Tag Archives: script

Cooking on a Budget with Sunday Muldoon

INT. SUNDAY MULDOON'S GARAGE - DAY

               SUNDAY MULDOON wears pajama pants and a Hawaiian shirt. He
               stands next to a make shift kitchen consisting of a hot
               plate, a pot, a pan and wood spoons. SHOES holds the camera
               in a wavering, rocky grip. 

               The room is messy. Pot paraphernalia, cigarette butts and
               liquor bottles are littered across it and a tent with a
               mattress inside of it fills out one corner. 

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Hey everybody, I'm Sunday Muldoon,
                         and this is "Cooking on a Budget
                         with Sunday Muldoon". Who is...me.
                         And on the camera we have Shoes.
                         Shoes, hand me the camera so you
                         can introduce yourself.

                                   SHOES
                         Right on.

               CUT TO

               Shoes stands in frame. He claps two mismatched shoes together
               and nods to the camera.

                                   SHOES
                         Word.

               CUT BACK

               Shoes again holds the camera with Sunday on screen next to
               his kitchen.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         So, today our meal will be an egg
                         sandwich and mashed potatoes. We're
                         still waiting on the bread, but in
                         the meantime let me take you on a
                         little tour of my kitchen.

               Sunday motions to the table to his side.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         This is my kitchen. I have a
                         variety of cook-ware... wood
                         spoons. My spice library is
                         constantly changing, but I find I'm
                         never without paprika, or crushed
                         waffle-cone.

               CUT TO

               Paprika and crushed waffle cone on the table. The waffle cone
               is in a zip-lock baggy. A cough is heard off camera and a
               cloud of smoke is blown into frame.

               CUT BACK

               Sunday has an egg in each hand. 

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         These're eggs. 

                                   SHOES
                         Eggs of a chicken.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Correct. Now, I usually buy my eggs
                         one at a time. They go about 80
                         cents per egg. Due to lack of funds
                         I didn't purchase these eggs,
                         though, uh... I actually procured
                         these eggs from a coop my neighbor
                         Julio keeps in his uh...back
                         yard... But if you can afford to
                         buy eggs, I would recommend this
                         approach over thievery, because I
                         was shot during my escape.
                         Fortunately Julio was unable to
                         ascertain my identity during the
                         event, and I know this because had
                         he discovered it was me, my balls
                         would be ensconced within the bowl
                         movements of his pit-bulls and my
                         head would be in a dumpster right
                         now, because Julio is a drug
                         dealer. Julio is actually, uh...my
                         drug dealer...but just buy the
                         eggs. 

                                   SHOES
                         Eggs aren't worth your life, dawg.

               CUT TO

               A close-up of Sunday holding an egg out in his palm.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Egg.

               CUT BACK

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Now, the way you should cook these
                         eggs is, turn your hot-plate up as
                         far as you can without blowing a
                         fuse. Crack the protective layering
                         and empty the contents into the
                         pan. 

               Sunday begins cooking the eggs. He stirs them a bit as they
               begin steaming. 

               The camera pans down as shoes notices blood pooling on the
               ground at Sunday's feet.

                                   SHOES
                         Dude, your bullet hole.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Ah, shit!

               CUT TO

               Sunday stirs the eggs for a moment before he looks up.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         While these are cooking lets go
                         find Elbows and check the status of
                         our mashed potatoes. 

               Sunday walks past Shoes, who follows close behind as they
               walk out of the front door of the shack and emerge into a
               sunlit back-yard, just as messy as Sunday's garage. Sitting
               with his back turned, on a rickety lawn chair is, ELBOWS. 

               Elbows is wearing a filthy wife beater, leisure pants and
               aviator sunglasses. He has a huge mustache and a cigarette
               dangles from his mouth. He robotically and monotonously
               mashes a bowl full of potatoes. 

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         How're the potatoes?

               Elbows continues mashing the potatoes, ash from his cigarette
               falls into the bowl. He pays no mind.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         Rad.

               Sunday looks up and nods to Shoes.

               CUT TO

               Back inside. Sunday is next to his cooking station once more.
               He lightly prods at the simmering eggs. 

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         So...I, uhh...yeah. Those potatoes
                         are actually, like, earth potatoes.
                         Like we just found em' out...like,
                         it was like a field?

                                   SHOES
                         Yeah, it was like a fucking field.
                         Filled with potatoes.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         I'm not sure why they were out
                         there...

                                   SHOES
                         Doesn't make any sense.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         But there were dozens...

                                   SHOES
                         Hundreds.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Innumerable potatoes.

                                   SHOES
                         Sacks of potatoes.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Sacks, buckets...

                                   SHOES
                         Buckets full of potatoes.

               Shoes pans down to reveal SCOOTER crouched on the ground.
               Scooter is wearing only boxer shorts. He has his ear planted
               next to an air-cleaner sitting on the floor. His face is
               intensely focused and filled with awe. He's holding a rag in
               one hand.

                                   SHOES (CONT'D)
                         Hey, it's Scooter.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Scooter! Hey, Scootey! Scoots
                         McGoots! Yeah...Scooter...

                                   SHOES
                         Do you smell...starter fluid?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Whatcha doin' down there, Scoot?

               Scooter continues silently listening to the hum of the air
               cleaner for several seconds before slowly raising the rag to
               his face and inhaling deeply.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         Rad.

               The camera pans back up to look at Sunday.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         Uhh...so back to the eggs, then.

               Smoke streams into frame for a second before a cough is heard
               and a massive cloud is exhaled by Shoes who begins hacking
               uncontrollably.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         Shit, dude, are you cool?

               Shoes continues coughing. His hand enters the frame to hand
               Sunday a joint.

               CUT

               Sunday walks over to the hot-plate, grabs the pan and pours
               the now cooked eggs onto a paper-plate.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         And that's how you cook eggs!

                                   JULIO
                         Yo.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Oh, fuck my balls!

               The camera turns to reveal JULIO standing in the doorway.
               Julio stares at Sunday with dead eyes and his hands casually
               in his pocket. Both of his hands are in the same pocket. He's
               dressed like a drug dealer. Like a HELLA drug dealer. 

                                   SHOES
                         What up, fella?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Julio! My man!

               Sunday forces an awkward smile. Shoes aims the camera back
               and forth from Julio to Sunday as the conversation proceeds.

                                   JULIO
                         Did you guys see anything weird
                         yesterday? 

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Weird like...?

                                   JULIO
                         A guy wearing panty-hose over his
                         head running around with about 20 -
                         27 eggs in his pockets?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Eggs in pockets? Rings no bells,
                         sorry.

                                   JULIO
                         So you didn't see anything?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Nope.

                                   JULIO
                         What're you cooking?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Eggsssss...chili.

                                   SHOES
                         I thought we were cooking eggs?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Egg chili.

                                   JULIO
                         Egg chili?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         It's a...Mongolian recipe.

