Butter Miracle; The Rock Opera

Counting Crows new Album; Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets! is simply amazing. The more I listen, the more I Invision each song unfolding a story. A movie on the big screen?...or maybe on Broadway? (or off Broadway?). I imagine a Rock Opera, kind of "tommy" meets "the wall"...So, I wrote a screenplay. I am by no means a screenplay writer and wrote this mainly for fun. But here it is, enjoy!

"Butter Miracle – A Rock Opera"
(9 scenes, each scene includes one of the 9 songs from "Butter Miracle; the complete sweets ". Each song is presented with a mix of live performances, vivid imagery of lyrical content, and flashbacks of the main characters lives.)

ACT I, SCENE 1: "WITH LOVE, FROM A–Z"
Open with a shot of a Tulsa Suburb, dusk. Then, Zoom-in:

INT. BEDROOM

Scene duration: ~8 minutes

We open with silence. Then:

A cassette clicks into motion. Warm analog tape hiss. The soft glow of a desk lamp reveals walls covered in vinyl sleeves, old maps, and a cracked poster of Big Star. The room is a shrine to a different era.

BOBBY, awkward, lanky, mid-20s, in a threadbare band tee and army jacket, sits at a desk. His hair is unkempt. His eyes carry weight—grief held in suspension. He holds a pen. A blank letter rests before him. A photograph of ALLY, early 20s, radiant, alive, is pinned above.

BOBBY (softly)
"Okay… again."

He begins writing—slowly, carefully. Voiceover begins.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"Ally—I don't know where to begin. I know I love you. I know it's all fucked up. I can't stay in this town, I need you, but I need to figure out who I am. I wish you would come with me."

Cut to: him crumpling the letter, throwing into a pile wadded paper.

He rips a page from the notebook and starts a new one, marked: "With Love, From A–Z".

He sits down at a piano, begins to play, pause and write, then play and write some more.

Music begins.

SONG: "With Love, From A–Z"
(sung by Bobby)
Images of Ally flash: running through sprinklers. Laughing in a field. Her voice, a melody half-remembered.

Suddenly, that memory shifts—A door slams. A drunken man's shout. Ally's face in shadow. A Man stands in the shadows outside her door. A bruise. She mouths, "Don't tell."

BOBBY (quietly)
"No", tears in his eyes.

He hits record on a nearby tape recorder, continues singing and recording the song as he plays piano.

Song continues, as we cut to:
Bobby packing a duffle bag with clothes and picks up a guitar case.
Cut to images of Bobby at a bus station, and boarding a greyhound bus.
Cut to images of Bobby riding the bus wearing headphones sitting in the bus as he mouths the lyrics as the song continues.
ALLY'S VOICE, fragile, starts singing along with Bobbys:

SONG ENDS:
Ally's voice continues after the music, as Bobby sits in a bus seat reading a letter.Ally V.O.- "If you ever come back… I won't be here."

Tears hover at the edge of Bobby's eyes as he stares out the window of the bus watching the landscape pass by.

Cut to evening, on the bus:

BOBBY (V.O), writing in a notebook.

"Ally, You know me. At least, the old me. The weird kid everyone made fun of. Everyone pushed around. I think he might be dying, and I'm afraid you could never love who I want to be...... I will always love you. No matter what."
Cut to Bobby, stepping off the bus.
-Zoom to the eyes traced in eyeliner, mismatched boots, metallic jacket—glimpses of a stitched-up persona with stars painted under his eyes.
—in the distant fireworks or maybe flares and mushroom smoke clouds are on the horizon. Something's not right outside.
Bobby looks concerned and puzzled. Then smiles.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"Hell of a welcome, California. Hope you're all ready for me!"

CUT TO BLACK.

ACT I, SCENE 2: "SPACEMAN IN TULSA"
INT. DIVE BAR – NIGHT

Scene duration: ~9 minutes

A gaudy neon sign blinks: "NEBULA LOUNGE – LIVE MUSIC NIGHTLY". The inside smells of beer, bleach, and burnout. Flickering lights give the bar a sickly, otherworldly glow.

At the back, Bobby, now reborn as THE SPACEMAN, enters. Everyone notices him, no one knows him. The patrons stare and look confused and inquisitive.

A dirty mirror reflects his fractured image.

SPACEMAN (V.O.)
"Somewhere between Kansas and nowhere, I left Bobby behind. And maybe I left Ally, too. Out here… I'm someone new. Something unreal."

