The Olympian Part II

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on April 4, 2014 by huntercovington

INT. SWIMMING POOL OLYMPIC SIZED – DAY

ALBERTO CONGRESS, our boy, is struggling to finish his set of laps or whatever. This is NOT like last time. Last time he was KILLING IT. Like crazy fast swimming no one had ever been ever understanding even. Nuts.

He’s going so slow. His coach, TIM AZWEDO, is NOT impressed. He was impressed before. Not impressed at all. He doesn’t know what to say to Alberto or how to approach him. Alberto is still in the pool. He just looks so fucking weak to Tim Azwedo. Tim Azwedo just can’t take it anymore. It’s driving him crazy.

Tim Azwedo jumps in the pool and stops the swimming Alberto like how Superman would stop a train (with his arm out straight so his open hand will basically mash right into Alberto’s swimming head).

Alberto is kind of like what the fuck, man?

ALBERTO

What the fuck, man? Is this “Cool Coach” shit? Because we told you it’s not cool.

TIM AZWEDO

This is not “Cool Coach” shit. I stopped doing that. Well, I shouldn’t

say that. I still do it at home because my wife thinks it’s hot.

I don’t know if his wife thinks it’s hot. Maybe it would be more dynamic is she didn’t think that. Then again, we risk giving everyone the same attitude in re: Cool Coach. I don’t want to make a decision right now.

ALBERTO

Then what the fuck is it? I’m trying to be the best fucking American swimmer since Mark Spitz.

Note: I’m intentionally skipping Michael Phelps just to get under Phelpsy’s skin. This will drive that dude nuts!

Hey, Phelpsy!

Calm your bones and go have a Subway!

Hahhahahahhaha.

Fuck that guy.

Anyway.

TIM AZWEDO

I get it. I just think you’re overtraining. Pushing yourself to hard.

ALBERTO

I know what overtraining is. You didn’t have to define it immediately after saying it.

I see your Uncool Coach persona is really coming along.

TIM AZWEDO

Hey, fuck you man.

ALBERTO

Easy.

TIM AZWEDO

You’re right. Just… I don’t know. Take it a bit easier.

ALBERTO

If I was any easier, I’d be your wife!

TIM AZWEDO

I don’t know if that even tracks, but I also don’t give a shit. Our careers are so

intertwined right now. I have to take abuse from you.

ALBERTO

I know that shit. You need me as much or more than I need you. Go get me a burger.

Tim Azwedo exits, knowing he has to get Alberto a burger, but also feeling like he got his overtraining message across, even if he was a bit redundant about it.

Alberto does a sad swim to the side of the pool and gets out awkwardly like people do. His muscles are so fucking sore. He is overtraining. Man.

Alberto walks over to some bleachers or whatever and lays down while he waits for his burger.

He puts a towel over his head and just listens to the sounds of the natatorium. Soothing.

Suddenly the peaces is broken by:

MAN (O.S.)

Hey.

Alberto knows that fucking voice. It’s the drug dealer guy.

ALBERTO

Aw, man. What the shit?

MAN

It’s me again.

ALBERTO

I know that, motherfucker.

Alberto sits up and sees this guy, then pumps his fist because he was right; he did know this motherfucker.

MAN

You’re having some problems with your recovery, aren’t you?

ALBERTO

No. The fuck you know anyways?

MAN

Easy, tiger.

ALBERTO

I’m not a tiger, I’m a lion. And you’re just a gazelle who’s about to get eaten by me, a lion.

MAN

You look like a lion who’s overtraining.

ALBERTO

Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhhh!

Alberto is so pissed! Everyone is calling him out on overtraining and they’re totally right.

Shit.

MAN

I’ve got the drugs. You just say the word.

Alberto thinks about it hard. He knows no Olympian Champion has ever done drugs and he doesn’t want to be the first. But he also knows if he does the drugs, it will help his overtraining and allow him to be an Olympian Champion.

This is a difficult decision.

Finally:

ALBERTO

I’m not buying drugs from you…

The Man is bummed.

ALBERTO (CONT’D)

…today.

The Man brightens up.

ALBERTO

You’ve only asked me twice and I’ve held strong. Very strong.

But I won’t be able to resist your charms a third time. Who could?

Alberto winks at the Man. The Man knows what’s up.

MAN

Alright, see you tomorrow!

ALBERTO

Okay, well don’t be gross about it. Give it a little time to breathe.

