Here’s my take on the “Kung Fu” edition of Sketchwar.
FADE IN:
INT. OFFICE – DAY
MR. TURPLEE (middle-aged, office casual) sits at a desk across from JOHN (20s, cheap business suit).
Mr. Turplee reads over a résumé.
John waits.
MR. TURPLEE
Your 3.8 GPA was across the board?
JOHN
Just in my major.
Mr. Turplee yawns, pulls another printout off the desk.
MR. TURPLEE
Adams Mutual was mostly turnkey systems?
JOHN
Legacy databases. I did contract maintenance work.
More reading.
MR. TURPLEE
Huh. “Hobbies include martial arts.”
JOHN
Yes.
MR. TURPLEE
So, you can, like, kick through a window?
JOHN
Something like that.
More reading.
MR. TURPLEE
Ever killed a man?
John laughs.
Mr. Turplee doesn’t.
JOHN
No.
MR. TURPLEE
Mmm.
More reading.
JOHN
Uh, the, legacy systems at Adams had the same basic database structure as --
MR. TURPLEE
Okay. What about when you’re in mid-jump, and time seems to slow down, and --
JOHN
I’m pretty sure that’s done with wires.
MR. TURPLEE
Oh.
Reading.
MR. TURPLEE
What about, there’s always some old man who sits off to the side and just watches the big fight. What’s with him?
JOHN
It’s a film convention.
Reading.
JOHN
Does the job actually involve combat, or...?
Mr. Turplee just stares at him.
John forces a nervous chuckle.
Mr. Turplee continues staring at him.
JOHN
Sorry.
MR. TURPLEE
What if you had to fight, say, two guys.
JOHN
I don’t know.
MR. TURPLEE
Say each one had a poison-tipped jackknife in each hand.
JOHN
I don’t know.
MR. TURPLEE
And they’re both... part tiger.
JOHN
I don’t know.
MR. TURPLEE
Could you break this desk?
JOHN
What?
MR. TURPLEE
Just slam your fist down and -- HYAAH! BOOM!
JOHN
No, I --
MR. TURPLEE
C’mon, BREAK THE DESK!
JOHN
Break it?
MR. TURPLEE
DO IT!
JOHN
I’m here for a database job, I --
Mr. Turplee slaps John lightly across the face.
John is stunned.
Mr. Turplee does it again, and continues doing it.
MR. TURPLEE
Not man enough to break the desk, huh mister martial-arts guy? Huh?
John backs out of range.
JOHN
That’s it! Look, I don’t know what is with you, or what your obsession with martial arts is, or... what, exactly, but this is so clearly unprofessional that I definitely don’t even want to work here. Good-bye.
He leaves, slamming the door behind him.
Mr. Turplee sighs.
CLOSE ON Mr. Turplee as he neatens some of the papers on his desk.
Then PAN to reveal that THREE NINJAS have appeared behind Mr. Turplee.
(Clearly, none of them are John.)
Mr. Turplee freezes. He doesn’t see the ninjas, but he’s aware that something’s up.
Just as he starts to turn around --
FADE OUT.