Pablo’s Rhino – Act Two

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Three clueless friends on a guy's trip to Colombia accidentally kill Pablo Escobar's beloved pet rhino, luring the notorious drug lord out of hiding after years of being presumed dead. Now, the hunters become the hunted, SFX of a creaking door slowly opening, then closing with a metallic clank.
Heavy boots scuff across the floor, followed by a chair scraping as cartel guy sits down. Shh, hey, tranquilo, hombre, no te pongas nervioso.
Okay, act one, amigo. Act one left us on edge, no? These poor way of owners thinking they're on a relaxing little vacation and they go and shoot a damn weird onceros in the middle of the Colombian jungle.
We're the click of a gun being loaded. The victim whimpers.
Then they realize, ay, Dios, this isn't just any any Reno. This is Pablo Escobar's Reno.
And Pablo, rumor has it, not so dead after all. Let's listen and see if these idiotas can survive what comes next.
Cartel guy spins the pistol's chamber and snaps it shut. Act two, exterior deep jungle day.
Sam is still trying to process. Charlie's in shock,

and Marcus Pace is trying to think it out. Okay, okay, calm down.
Escobar has been dead for years. Supposedly.
Supposedly? If the rumors are true, and he really is still alive, who the fuck keeps a fucking renacerous in fucking Columbia? He hasn't been seen in ten years. If anything, this rhino is probably proof that he is dead.
The guys ponder the thought, simultaneously looking around the jungle, noticing at last that Ernie has taken off. Okay, we should get out of here.
Ernie? Ernie? Ernie? Luis? Luis! Ernie! Ernie! Luis! Marcus takes off running. Charlie is right behind him.
Guys, come on. I think if we just stay calm, we'll see that this is just...
And Sam starts screaming for them to wait up. Ah! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait up! Exterior, Jungle Road, night.
They reach the clearing. There's no sign of Louise or Ernie.
Shit! They took the truck! So we're stranded? Look, no one saw what happened but us, right? Ernie's not going to tell anyone they were his guns. I say we're in the clear.
Sam and Charlie look at one another. He may be right.
So now what? Now we get the fuck out of this country, and I mean now. Exterior, deep jungle, later.
Knowles and Martinez pull up next to the dead rhino. Martinez hops out and checks the ear tag, displays it for Knowles.
Looks like these assholes came to send a message. And Rojas is making a play for the throne.
One thing's for sure. If the rumors are true

and Escobar really has been hiding this whole time,

these fuckers may be the ones to flush him out.

As Knowles and Martinez drive off into the jungle,

three menacing-looking men step out of the brush.

The men scan the area, guns raised.

One of them checks the bullet hole in the rhino.

Gangster, I'm going to see you on the other side.

The two others cross themselves with a mere notion. Exterior, country road, day.
An old ranchero on a burrow clip-clops along lazily, towing another larger horse upon which sits Marcus, Charlie, and Sam, covered in mud and twigs, exhausted. The ranchero brings the horse to stop points down a down a side road.
They dismount and pay him a few bills. Exterior, front gates, pariso, perdido later.
The guys stroll past the guardhouse. The guard inside is hunched forward, eyes closed.
Some people take no pride in their work. Bet your ass heads are going to roll when I take over the joint.
Sam snaps a photo. They keep walking, oblivious that the guard has three bullet holes in his chest.
Exterior, Pariso, Villas, Day. The guys reach their villas and find the doors are open.
They rush in to inspect. Oh my god, we've been robbed.
Charlie comes out a beat later, panicking. They got my passport! Yeah, mine too.
You think it could have been the cleaning staff?

Marcus shakes his head with disgust.

Again, racist.

Okay, how is that racist?

They had direct access.

It's racist because they're foreign.

No, no, no.

They're not foreign, dipshit.

We're in their country.

Which makes it so much worse.

Sam comes out writing on a postcard.