Onstage: a local punk band screams through feedback. A singer thrashes, mic cutting in and out. Lyrics are unintelligible. The crowd is thin, disinterested. The Spaceman lights a cigarette, sipping whiskey alone at the bar. The bartender, late 50s, eyes him.

BARTENDER
"You one of those synth-pop prophets?"

SPACEMAN
"Depends who's asking."

The bartender walks off. The Spaceman exhales smoke slowly, watching the band dissolve into dissonance. The bar TV suddenly cuts in—an emergency feed.

TV ANCHOR (distorted)
"...reports of activity along the northern border... communications interrupted... military presence increasing…"

SPACEMAN (to himself)
"Always background noise."

He downs his drink, climbs onstage, uninvited. The bar hushes. A few drunk patrons boo.

He plugs in a battered Stratocaster. Feedback wails. He begins:

SONG: "Spaceman in Tulsa"
(Sung by The Spaceman)
He performs with over-the-top confidence, showing a sharp contrast to his old personality.
Everyone in the establishment quickly loses interest in the TV feed and is in awe of his performance.

As he finishes the song, a power flicker jolts the room. The crowd leans in. Something's happening outside—sirens, then silence.

Suddenly: TV feeds cut to black. Cell phones buzz, then die. Someone screams outside. People rush to the windows.

Outside: a military convoy roars through the street. Humvees, blacked-out windows. Gunmen. No markings.

BARTENDER (quietly)
"It's happening."

The Spaceman watches, frozen. Fireworks—or maybe air strikes—light the sky faintly to the north. The rumble of something far off and ancient.

SPACEMAN (V.O.)

"I wanted to become someone untouchable. But this… this is the world grabbing you by the throat."

Back inside: chaos begins. Some patrons run. Others drink harder. The bar loses power. Only a red emergency light remains.

The Spaceman unplugs. His silhouette lingers as the scene continues to unfold.

SPACEMAN (whispering)
"We thought the end would come with banners…
Not bad reverb and empty bottles."

He leaves his guitar leaning against the amp.

He walks out into the blacked-out city.

SMASH TO BLACK.

ACT I, SCENE 3: "BOXCARS"
EXT. ABANDONED RAILYARD – NIGHT

Scene duration: ~7 minutes

A full moon hangs behind drifting clouds. A derailed freight train groans quietly in the distance.

BOBBY again, stripped of the Spaceman's glitter—sits atop a moving boxcar, guitar slung over his shoulder, wind cutting across his face.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"The world cracked open in Los Angeles. I didn't hear the last note. Didn't finish the set. But maybe this… maybe this is the encore."

He lights a cigarette with shaking hands. A rail map, marked in red ink, flutters beside him.

Hard cut to: montage of Bobby's journey.

— He jumps a moving train in the Arizona desert.
— He plays for six drunks in a burned-out bowling alley.
— He sleeps on a church pew while police raid the shelter next door.

— He is in a meeting with a mysterious figure, offering him Fame and Fortune.
— Bobby signs a legal Document offered by him.

Inside a diner—early morning.

The TV plays static. Bobby sits across from JULES, 30s, dreadlocked, poetic and sharp-eyed. She reads a banned poetry zine aloud to him.

JULES
"'History is a mixtape made by the victors.' You believe that?"

BOBBY

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be stealing it back a verse at a time."
A young waitress pours coffee. Her name tag reads: "MEL – PRAY FOR MY BROTHER."

She leans in, whispers:

MEL
"You didn't hear it from me, but I know a camp where they're taking lyricists now. Federal lists. They're calling it "prevention."

They share a silent look. Then Bobby nods, sliding a copy of Jules' zine into his coat.

BOBBY
"Good thing I'm an approved artist."
he flashes a sly smile, Jules and Mel nod knowingly.

EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS – NIGHT

Military roadblock under amber floodlights. Civilians held in line. A woman is pulled from her car. Bobby watches from the shadows, gripping his guitar case.

Bobby (V.O.)"Checkpoint after checkpoint. Paperless, priceless, marked. I watched protest singers disappear. They stopped reporting it—stopped pretending to care."

INT. EMPTY WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

The birth of The SpaceMan and The Rat Kings Band.

KAI, ex-Marine, assembles a drum kit. He says little.
Jules strings her bass.

Bobby hands them both lyric sheets—black marker on torn Bible pages.

BOBBY
"You don't need to believe. You just need to feel it."

They plug into a Generator. A single lantern glows.