MAN

In a couple days?

ALBERTO

Exactly.

They surreptitiously do a complex handshake that will eventually evolve into their own secret handshake.

The Man vanishes (walks out of the swimming pool area).

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Olympian Part I

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on August 12, 2013 by huntercovington

INT. SWIMMING POOL OLYMPIC SIZED – DAY

This guy, ALBERTO CONGRESS, 17, amazing swimmer’s body, is swimming.  Also, blond hair.  He swims so hard.  So hard that his coach, TIM AZWEDO, bites through his whistle, crunching it in his teeth like so many whatevers are crunchy.

Alberto finishes up his strokes and gets out of the pool, dripping with water he recently peed in.  He pulls off his goggles and swim cap and just looks fucking dope.  Like the Terminator of swimming.

Tim Azwedo approaches him.

TIM AZWEDO

Daaaaaannnnngggg!

ALBERTO

I know, right?

TIM AZWEDO

Right?!

ALBERTO

LOL.

TIM AZWEDO

You did the damn thing!

ALBERTO

I did.  Why are you talking like that?

TIM AZWEDO

Because I’m Cool Coach now.

ALBERTO

Shit.  Forgot about that.  The guys wanted me to say something.

TIM AZWEDO

About what?

ALBERTO

Cool Coach.

TIM AZWEDO

Too cool?  LOL.

ALBERTO

No.  LOL.

TIM AZWEDO

Oh.  LOL.

ALBERTO

 We all think it’s dumb as hell.  Just be who you are: Tim Azwedo, Olympic

swimming coach for the United States Swimming Team.

TIM AZWEDO

You’re right.  I got some shit to go through I guess.

Tim Azwedo walks away, to deal with some of the shit he has to go through.  I guess.

Alberto shakes out his fatigued muscles.  Did he really just swim that fast?  Did he?

MAN

Yes, you did.

Whoa!  Wow!  Wow wow wow!

ALBERTO

(shocked)

Are you… are you telepathic?

MAN

No.

ALBERTO

Do you know what “telepathic” means?

MAN

Yes.

ALBERTO

So you know I’m basically asking you if you can read my thoughts?

MAN

I fucking know that shit.  I’m not telepathic.  You were talking out loud.  Do you know what “out loud” means?

ALBERTO

I feel like you’re fucking with me now, an Olympic swimmer just training for the Olympics.

MAN

How would you like to swim even faster?

ALBERTO

Um… how?  I already train the shit out of my body EVERY. DAY.

MAN

These.

The Man almost inexplicably dumps out the contents of a backpack onto the warm, wet concrete of the swimming pool area cement.  There are little jars of liquid, pills and all kinds of shit you would associate with steroids and HGH.

ALBERTO

Whoa.  Call me Hall & Oates ’cause I can’t go for that.  No can do.

Albert crosses away, shaking his head, thinking about Hall & Oates and where the fuck is his Private Eyes CD is.

MAN

This motherfucker.

The Man starts to put all his paraphernalia back into his backpack.

MAN

He will change his mind.  He will.  Otherwise, we will have no story.

The Man vanishes (walks out of the swimming pool area).

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Diary

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 30, 2013 by huntercovington

(I don’t even want to talk about “dairy” vs. “diary” and how stupid I almost looked.)

INT. THIS WOMAN’S CHILDHOOD BEDROOM THAT’S PINK AND EVERYTHING – DAY (DAY 1)

This WOMAN, let’s call her 41, no, 42.  She’s 42.  She hot.  She’s keeping it together.  The thing is, she’s back at her parents house because her childhood dog died.  Normally that wouldn’t merit her flying back home all the way from the West Coast, but this was different.  If you’re on top of your math game, you can figure out that it being her childhood dog would make that dog REALLY old.  And you’d be right.  (For those of you not on your math game, just re-read the shit I just wrote and it’ll be cool in your brain.)

Her childhood dog, named TITO (after her favorite Jackson brother), was 36 years old!  Besides the fact that that’s nutso, it was a Great Dane and they’re only supposed to live 8-10 years.  But Tito heard that all-too-important word — “supposed to.”  Okay, two words.  He heard two all-too-important words and was like “I’m gonna live forever!”  He didn’t.  But he did make it to 36 and that’s insane all over the place for a dog.  Especially a Great Dane, who we’ve established should’ve only lived 8-10 years MAX.

