Doughnut
Sunday
Pilot Written by
Bekah Hawrot Weigel and Zach Hawrot
When church parishioners get fed up
with the crime in their small town, they
form a vigilante group, inflicting justice
according to what the bible allows them
- what could possibly go wrong?
COLD INTRO
INT./EXT. CAR - NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - NIGHT
A rusty 1999 Honda Civic drives through a dark neighborhood. Adults pack the inside. Religious decals decorate the outside: crosses, rosaries and two bumper stickers -- I heart the Pope and No Bing-Bing Without the Ring-Ring.
The packed car chants in unison-
EVERYONE (V.O.)
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD PARK - SHELTER - NIGHT
A slender DRUG DEALER sits on a picnic table in a shelter. He wears an over-sized white shirt with a dollar-sign chain dangling over it.
He checks his phone. Zero messages. He pulls out a cellophane bag full of white powder and tosses it in the air out of boredom.
DRUG DEALER
(to himself)
Would you hurry up, Chad?
EXT. CAR - NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - NIGHT
The car parks. The driver remains but the five middle-aged adults, all with their backs turned, file out and seamlessly continue their prayers as they walk down the street-
EVERYONE
...holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us
sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
In-sync with their step, like it's their 100th rodeo, they slide on ski-masks as they push forward, now praying-
EVERYONE
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle...
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD PARK - SHELTER - NIGHT
The Dealer mindlessly raps Juicy by Biggie while sifting through Instagram on his phone. CRACK! A stick snaps nearby.
DRUG DEALER
About time. I thought you'd never-
WHAP! The Dealer's kneecap gets smashed. He falls down.
WHAP! Now the other kneecap.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Now all over.
He screams in pain but is too overcome to fight back so he just cowers in a ball and takes it.
DRUG DEALER
Take the drugs. I don't care.
It's only a dime bag.
Three of the people continue the beat down while the other two shuffle around them. One pulls out a tiny plastic bottle and showers the dealer.
DRUG DEALER
Ah! What is that? Please don't let it be acid.
We now see the bottle is holy water. The person dumping it motions the sign of the cross with their opposite hand.
The other adult not fighting makes it rain like they're in the club, except it's not cash -- it's holy cards.
HOLY CARD RAINER
Seek forgiveness, child, like the thief did on the
cross, and thee shall be saved.
EVERYONE
AMEN!
Instantly, everyone disperses and is gone as fast as they came, leaving the Dealer squirming on the ground. Finally, he looks at a holy card. This one is Pope John Paul II.
DRUG DEALER
What the f-
*ACT 1*
TITLE OVER:
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
INT. COZY BASEMENT - NIGHT
The room is a time capsule from the 50s: unforgiving couches, rusty wallpaper, shag carpet, and a box TV.
Six adults sit around the room.
OLGA -- adorably old (70), permed hair, in a shirt covered with ladybugs -- refills everyone's religiously labeled mug.
MRS. OPAL (45) leads the meeting. She's tall, sandy brown hair, with bright green eyes. She's the mom that writes anonymous letters to parents. God help you if you're not on her good side.
MRS. OPAL
We need something tantalizing
but not titillating. God forbid that
happens.
MS. KERRY (35) speaks up. Her haircut is neat, just like her homeroom. She loves fundraisers, hates Oxford commas, and breaks at all yellow lights.
MS. KERRY
Firstly, I think we all have to agree
that it's in God's hands.
Everyone nods their heads and says in sync-
EVERYONE
Praise God.
MS. KERRY
That being said, I fully agree. Any inference
in the direction of titillation is a big no, no.
I just worry any inquisition into the prefix
of tantalizing will be just as problematic.
People furiously take notes.
MRS. OPAL
(confused)
Um. Prefix? What do you mean?
Ms. Kerry fidgets. She regrettably leans over. Covers her mouth. And as quietly as possible, she whispers-
MS. KERRY
It sounds like taint.
MRS. OPAL
(loudly)
Taint? What does that mean?
Ms. Kerry grows noticeably upset.
MS. KERRY
Perhaps my students have enlightened
me with vocabulary not so widespread.
Mrs. Opal grabs her phone. Quickly types. Then, just as quickly, puts her phone back down.
MRS. OPAL
Oh, dear. Okay. Just to confirm. Titillating
and tantalizing are now both off the table.
Everyone, once again, notates everything.