SONG: "Boxcars"
(Sung by Bobby )

Cut to: playing in abandoned theaters, church basements, cattle barns.

People come. They don't clap. They listen.

Jules steps up to the mic at one show.

JULES
"They made music a threat. So, we became dangerous."

BOBBY, Shouting:"It's the only fight I still believe in."His voice echo's as we finally hear the crowd erupt in applause.

EXT. RAILYARD – LATER

Bobby sits back atop the boxcar. A child waves from a passing farmhouse window.

He plays a quiet verse to himself as the train disappears into darkness.

BOBBY ( shouting from a distance, barely audible)
"The more they silence us, the louder we must sing…"

The camera lingers as the boxcar vanishes over the horizon, into a fog of smoke and dust.

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT I, SCENE 4: "VIRGINIA THROUGH THE RAIN"
EXT. HIGHWAY THROUGH RURAL VIRGINIA – DAY INTO NIGHT

Scene duration: ~ 10 minutes

Sheets of gray rain streak across the windshield. A rusting van cuts through the soaked hills of rural Virginia. Inside: Bobby, Jules, and Kai sit in silence. A sleeping bag is taped over a broken window. The wipers squeak rhythmically—out of time with the music.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"We followed the whispers east—old roads, no signs, no stations.

They say the world ends in flames. But it ends in wet silence, too."

The radio spits static, then clips of a government PSA:

RADIO VOICE
"Stay in place. Cooperation ensures community. Any unauthorized movement may result in immediate detainment…"

Kai shuts it off. The van falls silent.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD – LATER

They pass a charred town—no roofs, scorched mailboxes, scorched flags. A sign reads: "HARPERS FERRY LOVES ITS VETERANS"—the words burned halfway through.

As they round a bend, a sudden thud.

Tires screech.

The van fishtails and stops. Everyone jolts.

Outside: a stray dog lies in the road, broken, gasping shallowly in the rain.

BOBBY (softly)
"Shit…"

He gets out. Rain soaks him instantly.

JULES
"Bobby—leave it."

BOBBY
"I can't." He kneels by the dog, whispering. The dog blinks. Bobby reaches into the van rumages around and pulls out a gun.
A loan Gun Shot echos into the surrounding wilderness.

EXT. FOREST CLEARING – MOMENTS LATER

The three of them bury the dog beneath a pine tree. The rain turns from mist to downpour. Jules lights a candle, shielding it from the wind.

KAI (low)
"You know it's symbolic, right?"

BOBBY
"Yeah."

KAI
"Good. Just don't forget it's still real."

SONG: "Virginia Through the Rain"
(Sung by Bobby with The Rat-Kings)
As the song plays, cut to montage:

— A farmer boards up his home, shotgun on the porch.
— A kid draws chalk angels on a road no one drives anymore.
— A cross burns slowly in a field, not as threat—but as forgotten ritual.

Back in the van, they drive past a FEMA camp near a bridge.
Faces behind chain-link fencing stare silently as the van passes.

JULES (quietly)
"We're gonna be those people, soon enough."

BOBBY

"But, not today."

INT. VAN – NIGHT

Rain pounds harder now. Inside, fog clings to the windows.

Bobby records a voice memo—no music, just his voice.

BOBBY (into recorder)
"Ally— I buried a dog today. We named her Tender Mercy.
I think… maybe kindness still means something. I hope wherever you are, you found a safe place to sleep."

He stares at the recorder, then shuts it off.

The van continues into the storm—headlights dim, road slick with mud and memory.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"The rain doesn't wash the world clean. But it hides our tears as it keeps everything growing. And maybe that's the point."

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT II, SCENE 5: "UNDER THE AURORA"
EXT. FROZEN PLAIN, NORTHERN ALASKA – NIGHT

Scene duration: ~9 minutes

A vast icy wilderness stretches to the horizon—frozen lakes like shattered glass, skeletal trees coated in frost. Silence dominates. Then, slowly: green fire unfurls across the sky.

THE AURORA BOREALIS—shimmering, quiet, and unearned.

The Rat-Kings' van, now more dirty and rust than metal, idles by an old hunter's shack. Smoke drifts from a tin chimney. Bobby stands outside, wrapped in blankets and exhaustion, gazing up at the aurora like it might answer him.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"We followed rumors north. Someone said Alaska was off-grid—untouched. They were wrong. But for one night, it pretended."

