A much-anticipated delivery. An unholy dance move. A Hollywood legend. Three darkly hilarious scenes from one glorious universe.
“Delivery”
EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD – FRONT PORCH – DAY
[A large cardboard shipping box is unceremoniously hurled onto the porch from off-screen. It collides with the front door. Immediately, The Kid swings the door open, looks down at the box.]THE KID:
(Elated) Hell yes! It’s finally here!
INT. SUBURBAN HOME – FOYER – DAY
[The Kid drops the box on the hardwood floor, runs off screen for a moment, returns with a pizza cutter in hand. He cuts the packing seal on the box with the pizza cutter, tosses the cutter aside, tears open the box. Blue styrofoam packing peanuts spill everywhere. He thrusts his hands into the box.]THE KID:
(staring into the box with awe) It’s finally here…
VOICE OVER:
(gravelly, guttural, demonic) HEY KID. WHAT’S IN THE BOX?
THE KID:
It’s my new lease on life!!
-+-+-+-
“That’s My Jam”
EXT. PARKING LOT – AFTERNOON
[Weekly meeting of the B-Boy crew. Four dudes standing around a large cardboard flap and a boombox. They take turns dancing, trying to one-up each other with elaborate breakdancing routines. Legs Lemmon spins on his head, goes up on one hand, comes out of the spin on his heels.]PROFESSOR RUNGLE:
Fucking weak, son. Show him how we play it, Q.
BAWDY BOMB:
How you gunna top that, boy? Huh?
LEGS LEMMON:
Peep it ya’ll. I’m about to pray for death.
BAWDY BOMB:
Shit. Homeboy don’t know his game yet. Pfft.
DIZZY Q:
This ain’t Sunday School. The fuck you about, Legs?
BAWDY BOMB:
(Shouting) Oh fuck no!
PROFESSOR RUNGLE:
(Calm) Okay. Pause for a second. (Pointing to the corpse of Legs) Ain’t never seen shit like that.
DIZZY Q:
Oh I’m up out of this bitch.
BAWDY BOMB:
(Running into the distance) You were right, Legs! Never gonna doubt your ass again, never!
-+-+-+-
“The Inexorable Heat Death of the Universe”
EXT. OUTER SPACE – JUST BEYOND SATURN’S ORBIT
[The borderless expanse of outer space. Ten million stars shining in the dark. From that field of lights emerges an indistinct shape. It tumbles very slowly, end over end, toward the camera. As the object approaches the viewer, it comes into focus: It is the unmoving body of elderly Orson Welles. He’s wearing a tuxedo.]ORSON WELLES:
(Muttering) Mmaaaah yess, the French Champagne. It has always been celebrated for its excellence.
ORSON WELLES:
There is… a California Champagne by Paul Masson, inspired by that same French excellence.
ORSON WELLES:
It is fermented in the bottle, and like the best French Champagne, it’s vintage dated…
ORSON WELLES:
In July, peas grow there.
FADE TO:
Black
Photo by Anonymous Account.