Porry | Ro Ghoul Script

Porry grins, revealing teeth just a little too sharp.

A CORPSE’S finger twitches. Porry stops.

THE INSPECTOR We need to find the First Corpse. The one who never rotted. If you raise her, she can un-write the law that lets the Guild tax death.

FADE TO BLACK.

MR. HIGGINS (Cracking his neck) That’s true.

THE INSPECTOR You’ve started a revolution. The Guild will send Harvesters. Acid rain. Bone-golems.

MATRON SKULL Faster, you little grub. The Guild pays two shillings a pound for Grade-A Tibia. You’ve given me eleven ounces. Porry Ro Ghoul Script

PORRY I’m an orphan. We’re all strange. So what’s the play?

MATRON SKULL There are no rats in Lichfield. I ate the last one in ’09.

PORRY (Grinning) Sue me. Porry and The Inspector stand on the slick tiles. Below, the dead mill about peacefully, handing each other tea. Porry grins, revealing teeth just a little too sharp

MATRON SKULL You’re being promoted. To the Lower Cellar.

CORPSE (MR. HIGGINS) Where’s my pipe?

THE INSPECTOR (Sighs) You are a very strange child. THE INSPECTOR We need to find the First Corpse

PORRY Finally. I was bored of topside bones. It’s not a cellar. It’s a cathedral of corpses. Thousands of bodies hang from meat hooks, swaying in formaldehyde mist. In the center: a giant PRESS, squeezing a cadaver into a brick.