INT. HUNTER'S CABIN – NIGHT

Cracked windows. Wood smoke and old soup. Jules scribbles in a journal. Kai sleeps sitting up, rifle across his lap. A faint battery-powered radio hums in the corner—barely audible Morse code pulses.

JULES
"Might be a message. Might be a trap. Might be nothing."

Bobby tunes a guitar, low and hollow.

BOBBY: "I got a message today, from him. Looks like Europe might be safer for us. We leave tomorrow"

SONG: "Under the Aurora"
(Sung by Bobby)

as song continues, Cut to: 

Farmland, Somewhere in England.

Bobby walks out across field. He watches a flock of birds scatter into the air before him.

Cut to montage:

Of Ally, The bus ride, The First Spaceman performance, and scenes from the aurora and Alaskan Sky.

As the song ends, cut back to Bobby; standing in the field.

He speaks softly as if someone might hear:

BOBBY

"I wanted to stop here. Wanted to stay. Make peace with being small. But everything is temporary.

INT. Farmhouse – DAWN APPROACHING

Jules rustles awake, pale. She hands Bobby a scrap of paper.

JULES
"Word from the America. Forced conscription. Musicians. Writers. Drafted or disappeared."

BOBBY
"So it's not paused. Just muffled. We left just in time."

JULES
"Maybe you should start toning down the message?"

EXT. Farmhouse – Sunset

The Rat-Kings watch the last of the sun fading into night.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"The light was never ours. But we stole a piece of it. One breath. One song.
One second longer than they wanted us to have. I'm going to be louder now than ever!"

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT II, SCENE 6: "THE TALL GRASS"
EXT. FARMHOUSE – Morning

Scene duration: ~14 minutes

A gravel road fades into overgrown prairie, golden and green under a wide, sorrowful sky. Bobby, now bearded and gaunt, steps out of the front door. He walks alone away from a long-decaying house swallowed by vines and time.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"Tulsa was never about where I was from. It was about what I ran from.
The laughter, the violence, the hate, the silence. All braided into the same wind."

He pushes through the broken gate, the tall grass whispering against his legs.

INT. FARMHOUSE – DAYLIGHT DIMMING

Inside: a collapsed piano, a hallway of peeling photos, a room with a burned mattress and scrawled lyrics on the wall.

On a side table: a dusty tape recorder with a cracked cassette labeled: Ally – 2004.

He presses PLAY.

TAPE (ALLY'S VOICE)
(singing, unsteady, beautiful)
"All the days that we forgot to keep,
Come blooming back while we try to sleep…"

Bobby pushes stop, his face cracks. He stumbles back, unable to breathe.

EXT. FIELD – GOLDEN HOUR

Bobby wanders through the tall grass, lost in memory. We see flashes of the past intercut with his steps:

— A young Bobby chasing his little brother through these fields.
— His mother, humming while hanging laundry, her voice full of sun.
— Ally, barefoot, laughing, notebook in hand—pure, radiant.

Then the image shifts—Ally in shadow, arms crossed, expression hollow. Her father's voice—shouting from an unseen place. The joy gone.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"I thought if I could write it down, I could save it.
But songs don't shield people. They just echo after the glass shatters."

He drops to his knees in out in the grass, overcome.

EXT. BACKYARD – MOMENTS LATER

Bobby finds the old swing set, rusted and swaying. He sits. Pulls out his notebook. Begins writing—not lyrics, but a letter.

BOBBY (writing, voice over)
"Ally—
I remember you clearer than I remember my own face. My own name.
I remember your laughter, and how I failed to keep it alive.
I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking you to remember yourself as more than what he did to you.
That voice of yours? It's still in my head. Still beautiful."

SONG: "Tall Grasses"
(sang by Bobby)

He places the letter in a tin lunchbox, buries it at the base of the swing.

EXT. PRAIRIE – NIGHTFALL

He stands alone. Wind in the grass. A few distant clouds stretch across the fading pink sky.

Kai appears silently behind him.

KAI
"You done?"

BOBBY
"Never. But I left what I needed to leave. We have shows to play. We have something people need to hear."

They climb into to the van parked in front of the house. As the headlights flare on and fade down the road, the tall grass closes behind them.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"We're heading back to America. We escaped the worse of it. The guilt wont leaves. But maybe we can live with it— everything that's happened is still close enough to remind us. Just far enough behind to keep us moving."