               Julio stares blankly and un-blinking. 

                                   SHOES
                         Do you think he knows?

                                   JULIO
                         Knows what?

                                   SHOES
                         Holy shit! I thought you left.

                                   JULIO
                         Why?

                                   SHOES
                         Uhh...

               Shoes looks to Sunday who shakes his head from side to side.

                                   JULIO
                         What the fuck is that?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Is...

               Julio walks over to a pair of cargo pants hanging from a nail
               in the wall. The pockets are bulbous and swelling. Julio
               reaches into one of them and pulls out an egg. He stares at
               it, face igniting with rage.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON (CONT'D)
                         Shit...

               A noise is heard from the front door, Shoes aims the camera
               toward it. Elbows is standing in the doorway, staring,
               smoking, and mashing potatoes.

               CUT TO

               Julio lies dead on the floor. Elbows sits on a stool eating
               the plate of eggs. His elbows are covered in blood. Sunday
               stares at Julio's corpse in aghast silence. 

                                   SHOES
                         Fuck, man.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Well...

                                   SHOES
                         Dude, where's Scooter?

                                   SCOOTER
                         I'm in the tent!

                                   SHOES
                         Oh.

                                   SCOOTER
                         Did Elbows just kill a guy?

                                   SHOES
                         Yeah.

                                   SCOOTER
                         Again!?

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Uhh...

               From off screen a loaf of bread flies into frame and bounces
               off of Sunday's face to land on the floor. 

                                   SHOES
                         Breads here!

               Sunday looks directly into the camera.

                                   SUNDAY MULDOON
                         Did you turn the camera back on?

                                   SHOES
                         ....No.

               CUT TO BLACK

[

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Rise of the Dickinator: Short Script

EXT. PARK - DAY

               A GERALD sits on a park bench as the sun pierces dimly
               through an overcast sky. THE DICKINATOR approaches him.

                                   GERALD
                         Can I help yo-

               Gerald is cut off mid-sentence by The Dickinator's shooting
               of his dick with a gun. Blood spills from Gerald's crotch. He
               falls off of the bench and screams in agony.

               OPENING CREDITS

               EXT. PARK - DAY

               Gerald is still lying in front of the park bench. He rolls
               around and groans, soaked in blood. Detectives BACON and POOP
               stand over him.

                                   BACON
                         The annihilation of this mans
                         entire crotchial region is-is
                         staggering in its magnitude. I
                         mean, look at this. There's
                         nothing. There's nothing left. It's
                         ground beef. It's...it's catfood. 

                                   POOP
                         It's kinda fucked up, huh?

                                   BACON
                         This poor SOB might as well slap on
                         a pair a tits and start calling the
                         entry wound a vagina, cause...his
                         dick is...it's a write off.

                                   POOP
                         Dicks don't grow back.

                                   BACON
                         Dicks do not grow back.

               Bacon and Poop nod in concurrence.

                                   GERALD
                         I can hear everything you're
                         saying. I'm laying right here. This
                         is me, laying three feet away from
                         you, bleeding to death with no
                         dick.

               Poop and Bacon remain unresponsive toward Gerald's pleas.

                                   BACON
                         Get word to HQ, we need the meat
                         wagon down here with a fresh body
                         bag, stat. And tell em' I can't
                         shake the feeling we're gonna go
                         through quite a few of those
                         today....the smell of dick-blood is
                         in the air, getting stronger by the
                         minute. Can ya feel it, Poop?
                         There's a storm a-brewin'.

                                   GERALD
                         What the fuck, guys?!

               EXT. STREETS - DAY

               MONTAGE - SLOW MOTION

               The Dickinator walks down a sidewalk, lighting his cigarette.
               He's wearing a brown leather jacket, aviator sunglasses and
               he has a mustache. 

               Two hooligans, REGINOLD and PATRICK, smoking a joint in an
               alley-way look over as The Dickinator walks toward them. 

               END MONTAGE

                                   THE DICKINATOR
                         You fellas look like you got two
                         too many dicks.

                                   REGINOLD
                         Uhh....

                                   PATRICK
                         What?

               The Dickinator pulls his gat and blasts both these fools
               dicks off. They keel over, bleeding and crying in pain.

               The Dickinator eyes them both in disgust. He tosses his
               cigarette onto the ground and walks away.

               EXT. OFFICE - DAY

               Detective Bacon stands around eating a sandwich in an office.
               Poop enters the office.

                                   BACON
                         Hey, Poop.

                                   POOP
                         Hey, Bacon. There was a break on
                         The Dickinator case.

               Bacon throws his sandwich across the room.

                                   BACON
                         A BREAK ON THE DICKINATOR CASE?!

                                   POOP
                         Yup. Apparently somebody witnessed
                         the dick-shooting this morning.
                         Central command wants us to go pick
                         him up and take him in for
                         questioning.

                                   BACON
                         Sounds like a job for Bacon and
                         Poop.

                                   POOP
                         Word.

               Bacon and Poop perform a perfectly synchronized secret
               friendship hand-shake and a high-five. 

                                   BACON
                         Let's go find this witness, before
                         someone else does. Someone with a
                         much harsher disposition toward not
                         shooting people's dicks off. 

                                   POOP
                         You're talking about that guy that
                         shot that dudes dick off earlier?

                                   BACON
                         The very same.

                                   POOP
                         You think he knows someone saw him?

                                   BACON
                         Listen to me, Poop, I've been on
                         the job a lotta years and never
                         have I seen something like this.
                         Oh, sure, you get your random
                         firearm inflicted de-dickifications
                         from time to time.
                         Husband cheats on a wife, she
                         snaps, budda-bing, she shoots his
                         dick off. Hippy college kid drops
                         too many acids, takes off all his
                         clothes, looks down, holy shit a
                         snake! Budda-boom, and he shoots
                         off his dick. Eight year old boy,
                         finds his old man's .38; accidentally shoots his
                         dick off, shoots his dads dick off,
                         shoots his dogs dick off, I mean
                         sometimes things just get outta
                         hand. But those cases all made
                         sense in their own way. There's a
                         rhyme and a reason to em'. Our guy,
                         running and gunning through the
                         streets of our fair metropolis,
                         iron-sights fixed to the dick of
                         every man, woman and child in the
                         city. He's a mad dog. A dog mad
                         with a thirst. An unquenchable
                         thirst for blood. The blood of
                         dicks. 

                                   POOP
                         It's pretty fucked up.

               Bacon walks across the room and picks up the shattered
               remnants of what was once his ham sandwich.

                                   BACON
                         I'm gonna finish this, then we can
                         go.

               EXT. STREETS - DAY

               BOBOWL strolls down a side-walk. The Dickinator drives up and
               shoots his dick off and drives away.

                                   BOBOWL
                         Shit!

               INT. CAR - DAY

               Bacon and Poop cruise down the road. They see Bobowl lying on
               the side-walk.

