FADE IN:

EXT. WORK SITE

TOM HARDY gets in his CAR.

INT. TOM’S CAR, AND THAT'S THE LAST FUCKING SCENE HEADING YOU GET SO SETTLE IN

TOM HARDY

Really? Damn, would have been a pretty minor tweak to have me in the car for 100% of the movie, instead of 99.6% of it. Like, "Gosh that was a hard day at work being a construction foreman!" Ah well.

(shrugs)

TOM waits at a traffic light, trying to decide whether to turn LEFT or RIGHT. He spends a long moment weighing his options, royally PISSING OFF everyone behind him but hey, next time you're raging at some idiot driver who can't make up their mind well MAYBE THEY'RE MAKING A HUGE LIFE-CHANGING DECISION OKAY.

Since no TIMELINE-ALTERING BEETLE attaches itself to TOM, he TURNS LEFT, and then calls HOME.

TOM'S WIFE

(on phone)

Hey honey, me and your two adoring sons were just making your favourite food and putting the soccer game on and installing the custom bar with 24 draft beers and I'm wearing the "Wonder Woman: Tomb Raider" outfit, will you be home soon?

TOM HARDY

(patiently)

Perhaps. It depends on traffic.

(pause)

Okay traffic, AND I just learned this woman I slept with one time is having her baby early. I’m going to be there because I was abandoned at birth, and I’m not going to let this child be abandoned by his father.

TOM'S WIFE

Soooo… instead, you’re abandoning OUR children? So they can grow up knowing what it’s like when their Dad suddenly vanishes?

TOM HARDY

(calmly)

I can't let this baby know the agonizing feeling of...

TOM'S WIFE

IT'S A FUCKING BABY TOM. Babies don't remember shit. Your teenage children on the other hand, have fully-formed memories to go with their easily damaged psyches. What the hell?

TOM HARDY

(soothingly)

But, you see, I have not really thought this through.

TOM'S WIFE

Well go fuck yourself Tom. I'm leaving you, taking the kids, and throwing the deep-fried gadgetbacon straight in the trash. Goodbye forever!

(hangs up)

OTHER CARS pass by, receding into the distance faster than TOM'S domestic happiness. TOM calls up his work assistant dude who really really sounds like CHRIS O’DOWD but isn’t.

NOT CHRIS O'DOWD

What's up, Tom? It's awful late for-

TOM HARDY

(measuredly)

Listen, you have to supervise the concrete pour tomorrow. I’m going to be busy dealing with a semen pour I did last year.

NOT CHRIS O'DOWD

Shit, really? I am so not prepared. I don't have your expertise, your knowledge, I'm not even shitfaced drunk yet! Hold on.

(pause)

Okay I took care of that third thing. Now what?

(vomits)

TOM HARDY

(reassuringly)

It’s okay, don't panic. I left you a fully detailed binder with everything you need. It’s comprehensive and thorough and sitting on the seat beside me, FUCKITY FUCK FUCK okay it's fine, I will dictate the whole sorry mess to you right now.

TIME PASSES as TOM dictates all the figures and charts and specifications. Given the size of the binder, we can only assume that FOUR DAYS have passed by the time he hangs up.

TOM drives ever onward. The dashed lane markers whip past impassively, wondering if TOM bothered to take a leak before this epic all-night journey. TOM’S HOMEWRECKING WHOREBAG FLOOZY calls.

TOM'S HOMEWRECKING WHOREBAG FLOOZY

The baby's coming Tom! Where are you?

TOM HARDY

(gently)

Don’t worry. I am on my way. It all depends on traffic.

TOM'S HOMEWRECKING WHOREBAG FLOOZY

My womb doesn't give a fuck about traffic! Why would you think that? Are you going... MAD?!?

TOM HARDY

(actual line from movie where he does nothing but drive for two hours)

MAD?! Ha ha, perhaps I am! Perhaps I am going MAD!!

(turns A/C to MAX)

TOM'S HOMEWRECKING WHOREBAG FLOOZY

Okay now you're just trolling me.

(hangs up)

TOM passes many OFFRAMPS and EXITS, but there is no offramp from his chosen path now, no confusingly-labelled roundabout that might eventually return him to the life he once knew. Like, if TOM tried Google-Mapping "get me out of this mess back to normality" it would just say YEAH RIGHT BUDDY, AS FUCKING IF.

TOM’S BOSS calls.

TOM'S BOSS

Tom what the hell? Head office is freaking out, they're making me fire you.