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT II, SCENE 7: "ELEVATOR BOOTS"
INT. WALLED CITY – ROOFTOP PARTY – NIGHT

Scene duration: ~12 minutes

Music pulses. Neon spotlights cut through smoke and sky. Inside a walled city—sealed off from war—a rooftop overflows with fashionistas, influencers, execs. They sip champagne under military drones glowing overhead like silent sentries.

Bobby, dressed in glittering glam rock fashion, steps off a rooftop elevator. He wears gold elevator boots, sunglasses, a velvet cape. The look is curated, absurd, intentional.

LUXURY AGENT (O.S.)
(cheerfully) "Bobby! You're dripping in relevance tonight."

CAMERAS flash. Bobby forces a smile.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"They call this art. I call it a mausoleum with cocktails. But the boots make you taller.
So maybe you forget you're underground. Or maybe you feel like you're above the shit…. But, the people around you still swim in it."

INT. PARTY – LATER

A music exec pitches a brand collab. A pop influencer posts a selfie beside Bobby, calling him "revolution-chic."

Bobby glides between them, unmoored. His eyes flick to a TV in the corner: footage of protests being suppressed—muted, overlaid with an upbeat commercial.

Bobby runs to the stage.
The party stops. Everyone waits eagerly for Bobby to speak/perform.
He stands as a silhouette, against a backdrop of the new American flag; all red, white, and red.
Bobby:"Here's a song for the patriots and the educated, so you you have something to think about about instead of yourselves!"

SONG: "Elevator Boots"
(performed by Bobby and band)

Bobby delivers a passionate performance; the crowd erupts in cheers and applause afterward.

Fade to:

INT. GREEN ROOM, backstage – NIGHT

Jules sits in a dark corner, exhausted.

She's just been interrogated by corporate security—accused of inciting dissent through lyrics. A bruise darkens her wrist.

JULES
"They read my journals. Said poetry was 'a weapon of suggestion', they said the songs were fine, but I was encouraging decent on stage !"

BOBBY

"What did you say? You told them I wrote the songs and say want I want, right?!!"

JULES
"I told them suggestions can't kill empires. Then I laughed. They didn't."

Bobby nods, unsure whether to laugh or scream or cry.

INT. ROOFTOP – LATER THAT NIGHT

Bobby escapes the crowd, leans over the edge, watching the city below—clean, curated, impossible.

In the distance, smoke curls up from beyond the wall. No one at the party notices.

An old man in a suit sidles up. An industry giant, the same guy that offered Bobby the contract. This time we see his face.

OLD EXECUTIVE
"You're a star, son. Whatever's going on out there—it's not your business. You're a legacy now. You're above all of this.

Stay safe….Be smart."

Bobby stares at him, silent. Defiant. A smirk emerges from his confused looked.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"I climbed this tower in boots that made me feel like a god. But gods don't get bruises.
And they don't bury their bandmates in anonymous graves……. they don't take orders, and they don't bow down to the once mighty dollar!"

INT. STAIRWELL – NIGHT

Bobby rips off the cape. Pulls off the boots. His bare feet hit the concrete.

He runs. Down endless stairs. The music fading. The lights grow dimmer.

He reaches the basement loading dock, where the Rat-Kings van waits in shadow.

Jules nods from the passenger seat.
Kai's seat is empty.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"Fame was a detour. And The stage was a mirror, a glamorous platform to see myself and the world as it truly is…. But the road—The road is a freedom. The road is a knife that cuts everything away. And I still have places to go, people to cut free."

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT II, SCENE 8: "ANGEL OF 14TH STREET"

EXT. BROADWAY STREET – WAR-TORN CITY NEW YORK CITY – NIGHT

Scene duration: ~12 minutes

The city is tense and twitching—sirens in the distance, blackout curtains in every window, checkpoints at corners. Broadway is still alive, but barely. People whisper. Move fast. Don't meet eyes.

Bobby walks alone, hoodie up, guitar strapped across his back. He looks older. Leaner. The fame has faded—no one looks twice at him now.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"I came here looking for the resistance.
Found a street that still breathed. And I Found her."

INT. UNDERGROUND CLINIC – BACK ROOM – NIGHT

Dim light. Rows of cots. A homemade IV rig. Shelves of smuggled meds. The Angel—late 30s, fierce, eyes like weathered stone—treats a boy with a broken arm. Her hands are quick but gentle.

Bobby watches from the doorway, uncertain.

ANGEL
(quietly, without looking)
"You're bleeding from the inside, aren't you?"