               EXT. STREETS - DAY

               Bacon and Poop rush out of their car to the fallen man on the
               sidewalk.
               They stop short of stepping into an ever growing pool of
               crotch-blood. Bacon looks down at the crotchless man with a
               pained expression. 

                                   BACON
                         This mother-fucker! He's always one
                         dick ahead of me! I can't stop him,
                         he's too smart. Every time I think
                         I'm closing in, he shrivels away.

                                   BOBOWL
                         Can one of you guys please call me
                         an ambulance? Somebody shot my dick
                         off, and I'm losing a lot of blood.

                                   BACON
                         Another innocent's blood spilled on
                         the streets. My streets! Another
                         man's life ended before its time.

                                   BOBOWL
                         I actually think I'll be OK if you
                         get me to a hospital.

                                   BACON
                         All hopes. All dreams of living a
                         rich, happy life. A life abundant
                         with still having a dick. All those
                         dreams....now flowing in a crimson
                         stream, seeping into the asphalt,
                         and spilling into the
                         sewers....like a tear....in the
                         rain.

                                   BOBOWL
                         What the fuck are you talking
                         about?

                                   POOP
                         Bacon, get a grip. I've been your
                         partner for 18 years and we always
                         get our perp. It's just a matter of
                         time.

                                   BACON
                         You're right, Poop. I let my
                         emotions get the best of me. Let's
                         go find this dick.

               A voice sounds from Poop's radio, he reaches into his car and
               grabs it.

                                   POOP
                         What is it HQ? We've got another
                         body, here.

                                   BOBOWL
                         Ambulance?

                                   POOP
                         Holy shit, Bacon. Someone's seen
                         The Dickinator, we gotta roll!

               Poop and Bacon gaze at each others determined faces. They get
               into the car, clasp their hands together and peel out, never
               looking away from one and other. They leave Bowbowl for dead.

               EXT. STREETS - DAY

               Bacon and Poop's ride pulls up and stops in an empty lot.
               Bacon and Poop exit the vehicle and begin looking around.

                                   POOP
                         This is where gunshots were
                         reported.

               Bacon spies a shady looking character making his way into an
               alley across the lot.

                                   BACON
                         Over there.

               Bacon motions toward where he saw the figure. They look at
               each other, unholster their weapons and begin walking.

               EXT. ALLEY - DAY

               Bacon and Poop make it to the mouth of the alley in time to
               see The Dickinator approaching a homeless man sleeping in a
               pile of garbage. The Dickinator aims his gun at the homeless
               man's dick.

                                   BACON
                         Stop!

               The Dickinator notices Poop and Bacon standing at the end of
               the alley. He looks right into Bacon's eyes.

                                   BACON (CONT'D)
                         Don't you shoot that man's-

               The Dickinator shoots the homeless man's dick off.

                                   BACON (CONT'D)
                         Ah, Fuck! He shot his dick off!

               Poop and Bacon hurdle down the alley-way at top speed. The
               Dickinator fires a few rounds, forcing them to duck for
               cover, then takes off. Poop and Bacon are quickly hot on his
               heels. 

               EXT. EARTH - DAY

               Poop and Bacon furiously pursue The Dickinator who fires
               rounds wildly over his shoulder. Bacon is struck in the leg.
               He falls. Poop stops and kneels down next to Bacon.

                                   BACON
                         No! Leave me! Go get that
                         motherfucker!

                                   POOP
                         I'll come back for you.

               Poop stands and hesitantly begins chasing after The
               Dickinator once more. Bacon retrieves his radio from his
               jacket and tries to radio for back-up.

                                   BACON
                         This is officer Bacon, I need back
                         up at-

               A gunshot is heard from the distance. Bacon looks up in
               horror.

                                   BACON (CONT'D)
                         Poop...

               Bacon throws his radio away and fights through the pain of
               his bullet wound to stand. He begins limping toward the sound
               of the gunshot.

               EXT. COURTYARD - DAY

               Bacon rounds a corner entering the courtyard. Buildings on all
               sides, criss-crossed with paths and walk-ways. Bacon's eyes
               fix to something, filling with horror. He sees Poop. On the
               ground. Shot in the dick. Poop writhes in pain. Bacon drops
               to he knees and screams to the heavens.

                                   BACON
                         FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

               Bacon punches the ground.

                                   BACON (CONT'D)
                         You shot Poop's dick off!

                                   POOP
                         He shot my dick off, bro.

                                   BACON
                         Shit!

                                   POOP
                         You think you could, like, put it
                         back together?

                                   THE DICKINATOR
                         Detective.

               Bacon looks up and sees standing across the courtyard from
               him, The Dickinator.

                                   THE DICKINATOR (CONT'D)
                         I believe you've been looking for
                         me.

               Bacon stands up. He walks around Poop and squares off with
               The Dickinator.

                                   BACON
                         I've been waiting for this moment.
                         Your days of terrorizing dicks are
                         over!

                                   THE DICKINATOR
                         That may be, but not before I've
                         terrorized your dick.

                                   BACON
                         Hey, fuck you, guy!

                                   THE DICKINATOR
                         I'm about to make you wish your
                         dick hadn't been shot off.

               The Dickinator slides his jacket back, revealing his gun
               holstered at his side. Bacon removes his jacket to reveal his
               holstered under his shoulder. They mean-mug each other for an
               extended period of time, then draw. Then simultaneously shoot
               each others dicks off. 

               They both fall to the ground, clutching their groins. They
               hit the floor across from one and other and bleed to death.

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The Joint (Short Screen-play)

INT. RANDALL’S ROOM – DAY

RANDALL is sitting on his couch reading his lap-top. A knock
comes from the front door.

RANDALL
Come in.

LOUIE enters and seats himself next to Randall.

LOUIE
What are up to?

RANDALL
Watching porn.

LOUIE
Were you about to jerk off, cause I
can come back in a couple minutes.

RANDALL
No, this isn’t jerking off porn.

LOUIE
Alright, well put your porn away
and take a look at this.

Louie retrieves a joint from his breast pocket. It is
immaculate. Packed so full of weed it looks pregnant, but
everywhere, and not just in its uterus.

RANDALL
Holy scrotes!

LOUIE
Yeah. Its pretty badass.

RANDALL
If that joint were a woman, I would
have an erection.

LOUIE
You do have an erection.

RANDALL
Touche, my friend.

LOUIE
So are we gonna burn this fucker,
or what?

RANDALL
I say we get through about half.
Maximum.

LOUIE
Think again, guy. We’re taking this
one all the way. Are you with me?

RANDALL
My God, man? Do you have any idea
what you’re asking?

LOUIE
I’m asking you to get really, very,
dangerously high with me right now.

RANDALL
Well when you put it that way, I’m
down.

LOUIE
Never give up. Never surrender.

Louie strikes a bic lighter.

RANDALL
Galaxy Quest.