So this woman, CAROL-ANN, is home at her parents and going through her old room.  Her parents kept her room the same as the day she left because her sister died that same day and they decided to keep her old room the same and it seemed weird to just redo Carol-Ann’s and not her sister’s (Ann-Carol).

Carol-Ann rummages through a box she just found under her old bed.  The bed still has Strawberry Shortcake sheets on it and this makes Carol-Ann nostalgic as fuck.  She smiles and deeply inhales the sheet smell, which is old and not strawberry and not shortcake.  Back to the box rummaging.

CAROL-ANN

What the fuck is this shit?

She pulls out an old diary.  And all you motherfuckers are like “Aw, shit!  That’s why this dude named this thing ‘The Diary’!”  And you motherfuckers are correct.

Carol-Ann caresses the diary, longing for it’s secret memories it holds or some shit.

CAROL-ANN

Well, hello there.

DIARY

(yes, it’s a talking diary)

Your tits got huge!

Whoa!

The diary suddenly catches fire and bursts into flames!  (Because it broke some sacred diary oath.)

Double whoa!

Carol-Ann smiles, then goes to the hospital and is treated for third degree burns on her arms and tits (huge).

THE END.

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? DON’T THEY?!

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 4, 2013 by huntercovington

INT. FASHION RUNWAY BUILDING ROOM PLACE – NIGHT

Everyone is hanging out, waiting for the fashion show. It’s mesmerizing with all the haute couture and nice clothes and such. Women are dressed to the nines and some even to the tens. Even ugly chicks are smoking hot because they are wearing expensive things that look nice. Everybody is trying to be cool and detached and succeeding. Also drinking champagne of an expensive kind.

The camera drifts (I have some ideas on how to get this look right — on a wire maybe?) through the crowd to the end of the runway (the end like the end where the models turn around and walk back). There are a bunch of photographers with expensive cameras that have expensive lenses on them. I know I keep saying “expensive,” but it really can’t be understated here. Everything is expensive.

Two of the photographers, we’ll call them FRANCH and CHARLTON, wait for the show to begin.

FRANCH

This is supposed to be the best collection of Fashion Week.

CHARLTON

I didn’t hear that.

FRANCH

Well, I did.

CHARLTON

Okay. That doesn’t make it so. Dior was bangarang, so I don’t foresee this being more bangarang.

FRANCH

It’s not all about bangarang.

CHARLTON

Um… offensive?

Some sick techno music begins to play. Maybe it’s Skrillex? I’ll have to listen to some and see what’s the deal about this Skrillex guy. I know he’s popular, but I’ve been real busy lately. I’ll check him out though. Might be good to have him on the soundtrack.

FRANCH

Stop being a prissy bitch.

CHARLTON

You’re right, we should focus.

Holy shit! Charlton didn’t even mean to make the PERFECT joke about photographers! FOCUS. Wow. All the photographers in the vicinity LOL. Seriously, Charlton. Good stuff.

As the music thumps, the photographers ready their cameras and the audience readies their eyes. Some lighting effects or something.

I know you’re expecting some models to come out at this point, but they DON’T. It’s HORSES!

Big fucking thoroughbred horses!

Muscular, powerful beasts DRESSED in luxurious silks and colorful sequins and wearing like the horse version of high heels.

They’re beautiful.

They’re glorious.

People are mesmerized by the mesmerizing, hypnotizing nature of these horses wearing ball gowns and exquisitely cut tuxedos and shit.

People are in awe.

Franch and Charlton snap and snap and snap. Sometimes it’s hard for the photographers to focus (double meaning) because the glorious fashions are incredible. They do their best, knowing if they sell their own personal pictures, it will be better financially than if they don’t sell them.

Finally all the horse models are done walking and all walk out together in a line. Just a runway filled with majestically dressed horse models. Powerful horse models.

As they stand, a magnificent collection of spangled beasts, RALPH LAUREN walks out.

Of course it’s him. He’s taken his horse obsession to its logical conclusion and it’s glorious.

He bows and the place erupts in volcanic applause.

Franch and Charlton furiously snap, but it’s hard to keep their expensive cameras with expensive lenses steady from the thundering applause.

Someone cries. It’s that beautiful.

INT. BACKSTAGE – NIGHT

Ralph Lauren addresses the horses and human helpers undress them, brush them, feed them oats.