How do you say wish you were queer and Colombian? What'd they take from you? Sam lifts his shirt, reveals a bulging money belt. Nada, all safely tucked away in my gun.
Come prepared, Charlie. Helps avoid life's little mishaps.
Marcus comes out with his bag slung over his shoulder and two handfuls of hotel toiletries. Okay, now we can go.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.
Has anybody else noticed how quiet it is around here? They all stop and look around. The grounds.
What few people remain, mostly waitstaff, are all lying face down. Permanently.
Hmm, must be. the time.
All check their watches. Perfectly plausible.
They leave. Exterior, Jungle Road, day.
The guys walk backwards by the side of the road, bags in tow. They manage to flag down an old yellow school bus.
It pulls over a few feet ahead of them. Marcus runs up first.
The door swings open.

Si, uh, aeroporto? The apathetic driver looks them up and down and waves them in.

Exterior, steep mountain pass, day. The bus spews a giant puff of blue diesel smoke as it careens precariously around the edge of a steep cliff.
Interior bus, day. The bus is packed with

sweaty indigenous laborers, old women fanning themselves, and mothers with young children. Sam sits next to an old man in a straw cowboy hat.
He's got a squirming rooster on his lap. Sam looks down at the rooster and back at the man.
You have a lovely cock. May I stroke it? The man smiles, clueless as Sam pets his rooster.
Charlie smacks him in the back of the head. The hell's the matter with you? I can't help it.
The stress triggers my sass. Marcus returns and takes a seat.
He said we were close. Either that or he's taking us to the circus.
They all turn at the sound of a batshit-looking, one-eyed man slowly sharpening his machete, staring back at them. If we survive that long...
Oh, come on, can we just take a minute to appreciate everything? Partying, tripping out with a local, shooting a rhino? I mean, if this doesn't get the old juices flowing, then nothing will.

All right, I will admit it's definitely creating some sparks.

But you'll forgive me if I don't get too excited until we're back on home turf.

The old woman seated next to Charlie gnaws on a dried chicken talon.

She offers Charlie a nibble.

And you're the gags.

Hey, we're slowing down.

That's probably just making another pickup.

Jesus, it's a roadblock. What if they're looking for us? Relax, we're just tourists on a way home from a weekend bender.
Stay cool and try to blend in. The bus comes to a stop.
The driver opens the door. A cop with an assault rifle steps on and gives a cursory glance at everyone on the bus.
Marcus has on the farmer's straw hat pulled over his eyes. Sam has a shawl wrapped snugly around his head, while Charlie gnaws on a chicken talon.
The cop steps off the bus. The driver turns back to everyone to let them know what's going on.
In Spanish. Naturally, the guys don't understand any of this.
People start getting off the bus to stretch their legs. Sam gets up to follow.
Oh, where the hell are you going? I have a shy bladder. Charlie and Marcus look at each other left alone with the smiling machete man still sharpening his blade.
Exterior, mountain road, day. Charlie and Marcus step out into the blinding sun.
People mill about in front of the bus. Some sit, fanning themselves.
Fruit, flour, and barbecue pork stands line the road. Sam stands in a long row of men peeing against a wall.
He checks out what the other guys have to offer, mildly impressed. The accident.
The collision is between an overturned Jeep and a fruit truck. The driver of the fruit truck appears banged up but otherwise unharmed.
There's fruit everywhere. Marcus curiously steps in for a closer look and instantly recognizes Ernie and Louise.
Their bodies are riddled with bullet holes. Marcus freaks out at this and starts scanning the crowd.
He turns to Charlie, who was at this moment dry heaving into a ditch. Oh, that chicken claw is so not sitting well with me.
Charlie, don't look. It's Ernie.
Where? We're saved. Not exactly.
Marcus drags him over to try and get a closer look. Charlie gasps before spotting Lucia, the woman they met outside the airport.
Oh, my God. It's her.
Who? The woman from outside the airport. Your dream girl? Well, I mean, she's not exactly my dream girl.
I mean, she's definitely a dream girl, but I wouldn't go. They move in for a closer look, but she doesn't see them.
Enzo Sueños! Shut up! What if she comes over? Lucia glances over at Marcus, and for the first time, they realize she's a cop. Lucia is too preoccupied to react.
Charlie grabs Marcus and muffles him. Look at that.
Classic. Your dream girl's a fucking cop.
Man, do you have a time for what? Seriously? Well, maybe she can help us. Cuff you and slam you to the ground.
Not as fun as it sounds. Trust me.
Oh, God. Charlie's looking queasy again.
What's the matter? A police officer steps in and tries to push the crowd back. Charlie doubles over again.
I don't know. I think I'm going to be sick.
I think that other cop's coming this way. Be cool.
The police officer moves in and tries to push them back. He looks at Charlie, who won't move.
Charlie smiles and blows chunks all over the cop. A beat.
He looks up apologetically in time to catch the butt of a rifle as it knocks him out. Interior police station later.
Over black. Wake up, sweetie.
You'll be late for school. Charlie's POV.
His eyes slowly adjust to the face of a toothless old drunk picking chunks of puke out of his hair. Charlie uprights to find he's in a jail cell.
Packed in with miscreants, drunks, and dirtbags. Oh, please let this be the airport lounge.
Guess again. Charlie tries to sit up.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. On my head, oh God.
Oh God, what the hell happened? Before or after they removed your kidney. Charlie rips open his shirt and feels around.
Oh God. Marcus laughs.
That is so not funny. Well, then you're not going to find this funny either.
Aside from puking on a cop and in the squad car and in the station, it seems we may have ignited a teeny tiny cartel war. What are you talking about? The cop thinks you shot Escobar's rhino.
What? The shop? No, the cop. The cop thinks you shot Escobar's rhino to send a message.
They're calling you El Cantador. Come to rack up body count.
El Cantador? Where the hell would they get an idea like that? But they said, why else would Americans wear suits in the middle of the jungle? Who knew there was a dress code? Marcus gestures toward the other inmates, cowering in the corner, keeping their distance from them. Good news is, this makes you somewhat of a badass.
Or a target, same day. Okay, we gotta get out of here.
No shit, Sam's working on it right now. Pan over.
We see Sam chatting up a prison guard. He winks coquettishly and walks back to Marcus and Charlie.
Okay, Guapito over there said he might be able to pull a few strings for us in exchange for a little action. Oh, fantastic.
Seriously, bro, way to take one for the team. Oh, well, he didn't mean me.
Guapito prefers to watch, so make it good. Sam smiles deviously at one, then the other.
Watch what? What are you talking about? Oh, with him?