EXT. UBER - DRIVEWAY - NIGHT
An Uber pulls into the driveway of a cute Cape Cod house. Tulip beds line the house. Electronic candles in the windows emit the only light from inside. A lawn sign stands in the middle of the yard -- GOD IS FOR US!
TEEN IN BACKSEAT (V.O.)
You sure this is it?
UBER DRIVER (V.O.)
Sorry, but unfortunately, yes.
TEEN IN BACKSEAT (V.O.)
Judas. H. Priest.
HOLDEN (17) steps out of the car with a backpack and carry-on. He's tall with jet-black hair peaking under a Yankees' hat. His jeans are tight, and his gray eyes bleed regret. His shirt has a red lightning bolt to show he's a Killers' fan.
He death marches to the porch. He drops his head that much lower as he reads the religious decals on the same 1999 Honda Civic we saw earlier.
He finally reaches the door. Knocks. Nothing. Knocks again. Still nothing. He tries the knob. It turns, so he creeps in.
INT. COZY BASEMENT - NIGHT
LOUISE (35) speaks. She's a small, brown-haired, thick-glasses, ball of thunder. A self-proclaimed nerd who murders any animal that touches her tomato plants.
LOUISE
I think we need scare tactics. Good
ol' fashioned subliminal propaganda.
MRS. OPAL
What exactly do you mean?
LOUISE
Let's release a video that seems innocuous, but
really it's layered with repeated keywords at a
super low volume. Like-
(thinking)
-hell, or demons screaming, or castration. Yes!
(proud of her idea)
Screams via castration!
INT. HOUSE - NIGHT
Holden puts his bags down at the entryway.
HOLDEN
Hello. Anyone-
He cuts himself off when he hears voices carrying from the open basement door. He slowly eases down into the-
INT. COZY BASEMENT - NIGHT
-where he stops short of the bottom stair to listen in. Scratch that. The stair is too old and creaks like a mother.
VOICE (O.S.)
Hello? Holden, is that you?
His posture collapses. Impending doom is now just doom. He steps into the room for his grand entrance.
OLGA
Holden! I'm terribly sorry I didn't answer
the door. I got caught up with all the
fun we're having down here.
Everyone stares at Holden with undivided attention. Not one person looks at their phone like normal human beings. All they care about is Holden, and this creeps him to the core.
EVERYONE
(in unison)
Hi Holden!
HOLDEN
(unenthused)
Umm. Hi.
OLGA
As you probably heard in the prayer intentions
and also the church bulletin, this handsome young man
is my great-nephew. He'll be staying with me for the
summer. And I am more than delighted at how much fun
this is going to be.
Holden's face contorts. He tries to reciprocate her enthusiasm but fails miserably. Luckily, everyone gives their attention to Olga.
OLGA
(to Holden)
Actually, I wonder if you could help us right
now. We're struggling to nail down a name
for our chastity task force. As of now, it's
Operation Keep Yo Pants On. Thanks, GEORGE.
GEORGE (40), with a shaven head, a thick maintained beard, and a neat short-sleeve button up shirt, bows "you're welcome". From neck down, he's covered in hipster tattoos.
He is way too cool for this room.
HOLDEN
(sarcastically)
Umm, man. That's tough. I'm
not sure you can top that.
OLGA
Oh, wonderful! We love making new
task forces, but the hardest part is
always coming up with the name.
HOLDEN
I bet.
OLGA
Here. Why don't you take a seat?
She moves a pillow for him to sit. He struggles. Finally-
HOLDEN
I'm sorry. I'd love to, but I've been
traveling since four AM. Mind if I crash?
OLGA
Oh, of course. You have to be tired!
Let me show you to your room.
HOLDEN
Bye, everyone.
Everyone responds in complete, eerie sync.
EVERYONE
Bye, Holden! Great to meet you!
Holden turns to the stairs and does a muted scream as wide as his face can stretch.
INT. HOLDEN'S ROOM - OLGA'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The room is fifty shades of pink with pictures of Jesus and holy people lining each wall like it's a display room.
OLGA
Feel free to make it yours
if you don't like it.
HOLDEN
You might be surprised, but it's
just like my room back home.
Her eyes light up. He chokes at how naive she is.
OLGA
Can I get you anything?
HOLDEN
Nope. Thanks again for having me.
She steps in. Pauses. Decides a step further is necessary and gives him a hug that he tries so hard not to return.
OLGA
I know this must be hard for you,
but I promise this chapter of life
will be divine. Praise God.