RALPH LAUREN

It’s has been a glorious show. And you have all been wonderful.

A particularly powerful horse neighs. It has been wonderful.

RALPH LAUREN (CONT’D)

But you have all outlived your usefulness. Shipping you back from whence you came would be just backbreaking financially. So, without further ado…

An assistant (hot female 20s) hands him a pistol and he begins shooting the horses in the head one by one.

It’s brutal and barbaric, but also poetic because we hear string music.

This goes on for a while until all the horses are dead.

Ralph Lauren hands his pistol back to his assistant and uses some hand sanitizer. All the people leave the room. A room full of dead, bleeding horses.

After a beat, the assistant comes back in and turns the light off.

Darkness.

THE END.

(This was a commentary about how models are treated by the fashion industry.)

They Pulled Me Back In

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 10, 2012 by huntercovington

INT. BATHROOM – NIGHT

BLAKE STEEVENS, 57, is in the shower.  The hot, steamy water cascades over his face and hair and shoulder and down, eventually swirling into a drain that goes to who knows where.  He squirts some conditioner into his left hand because he already used shampoo — twice.  That’s the kind of guy Blake Steevens, 57, is.

Suddenly:

BLAKE

Son of a bitch!

Blake just got conditioner in his eye!  It stings.  He grimaces and wipes it out deftly.  To most men, this would be probably the most painful thing they’ve ever felt in their life.  But not Blake.  The camera tracks from his eye to a bullet wound scar in his neck, down to ten (10) more bullet wound scars variously placed on his torso.  Nuts.  And knife and sword scars.  The camera keeps moving down.  More and more scars until we get to his feet, which are basically just huge purple lumps of scar tissue because of all the badass shit he used to do.

To him, this conditioner in the eye was nothing.  Nothing at all.

BLAKE (V.O.)

I hate conditioner.

He did hate conditioner.

BLAKE (V.O.)

But due to my hair type, it’s a necessary part of my regimen.

It was.

BLAKE (V.O.)

And unfortunately, my two kids that I had with my wife have the same problem.  I use conditioner on my 3-month-old.  What a life.

What a life indeed.

Blake gets out of the shower and dries off with a hand towel because:

BLAKE (V.O.)

Craprockets.  Grabbed a hand towel instead of one of the shower sheets we bought this last weekend at Restoration.

Restoration Hardware is what he’s talking about.

He takes his time drying his balls because he has big balls because he’s tough.

He looks in the mirror.  He looks old.  But tough.  But still, old.

INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER

Blake, trying to cover his nuts with a hand towel.  His wife, MELINDA, 24, lays on the bed, sprawled out all sexy and shit.  She’s a minx/sex kitten/hot.  (That should be read like you pick one from each, such as: minx-kitten, minx-hot, sex-kitten, or sex-hot.  Thanks!)

MELINDA

Hey, tiger.

BLAKE (V.O.)

She was really into roleplaying me as Tiger Woods lately.  Sometimes she couldn’t even climax if we didn’t play 18 holes on Tiger Woods 2012 on the Wii first.  I’m getting too old for that shit.

He throws down the towel and turns on the Wii.  Melinda purrs.

BLAKE

Does that make you hot?

MELINDA

Me-ow.

BLAKE (V.O.)

Jesus.  I should’ve married an older woman.

BLAKE

I’m gonna grab a glass of water.  Go ahead and pick our players.

MELINDA

I’m going to be Vijay Singh!

Blake stops exiting and stares down the barrel of the camera.

BLAKE

Sounds… super hot.

INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER

Blake enters.  He just wants some water.  And to fuck his wife without having to play a video game first.  Besides, that shit hurts his shoulder.  It’s just as bad as real golf in that respect.  He takes a swig of water to wash away the pain.  It does.  Kinda.

Just then he hears a CRASH!

Oh no.

Normally a person would be freaked the fuck out by this.  But Blake isn’t a person who reacts in a normal way because he’s not a normal person.

He’s also still naked.

He immediately does a dive-roll through the kitchen, grabbing a 9mm pistol stashed in the drawer that has all the potatoes.

BLAKE (V.O.)

I’d been retired, put out to pasture, out of the game, for 20 years.  Undercover.  But as soon as I heard that sound, I was unretired.  Unput out to pasture.  I was un… undercover.

INT. CLOSET – MOMENTS LATER

Pitch black.

The door opens to reveal Blake.  We reverse to see a bunch of coats.