TOM HARDY

(melodically)

It’s okay. Just explain that I’ve fucked off to deal with my horrible personal life, they’ll understand.

TOM'S BOSS

Couldn’t you just call in sick?

TOM HARDY

No, my honour forbids it! I must fulfil my responsibilities! Now you could argue that not getting myself shitcanned is, in fact, one of those responsibilities; or not destroying my family; or not panicking our board of directors could be another. But my personal code demands I not lie about this!

TOM blows an Imperial pint of SNOT out his NOSE.

TOM'S BOSS

It sounds like you actually are sick though.

TOM HARDY

Whatever.

(hangs up)

TOM reflects on his decisions as his FACE reflects in the rear-view mirror. And the side window. And the hood. Much REFLECTION happens, both literal and otherwise. NOT CHRIS O'DOWD calls.

NOT CHRIS O'DOWD

Um, they’re saying the concrete mix might not be pure #6 concrete, they may have to mix in a bit of bovine assleakage and curdled milk. Is that OK?

TOM HARDY

(hypnotically)

No, no it is not. What does it say on the invoice? Number six. What does it say on all the work orders? Number six. What does it say tattooed on the inside of your eyelids in glow-in-the-dark ink, so it blazes into your brain whenever you close your eyes? Number six.

NOT CHRIS O'DOWD

So I should use number six.

TOM HARDY

(evenly)

Yes, of course. If you don’t, cracks will appear in the foundation. And once the foundation is compromised, everything you’ve built starts to fall apart! All that you’ve worked for and achieved begins crumbling away until you've got nothing left and OH MAN I FEEL LIKE THERE'S SOMETHING ELSE GOING ON IN MY LIFE THAT WOULD ILLUSTRATE THIS POINT REALLY REALLY WELL, FUCK WHAT IS IT, WHY CAN'T I REMEMBERRRRRRRRR

NOT CHRIS O'DOWD

Right. Number six. Will do.

(vomits)

(hangs up)

TOM has a conversation with his IMAGINARY DEAD FATHER.

TOM HARDY

(coolly)

You're loving this, aren't you, Dead Dad? I know you're not really there. I know this is only a device the writer added because hey, it's just me in a car, how else can we tap into my innermost thoughts?

(pause)

Can I help it if all my innermost thoughts are simply my character motivations spelled out in large crayon, in case people are having trouble keeping up? Sod off Dead Dad.

More TIME PASSES. TOM looks wearily at the traffic. He SHOULDER-CHECKS his lifepath and sees only a giant ball of FUCKAGE bearing down on him. One of his HENCHMEN calls.

HENCHMAN

Hi Tom, look, sorry to bug you, but I’ve got the guys installing the drop-down gate here, and they’re asking if they really need to use the #4 iron?

TOM HARDY

One moment.

(digs out Bane mask from glove compartment)

YEESSHHH, OF COURSHHH! HOW ELSHH ARE WE SHUPPOSHED TO CONTAIN THE BAT-MAN?!??

HENCHMAN

And the ring of explosives, can they go with a standard four-point arrangement or…

TOM HARDY

NO, GODDAMN IT! I NEED A SHINGLE UNBROKEN SHIRCLE, TO DRAMATICALLY REVEAL WE ARE BENEATH WAYNE ENTERPRISHHES!! LOOK AT THE INVOISHH!!! THE WORK ORDERSSHHH!!! DO I NEED TO DICTATE THE WHOLE BINDER TO YOU AGAIN?!??? FUCK'SHHH SHHAKE!!!!

HENCHMAN

Okay, God, keep you knickers on.

(hangs up)

TOM HARDY

THANKSH FOR SHAYING THAT NINE MONTHSSHH AGO, FUCKSHHTICK

Overhead signs indicate that TOM'S destination draws nearer, while the SOUNDTRACK OF MOROSENESS reminds TOM that this isn't really something to be overjoyed about. The HOSPITAL calls.

NURSE

So you know how you threw away your entire personal and professional life to be here for this baby being born? Well, it’s born. You missed it. But I'm sure your son will appreciate having a down-and-out Dad with no job and no money who doesn't actually love his Mom, so good job there.

TOM HARDY

Fuck. Guess there’s only one thing left to do.

(causes apocalypse)

(goes mad)

WHAT A LOOOOOVELY DAAAAAYY DEPENDING ON TRAFFIC

(drives off into hellscape)

END