A Very Normal Sinkhole

Fluorescent lights BUZZ like insects. A sad potted plant leans toward death. JAX MALORY stares at a wall of blinking call lights like it’s a firing squad.

Civic Panic Hotline. If your panic is civic, press— no, sorry, we don’t have buttons. Just… speak into the despair.

A red light clicks on: LIVE FEED. MAYOR TILDA GRUME sweeps in with a camera crew and a ring light clipped to her blazer like a parasite.

Big smiles, Brixley! Today we demonstrate competence.

We’re demonstrating?

Staging. Same thing with better lighting.

She snaps her fingers. A PRODUCER holds up a cue card: “WE TAKE EVERY CALL SERIOUSLY.”

MAYOR GRUME (CONT’D)

We’ll run a controlled scenario. A *very normal* sinkhole. Harmless. Pedagogical.

Behind her, SABLE ORTIZ rolls in a plastic kiddie pool filled with dirt. She plants a tiny flag: “SINKHOLE (SIMULATED).” She wears tactical gear anyway.

Perimeter established. Suspected underground motives.

DEPUTY HANK LORR shuffles in with a clipboard, already sweating.

For the record, we don’t have a “simulated catastrophe” permit. We barely have a “real catastrophe” permit.

That’s why we’re filming it. Permits are confidence problems.

The phones ERUPT. All lines light.

Oh good. America heard “sinkhole.”

Perfect! Take a call. Be warm. Be municipal.

JAX answers.

Civic Panic Hotline.

CUTAWAY - EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - DAY

A DAD in cargo shorts points at a perfectly normal driveway crack.

Your sinkhole is stealing my property value. I can hear it *whispering foreclosure.*

Sir, that’s a crack.

DAD (V.O.)

That’s what the sinkhole *wants* you to think.

JAX glances at Grume. She grins for camera, thumbs up: KEEP GOING.

Okay. We will… take your crack seriously.

Say the line.

JAX (reading cue card, dead)

We take every call seriously.

SABLE is already kneeling at the kiddie pool, sprinkling it with something from an unmarked bottle.

Is that… soda?

To attract ants. Ants are nature’s first responders.

Cutaway humor, love it. Now— escalation! Make it sound robust.

We don’t escalate soda ants.

We escalate *optics.*

Another call BLARES through. Jax taps it.

Civic Panic Hotline—

OLD WOMAN (V.O.)

The ground ate my garden gnome. His name was Lieutenant Pebbles. I want charges filed.

Lieutenant? Military connection. This is bigger.

No. No, it’s not—

SABLE slaps a laminated card onto Jax’s desk: “PROTOCOL: THREAT LEVELS.” It only has one level: “MAXIMUM.”

I’m deploying.

Yes! Field footage! Hero angle!

Sable sprints out.

Please don’t “deploy” to a kiddie pool.

JAX (into phone)

Ma’am, we will locate your… lieutenant.

The PRODUCER swaps cue cards: “APOLOGY IF NECESSARY.”

A LOW RUMBLE. Everyone freezes.

That’s a sound effect, right?

The kiddie pool DENTS inward like it’s being sucked from below. Dirt slurps down.

Oh no. That’s a real effect.

How did your fake sinkhole become—

SABLE (O.S.)

CONTACT!

Sable stands over the kiddie pool which now sits at the lip of a WIDENING, REAL SINKHOLE. The plaza tiles fracture in spiderweb lines. A PARKING METER tips and disappears like a diver.

Sinkhole has gone kinetic! Requesting backup and snacks!

A TOURIST FAMILY films. A kid licks an ice cream, unfazed.

This town has cool sidewalks.

MAYOR GRUME turns to camera, smile glued on hard.

And this, folks, is exactly why we prepared—

Prepared? We prepared NOTHING!

HANK flips through forms like they’re holy texts.

I have “pothole,” “unexpected puddle,” and “miscellaneous sadness.” No sinkhole.

Phones SHRIEK louder. Hold music leaks out: a cheerful clarinet loop, now ominous.

Okay. Triage. Real sinkhole. Priority one. Everyone else—

No. Equal panic for all. We can’t alienate pothole constituents.

The PRODUCER thrusts the apology card at Jax.

JAX (reading, hollow)

We apologize for any inconvenience the… ground may cause.

The floor under their desks CREAKS.

City Hall is on top of… what used to be the plaza.

MAYOR GRUME (to camera, still smiling)

Brixley remains fully operational.

The building SHUDDERS. A framed portrait of Grume falls, glass cracking like applause.

JAX grabs the mic, drops the script.

Listen up. If you are calling about a crack, a gnome, or a whispering driveway— hang up. If you are currently being eaten by the Earth— stay on the line.

Beat.

Every line goes QUIET… then ALL LIGHTS BLINK at once.

Oh. Great. Everybody’s being eaten.

The sinkhole BLOOMS wider. Sable salutes it.

I love a mission with follow-through!

MAYOR GRUME steps into frame for a heroic shot as the ground behind her collapses.

Brixley! Do not panic—

She drops out of frame with a yelp.

JAX leans into the headset, calm in the worst way.

Civic Panic Hotline. Please hold.

The clarinet hold music plays as the ceiling sprinkles dust like confetti.