Oh, no, no way. Oh, no, not gonna happen.

Marcus clues in.

What, you're too good for me?

You're no prize.

Relax, it's just a little kissing.

Maybe some light petting.

Uh, newsflash, we are not gay.

Look around, honey, and here, we're all a little Judy.

They all look at the guard who gestures suggestively with his tongue.

Thank you. They all look at the guard who gestures suggestively with his tongue.

Sam holds up a finger.

Un momento.

Charlie weighs options.

After a beat.

I'm thinking.

Fine. Let's get this over with.
Charlie and Marcus shut their eyes. Neither makes a move.
Oh, come on, boys. You're necking, not playing chicken.
Now on delay. They both glance over at the guard who's watching closely.
Marcus and Charlie slowly lean forward, as repulsed as if they were about to swallow a live cockroach. They knock heads, rub faces, everything they can do not to touch lips.
That's it, Charlie. Get in there.
Marcus's tongue slowly pokes out through clenched lips. The guard and all the other prisoners are really enjoying this when a second guard comes in to see her.
She smirks, but doesn't stop them. It smells like puke.
That's it. Now gently probe your throat snake into his face vagina.
No, hell no. No, no.
I can't do this. It's true.
Prison really does change a man. Marcus looks up and sees Lucia.
He shoves Charlie off him. Please, don't stop on my account.
And to sueño. You're here.
No, no, no. See, that was...
No, no, no. We were just...
Sam and Guapito bust a gut. The guard unlocks the cell.
My partner was the one you threw up on. He agreed to let you go, provided you...
How did he put it? Get your puto madre culos the fuck out of Colombia.

Oh my God, I don't know how to thank you.

You can start by calling me Lucia, and don't thank me yet.

It's not safe for you here.

We received a tip that men are already on their way to collect the bounty on your heads.

Why would someone put a bounty on us?

You mean the three Americans who single-handedly reignited the cartel wars?