BLAKE

Crap.

INT. CLOSET #2 – MOMENTS LATER

Pitch black.

The door opens to reveal Blake.  We reverse to see a ton of machine guns and grenades and swords and shit.

BLAKE

Jackpot.

He sees a shadow move behind him.

Barely aiming, he murders the shadow with about 20 bullets.  He flips on the light to see the shadow was a lamp.  Oh well.  Felt good.

He sees some shit going on in the front yard.

He turns and the backyard is totally clear.

Figures are moving toward the front door.  He has to make his move.

Blake rushes out the back of the house, armed to the teeth.

BLAKE (V.O.)

They finally found me.  And they have to try to pull me back in.  They have to.  I don’t fault them.  And I hope God doesn’t either.

Blake totally cocks a gun on that last line.  So badass.

EXT. BACKYARD – CONTINUOUS

Blake sprints out the back toward the 6-foot privacy fence.  The house is filling with undercover covert ops type soldiers.  Fucking laser sights and shit everywhere.

BLAKE (V.O.)

I should’ve thought about my wife and kids first, but I’m not trained for that.  I’m trained for survival.  Besides, how can I protect them if I’m dead?  Or if they’re dead?

As Blake reaches the fence, soldiers flood out the back of the house.

Blake, heart-pounding, adrenaline surging, back in the game for the first time in 20 years, runs full speed at the fence and jumps–

SLAMMING into the fence and breaking his face!

It’s HORRIBLE.

BLOOD everyWHERE!

BLAKE (V.O.)

Oh my God, I’m so fucking old!

BLAKE

Oh my God, I’m so fucking old!

The soldiers slow their pursuit and aim their laser beam sights on Blake.

SOLDIER

Blake Steevens?

BLAKE

(through conditioner-in-eyes pain x 100)

Yeah?

SOLDIER

AKA The Pit Viper?

BLAKE

Uh-huh?

SOLDIER

AKA The Human Hand Grenade?

BLAKE

Okay?

SOLDIER

AKA The Big Colorado?

BLAKE

Yes.  It’s me.  You found me.  What do you want?

SOLDIER

We have orders to kill you.

BLAKE

Good luck.

SOLDIER

Thank you, sir.

The soldier shoots him in the face.  He dies.

BLACK.

THE END.

Happy Holidays (aka Christmas Miracles)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 22, 2011 by huntercovington

INT. CARPORT – NIGHT

(I guess technically this could be an EXT., but you’re kind of “inside” the carport.  Man, I don’t know.  But you guys know what a carport is, right?  Cool, cool.  Let’s just figure this out later.)

It’s mid-to-late December and kind of cold as fuck, but not snowing because we’re actually in the desert.  (We should actually shoot this in the desert for real for authenticity.)  This carport is connected to a trailer, like a trailer house not a trailer car carrier or horse trailer or something.  (Which I guess brings up the point that this could all be EXT.  TRAILER – NIGHT obvi.)

Anyway, shit, none of that really matters.  It’s just like setting everything up and giving you the tone and everything.  So it’s night outside this trailer with a carport and we’re in the desert and it’s cold but no snow.  There.

Then all of the sudden…

BOOM!

SNOW EVERYWHERE.

Like blanketing shit.

Covering every.  Thing.

Insane.

CUT TO:

INT. TRAILER – CONTINUOUS

KID
Whoooooooooooaaaaaaaaaa!

This kid is watching out the window.  And he wasn’t expecting some sonic snow boom like that!  For real.  He was like “Oh maybe some cars will drive by or something.

But no.

He just saw as fucking holiday miracle of snow blanketing.

I cannot express enough how sweet this looked.  You’ve never seen anything like it.  Hell, I haven’t.  No one has.

Well, except this kid.  We’ll call him CHESTER ARTHUR.  He’s like 6 or something around there.  His parents subconsciously named him after our 21st President.

His mind/brain is still trying to process the beauty of this.

CHESTER ARTHUR
I don’t even get it.

Or he could say:

CHESTER ARTHUR
My brain just melted out both ears!

Either way.

He stumbles outside into the winter wonderland that wasn’t there like 20 seconds ago.

NOTE: His parents aren’t home because it’s the holidays and they run a meth lab down the road.  Needless to say, meth is in high demand during the holidays so they’re pulling double shifts and stuff.  Hard workers.  So Chester Arthur is home alone, but he has a robot dog to protect him.  Just kidding.  He has a shotgun and a for real samurai sword.