INT. RANDALL’S ROOM – DAY

Enough time has passed for Randall and Louie to have smoked
about half of the joint. Randall is knee-deep in a gnarly
coughing fit, face buried in hands. Louie pats him on the
back. Louie has blood droplets on his shirt and face.

LOUIE
You alright?

Randall sits up.

RANDALL
I’ve never coughed like that
before.

LOUIE
What is that shit all over your
fucking hands, man?

Randall holds his hands out and looks at them, they both have a healthy coat of blood.

RANDALL
Holy shit. That’s blood, dude!

LOUIE
Where did that come from?

RANDALL
Look in my mouth, do I have blood
in my mouth.

Randall opens his mouth and turns his head toward Louie.
Louie peers inward to see all kinds of fucking blood in
there.

LOUIE
Yeah dude. That’s full of blood.
You got it all over your mouth, and
your hands and…and the couch and
my shirt and face.

Louie stares around the room while taking a hit off the mega
joint, just now noticing the blood spattered all over.

LOUIE (CONT’D)
Where did all this blood come from?
Did this all come from inside your body?

Louie takes another hit, exhales and immediately starts going
into a coughing fit of his own. Blood is ejected out of his
mouth. Globs of it violently clash with the floor and walls.
Louie turns toward Randall and accidentally coughs a splash
of blood right in his face. Randall barely even takes notice.

LOUIE (CONT’D)
My throat is fucked, dude.

Randall takes the joint from Louie.

RANDALL
We have to go on. You quoted
Galaxy Quest.

Randall takes another hit.

SLOW-MOTION MONTAGE (SOUNDTRACK NOTE: KASHMIR – LED ZEPPELIN)

Randall coughs more blood. He takes a hit. Holds it. Exhales.
Coughs even more blood.

Louie tries to hold in a cough, but the blood just starts leaking
from his nose, ears and eyes.

Randall falls to the floor, heaving and spazming with joint
in mouth.

Louie takes a hit and coughs so hard he accidentally hurls
the joint through the air. It lands, still burning. Randall
collapses onto the couch.

Louie crawls toward the joint. Dead-set on burning it to
the very end. He squirms through his own blood, still
violently coughing and choking. He stops halfway to the
joint, arm reaching out toward it. He goes still.
His eyes staring at nothing.

END MONTAGE/CUT MUSIC.

Randall lies on the couch. His blinking the only sign of life.

RANDALL
God. I’m so high.

Randall’s eyes close. He breathes his last breath. The joint
goes out. JAMAI walks into the room.

JIMMY
Ya’ll smokin’ weed?

CUT TO BLACK

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Interrogation Movie

INT. ROOM – NIGHT

Police officers TED DIDLIO and JOHN S. TAMOS stand in a room
together looking over a file for JAYQUON DEEZY.

TED
Jesus, this guy is one sick fuck,
alright.

JOHN
They call him ‘The Fister’

Ted shakes his head.

TED
Alright, lets do this.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM – NIGHT

RICK ANDERSON sits at a table. A beat passes before Ted and
John walk into the room.

RICK
Ted Thank God you guys are here.
There’s been a huge mistake.

TED
No mistake here, Jayquon.

RICK
I don’t know who this Jayquon
person is. My name is Rick
Anderson.

JOHN
Shut your fucking face, Deezy. Look
at this.

John holds up a photograph of the real Jayquon Deezy, who is
obviously not Rick.

JOHN (CONT’D)
You expect us to believe you’re not
this man?

RICK
Of course I’m not, look at him.

JOHN
We are looking at him. Right now.

Ted and John just stare at Rick.

RICK
This guy stole my wallet and put
his ID in my car.

John pulls his wallet from his pocket and throws it in Ricks
face.

TED
Whoah, John, easy.

JOHN
Don’t tell me ‘easy’, Ted! You saw
his file!

RICK
What the fuck!

JOHN
Give me my wallet back.

Rick tries to hand John his wallet, but John smacks it out of
his hand.

JOHN (CONT’D)
Fuck you, Deeezy!

Ted walks over and puts his hand on John’s shoulder.

TED
Hey, you need to cool it man. We
don’t do things this way.

Ted walks behind Rick and starts giving him a shoulder
message.

TED (CONT’D)
Don’t be scared, buckaroo. Nobody’s
gonna hurt you. You know it’s OK to
tell the truth…buddy.

RICK
But I’m not-

TED
We know, we know. You want some
coffee? Yeah you do, I’ll go get
you some coffee.

Ted motions to John and the two exit the room. A moment
passes before they re-enter. Ted carries a cup of coffee
which he splashes in Rick’s face. Rick screams.

RICK
Why?!

TED
Tell us why you did it, Fister!
Talk!

JOHN
Whoa, whoa, man! What are you
doing?!

Ted tries to get at Rick, but John pulls him away.

JOHN (CONT’D)
Put your shit on cool-aid, Ted!

TED
This cunt knows more than he’s
telling us, John! He knows and he
ain’t talking!

RICK
I’m not The Fister!

Ted slams a sheet of paper on the table in front of Rick.

TED
Then explain this, Deezy. Look at
this? Are you trying to tell us
that you did not make these
purchases? We ran your credit card.
300 dollars at Del Taco last night,
900 dollars of flesh-lights from
Amazon.com. Look at it!

RICK
I didn’t buy any of those thing!
Ted continues reading from the
list.

TED
Three pink dildos.

RICK
No!

TED
The collected works of Jane Austin,
6 pounds of cucumbers, four bottles
of nite-time cough syrup!

RICK
No!

TED
18 tubes of vagisil!

RICK
Ok, that was me, but-

TED
Did you hear that? He confessed!
He’s The Fister!

Ted runs over and starts kicking Rick’s shoulder.

RICK
My shoulder!

John grabs Ted and drags him away.

JOHN
Damnit, Ted! They could have your
badge for that!

Ted fights to free himself from John’s grasp.

TED
I’m cool! I’m cool.

John releases Ted. Ted straightens his shirt and composes
himself?

TED (CONT’D)
So why do they call you The Fister,
Fister?

RICK
Nobody calls me that. You people
are the only ones who have ever
called me Fister in my life.

Ted lunges across the room and punches Rick in the face.

TED
How’s that for a fist,
motherfucker?!

JOHN
Damnit, Ted!

John grabs Ted once more and pulls him to the door.

JOHN (CONT’D)
You need to get out of here and
cool your jets, amigo!

Ted glares at Rick briefly before exiting the room. John
walks over to Rick and sits on the table next to him.

JOHN (CONT’D)
I’m sorry about my partner. He’s
just passionate.

RICK
Seriously I didn’t do any of the
things you’re saying I did. This
guy stole my ID, my credit cards…

JOHN
I bet I know someone who’d like a
glass of water.

Rick stares at John.

JOHN (CONT’D)
I’ll get you some water.

