I have been mulling this one over in my head since my buddy Stephen Mark Rainey visited – he’s big into Geo Caching. Mark…this one’s for you… I wanted to choose a social network that was unlikely to cross-over with the others on the site…and I’ve always had a soft spot for the sort of humor brought to the world by Cheech and Chong…this one is ALSO for you man…Dave many not be THERE…but he’s here, right?
(more…)
Author: dnw
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Brent Spiner & Stephen Fry : David’s Entry – CURTAIN CALL
This was a weird assignment, to be sure. The parts of PRINE and BRODY are written with the actors Brent Spiner and Stephen Fry in mind…which was kind of fun. I had some fun with it…hopefully you’ll agree that I managed something, at least, a bit funny…
INT – THEATRE – EVENING
BRODY GILCREST, portly, middle aged Brit with dark hair, sits at a wooden table backstage, sipping tea. Across from him, partially in shadows, THOMAS PRINE fiddles with something O.S.
BRODY
Isn’t that thing about ready, Thomas. My tea is cold, my patience is shot, and curtain call is in less than an hour.
PRINE sticks his head out of the shadows. He’s grinning broadly and his eyes sparkle.
PRINE
We’ll be ready, and it’s going to be spectacular – like the old days.
BRODY
Those days, I’m afraid, are far behind us. The turning over of new leaves often reveals nothing more than damp earth.
PRINE
You should try smiling. You used to smile quite a lot, as I recall.
BRODY harumphs and drains the last of his now tepid tea.
BRODY
So, Thomas, this … thing … of yours. You say it will bring down the house? Guaranteed? With the budget we’ve been provided, I’d be surprised to see more than a dry-ice fog and a few colored lights.
PRINE
I still have…contacts.
BRODY
Yes, old boy, but you aren’t to CONTACT them, don’t you see.
PRINE
Of course.
BRODY stares into the shadows and frowns.
BRODY
Should I be…concerned?
PRINE’s head sticks out of the shadows again, his grin even wider.
PRINE
Have I ever given you reason for concern?
A door opens O.S. Voices echo, two men, and a woman. The woman laughs.
BRODY
(rising) I’m glad you are all early. Thomas is making some last minute shifts in the special effects. Please…get ready.
BOBBY PRENTISS, young, dark haired with a cocky grin saunters onto the stage. He’s dressed in black leather, a motorcycle jacket with a patch on the sleeve that says BRONZE ANGELS. Beside him, GINGER BUCHANAN, early twenties, petite in skintight jeans and a tube top totters on too-tall heels. Behind them, JIM JENKINS, mid forties with a paunch steps onto the stage. He’s dressed in a police officer’s uniform.
PRINE
I love cops and robbers.
BRODY
Just get that thing working. We now have less than twenty minutes.
GINGER
Could…could we run through it one time?
BRODY sees the girl’s nervousness.
BRODY
Quickly then. Bobby, center stage with Ginger.
PRINE
Uh…
BRODY
What is it? We’re just doing a test run.
PRINE
Yes but…
BRODY
Speak up!
PRINE
Nothing.
PRINE returns to his tinkering and the actor’s take their places. Bobby stands, hands in pockets in a perfect James Dean slouch. Ginger stands in front of him, glancing over her shoulder nervously.
BRODY
Action.
BOBBY
So…you’re gonna go back to Daddy, play the good girl, screw ol’ Joey huh?
GINGER
You know I love you, Joey, but.
BOBBY
I know…I’m bad. Always been bad, always will be. Can’t blame you for cutting out.
GINGER
(starts to turn away) I…
BOBBY steps forward and wraps her in his arms. She pulls back, and then, as if unable to resist, flutters her eyelids and turns back.
BOBBY
I don’t want you to go, baby.
BRODY waves at Prine in the shadows.
O.S. a police siren wails. Tires screech. A door slams. JENKINS steps onto the stage. He’s wearing an odd, futuristic helmet, and holding a strange gun leveled at BOBBY.
BRODY
What the…
BOBBY lets go of GINGER, obviously confused. He reaches to his belt, as if going for a gun, or a knife.
BOBBY
You’ll never take me, John Law.
BRODY starts to rise and move forward.
PRINE
You might want to say cut before…
JENKINS grins evilly. His eyes are wide, and he points the strange gun straight at BOBBY’s heart.
JENKINS
Name’s jot John, scumbag. Names Alexander. Alexander Hughes, and…as a matter of fact, I am the law.
BRODY turns to PRINE, eyes wide.
PRINE
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I changed the line.
BRODY turns back as JENKINS pulls the trigger. There’s a a flash of brilliant blue light. What appears to be lightning snaps across the stage and bursts through BOBBY’s chest, continuing on through curtains and walls. JENKINS stares at the gun, then lets it fall from his hand and staggers back. GINGER faints.