She releases the hug and then closes the door on her way out. Holden immediately grabs his phone and texts WILLIE-
[Notes: text and Twitter messages are in bold.]
HOLDEN: SOS!!! This is 100 times worse than we discussed. I'm either going to be murdered or saved. According to their dogma, perhaps both. SEND HELP!
He dive-bombs into the stiff, twin bed. Grabs a pillow with both hands. And screams into it while trying to suffocate himself.
FADE TO:
INT. HALLWAY - OLGA'S HOUSE - MORNING
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Hair in curlers, dressed in thee original nightgown, Olga gently knocks on Holden's bedroom door.
OLGA
Holden. Are you awake?
INT. HOLDEN'S ROOM - OLGA'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Holden's sprawled across his small bed crudely passed out.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
OLGA (O.S.)
Holden? It's time to wake up. We have mass soon.
HOLDEN
(to himself)
Ugh.
(to Olga)
I'm not Catholic. Go without me.
OLGA (O.S.)
Please. Everyone's Catholic. They
just don't know it. Now chop, chop.
Once again, Holden screams into his pillow.
INT. ST. PETER'S CHURCH - MORNING
Olga steps into church wearing a floral button-up dress and babushka on her head.
Holden sheepishly drags his feet behind her. He wears black Converse shoes, black jeans, and a black Muse shirt.
Intricate stained glass windows line the walls and medieval ceilings tower above them, all of which Holden sees none of.
He's too embarrassed to look up as Olga shakes hands with people every few pews until she reaches the front pew. She then bows to the altar and scoots to the seat cushion awaiting her.
Holden does an awkward half bow while simultaneously moving past her into the pew. Only now does he finally lift his head. Even he can't hold in how magnificent the church is.
His jaw drops just enough for him to pick it back up. Maybe he'll have a moment here -- but then he looks behind him to see the entire congregation staring at him.
He jolts his head back towards the front and lowers himself in an attempt to become invisible. God help him.
INT. SAME - MOMENTS LATER
Church is now in session and twice as full as it just was. Everyone stands. A young DEACON reads at the pulpit.
DEACON
The word of the Lord.
CONGREGATION
Thanks be to God.
Everyone sits. Holden gets caught in a daydream and finally sits three seconds after everyone else.
HOLDEN
(quietly)
Where's the bathroom?
OLGA
Downstairs.
HOLDEN
Thanks.
He tries to squirm past her, but she grabs his wrist-
OLGA
(smiles strangely)
You can go after the homily. You
don't want to miss it. Trust me.
Overcome by her surprise authority, he sits back down.
FR. GALLAGHER, short like a Hobbit, old like a wizard, snappy like the Irishman he is, slowly walks to the pulpit.
His Irish-accented words are precise and well-chosen. The pitch and volume of his voice rise on random words.
FR. GALLAGHER
A grand morning to you all. Before I get
into the nitty-gritty of today's Gospel,
it's come to my attention that we have
a new soul in our Lord's house.
Holden's elbows rest on his knees and his face in his hands. Naive people may mistake it for prayer. Smarter people know he's trying to nap.
FR. GALLAGHER
And not just any soul. A soul blessed
with the bloodline of Ms. Olga Hagar.
Olga can't contain the smile that rainbows across her face. She looks at Holden and sees his face is down.
She kicks his foot. He pops up. Looks forward. Sees the priest looking at him. This provokes Holden to look away.
FR. GALLAGHER
Holden, would you stand up for us?
Holden freezes. No way in hell did the priest just say-
FR. GALLAGHER
-Holden? That is your name, right?
I can call you laddy if you'd like.
Upon another kick, Holden slowly rises.
FR. GALLAGHER
Ah, there you are, boy. Olga tells me you
come from a far-off land. Can you tell
everyone where that is?
His voice cracks.
HOLDEN
New. Um. New York.
FR. GALLAGHER
The state or the city?
HOLDEN
City.
FR. GALLAGHER
Impressive. Hopefully, our slow way of life
in Ohio isn't too boring for you. Would
you turn so everyone can see you?
Looking like there's a gun to his head, he mechanically turns so everyone can look at him like a prized goat. One person tries to start a clap. It immediately fails.
Holden rotates back around.
FR. GALLAGHER
Well, that's enough embarrassment for
now. Welcome to our church, laddy.
HOLDEN
Thank you.
He really means it -- thank you for ending that dumpster fire.