John ruffles Rick’s hair before standing and exiting the
room.
Rick sits silently for a few moments before John returns with
a dixie cup full of water, which he places on the table in
front of Rick. Rick looks at it for a moment, but before he
can reach for it, John violently flips to table over, grabs
Rick by the collar and shoves him against the wall.

JOHN (CONT’D)
You better start talking you cunt
faced little shit-stain, or so help
me God I will have you shitting
your ribs through your dick-hole!

RICK
Jesus Christ!

The door swings open and Ted stands in the door-way, now
wearing a wrestling one-piece. Ted dramatically points at
Rick.

JOHN
You did it now, Jayquon.

TED
You called the thunder!

RICK
No I didn’t!

Ted screams and charges Rick, raining blow after blow upon
him with outrageous fury. John runs over to the table and
flips it back onto its legs, then picks Rick up and body
slams him through it. Rick and John mercilessly batter Rick
for agonizing seconds.

RICK (CONT’D)
WHY?!

Through the doorway walks JOE.

JOE
Didlio, S. Stamos, we need you in
room 4, now.

John and Ted cease beating Rick and walk to the door.

TED
You’re fuckin’ lucky, Deezy.

JOHN
We’ll be back, dip-shit

They leave Rick on the floor, lifeless.

INT. ROOM 4 – DAY

At the table sits JAYQUON DEEZY, across from him stand Ted
and John.

JAYQUON
I swear I’m not the guy you’re
looking for!

JOHN
No? Cause your ID says different.

Ted holds up a photograph of Rick and points to it.

TED
You mean to tell us that you are
not this man?

Tagged

Wizard Pete vs The Karate Douche (Short Script)

INT. PETE’S ROOM – DAY

Pete’s front door stands completely open, the days light
falls into the room. STAN walks through the door-frame.

STAN
Pete? You hear?

Stan looks across the room and sees Pete hanging half way
through the window on the back wall, his legs dangling
outside and head and arms lolling lifelessly about two feet
above the carpeted floor on the inside. One hand grasps an
empty vodka bottle.

STAN (CONT’D)
Holy shit!

Stan walks over to Pete and pokes him.

STAN (CONT’D)
Dude, are you fucking alive right
now?

Pete awakes, punching blindly and feebly toward Stan and
groaning before lifting his head to survey his surroundings.

PETE
Am I upside down or is the world
upside down?

STAN
It’s you, man.

Pete tosses his empty bottle and wiggles out of the window
frame falling to the floor with a thud. He stands, stumbles
around a bit, then holds up his hand and makes a full fifth
of vodka appear out of thin air within it. He takes a hearty
swig before lighting a cigarette and plopping down on the
couch. Pete reaches to the floor and picks up his ragged,
brown Wizard Hat and puts it on.

STAN (CONT’D)
Why were you sleeping in the
window, Pete?

PETE
I think I drank the keys to my
front door.

STAN
What? Why?

PETE
Probably because I ran out of
booze.

STAN
Oh, well. Alright. So, anyway. I
need your help, Pete. And others
do, as well. See, there’s this guy
who moved into my neighborhood,
right? And, fuck, man…he’s super
good at karate…

PETE
Karate?

STAN
But he’s a douche. He just uses his
superior karate skills to push
people around. He’s always running
around, pushing over trash-cans or
slapping drinks out of peoples
hands.

PETE
But I do those things…

STAN
Yeah, but not in my neighborhood. I
mean, he’s terrorizing us, and no
one can stand up to him because he
just busts out with the karate. So,
what’ll it take?

PETE
I demand to be awarded a tribute of
20 dollars for every house under
direct threat from this mans
karate. I also wish bestowments of
19 packs of Newports and a 4 liters
of vodka. In shooters.

STAN
Done!

Stan attempts a hand-shake, but Pete meets his hand with a
flaming bic lighter.

PETE
Get out, I need to take my mid
afternoon hangover nap.
But, know this, once you have
presented me with the cash,
cigarettes and vodka, I will
destroy your karate douche, in the
middle of the streets, for all to
see.

STAN
Thanks, Pete!

PETE
Fuck off.

EXT. STAN’S NEIGHBORHOOD – DAY

Stan walks up the side-walk. From behind an oak tree the
KARATE-DOUCHE leaps, landing mere inches in front of Stan.

STAN
Holy shit!

KARATE DOUCHE
The fuck are you walking for?

STAN
I’m not allowed to drive on the
side-walk.

KARATE DOUCHE
Show me your wallet.

STAN
What? Why would you want to see my
wallet.

KARATE DOUCHE
I want to see what kind of wallet
you have. Hold it out and let me
look at it.

STAN
Fine, I guess.

Stan takes his wallet from his pocket and displays it for the
Karate Douche, who promptly, and with great zeal, smacks the
wallet out of Stan’s hand and clear onto the streets. Karate
Douche laughs and walks away.

KARATE DOUCHE
Fag!

Stan stares at the Karate Douche, incensed. Burning with
rage.

STAN
Your time has nearly come, Karate
Douche. Soon…

INT. PETE’S ROOM – DAY

There is a knock on Pete’s door. Pete opens it to find Stan,
holding a wad of cash and a bag filled with Newports and
vodka shooters. Pete stares at these items for a moment.

PETE
You have done well.

INT. PETE’S ROOM – DAY

All of the vodka bottles lie empty on the floor at Pete’s
feet. He smokes two Newports at a time, with a near-by ash
tray overflowing with butts.

STAN
You really think you should be
drinking and smoking so much with a
big fight coming up?

PETE
Fight? I’m a fucking wizard, I
don’t fight. I let my fire-lasers
and electro-swords do my fighting
for me. When is this fracas set to
take place, anyhow?

Stan looks at his watch.

STAN
Like 15 minutes.

Pete tosses his car-keys to Stan.

PETE
You’re driving. Let’s get this show
on the road.

EXT. STAN’S NEIGHBORHOOD – DAY

Pete and Stan pull up in Pete’s car. Pete fails in his
attempt to exit the vehicle without falling over, but he
picks himself up off of the ground with minimal effort. Stan
comes over to stand by Pete’s side. He points to across the
street where the Karate Douche walks.

STAN
There he is, Pete! Kick his ass!

Stan looks over to where Pete was standing only to find Pete
has lain down face first in the grass of a strangers front
yard. Completely unconscious.

STAN (CONT’D)
Goddamnit, Pete! Now’s your time to
shine!

Stan runs over and starts kicking Pete. Pete wakes up, and
groggily stands.

PETE
That grass looked like my bed for a
second.

STAN
Fight him, Pete!

PETE
Who?

Pete looks around and sees the Karate Douche.

PETE (CONT’D)
Oh, fuck. Yeah.

Pete steps forward and clears his throat before shouting to
the Karate Douche.

PETE (CONT’D)
Hey, you!

The Karate Douche turns and glares at Pete.

