A tormented artist under house arrest has just three days left in his tracking anklet when a friend stashes a toddler's backpack full of stolen drugs in his home.

PINK is a feature-length comedy by Josh Barkey. It is currently in post production with Director Austin Herring. Contribute to the film HERE for your very own pre-release copy, and a bucket of unicorn-glitter.

*Note: The following excerpt contains harsh language. 

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A vaguely bird-like CALL pierces the darkness.

                         BIRD CALL


Pink's eyes POP open.

Pink is Caucasian, early 30s. Medium build. A sweaty-toothed madman with wild, thick hair and bloodshot eyes. 

He's also naked, with the exception of a pair of tighty-whitie underwear and a POLICE TRACKING ANKLET.

The bird call sounds again.

                         BIRD CALL
                Pink! Pink! Piiink!

Pink is on his back in a cramped attic bedroom, on the top floor of a slightly-derelict, three-story brick house -- a late-'70s suburban mini-mansion.

He rolls groggily toward the sound.

Sitting at the window next to an oversize telescope-on-a-tripod is SAM FINCH. Sam is an early-40s hipster with a man-crush on Che Guevara.

At the moment, though, he's wearing a BIRD SUIT -- a robin red-breast -- and smoking a cigarette.


Pink rubs his eyes.

                Hey, Pink!

Pink looks again -- Sam is still there.

                Rise and shine and go fuck yourself, amigo!

Pink stands.

Sam is gone.

Pink walks to the telescope and looks through.


A BACK YARD. Tree-branches.

Our round window-to-the-world tracks through the branches and finds a ROBIN, then moves to the channel behind the house, over the rippled water to a deep-blue air mattress with a blonde girl on it.

A WOMAN, in a bright-red bikini and over-sized sunglasses.

Her name is HEATHER, but for now all she is to us (and Pink) is 11% body fat on a cushion of air.

Pink blinks.

Now a BRUNETTE lies on the air mattress.

Pink rubs his eyes vigorously. Looks back through the glass.

It's Heather-the-blonde, again.


Heather sees a glint of reflected light from the top floor of Pink's house.

Does she know it's a telescope?

She lowers her sunglasses. Begins to untie her bikini top.


Pink holds his breath, watching through the telescope as Heather unties. 


On a stand directly behind him, an antique, red rotary-telephone RINGS! off its hook. 

Pink JOLTS away from the telescope, SMACKING a lamp and KNOCKING it careening. He grabs for the lamp, misses, and falls to the floor. 

The telescope tips onto two legs and CLINK! leans against the window. 

The lamp lands with a CLATTER.

The phone continues to RING.

Pink crawls to the phone. He reaches for it. Hesitates. He picks it up. He Listens. 

A moment passes.

                         VOICE (V.O.)

This is the voice of BARRINGTON PHILPOTTS.

                         BARRINGTON (V.O.)
                I can hear you breathing, Pink. 
                Say something.

Pink doesn't answer.

                         BARRINGTON (V.O.)
                I'm coming over.

                I got two days left. I told you not to call

                         BARRINGTON (V.O.)
                I'm coming over.

                Two days.

                         BARRINGTON (V.O.)
                Already on my wa--

CLONK! Pink SLAMS the receiver down on its cradle.

Pink collapses back to the floor and stares at the ceiling. He notices his telescope leaning against the window.

Pink gets up and adjusts the telescope. Scans across the water.

Heather is gone.

Pink exhales heavily.


A POUNDING on the downstairs door echoes through the house. 



Pink makes his way out of the room and down a first flight of steps, muttering "asshole" in various sing-song ways:


He walks a short hall and enters another bedroom, then crosses it, to the window.


Pink opens the window and crawls through.

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Thanks for your interest! 

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An early draft of PINK was a quarterfinalist in the 2014 Scriptapalooza Screenwriting competition and a second-rounder in the 2014 Austin Film Festival Screenplay Competition.