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<strong>MOTIVE</strong>“<strong>Creeping</strong> Tom”TEASERFADE IN:INT. THE LAMPLIGHTER - NIGHTA dimly lit tavern where every hour is happy hour. In ONESHOT that will last the scene, we move down a mile-long barfilled with booze-happy REGULARS, through leatherettebooths, and stop on a small karaoke stage. Everyone cheersas the immensely likable and slightly overweight MR. MARTIN,30s, starts singing to the tune of The Archies’ Sugar,Sugar.MR. MARTINGlucose -- ah, sugar sugar. You aremy favorite fuel. From the bloodbornesubstrate pool.CAMERA ROAMS to the dance floor, where the crowd bumps andgrinds. A lacy bra flies on stage, TAKING US back to Mr.Martin, clearly a favorite here. He gamely swivels his hips.MR. MARTIN (cont'd)Glucose -- mono saccharide sugar.You're sweeter than a woman's kiss.'Cause I need you for glycolysis.A sexy REDHEAD runs on stage and starts go-go dancing. Mr.Martin sings to her for all he’s worth.MR. MARTIN (cont'd)I just can't believe the way mymuscles take you in. For you,they'll open the door. All it takesis a little bit of insulin. To upregulateglute four.FREEZE FRAME on Mr. Martin, in all his small-time glory, andWHOOSH to his smiling face. The words appear under him:The VictimFLARE TO WHITE.