CUT TO:

EXT. TRAILER – CONTINUOUS

Chester Arthur steps out into this motherfucking beauty.  The most spectacular air he’s ever breathed fills his lungs like it’s fucking candy coated oxygen.

It feels like a dream, but also more authentic than anything he’s ever felt so he knows it’s not a dream.  (But still might be.  Just kidding again.  That was a fake out.  Sorry.)

CHESTER ARTHUR
Well, this Christmas Eve was super sucky because my parents had to go to work and they said I wasn’t getting any toys, but this snow rocks!

He’s for sure lying to himself.  He has to stop trying to kid people.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Who am I kidding?  I’m miserable and this snow is melting through my socks.

And it’s freezing.

His mind wonders for a beat.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Why does it cold in the desert?  What they teach you about deserts in school is bullshit.

VOICE
Hey!

Whoa!  A voice rings out.

Chester Arthur turns and looks.  It’s a dude in a car.

DUDE IN A CAR
I don’t want to hear that language from you, young man.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Who are you?  And before you answer, please consider telling the truth because I have a shotgun and a sword forged by the hand of Hatori Hanzo.

He was obviously bluffing about the Hatori Hanzo sword.  He’d just seen Kill Bill a bunch even though it’s not age-appropriate.

DUDE IN A CAR
Easy there, kid.  I’m just wanting you to not curse.  And also point me to the nearest gas station.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Cool.  Why don’t I just ride with you there?

The dude is like WHAT?  NO.  Because of how it would look if he took the kid.  Chester Arthur reads this on his face.

CHESTER ARTHUR
It’s cool.  I don’t have shit– sorry, crap to do.  And I’ll take my shotgun and sword in case you try to pull any bullshit– sorry bullcrap on me.  I’ve already killed 3 pedophiles this year.  What do I care about a forth?

I think this thing is actually true, but no one wants to press charges against him, so it’s kind of muddy.  Anyway, we’ll just assume it’s true.

DUDE IN A CAR
Alright, I guess.

CUT TO:

EXT. GAS STATION – LATER

Dude pumps his gas as Chester Arthur checks that his shotgun is in working order.

It’s kind of surreal but not like Salvador Dali surreal.  Just kind of weird I guess.

Dude finishes putting the gas in the car’s gas tank, then walks up and knocks on Chester Arthur’s window.

Chester Arthur rolls it down, but just enough to put the shotgun out.

DUDE IN A CAR
Easy.  I just wanted to know if you wanted anything in the store.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Sure.

DUDE IN A CAR
Please leave the weapons in the car.  You look like an asshole.

True.  He does.

So he leaves them and gets out.

CUT TO:

INT. GAS STATION – MOMENTS LATER

Dude and Chester Arthur are in there and stuff.  Chester Arthur is looking at toys, but the dude is like:

DUDE IN A CAR
Whoa.  I thought maybe like a candy bar or a soda.  Not like a toy.

CHESTER ARTHUR
But…

DUDE IN A CAR
But what?

CHESTER ARTHUR
Nothing.

DUDE IN A CAR
No, what?

CHESTER ARTHUR
Nothing.

DUDE IN A CAR
Tell me.

CHESTER ARTHUR
No.

DUDE IN A CAR
Come on.

CHESTER ARTHUR
No way.

DUDE IN A CAR
Kid…

CHESTER ARTHUR
It’s embarrassing.

DUDE IN A CAR
Embarrassing?  You’re talking to a dude who once slammed his nutsack in the shower door.
(off Chester Arthur’s look)
It’s complicated.  Just tell me.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Fine.  My parents aren’t getting me anything for Christmas.

DUDE IN A CAR
Why are you Jewish?

CHESTER ARTHUR
No!  Because they’re fucking meth dealers and assholes!

DUDE IN A CAR
Easy.  They’re still your parents.

CHESTER ARTHUR
I know!  That’s how I know they’re fucking meth dealers and assholes!

DUDE IN A CAR
Good point.

The dude takes this in.  It’s pretty fucking heavy.

CHESTER ARTHUR
I guess I’ll just take a Snickers and Coke.

He’s down as fuck.

DUDE IN A CAR
Tell you what, kid.  You can have whatever you want.  On me.  I’ll be your Santa Claus.