BRODY
(calmly) Thomas…what have you done?
PRINE
Cool, huh? I made it out of spare parts.
There is the sound of falling debris, and a horrible creak from the ceiling above. Both men look up.
PRINE (CONT’D)
I suggest that – perhaps – we should run?
BRODY
I think I need to explain the word retirement to you in clearer terms.
BRODY and PRINE run for the back exit. As the building begins to fall down around them, crushing the actors and the stage, PRINE begins to laugh.
PRINE
I TOLD you to say cut.
BRODY
Next time be clear.
PRINE
Be fair, (diving through the rear door as the walls collapse) I DID bring the house down…
FADE OUT.
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PIMP MY TV : DAVID WILSON’S ENTRY
I admit…I stretched for this. I thought, and I thought…well. I thought, anyway…and you can be the judge of how THAT worked out.
EXT. LATE AFTERNOON – STREET
A blue, older model sedan turns into a driveway and pulls up to a garage door. The driver, WILBUR POST, mid thirties with short dark hair, dressed in a plain business suit, punches his remote. The garage door slides open. He pulls in slowly, and the door closes behind him.
INT. GARAGE – CONTINUOUS
He fumbles with his briefcase, opens the door, and climbs out.
O.S. Something bangs loudly.
WILBUR
Hold your horses!
He fumbles his keys into his pocket, runs his hand over the wall, and finds the light switch.
O.S. The BANG repeats.
WILBUR (CONT’D)
I’m warning you.
The back wall of the garage is covered in pegboards. Tools of all sorts dangle from an array of hooks. Wilbur steps up to the left side of the wall, grabs the handle of a hammer, and pulls it away from the board.
A whirring sound fills the air.
O.S. The banging sound grows rapid and frantic.
WILBUR (CONT’D)
Damnit, I said…
CUT TO:
EXT. DRIVEWAY – cONTINUOUS
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Wilbur Post is a man with a secret. He has hidden it from the prying eyes of his neighbors.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET – CONTINUOUS
MABEL POTTER – thin, waspish, thick glasses with cat’s eye frames, peers out through her blinds at the door to Wilbur’s garage.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Unbeknownst to his employers, or his co-workers.
CUT TO:
INT. GARAGE – CONTINUOUS
The back wall continues to slide open. Wilbur’s phone rings loudly, playing a catchy tune.
O.S. The banging sound becomes like thunder. Wilbur pulls out his phone and flips it open. He checks the incoming number.
WILBUR
Damn it.
O.S. A voice rises from a very low pitched rumble.
WILBUR (CONT’D)
Ed?
ED
Wiiiiilllburrrr…. RUN!
The phone is still ringing. Wilbur glances down at it, then at the back wall. Something large and white appears in the shadows.
Wilbur answers the phone.
WILBUR
Bob? I’m going to have to get back to you.
He glances up again.
WILBUR (CONT’D)
Oh…no.
CUT TO:
EXT. WILBUR’S GARAGE – CONTINUOUS
A horrible vibration rocks the garage. It resolves itself into a huge, wet fart. The door opens, and Wilbur staggers out into his driveway.
ED
(floating out from inside)
I’m sorry, Wilbuuuuurrr.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
And in violation of some tenets of The Geneva Convention.
MABEL
Wilbur? Wilbur Post? What are you doing over there young man? There are rules in this neighborhood.
Wilbur turns, gulps in great lungfuls of air and waves.
WILBUR
Everything is under control, Mrs. Potter. Just a little trouble with an aerosol can.
Wilbur staggers back into the garage.
INT. WILBUR’S GARAGE – CONTINUOUS
The back wall is now fully open revealing a window. Centered in that window, a large white horse stares out at Wilbur.
ED
I toooolld you to run.
WILBUR
Damnit Ed …
There is a wet, squishing sound. Wilbur stops cold He stares at the floor.
ED
Now you’ve stepped in it….
NARRATOR (V.O.)
A man, and his horse, live a secret life. One locked away in a garage stall from which he cannot exit without being carted off to a farm – the other with a secret no one would understand. This…is their story…
Cue the Mr. Ed Theme song.