He cowers into the pew as low as possible while Olga now postures herself ten feet higher, floating with utter joy.
INT. CHURCH ENTRANCE - MORNING
Holden dreadfully shakes hands with whomever Olga tells him to. Finally, once the line has ended, he makes a dash for the outside doors. She grabs his hand-
OLGA
Holden, not so fast. You lucked out...
it's doughnut Sunday!
JUMP CUT TO:
INT. CHURCH BASEMENT - MORNING
Olga holds a glazed doughnut. Holden holds his phone. They walk to the same group from last night. The mood is grim.
Mrs. Opal stands next to MARY CATHERINE (17). She has cherry red hair and wears a yellow sundress. She's the bell of the Christian ball.
Mrs. Opal gives Holden the stink eye the moment he looks at her. Nay. It's dirtier than a stink eye. It's a dirty stink eye.
GEORGE
...and it's only going to get worse.
MRS. OPAL
Hi Olga. Hi Holden.
Did you hear about PAUL?
OLGA
About his warts?
MRS. OPAL
No. Those are still rampant.
His house was robbed last night.
OLGA
Oh, dear! Are you okay?
MR. PAUL (50), with overgrown hair with bifocals, shrugs. He's the Lebron James of parishioners that'll slap your ass to next week in a Gospel debate. No wife, yet everyone calls him mister.
MR. PAUL
I supposed. More scared than anything.
Praise the Lord they were scared off before
they took my catechism collection.
OLGA
Praise the Lord, indeed.
MS. KERRY
Yup. Praise God.
Holden's buried in his phone. He Tweets rapidly:
Church 101: if you want to fit in, say "Praise God" after everything.
GEORGE
Do the police have any leads?
Mr. PAUL shakes his head no.
MR. PAUL
They told me these break-ins happen weekly
and the best defense is a security system. Which he
said he could install for fifty percent off on
weekends. It's his side business.
GEORGE
Unbelievable. We pay them to
clean up the streets and year after
year it only gets worse.
MS. KERRY
It's true. A cop friend told me they've stopped
patrolling the bad neighborhoods.
And those are the ones most of us live in.
LOUISE
Did he say why?
MS. KERRY
Said they are understaffed and can't risk the violence.
And they get half-off apps at Applebees,
so they tend to linger around there.
GEORGE
Goodness sakes.
MR. PAUL
So, when the robber was in my house, I prayed
that God take care of it. And guess what?
The intruder left without taking a thing.
Sure, my dog clenched onto his testicles
like Judas clenched onto his thirty pieces but still.
Perhaps we form a prayer group for an end to
all the violence.
Holden continues Tweeting:
Church 101: Ask God for anything: superpowers, ice-cream, kittens, and you'll indefinitely get it.
MRS. OPAL
I like it. We could merge it with
Operation Keep Yo Pants On.
LOUISE
Amen to that.
MRS. OPAL
I will say this, it'd sure feel nice to
be able to go on walks again.
OLGA
I do miss how delightful our
neighborhoods used to be.
MS. KERRY
Amen. Amen. How about this idea?
(beat)
We pray about it?
MRS. OPAL
Yes! Amen!
OLGA
Amen!
MR. PAUL
Alleluia. Leave it in God's hands.
GEORGE
I feel we've made progress already. I'll see
everyone next meeting. God Bless!
Holden fires off another Tweet:
Church 101: Procrastination is appropriate as long as it's left in God's hands.
And just like that, everyone disperses, except Olga, Holden, Mrs. Opal, and Mary Catherine.
Holden is oblivious and fires off another Tweet:
Church 101: Don't know whether or not go to class? Leave it in God's hands. Don't know whether or not-
His Tweet gets cut off by Olga-
OLGA
Holden, I'd like you to
meet Mary Catherine.
Holden is more than happy to finally share his attention.
HOLDEN
Hi, Mary Catherine. I'm Holden.
It's a pleasure to meet you.
Holden sticks out his hand. She shakes his hand, but just as she goes to speak, she's interrupted-
MRS. OPAL
We have choir practice, dear.
See you for dinner, Olga.
Mrs. Opal and Mary Catherine walk away.
OLGA
So, what do you think?
HOLDEN
Of her daughter?
I think she's darn-
OLGA
-No. The church?
HOLDEN
Oh.
(beat)
It's divine. Praise God.
Olga rattles like a bobblehead and walks toward the door.