Oh, you heard about that. They're saying you went on a shooting spree at a resort.
What? No, I never even fired a gun. Okay, once, but it was in self-defense.
Don't worry, you don't exactly strike me as gun-toting badasses. Anyway, the longer you are here, the worse for everyone.
So, nos vamos. They all file out.
I really hope there's a gift shop at the airport. I got a ton of people expecting postcards.
Lucia stops. Considers this.
That sound? It's lucky cutting prices on over 4,000 items across our stores. We cut prices, not corners.
Same quality, much lower prices on what matters most to your family. This week, 7-Up, A&W, and other select six-pack bottles are a ridiculous 99 cents each.
That's a $7 savings on each six-pack, with an additional qualifying purchase of $50 or more. And Green Bell Peppers are now just 99 cents each, every day.
Join the celebration at Lucky, your neighborhood store that's fighting inflation for you every day. Berries and stores with beverage tax.
Oh, he's right. Escobar's men will be searching the public terminals.
We need to hide you. Okay, but where? I may have an idea.
Pre-lap. Indigenous music rings out.
Exterior. Lucia's abuela's house.
Night. Establishing.
The sun sets over a modest cinderblock house painted in bright colors. There's still rebar sticking out of the roof.
A few chickens peck about the front yard next to a pot-bellied pig. Lush gardens frame the house on either side.
Interior. Abuela's house.
Night. Marcus and Sam are clearing off the dinner table while Charlie is at the sink washing a few dishes.
Lucia and her abuela, grandmother, sit at the dinner table. You're making me look bad, Charlie.
Now, whenever I try to hide strange American men, Abuelita will expect them to do the dishes. It's the least we can do.
Please tell your grandmother she's fabulosa. Abuela looks up at Sam, smiles and nods.
Ay, yo nunca la había cocinado un gay antes, pero bueno, comen lo mismo que nosotros, ni sabía. She says, you're welcome.
Abuela calls Marcus over and pinches his cheek. Pero a este, si me quedaran left, I would have a little bit of teeth.
Oh, what'd she say? She said you have a kind face. Yes, that face, so I want to put your face down below.
Okay, okay, Abuelita, we get the point. Thank you.
Abuela gestures for Lucia to hand her a box off the shelf. Inside is a pipe with some coca leaves.
The grandmother starts stuffing her pipe and lights it. She offers some to Marcus, who accepts out of politeness.
I'd go easy on that stuff. It's not the bullshit they sell to turistas.
Marcus coughs up a lung. It tickles! Throat! Charlie is done with the dishes.
Lucia grabs a bowl of food scraps from the counter. Care to meet your breakfast? Meat? Exterior, Abuela's house, Twilight.
Charlie and Lucia are silhouetted by the waning sunlight as they lean against the pig pen. Lucia feeds them slop.

Has your family always lived here? For generations going back, who knows? Long before the name Escobar ever meant anything to anyone. Before the unrest.
If you ask my abuela, she would tell you we spring

from the earth itself. Well, it's very peaceful.
I like it. Peaceful? No.
But safe, at least. My father grew up in Rio Negro, the same town as Escobar.
Things used to be so beautiful here. Now it feels all that has been painted over by the same ugly brush.
Charlie nudges her flirtatiously. Not everything.
Lucia smiles. The pig is pretty cute.
She playfully punches his arm. He turns and winces.
My father was an optimist. No matter how bad things got, the war, the drugs, corruption, he always wished someday people could see Colombia for what it really was, for what it could be.
Well, it's not too late, is it? Between the cartels and las guerrillas, they make it too easy to be part of the problem. Or worse, when people do nothing but sit back and cross their arms.
I wish I had an ounce of power. I would help show people your beautiful country.
I mean, despite everything, I kind of love it here. Lucia takes a long look at Charlie, trying to figure out if this is a line.
I believe you. They draw closer, studying each other.
Sam walks out, high as a kite. It's getting pretty hot and heavy in there.
Oh look, a pig. Hello.
Lucia withdraws and goes back inside. Abuela, what are you doing? Get off of him.
So what did I miss? Charlie smacks him in the shoulder. Don't you knock? To go outside?

Cut to Interior DEA Apartment Day.

Martinez studies a pinup board of photos.

Manny Rojas is prominently identified at the top.

His picture branches off into several low-level captains and thugs.