PETE (CONT’D)
You that Karate Douche I’ve been
hearing about?

KARATE DOUCHE
Maybe. You that Wizard Douche, what lives
on the other side of town?

PETE
Yeah.

KARATE DOUCHE
Right on.

PETE
Hey, man. I take no issue with your
behavior or general etiquette, but
regardless, I’m gonna have to rock
your shit, here, bro. You’re going
down.

KARATE DOUCHE
Is this a challenge, Wizard? Do you
wish to engage in a duel?

PETE
Yep.

KARATE DOUCHE
So be it, then. Let us retire to
the fields of honorable and
righteous combat.

PETE
Where’s that?

EXT. KARATE-DOUCHE’S BACKYARD – DAY

Pete and Stan stand side by side, across a lawn from The
Karate Douche. The yard is fenced and is decorated with a
kiddie pool, a broken down picnic table and inhabited a hyper
active dog that will not leave anyone the fuck alone.

KARATE DOUCHE
My back-yard.

PETE
This is your back-yard?

KARATE DOUCHE
Correct.

PETE
It’s shitty.

KARATE DOUCHE
Be that as it may…fuck you. Will
you strike the first blow, Wizard
or must I be the one to take the
offensive?

PETE
Allow me to answer that question
with a-

Pete shoots lightening bolts at The Karate Douche. Karate
Douche summons his chi into his arms and holds them in front
of his face as a shield to block Pete’s lightening attack.
Eventually he is able to repel the lightening completely.
Pete ceases his attacks.

KARATE DOUCHE
Ha. That shit was weak. Check this
out!

The Karate Douche begins walking toward Pete, pausing
often to take on various karate stances and implement a
number of different karate maneuvers.

PETE
You look fucking retarded right now.

The Karate Douche comes within range of Pete and launches a
duel-fisted Chi-Ram, producing a mighty explosion which
knocks Pete to the ground.

PETE (CONT’D)
I am entirely too sober for this.
Time to put an end to you once and
for all, Ass-shit!

The Karate Douche strides toward Pete, intent on following up
his attack. Pete lifts himself back to his feet.

KARATE DOUCHE
How do you plan to do that, Wizard?
I’ve already proven my Karate
Powers are far more potent than
your-

Pete claps his hands. The Karate Douche’s face contorts in
pain. He falls to the floor, curling up in a fetal position.
Nearly unable to speak, obviously in immense pain.

KARATE DOUCHE (CONT’D)
W-h-what did you….

PETE
I just gave you testicular cancer.
Advanced. Inoperable. Fatal.  Just a little
spell I picked up back on Wizard
Island all those centuries
ago…anyway, have fun with that.

Stan runs up to Pete and raises his arms in the air in
celebration.

STAN
You did it, Pete! You beat that
douche!

PETE
Of course I did. I’m a fucking
wizard.

Pete turns and unceremoniously walks away, while Stan
brutally kicks and taunts the Karate Douche, who lay on the
ground curled up and shaking in pain and terror.

INT. PETE’S ROOM – DAY

Pete sits down on his couch, and lights a Newport.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Breakfast Time (Short Script – Working Title)

EXT. SCENIC DIRT ROAD - DAY

               MIKE runs along a dirt back-road, soaked in blood, stripped
               to his boxers, in a blind panic. Not a structure or a human
               being is in sight. Nothing but fields and scenic landscape as
               far as the eye can see. He comes to a cross-roads and briefly
               pauses, turning to look down each lane before choosing to go
               right, and continuing his run.

               EXT. ROAD - DAY

               A car driven by FRANCIS pulls up to the same crossroads.
               Francis stops momentarily, before engaging the turn signal
               and veering off to the right. Continuing his drive.

               EXT. ROAD - DAY

               Mike spies two men working in a field off in the distance. 

                                   MIKE
                         Oh, God. Thank you. Thank God!

               Mike approaches the two men.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         Holy shit, I'm so glad to see you
                         guys. You have to help me. This
                         fucking lunatic kid-napped me and
                         six other people. He killed all of
                         them and tried to drown me in a
                         feed troth full of their blood. I
                         got away after he passed out from
                         huffing gas, but I think he's after
                         me. You have to do something!

               The two men only stare blankly.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         Please tell me one of you speaks
                         English.

                                   GUY 1
                         Undskylde mig?

                                   MIKE
                         What the fuck? What...

               Guy 1 starts shaking his head violently. He motions toward
               Mike, then to his friend, who also begins shaking his head.

                                   GUY 1
                         Ingen!

                                   MIKE
                         What are you-

                                   GUY 1
                         Ingen! INGEN!

                                   MIKE
                         I don't speak Danish!

               Both of the men start picking up rocks and throwing them at
               Mike.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         Quit it!

               They don't quit it.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         Fuck you guys!

               Mike turns and runs off once more.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         FUCK!

               EXT. ROAD - DAY

               Francis pulls up in front of the two field workers and rolls
               down his window.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Hey, fellas. Have either of you,
                         perchance, seen a naked man,
                         running around out here, barefoot,
                         covered in blood, screaming....?

               Both men stare at Francis for a beat before they
               simultaneously raise their arms and point in the direction
               Mike ran.

               EXT. ROAD - DAY

               Mike still runs. He hears a car approaching from the distance
               behind him.

                                   MIKE
                         No. No, no, no.... NO!!

               Mike hastens his sprint, tearing down the road like a bat out
               of hell, but all in vain.
               Moments pass before Francis pulls next to him and slows his
               vehicle to jogging speed, he pulls to Mike's right and rolls
               down his window.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Morning, Randolph!

                                   MIKE
                         Fuck off! Stop calling me that!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Stop being called that.

                                   MIKE
                         That's...fuck you!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Come on, man, this is pointless.
                         You can't outrun a Subaru. Not even
                         a gazelle could outrun a Subaru.

                                   MIKE
                         That's not even a Subaru.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Maybe not now it isn't.

                                   MIKE
                         Just leave me alone. I won't tell
                         anyone, I promise. Haven't you done
                         enough to me already?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Done enough?! What have I done?!

                                   MIKE
                         You kidnapped me with six other
                         people and then tried to drown me
                         in a feed troth full of their
                         blood!

                                   FRANCIS
                         ...Maybe that was touch extreme.

               Mike just laughs and shakes his head.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         What do you want from me, bro? I
                         was fucking zany on fumes, it
                         seemed like an important experiment
                         to perform.

                                   MIKE
                         Important for who?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Everyone?

                                   MIKE
                         Now I probably have an STD from all
                         the blood in my lungs.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Actually one of them did have HIV,
                         they told me.

                                   MIKE
                         Seriously?!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Just kidding! I don't know if any
                         of them had HIV, but I wore gloves
                         for a reason.

                                   MIKE
                         God, you're an ass-hole.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Hey now, name calling isn't going
                         to win you a ticket aboard the not
                         drowning-in-AIDS-blood express, my
                         friend. 