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Advertising: David’s Entry – Lie to Me Baby
INT. Conference Room DayJerry Kline, (Balding, middle aged with thick glasses) stands at the end of a long table. Lined up at the table are a group of advertising gurus with briefcases open, laptops and Blackberries lit up and sharpened pencils at the ready.Kline turns to the white board behind him.KLINEThe key, ladies and gentlemen, is money. More to the point…He draws a stick figure with a quick almost violent motion and then jabs the marker at the board where the hip pocket should be.KLINE (CONT’D)Their money. We need it. They probably need it too, but who cares? How do we get it.MARTINA (thin, waspish with cat’s eye shaped glasses) raises a pen in the air.MARTINALie?KLINEExactly. That is why we are here. We are living the lie. We are living BY the lie. We are lying to ourselves about what we do so we can justify the lie. So…feed my addiction. Give me some lies.BART, (short, stout, late twenties w/freckles) stands up.BARTI have an idea I’d like to share.KLINEI didn’t ask for ideas.BARTHow about if I lie and tell you it’s another lie – then present the idea?KLINEInteresting.BARTI’d be lying if said I didn’t think so.MARTINAJust tell us what you’ve got, Barty, we don’t have all day.BART(winks at Martina)I think we should go a new direction with the company logo.MARTINAThe logo?KLINEI hope you’re lying.Laughter ripples up and down the table. Bart ignores them.BARTWhat is the one thing our clients expect of us?KLINELies.BARTExactly. But lately, some of that has come back to bite us in the ass. Like the time machine.Kevin, a thin ferret-faced man in his mid forties glances up and cuts in.KEVINHey! We sold truckloads of time machines. The client couldn’t be happier.BARTThere were a FEW issues with customers…we did tell them it was a time traveling device.KLINEIt tells time.MARTINAIt didn’t travel…KLINEBut you can travel WITH it…and hey, how about that commercial where you go to sleep, and it’s one time – when you wake up? The future?BARTIn any case, we’ve gotten ourselves an unfortunate reputation…it’s hurting business.KEVINBut…if they know we are lying, what’s the problem? We lie too well?BARTIt’s the negative connotation … the semantics. Here is what I propose.Bart unfolds a cardboard stand and flips a sheet of paper over, turning it so all can see. Emblazoned across the page is the face of a cartoonish albino lion.KEVINI don’t get it.MARTINAI do! It’s a White Lion.KLINEWe have to shrink it.BARTExactly.He flipped the page again, and the same image stared at them. This time there was text. The logo read.“Little White Lion”KLINEI like the honesty… -
BORDERS: Better Than Hunting Rats (David’s Entry)
EXT. HUNTING BLIND – NIGHT
Bobby Lee (Early twenties, thin with scraggly hair) and Jasper (Late forties, tall with a beer gut and a camouflage jacket) are hunkered down, staring out over the rail of the blind toward a chain link fence across a plowed field. The fence is torn and curled back. Beyond the fence piles of junk rise in heaps.
BOBBY LEE
We’re wastin’ our time out here, Jaz. I knew you were full of crap.
JASPER
Just sit still and keep your eyes open. You loaded?
BOBBY LEE
Not yet, but there’s a bottle of Jack in the truck…
Jasper turns and glares at Bobby Lee.
JASPER
You see me smiling? Your gun, dumbass…it loaded?
BOBBY LEE (WHINING)
Jesus, Jaz, you know it is. The shotgun and the rifle. Not like there’s anything to …
JASPER
There!
Jasper points out over the field and Bobby Lee follows the pointing finger with his gaze.
One of the piles of garbage has begun to move. Earth is tossed, and something very low to the ground is in motion.
BOBBY LEE
I’ll be damned.
JASPER
Happens every time they move a truckload to the landfill. Be ready.
Both men lean down and grab a gun.
JASPER (CONT’D)
Remember now … just like in the movies. Head shots.
Bobby Lee is barely listening. He raises his 30/30 and takes aim at a shambling figure rounding the wrecked carcass of an old Ford truck. A rotting, shambling form with a rebel cap perched on its head comes into clear view in the moonlight. Bobby Lee pulls the trigger, and the thing’s head explodes with a pop.
BOBBY LEE
Hoo Ha!
Bobby Lee turns to Jasper, who pays him no attention but sites in on his own second target.
JASPER
Don’t screw around boy. Be quick! If we let them get past that fence, they’ll be headed toward town, and it can be hell trackin’ ’em all down. It’s like border guard duty.
Both men aim and fire repeatedly. Zombies explode all over the dump.
BOBBY LEE
You were right about one thing. This beats hell out of shooting rats.
Finally the very last of the things crawls out of a pile of garbage, shakes its head, and looks directly at the blind. Bobby Lee aims and fires and the thing’s head pops up in the air, severed at the spinal cord. It bounces like a ball.
When there’s no more movement in the dump, Jasper leans back and starts gathering his guns.
JASPER
Let’s go get that bottle.
The two men climb down slowly and walk back to Jasper’s truck. As he puts his gear in the truck bed, Bobby Lee stops and glances down at the bumper. He starts laughing.
JASPER (CONT’D)
What the hell is wrong with you?
Bobby Lee points at the bumper sticker. It reads “The South Will Rise Again.”