CHESTER ARTHUR
I’ll get the shotgun and blow your guts through your back if you so much as–

DUDE IN A CAR
No, I mean I’ll buy you stuff like they’re presents from Santa Claus.

CHESTER ARTHUR
Oh, cool!

Chester Arthur runs around grabbing things he loves.

It’s beautiful.

Then the CASHIER walks up to the dude.

CASHIER
Hey, you’re not going to fuck that kid, are you?

DUDE IN A CAR
No.

CASHIER
Cool.  We’ve had some problems with that around here.  Specifically with that kid.  He’s really cute.

The cashier touches his wiener through his jeans and moans like a complete creepshow.

The dude does not even fucking hesitate and kills the cashier for being such a sick fuck pedophile.

This is getting a lot heavier than I thought it would get.

Anyway.

CUT TO:

INT. TRAILER – LATER

Chester Arthur is frollicking like a motherfucker with all the shit the dude bought him from the gas station.  (The dude paid for it even though he killed the cashier because he’s a gentleman.)

CHESTER ARTHUR
Woo-hoooooo!  Best Christmas ever!

We see the dude watching him through the window.  A single tear forms in his eye and he wipes it away and tastes it.  Yep.  It’s a tear of joy.  It tastes good.

EXT. TRAILER – CONTINUOUS

As the dude turns to walk away, we see light glint off his necklace, which is a… STAR OF DAVID BECAUSE HE’S JEWISH!

Mind blow.

EVEN THOUGH THE DUDE IS JEWISH HE STILL NEW THIS FUCKING KID NEEDED CHRISTMAS PRESENTS BECAUSE ALL KIDS NEED CHRISTMAS PRESENTS BECAUSE THEY’RE USUALLY TOYS AND KIDS LOVE TOYS.

He gets in his car and drives away, knowing this kid is super happy and totally getting it even though he never celebrated Christmas as a kid.

In the background, a meth lab blows up, mushroom-clouding in the sky.  It’s glorious.

Chester Arthur runs to the window and sees it.

He takes it in.

He knows his parents were in there.

But they were assholes.

He doesn’t cry.

He just says:

CHESTER ARTHUR
NOW it’s the best Christmas ever!

Note: there are several good examples of Christmas Miracles in this.  Pretty cool.

THE END.

Da Bears

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on June 20, 2011 by huntercovington

EXT. FOREST – NIGHT

Note: Isn’t it funny how forest is spelled forest, but the name Forrest is spelled Forrest?  So weird, right?  I guess it helps us distinguish between the two though, so that’s nice.

We’re in a forest.  It’s not really totally night yet.  It’s kinda twilight, but not Twilight.  (See?  Another neat spelling thing there.  When I capitalized Twilight, you knew what I was talking about.)  Anyways, it’s getting dark, but it’s still a pretty nice night without a lot of cloud cover so you can see mad stars (a lot of stars).  Also this forest is deciduous, but it doesn’t really matter.  There are some pine trees as well, but not a ton.  Just picture a forest at night, okay?

So we’re in this forest at night.  And there’s this Cub Scout Pack of some boys and their adult leader dude, the CUB MASTER.  He’s one of these dudes who has a real lame life, like as an accountant or something, and he uses the Cub Scouts to prove to kids he’s like the James Bond of woodsmen or whatever.  His name is probably Tom or something corny like that.  Jim.

They walk on a trail with like flashlights or lanterns or something (but not torches).

CUB MASTER
Boys, this is a first for us.  We’re the first ones to do this too.  It’s pretty great.  That lame-ass David would’ve never took you to do this.

CUB SCOUT #1
David died saving us from a forest fire last year, so…

CUB MASTER
So what?  He was a pussy.

CUB SCOUT #2
Um, he put out 60 acres by himself before he died.

CUB MASTER
First of all, they were hectares and if he was such a badass, then why is he dead.

CUB SCOUT #3 starts crying.

CUB SCOUT #1
David was Kyle’s father.

Long beat because a lot of people there forgot that shit.  Awkward Level 1,000,000,000.

CUB MASTER
Okay.  So what I meant to say is David would’ve wanted us to do this.

CUB SCOUT #3
Really?

CUB MASTER
Yeah.  Totally not a pussy.  Totally didn’t die in a forest fire like a lame.

CUB SCOUT #3
I’m going to cry again.

CUB MASTER
Well, don’t.  Because again, I was joking.