               Mike keeps his eyes forward, running straight ahead.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Where are you even trying to go?

               Mike points forward.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         I had you pegged as a runner from
                         the beginning, but still, your
                         cardio is impressive. Your calves
                         must be killing you.

                                   MIKE
                         The burn is mostly in my glutes.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Yeah, I bet. So, what do you say we
                         put our differences aside and-

                                   MIKE
                         Fuck off!

                                   FRANCIS
                         French Toast!?

                                   MIKE
                         What?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Let's go grab some breakfast.
                         French toast. My treat.

                                   MIKE
                         It's a trick!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Me? Trick you? My good friend
                         Rudolph?

                                   MIKE
                         It's Randolph!

                                   FRANCIS
                         My mistake.

                                   MIKE
                         Give me my clothes back.

                                   FRANCIS
                         You mean my clothes?

                                   MIKE
                         You stole them from me!

                                   FRANCIS
                         I actually threw your pants away
                         because they didn't fit, but this
                         shirt? It's like wearing clouds.

                                   MIKE
                         What about my shoes?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Tossed em'.

                                   MIKE
                         Jesus Christ.

                                   FRANCIS
                         My bad.

               Mike continues jogging, his pace now slowing. He gives
               Francis the silent treatment.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Dude! French Toast! Who could say
                         'no' to that?

               Mike points at himself. Francis abruptly swerves toward Mike.
               Mike leaps out of the way, almost falling over.

                                   MIKE
                         What the shit?!

               Francis laughs, and does it again, and once more.

                                   MIKE (CONT'D)
                         Cut it out!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Do you think I want to be in this
                         position any more than you do?

                                   MIKE
                         I don't even have skin on my feet
                         anymore!

                                   FRANCIS
                         Then you shouldn't have run away!

                                   MIKE
                         I'm covered in other people's
                         blood. Flies keep landing on me and
                         getting stuck in it and dying. I'm
                         covered in human blood and dead
                         animals. Do you have any idea what
                         that's like?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Sounds like the world's saddest
                         bukkake.

               Mike stumbles and falls, screaming in agony.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Oh, snap!

               Francis pulls his car over and gets out. He approaches Mike
               and leans over him.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Are you Ok?

                                   MIKE
                         I pulled a hammy.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Saw that coming. 

               Francis offers his hand to help Mike up. Mike takes it and
               stands, leaning against the car for support.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Mike, we need to end this silly
                         game between us. Nobody has
                         anything to gain from it. Look, you
                         see that?

               Francis points into the car, gesturing toward a layer of
               towels laid over the passenger side seat.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         I already put towels down for you.
                         There's water, and neosporin, and
                         tylenol, and band-aids for your
                         feet and trail mix. Not to mention
                         a big plate of French Toast with
                         your name written on it, in syrup
                         and powdered sugar.

               Mike stands. He looks at Francis, then into the car, then
               down the road.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         How much longer can you run for?
                         Nobodies going to find you out
                         here. 

                                   MIKE
                         It's a trick...

                                   FRANCIS
                         Whether it is or not, it's a trick
                         you have nothing to lose by falling
                         for. If I wanted to kill you, I'd
                         have just run you over and kicked
                         your body into a ditch. Which I
                         could still do.

               A pounding noise is heard from the trunk of the car. Mike
               looks at it in alarm, Francis doesn't seem to notice.

                                   MIKE
                         Do you have somebody in the trunk?

               Francis holds up two fingers.

                                   FRANCIS
                         Dos.

                                   MIKE
                         Who?

                                   FRANCIS
                         Couple of D-bags I nabbed a ways
                         back down the road.

                                   MIKE
                         Danish?

                                   FRANCIS
                         I'd guess yeah.

                                   MIKE
                         Fuck those guys.

                                   FRANCIS
                         I bet one of them has a pair of
                         shoes that'll fit...

               Mike lets out a brief chuckle. Francis laughs and pats him on
               the back. 

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Hop in, partner! Restaurants won't
                         be serving breakfast for much
                         longer.

               Mike shrugs and walks around to the passenger side door.

                                   FRANCIS (CONT'D)
                         Just make sure you sit on the
                         towels, though. This is a Subaru.
Tagged , , , , , , ,

Pete: Wizard for Hire

 INT. THE WIZARD'S ROOM - DAY

               A cell-phone alarm goes off, PETE the Wizard laboriously
               awakes to the sound. He shuts the Alarm off, then promptly
               vomits into a trash-can. He washes the taste of vomit out
               with mouth-wash, which he swallows and chases with Vodka.

               EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY

               Pete gets into his car, lights a cigarette, puts on his
               Wizard Hat and peels out.

               EXT. BACK-YARD - DAY

               Pete and DAVE stand Dave's back-yard. Behind a nearby fence
               an incessantly barking dog can be heard.

                                   DAVE
                         He just won't stop. It's impossible
                         for me to get anything done. I'm on
                         like 3 hours of sleep a night
                         because of that thing, I can't
                         afford-

               Pete snaps his fingers. A bolt of lightening descends from
               the heavens, striking the dog behind the fence. There is a
               brief yelp, followed by an explosion of dog-parts. Blood
               spatters Dave's face, who stares at Pete. Pete holds out his
               hand.

                                   PETE
                         50 bucks.

               EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

               Pete stands across from a man holding a prescription pill
               bottle. Pete hands him the 50 bucks and takes the pills.

               MONTAGE

               Pete walks around town, brown-bagging a bottle of liquor. He
               downs some pills and drinks and smokes in a park as children
               play soccer near by.

               A soccer ball flies through the air, striking Pete in the
               head. Some little kids run up to grab it, but he lights it on
               fire with his Wizard Power and they run off screaming.

               Pete uses Wizard power to make a someone fall off their bike.

               Pete uses wizard power to make a bag of leaves he picked up
               off the ground look like pot, then sells it to a pack of
               middle-school kids and pockets their cash.

               Pete gets into bed. It's 2:30 in the afternoon. He polishes
               off the pills, washing them down with a sip of vodka. He uses
               his Wizard powers to turn out the lights before passing out.
Tagged , , , , , ,

Vengeance of the Space Dinosaur: Spaceosaur kills! – Early Draft

   EXT. EARTH - DAY
               A scenic landscape, a comet descends from the heavens
               crashing into the country-side creating a glowing mushroom
               cloud and a tremendous shock-wave.

               EXT. OUTSIDE - DAY

               A young couple picnics in the hills, the woman is pregnant.

                                   GUY
                         Well you know you're not supposed
                         to ride roller-coasters when you're
                         pregnant.

                                   GIRL
                         That's absurd, children love roller
                         coasters.

               The SPACEOSAUR erupts into the scene. He smooshes the man's
               head to death with his space reeboks, blood sprays all over
               the pregnant lady and fucking everywhere as she screams. The
               Spaceosaur turns to the girl.