Martinez tacks up pictures of Charlie, Marcus, and Sam to the wall next to a photo of Manny Rojas. Agent Knowles enters, loading his pistol.
Talked to my guy. He said they let three Americans go late last night.
Get this? One of them was the accountant. Whoa, for real? Man, I thought that guy was a myth.

You know, like a boogeyman for drug dealers.

You saw the way he took down that rhino?

Stone cold killer.

Well, words out.

Someone put a serious bounty on these assholes.

Shit, you know what that means.

This is our ticket, baby.

Follow the rats. Find us some cheese.
They fist bump. Knowles nods at the map on the wall.
There's a private strip running Cessnas not too far from here. If they're getting help, that's likely where they're heading.
I guess we better get there before the competition. You ready for this? Martinez smirks, grabs two shotguns from a cabinet, and tosses one to Knowles.
Martinez pumps his shotgun. Thinks a beat? Can we stop for empanadas? Fuck yeah.
Exterior, private airstrip, day. A police truck pulls up to an old Cessna passenger plane with Charlie, Sam, and Marcus in the back.
Lucia rides up front with Victor, the cop Charlie puked on, behind the wheel. They get out to open the door for the guys.
Charlie has tape over his mouth. He screams when Victor peels it off.
Ow! Damn, was that really necessary? He just had the car detailed. Lucia nods to her partner.
Victor begrudgingly uncuffs them. Oh, mind if I hold on to these? Marcus inspects the plane.
This thing is a death trap. I love it.
You know, you really didn't have to do any of this. We could always take you back to prison to play more kissy face.
I think we'll take our chances on the death trap. Cute, by the way.
In your dreams. If I had told you my name sooner, you might never have left.
Well, now we'll never know. She's charmed by this.
Lucia takes the keys from her partner and undoes Charlie's cuffs herself. Goodbye, Charlie Bleaker.
Hasta luego. Lucia de mis sueños.
They share a brief moment. Marcus and Sam roll their eyes.
Hate to break up this, whatever this is, but great to meet you. You're extremely hot.
Charlie, get the fuck on the plane. The plane door opens.
Out steps Manny Ross, a gangster in a white pinstripe suit. Several of Manny's henchmen follow, cocking their guns.
One puts a gun to Lucia's head. Victor puts his gun down.
Marcus, amigo, I find you at last. Manny! Oh, thank God.
Marcus, who are your friends with the guns? No, no, no, no, no. This is cool.
This is Manny. He's the guy I was telling you about.
Wait, you know this man? Know him? He's my realtor. Manny's the one who flew us down to check out the property.
Maldito idiota. Yes.
Yes. Marcus, my man.
I hope you and your friends enjoyed my hospitality. You have an excellent cold buffet.
Sincerely. I'm only sorry to inform you that your flight home has been cancelled.
Marcus, what is he talking about? One of the henchmen steps forward and puts a black bag over each of their heads. Manny walks up to Charlie.
Ah, you must be the infamous Charlie Bleecker, el contador. The honor is truly mine.
Infamous? No, no, not infamous. To put things in terms you Americans are so fond of, Charlie, welcome to the big leagues, amigo.
Manny's voice trails off as Charlie loses consciousness. You've been traded.
Cut to interior, finca hideaway, Pablo's private study later. Charlie's vision slowly adjusts as he starts to come around.
He sits up, still handcuffed. The room is decked out, top to bottom in rhinoceros paraphernalia and chotskis, including a big velvet painting of a naked cigar-chomping Pablo straddling the now-deceased rhino over the mantle.
Pablo pops his head into Charlie's field of vision. He is always smiling.
There he is. The famous rhino killer.
Where am I? Where's Marcus and Sam? So many questions. I know, I know.
Am I going to kill you? How am I going to kill you? Will I eat your remains myself or force feed them to your loved ones while you watch. Oh, dear God.
Where are my manners?

We have not been formally introduced.

Pablo covers his face like he's playing peekaboo.

It's me, the face of death, Pablo Escobar.

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa.

You're supposed to be dead.

I'm back.

Oh, God.

