INT. CUBICLE FARM – DAY

DING! The elevator doors open and HANK MILLER (40s) strolls through the doors, eager to face the day. He smiles and nods at this fellow co-workers as he makes his way to his cubicle.

He passes BARRY JOHN (40s) already tucked into his work, sleeves rolled up, pencil behind both ears. Hank rolls his eyes as he slings his messenger bag across the back of his chair and fires up his computer.

He heads over to the coffee maker and the cart filled with mugs. He reaches down, just like he’s done every morning for the last 15 years, and grabs his mug. He picks up the coffee pot and is about to pour when he stops. Dead in his tracks.

This. Is. Not. His. Mug.

He slams it back into the cart and quickly rifles through the other mugs.

Gone.

He stands up and surveys the office.

It’s out there. Somewhere. And someone else is putting their moist lips on it.

He shudders at the thought. His brow furrows and he begins stalking the aisles, looking over the cubicle walls to see what people are drinking out of.

He passes Barry John’s cube. Stops. Slowly backtracks.

There it is! It clearly says “Hankster” on it.

He enters Barry’s cube and stands there, silently, until Barry notices his presence.

Barry turns and looks with a “Can I help you?” expression.

Hank glares at his mug.

Barry looks, picks it up and takes a big, slurping sip from it.

Hank’s hand shoots out and grasps the mug. Coffee sloshes out onto Barry’s shirt.

Barry stands up, still holding on tight to the mug.

The two men glare into each other’s eyes, each holding the mug. Each one’s finger tips going white from squeezing so hard, trying to pull it free from the other.

Their hands start to shake.

Finally Barry throws up both hands in an “I surrender” pose and Hank jerks the mug towards himself, hitting himself in the mouth with it and spilling the entire mug down his chest.

Hanks takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes. His teeth clenched. A tiny drop of blood rises on his split lip. His grip on the mug so great it shatters in his hand. Pieces of ceramic explode everywhere.

Barry’s eyes go wide in shock.

Hank is shaking with rage. His face goes from pink to red to bright red to PURPLE!

Barry scoots back against his desk.

Hank raises his clenched fist.

Barry closes his eyes tight and braces for impact.

THUD.

Barry opens one eye. He sees nothing. He looks at the floor. Both eyes pop open as he sees Hank, lying in heap, unconscious on the floor.

Barry quickly looks around to see if anyone is looking. All heads remain bowed over their keyboards.

He looks around his cube, as if searching for an answer.

DING!

The elevator doors open and J.R. RENNER (60s), the boss, gets off the elevator.

Barry sees J.R. headed around the office and quickly scoops up Hank and drags him over to his own cube.

He tries to set him in his chair, but it keeps swiveling out of the way. He drops Hank, whose head bounces off the desk.

J.R. is making his way toward them.

Barry winces, turns the chair around and holds it steady with one foot. He then reaches down and hoists Hank into his seat. He quickly turns Hank around so he’s facing his monitor, and positions him so it looks like he’s sleeping with his head down on the desk.

Barry pops up and looks around. The coast is clear.

He quickly heads back over to his cube and kicks the mug shards under his desk.

He sits down and makes like he’s working hard, just as J.R. walks past. J.R. winks at him as he passes. Barry smiles and nods.

J.R. stops outside of Hanks cube. He sighs and shakes his head. He notices Barry watching him and hoists his thumb in Hank’s direction with a “Get a load of this guy” expression.

Barry walks over to J.R. and holds and imaginary beer can and tips it to his mouth a couple of times.

J.R.’s eyebrows rise “Ah.” He shakes his head. Shrugs. Chucks Barry on the shoulder and without turning around he walks off.

Revealing Hank standing the aisle – computer raised over his head!

WHAM!

Barry goes down. Hard.

Hank straightens his tie. Wipes the blood from his lip.

He returns to the coffee cart, grabs a mug, any ol’ mug and fills ‘er up. He returns the pot and reaches for the creamer.

Empty.

He scans the cart looking for more. He sighs. He shrugs.

He pours the coffee back into the pot.

He steps over Barry’s body as he returns to his cube, opens his messenger bag and pulls out his wallet. Opens it to make sure his Starbucks card is in there. Yep.

He heads for the elevator.

BLACKOUT