                                   PREGNANT LADY
                         Don't hurt my baby!

               The Spaceosaur sinks his claws into her uterus and tears her
               fetus from her stomach, the woman dies as she watches The
               Spaceosaur feasting upon her unborn child.

               INT. SUBMARINE - SUBMARINE

               GENERAL ROGER approaches COMMANDER THOR LASERPUNCH.

                                   GENERAL ROGER
                         Thor! Scanners have discovered an
                         extraterrestrial entity operating
                         in sector P-42. We need you to
                         track it down and eliminate it. 

               Thor shoots General Roger in the leg.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         That's Commander Laserpunch to you,
                         general douche-dick. 

               General Roger limps away crying. Thor gears up, preparing for
               battle.

               EXT. STREETS - DAY

               MASTER ROBOT exits his car-spaceship on the streets of a
               city. He is immediately approached by a homeless man, seeking
               change. 

                                   BUM
                         Got any spare change?

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         The only thing I can spare... is
                         lasers.

               Master Robot removes his laser-caster and destroys the
               homeless man. He walks away. He's wearing sunglasses. 

               EXT. HILLS - DAY

               The Spaceosaur stomps around like a dinosaur. And growls and
               shit. Um. He finds a puppy walking around he bends down to
               pet it, then he picks it up and puts it in his spaceosaur
               jaws. Puppy blood stains the hills crimson. Spaceosaur roars
               to the heavens as he holds the dead puppy aloft in a clenched
               and bloodstained fist.

               EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY

               Thor Laserpunch tracks the Spaceosaur to the scene of the
               picnic slaughter. He eats one of the blood spattered
               sandwiches for lunch. A laserbeam zooms through the air by
               his head.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Jesus FUCK!

               Thor whirls around, drawing his side-arm. In front of him now
               stands Master Robot. They aim their weapons at one and other.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH (CONT'D)
                         Who the fuck are you?!

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Master Robot!

               MORE LASERS! Thor dodges them, and fires his pistol hitting
               Master Robot in the chest. The bullets have no effect. Master
               Robot fires yet more lasers.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Stop shooting lasers at me!

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         No.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         So I take it you're the alien.

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         No, you're the alien!

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Bullshit, you're an alien.

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         No, you are.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         You're on my planet!

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Your planet is an alien, too!

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         How dare you!

               They continue exchanging fire.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH (CONT'D)
                         Did you eat this baby?!

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         No, it was the Spaceosaur.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         I'm after the Spaceosaur, too. Why
                         don't we work together?

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Ok.

               They both put their weapons away and shake hands.

                                   MASTER ROBOT (CONT'D)
                         I'm Master Robot, as I said
                         earlier. You are?

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Thor Laserpunch!

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Nice to meet you.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         You too.

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Wanna burn a J?

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Of course I do.

               EXT. HILLS - DAY

               Two dudes sit on the tailgate of a pick-up, slamming beers.

                                   DUDE 1
                         A couch, a refrigerator box and a
                         tarp. That's all I need.

                                   DUDE 2
                         I like to put paprika on my brown
                         rice, spice it up a bit.

                                   DUDE 1
                         I'm going to pee somewhere far
                         away.

                                   DUDE 2
                         I know it seems gay, but something
                         about my neighbors dog just does it
                         for me.

               EXT. EARTH - DAY

               Dude 1 walks a distance from Dude 2, he unzips he pants and
               commences urination. A sickening chomping sound is heard,
               Dude 1 looks down to see THE FUCKING SPACEOSAUR TOTALLY
               BITING HIS DICK OFF! And blood is spraying fucking
               EVERYWHERE! Dick blood. The darkest shade of blood.

                                   DUDE 1
                         My dick! MY DICK! A DINOSAUR IS
                         EATING MY DICK!

               Dude 1 falls over, dead from de-dickification. 

               EXT. OUTSIDE - DAY

               Dude 2 sits and drinks more beer. The Spaceosaur approaches.
               Dude 2 turns and looks at it.

                                   DUDE 2
                         Holy shit, a fucking dinosaur!

               Dude 2 tries to run but the Spaceosuar grabs him and hurls
               him into the truck, exploding his fucking head like a melon
               filled with human brains. Everywhere.

               EXT. HILLS - DAY

               Master Robot and Thor Laserpunch sit smoking a doobie.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         So why do they call you Master
                         Robot?

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Because I AM the master robot.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Right on.

               Screaming is heard from the distance.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH (CONT'D)
                         Did you hear that?

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Of course I did, my ears are robot.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Is it the Spaceosaur?

               Master Robot nods.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH (CONT'D)
                         Lets rock n' roll this mother
                         fucker!

               Master Robot and Commander Thor Laserpunch do a jump-five and
               run towards the source of the screams.

               EXT. OUTSIDE - DAY

               Thor and Master Robot find the dickless Dude 1, lying in the
               dirt in a pool of his own crotch-blood. Dead. Then they find
               Dude 2's fucking exploded head by the truck.

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         Holy cock, this Spaceosaur has a
                         thirst for murder beyond that of
                         any Spaceosaur I've ever
                         encountered before this Spaceosaur.

               SPACEOSAUR jumps out and punches Thor right in his fucking
               head!

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Holy shit!

               Master Robot draws his laser beam gun and takes aim.

                                   MASTER ROBOT
                         LASER FUCK!

               He shoots lasers at the Spaceosaur but the lasers have no
               effect. He must resort to break-dance fighting. They fight
               while Thor collects himself. Spaceosaur bitch-slaps Master
               Robot to the ground. Thor aims his fucking MACHINE GUN at the
               SPACEOSAUR and opens fire.

                                   THOR LASERPUNCH
                         Burn in space-hell, fuck-ass!

               The bullets have no effect. Thor abandons his gun. Thor and
               Master Robot briefly fight the Spaceosaur, but the power of
               the Spaceosaur is too great. He drops Thor with a left hook
               to the liver, before turning and slapping Master Robots head
               right the fuck off. He then walks to Thor and hacks him to
               balls with a Samurai Sword. 

               The Spaceosaur stands, arms raised in victory. But then THE
               WIZARD is all like--

                                   WIZARD
                         Wizard POWER!

               The Wizard kills the shit out of the Spaceosaur with Wizard
               lightening.

                                   NARRATOR (V.O.)
                         Wizard POWER!

                                   WIZARD
                         They sent me from Wizard Planet.

               A Space Ship flies and shoots laser-beams at The Wizard, but
               the Wizard shoots Wizard-Beams and destroys the Space-ship.

                                   WIZARD (CONT'D)
                         Wizard POW-

               The Wizard is cut off when the SPACEOSAUR returns as ZOMBIE
               SPACEOSAUR and garrotes that dirty fucking wizard to death.
               Spaceosaur raises his arms in victory once more.

                                   NARRATOR (V.O.)
                         SPACEOSAURAS!
 


Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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