EXT. COLONIAL MANOR, PHILADELPHIA SUBURB

Ritzy ‘hood of the Grey Poupon crowd. Mercedes and Bentleys pack the spacious driveway. Classical musical plays…

INT. KITCHEN, MANOR

A big-time lawyer and his pals nibble stuffed mushrooms & sip wine spritzers, chatting about hedge funds- rich guy shit.

They’re gathered to watch the Super Bowl. Well, in theory, anyway. They think a turnover’s a fucking pastry. Fortunately-

ANGRY VOICES O.S.: Ah, bullshit! Cocksucker! Fuck you!

LIVING ROOM.

A flurry of beer cans PELT the 100-inch plasma on the wall.

Six hardcore fans- decked head to toe in Eagles gear- SPRING off the plush sofa, chucking the finger at the screen.

KATE (35), a Philly detective who could pass for a Jersey trucker, is the leader of these misfits. After all, she’s the big-time lawyer’s girlfriend- she invited these heathens.

KATE: Hey, c’mon! JESUS! This ain’t Stahley’s. Fuck. (to lawyer, explaining) Super Bowl tradition. You throw cans and curse- brings good luck.

MIKEY (40), her skinny, dim-witted brother, eyes her quizzically.

MIKEY: It does? Well, shit.

Pounds his beer so he can hurl the empty can.

KATE (grumbles): Goddammit. Knew I shouldn’t brought you fucking idiots.

Just then, she gets a text. Horror spreads across her face.

KATE: Looks like the ref’s not the only one robbing us. Some asshole just jacked the Mint.

MIKEY: What, like the gum?

KATE: Yeah. Someone robbed ‘gum.’

A fat dude, BROWNIE, scarfs down tortilla chips drowning in bean dip.

BROWNIE: Peppermint or spearmint? Can never tell the difference.

MIKEY: Fuck ya talkin’ about? One’s green, one’s blue- like Eagles, Cowboys.

BROWNIE: Fuck you, Cowgirls!

MIKEY (grabs his dick): Suck on this, Jerry Jones!

KATE: No, dickheads. The U.S. Mint. You know, the place they make coins? Things you use to pay for your haircuts?

Snatches her purse. Tosses a can of beer inside. And another.

MIKEY: You’re goin’ to the office now?

KATE: Duty calls, bitch.

Slugs down her beer as the lawyer sashays over.

KATE: And you assholes are leaving, too. I can’t trust you here alone.

MIKEY: What?! Game ain’t over yet.

LAWYER: It’s alright, babe. We’re in the ‘bro zone.’ Go Eagles! Mess ‘em up!

The guys eye the douchebag sipping a wine spritzer.

KATE: Fine. Don’t bitch at me when there’s puke in the bean dip.

The lawyer rushes over to greet her before she goes. All sexy-

LAWYER: Hey, babe. Don’t you wanna tell me something?

KATE: Yeah. You’re low on Kettle One.

And bolts out the door.

BROWNIE: Awright, so… which one’s green and which one’s blue?

MIKEY: Ah, Jesus Christ.