He looks down—no visible wounds. She means something else.

BOBBY
"Used to be a singer. Now I just echo."

She finally looks at him.

ANGEL
"Then maybe it's time to stop echoing.
Time to scream."

EXT. 14th STREET- LATER THAT NIGHT

They smoke cigarettes in silence. Rain drizzles. Sirens flicker past. She wears combat boots caked in mud and dried blood.

ANGEL
"I used to act. Stage, screen. Then I watched a drone tear a market in half.
No one clapped for that."

BOBBY
"Why'd you stay?"

ANGEL
"Someone has to. Someone who remembers what a person looks like."

He studies her—tough and tired and luminous beneath it.

SONG: "Angel of 14th Street"
(Sang Bobby)

INT. CLINIC – NIGHT

She shows Bobby a wall of names—coded aliases, safe houses, missing persons. A map of underground routes, drawn over a poster from her last stage play.

ANGEL
"You want to matter? Don't sing about them. Sing with them. Until the walls crack."

He nods. He understands now.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"She wasn't Ally.
She wasn't a dream.
But she saw me—not the myth, not the mask. Just the noise I'd buried.
And she dared me to make it loud again."

EXT. CITY STREET – DAWN

The first light creeps across the fractured street. Bobby walks away alone—but different. More grounded. The Angel remains in the doorway, watching him go.

He doesn't look back.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"The world didn't end in fire.
It ended in forgetting.
But she remembered.
So I would too."

FADE TO BLACK.

ACT II, SCENE 9: "BOBBY AND THE RAT-KINGS"
INT. RUINED THEATER – NIGHT – UNDER CURFEW

Scene duration: ~10 minutes

The air buzzes. A gutted theater, roof half-caved, walls scorched by time and fire. Floodlights powered by a stolen generator flicker to life. Dozens of people pour into the building—refugees, students, old punks, medics, all in hushed anticipation.

Jules checks cables. Her drum kit is taped together with protest flyers. Bobby stands beside her, plugging in his guitar. His face is calm—burnt through by everything, but steady now.

BOBBY (V.O.)
"Not every fire wants to consume.
Some just want to warm the frozen."

Projected above the stage: a collage of lost names, anonymous faces, missing children, lyrics censored by the state.

Announcer :

"Good people of the faith, please welcome, for your entertainment and enlightenment… Bobby and The Rat-Kings"

The band steps forward. Bobby is dressed in everyday clothes, losing the spaceman persona.

SONG BEGINS: "BOBBY AND THE RAT-KINGS"

BOBBY (singing)

Jules hammers the bass and sings back up.

A hologram of Kai flickers in the corner—looped footage from a past rehearsal.

People recognize him. They cheer through their tears.

Outside, riot troops gather. Sirens start rising. Helicopters sweep overhead.

Inside, the music swells—desperate, holy, defiant.

INT. LOBBY – SIMULTANEOUS

A frightened boy records the concert on a smuggled phone. A girl passes out radios. Whisper networks go live. Pirate signals beam the concert across occupied towns, basements, FEMA zones.

BOBBY (on stage still singing)

EXT. THEATER – NIGHT

Troops advance. Guns raised. But people block the street—unarmed, unflinching. Grandmothers. College kids. A priest. A drag queen with a shield made of vinyl records.

The Angel of 14th Street stands front and center. No fear. Her eyes say: You come through us, or not at all.

Inside, the music reaches its final crescendo.

BOBBY (shouting into mic)
"If they silence us tonight—
Then make this the last thing they hear!"

FINAL CHORUS

Then: voices continue, a cappella. The crowd refuses to stop. Singing in the dark. Hands raised. No instruments. Just heart:

"When the Rat-Kings go away,,,, we'll never be the same….."

BOBBY, shouting to the crowded auditorium:

"They can shut off every amp. Cut every wire. But a song that's true? That lives in the heart and with every breathe of all of us still living, they can't stop us. Resist!."

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

Ally steps forward from the shadows of the theater to the front of the stage, Bobby looks down and their eyes meet. He smiles.

EXT. SKY ABOVE THEATER – DAWN

A drone hovers. Records. The voices rise like a wave. The moment is captured—live, raw, immortal.

FADE TO BLACK.

SILENCE.

Then: one last chord. Faint. But certain.

That concludes "Butter Miracle – A Rock Opera".



by Shane, vocalist for Counterfeiting Crows; The Counting Crows Tribute Band.
www.CountingCrowsTributeBand.com