CUB SCOUT #1
You’re kind of a dick.

CUB MASTER
What did you just say?

CUB SCOUT #1
I said–

CUB SCOUT #2
Wait.  Cub Master, tell us why we’re going to spend the night in a cave?

CUT TO:

INT. CAVE – MOMENTS LATER
The Cub Master and the boys are in the cave now (time jump like in movies).

CUB SCOUT #2
Because this shit is fucking terrifying.

It is terrifying.  It’s a fucking cave.  In the middle of a remote forest.  And now it’s raining!

CUB SCOUT #1
And now it’s raining!

CUB MASTER
Guys!  Let’s not be pussies like David.

CUB SCOUT #3
What?

CUB MASTER
JK JK.
(to other boys)
Man, is this kid sensitive about his dead dad being a pussy and me being a way better Cub Master, or what?

The kids just stand there like WTF?  Can you believe this guy?  Etc.

CUB MASTER
Listen.  We’re in a den.  A real live bear den.  Because we’re Cub Scouts.  And cubs are baby bears.  And I’m the Cub Master, which means… the master baby bear.

The kids just stare at him like this is stupid and also dumb.

CUB MASTER
Look, it’s gonna be cool.  Like primal.  Getting in touch with our primal side.  Man stuff.  Awesome stuff.  I promise.  Everyone just get your sleeping bags out and shit.

The kids start doing that shit.  Cub Scout #3 is still bothered about earlier and tugs on the Cub Master’s shirt tail.

CUB SCOUT #3
Was my dad really a pussy?

CUB MASTER
Look, kid–

WHOA!

Just then a fucking bear rips the Cub Master’s head clean the fuck off and tears the shit out of him!

DUDE!

IT’S NUTS.

The kids look in horror and see 2 GIANT BEARS AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE CAVE!  (It’s still raining.)

BEAR #1
Rooooooooooaaaaarrrrr!

CUB SCOUTS
Aaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!

Then everyone freezes.  Then:

BEAR #2
(through it’s blood-soaked mouth)
Raaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwrrrrrr!

CUB SCOUTS
Aaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!

Then it’s so fucking on as the 2 bears rip apart all the Cub Scouts in short order.  One of the Cub Scouts tries to use waterproof matches, but they won’t light.  Shit.  Another tries to pull out a blade on his pocket knife.  It’s slow and rusty.

They die.

The 2 bears look over the carnage.

BEAR #1
Man, I hate when they think they’re actual bears and want to use an actual bear den/cave.

BEAR #2
Hahahaha.  Idiot humans.

The 2 bears share a hearty laugh.

BEAR #1
Man, this suit is so fucking hot.

BEAR #2
What?

BEAR #1
I’m sweating my balls off in here.  I’ve been wearing it for like 3 hours, tracking these fools.

Bear #1 takes off the head of his costume to reveal a fucking HUMAN BEING MAN.

BEAR #1
My name’s Tom.  You must be Johnny.

He extends his hand.

BEAR #2
Whoa, whoa, whoa.  What?  What’s happening?

BEAR #1
I’m Tom.

BEAR #2
Holy shit.  I think there’s been some misunderstanding.

BEAR #1
Wait.  I thought you were Johnny.  The guy who answered my Craigslist ad about dressing up in bear suits and hunting down Cub Scouts.  Ring a bell?
(off Bear #2′s blank stare)
No?  Nothing?

BEAR #2
No, man.  I’m a talking bear.  I don’t… I don’t understand.  Why would you do this?  You think this is some kind of joke?

BEAR #1
Come on, Johnny.  Tell me you’re Johnny.  I’m starting to freak out, man.  Just take off your head, man.

Bear #1 tries to take off Bear #2′s “head.”

Bear #2 freaks the fuck out (because he’s really just a talking bear) and tears Bear #1 (Tom) apart.  It’s gruesome.

BEAR #2
What the hell’s this world coming to?

Just then a third bear, Bear #3, shows up at the entrance of the cave.

BEAR #3
Hey, what’s up?  You must be Tom.  Damn, this costume is sweatier than a whore’s cotton panty panel.

BEAR #2
You must be Johnny.

We ZOOM IN on Bear #2′s snarly, fangy smile.

But before we see what happens, we just cut to black because it’s more mysterious to not know exactly what happened.  (He ripped Johnny apart, guesomely.)

THE END.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.