And don't think I don't know who you are, Charlie Blaker, El Contador. Oh, no, no, that's not me.
Come on, don't be so modest. I have all your books.
Much of the man I am today is because of your sage advice. Invest in yourself.
First, last, and always. Truly profound.
Pablo walks over to Charlie and takes a knee, shakes his head. You are in a lot of trouble, Charlie.
You killed my rhinoceros, one of only three white rhinos left in the entire world. Pablo stands, walks over to the rhino portrait.
Years have been spent trying to save the species from the brink of extinction. Merciless poachers.
Killing them for their horns. I swear, Mr.
Escobar, it was in self-defense. I had no choice.
Hey, come on, Charlie. My father is Mr.
Escobar. Call me Don Pablo.
Okay. Well done.
You see, my friends and I, we were just hunting for jungle cows and... Pablo reaches out and squeezes Charlie's face affectionately.
Charlie is silent and terrified. A rhinoceros is such a noble creature, wouldn't you agree? His face still squeezed.
Absolutely! But so much more. It is a symbol of power and respect, like the rhino men such as ourselves are a dying breed.
Or, you know, maybe a living one. Really, I should thank you.
That's his belly. Being in hiding for so long has made me soft.
Kinder, even. So, does this mean you're not going to kill me? Oh, no.
I'm definitely killing you. Oh.
Pablo whistles. The double doors swing open.
Marcus and Sam, still wearing hoods, get tossed in by a gargantuan thug. They stumble around like idiots bumping into each other before the thug pushes them to their knees next to Charlie and removes their hoods.
Marcus! Sam! Charlie, we thought you were dead! Listo! Let us call Quorum to our little meeting and get down to business. Pablo takes a cigar from his inside jacket pocket and snips the tip with a pair of gold-plated shears.
His henchman lights the cigar for him. Pablo reluctantly puts out the cigar.
Charlie is confused. That is, after all, why you came to my country, correct, Marcus? To do business.
Marcus looks worried. Sam and Charlie both look at him.
Well, I... I, uh...
Pablo catches a look on Sam and Charlie's face. You did not think he came just to invest in a resort, did you? No! Marcus would like to pursue a career in the lucrative field

of money laundering. That's what this was all about? The resort was supposed to be a front?

I swear I was going to tell you guys. Honestly, I never actually said I'd go through with it.

In reality, you never had a choice. No matter.
Your obligation to Manolo Rojas has been...

The henchman brings Pablo a box and opens it for him. To reveal the head of Manny Rojas.
Taken care of. As for you three, I will need to get creative since you cannot all fit inside a conventional oven at the same time.
Pablo turns to leave. The henchman steps forward, menacing.
Wait! Pablo turns back. I'm sorry, Charlie.
Did you have something to add? I'll replace your rhino. Pablo is intrigued.
He motions for the henchman to hold off. Okay, let all of us go and I will get you a new rhinoceros.
You have my word. Oh, I have your word.
And if you don't? Then, I guess you can kill me. Charlie, what the fuck are you doing? I was going to kill you anyway.
What else you got? I don't hear any killing in there! I will kill him when I'm goddamn good and ready! Pablo, Marcus, and Sam are all surprised by this. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room.
Sorry about that. Sometimes it's like I can't even take a piss.
What was that? Nothing, my sweet! Back to Charlie. Sorry, where were we? Oh, yes, yes, yes You're inevitably gruesome death Pablo snaps his fingers as he turns to leave again I know that sound Pablo stops What sound is that? The sound of a ball-busting wife who chips away at your self-esteem Until you're the shadow of the man you once were Pablo sits down on the edge of his desk, agitated Well you better get on with it.
Wouldn't want her to think you have a mind of your own, capable of making its own decisions. Marcus and Sam look over at Charlie.
Pablo drums his fingers. What the fuck are you doing? Fuck it, okay.
You have two days to replace my rhino. If you succeed, I will consider letting you live.
Oh, and in case you had any thoughts of trying to escape the country. The henchman returns with Lucia bound and gagged.
With a pistol to her head. Lucia! The henchman pulls the trigger, but the gun isn't loaded.
Two days, Charlie Bleaker. Happy hunting.
Wait, how do I find you? You don't find El Diablo, Charlie.

El Diablo finds you. The black bag goes back over his head.
End of Act Two.

All right.

Yeah, page 68, when his henchman lights a cigar for him. I just want to try something a little deeper now.

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