & Mild as he checks his phone, the LED screen lighting up his profile. He looks up and exhales.

[Next shot]: A run down strip club with a tattered sign above the door. “LADIESSS!”. A neon woman kicks her leg up in the air, but some of the bulbs are out. Nobody guards the door, but a few feet away on the sidewalk sits a homeless man nursing a pit bull puppy. The music is louder now, and clearly coming from inside of the club, muffled ever so slightly by the walls separating it from the outside world.

The camera pans to the parking lot, which has only one pale street light in the center. Three or four beat up cars sit parked in the front, one haphazardly placed in a handicapped spot. In the very back of the parking lot, far from the other vehicles, sits a run-down Winnebago camper. Curtains cover every window, but there’s a light on inside and shadows, just barely there, cast onto the curtains.

Zooming in on the camper, the music fades behind us until we’re at its door. A hand full of bullet holes are visible just above the handle. A thin smoke escapes through a vent on the top of the camper. The camera pans upward, now on top of the camper, until we’re looking down through the open latch on the roof.

Four figures can be seen inside. Each one wears a gas mask and lab apron. One appears to be sleeping on a pull out mattress, one sits lazily in a metal fold-up chair. Two are standing against the counter, which is covered in beakers, boiling flasks, Bunsen burners and other science equipment.

[Next shot]: Now inside the camper, focusing on one of the figures standing at the counter. Under his apron is a white T-shirt. He pulls off his mask, face red and sweaty, grimacing.}

WW:  [growling] “Dammit Quavo, I told you just three milliliters! Do you ever listen?”

Q: *quickly pulls back the eye dropper he was using to pour blue liquid into the test tube. Under his apron is a clearly visible Versace sweatshirt and three large gold chains* “Yo, my bad Mr. White, I thought you said six!”

[A phone rings. It belongs to the one sleeping on the mattress. His ringtone is Young Thug’s “Harambe”. The other three take off their masks and glare until he wakes up and answers.]

O: “Offset. Yeah. What? [Frustrated, his voice raises]. Bruh, you said 15! Bitch, I know what the fuck you said! *Pauses*. You know…” *looks down at phone angrily, then up to Mr. White, Quavo, and Takeoff*. “That motherfucker said ‘e need 25 pounds by the morning!”

Q: “Wha happened to fihteen?” [Thick Atlanta drawl].

WW: *turns and looks at crockpot full of dope* “This Tuco is a maniac! We don’t have the time!”

[There’s a knock on the door. All four turn to face the door, their faces ranging from shock to fear to anger. The door abruptly swings open, but before anyone is able to enter a muffled gunshot rings off from inside the camper. The camera zooms in on a gun, held in the shaking hand of Lil Uzi, who had been sitting in the passenger seat. A loud thud can be heard, as the body of the intruder falls to the ground outside. Quavo, Takeoff, Offset and Mr. White look at Lil Uzi in horror, then back at the door, half ajar as new bullet holes give off tiny wisps of smoke.]

Title card appears: “Breaking Bad and Boujee”