Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

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  • Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

    No last minute emails have appeared, so we have 5 sizzling summer time entries.

    The titles are:

    SW
    Meghan Fing Markle
    Swapsies
    Games
    The Vineyard


    Read and pick your top 3 favorites, then PM me your choices in the format...

    1st - title
    2nd - title
    3nd - title



    Please don't vote for your own entry.


    Please check your entry and if something is messed up let me know.


    Send your votes in by next Thursday. You don't have to be a contestant to read, vote and give notes.

    Thanks


    Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa


  • #2
    Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

    SW

    Code:
    FADE IN:
    
    INT. DARKENED LIVING ROOM - DAY
    
    FRED, 60s, overweight, scrag on his face, unkempt, in a
    robe, stares at the TV, while sitting on the couch.
    
    CNN banner, a REPORTER stands in front of a burning building
    with sounds of explosions of breaking glass is in the
    background.
    
                          CNN REPORTER
              In mostly peaceful protests in
              Kenosha, three policemen have
              reportedly been critically injured.
    
    FRED switches the channel.
    
    MSNBC banner.
    
    MSNBC REPORTER stands in front of burning buildings.
    
                          MSNBC REPORTER
              During mostly peaceful protests,
              Portland mayor demands police stand
              down and that mostly peaceful
              protestors be released without
              bail. He's-
    
    CLICK
    
    NBC banner.
    
    NBC Reporter standing in front of a burning building.
    
                          NBC REPORTER
              In mostly peaceful protests-
    
    CLICK
    
    The TV goes off.
    
    The PHONE rings. Fred picks it up.
    
                          FRED
              Hello...
    
    TINNY VOICE, indistinct, on the phone...
    
                          FRED
              No, that can't be. I haven't even
              taken a Covid-19 test. There's no
              way I could have tested positive.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
                          FRED
              I realize that. But I haven't taken
              a test.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
                          FRED
              No, I don't have any symptoms.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
                          FRED
              No symptom is the most obvious
              symptom? What the-?
    
    Tinny voice.
    
                          FRED
              F-ck off!
    
    Fred SLAMS down the receiver.
    
    He picks up the TV REMOTE. Flips the TV back on.
    
                          NBC REPORTER
              Dr. Fauci warns that any vaccine
              could be less than 40% effective
              and that multiple Covid-19 vaccines
              will be-
    
    CLICK
    
    The TV goes off.
    
    Fred stares at the clock on the wall, blinks at the bright
    sunlight as he pushes the curtain aside and stares at the
    mailbox.
    
    The MAIL TRUCK is just driving off.
    
    EXT. WALK - CONTINUOUS
    
    Fred, in slippers walks down the walk. He's not wearing a
    MUZZLE.
    
    He pulls his MAIL out of the box. Several envelopes with
    "PAST DUE" printed on them.
    
    Across the street SOMEONE is peering through the SHADES.
    
    Fred notices.
    
                          FRED
              Ah, sh-t.
    
    He hurries back up the walk into his house.
    
    INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
    
    The phone rings.
    
                          FRED
              Yes, Mrs. Ferguson, I forgot my
              muzzle... face mask again.
    
    Tinny, agitated voice.
    
                          FRED
              No Mrs. Ferguson, that won't be
              necessary.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
    Tinny voice.
    
                          FRED
              F-ck off, Mrs. Ferguson.
    
    Fred yanks the phone cord from the wall.
    
    He exits the living room.
    
    Moments later he returns with a SLEDGE HAMMER. He SLAMS it
    through the TV.
    
    Laughs.
    
    EXT. BACKYARD - DAY
    
    A clean shaven Fred in shorts and a T-shirt sits on the
    PATIO CHAIR reading a book. A pile of paper muzzles are
    burning on the cement patio deck.
    
    Fred leans back into the chair. He smiles as he sips a beer.
    
                                                 FADE OUT:


    Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

      Meghan Fing Markle Part 1 of 2

      Code:
                     INT. GARDEN OFFICE - DAY
      
                     A MAN on the precipice of middle age types on his MacBook
                     Pro. A ginger with curly hair. 
      
                     He looks out the open window. Fruit tree flowers. Some
                     MAINTENANCE WORKERS clean a large ass pool.
      
                     His FIT WIFE lunges by, holding a sandbag around her
                     shoulders. A PERSONAL TRAINER follows, shouting. And her DOG. 
      
                                         TRAINER
                               A diamond is a piece of coal that
                               never gave up! 
      
                                         FIT WIFE
                               I knew I was a diamond when I was
                               three years old. 
      
                     The writer focuses on the dog. He has a new idea --
      
                     CLICKITY-CLACK. CLACK-CLACK-CLACK... He writes with abandon. 
      
                     INT. AGENT'S OFFICE - DAY
      
                     Leather couches. Movie posters. A big desk.  
      
                     RICK (late 30s, boyish charm) wears jeans and an untucked
                     collared shirt. He paces around the space, on a headset.
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               I have some bad news. 
      
                                         RICK
                               I know, I know. She wants to be
                               Oprah. I saw that piece she did
                               with Gloria Steinem in her
                               backyard. I'll kibbosh it. 
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               Not that. That's nothing. This is
                               way worse. 
      
                                         RICK
                               It can't get any worse. She's
                               driving me crazy. 
      
                                         WOMAN (O.S.)
                               It's not Meghan, it's Harry. He
                               wants to --
      
                     What Rick hears is so horrifying, he immediately blacks out.
      
                                                             CUT TO BLACK.
      
                     INT. AGENT'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
      
                     Rick lies on the floor, comes back to life. Rubs his head. 
      
                                         RICK
                               Can you repeat that? I hope it's
                               not what I think you said... 
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               HARRY HAS BEEN ****ING WRITING
                               SCREENPLAYS DURING THE PANDEMIC!
      
                                         RICK
                               God hates me. 
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               God hates us. Meghan wants us to
                               read them and give Harry notes,
                               maybe do a quick "polish." 
      
                                         RICK
                               She wants us to rewrite them.
                               Wait. Script, or scripts? 
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               Two comedies and an action thing. 
      
                                         RICK 
                               How did he write three scripts? 
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               Five scripts. They were alone in
                               Tyler Perry's house for three
                               months. What would you expect him
                               to do? 
      
                                         RICK
                               Netflix and **** like everyone
                               else?
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               That's not even the worst news. 
      
                                         RICK
                                   (gasps)
                               He wants to direct?
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               THE ACTION THING IS A TRILOGY! -- 
                               It's... four hundred pages. 
      
                                         RICK
                               Oh. My. God.
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               And one of the comedies is a
                               talking dog script. 
      
                     Rick grabs onto the desk and pulls himself up. 
      
                                         RICK
                               WHAT DO WE DO?!
      
                                         JANE (O.S.)
                               I've got an idea -- 
      
                     INT. JANE'S HOUSE - NIGHT
      
                     Mid-century modern. Impeccable. 
      
                     Rick stomps through the front door. Lugs a Starbucks
                     "Traveler" (a gallon of coffee), cups, a big bag of pastries.
      
                     JANE (40s, glasses, smart) wordlessly leads him to the
      
                     GREAT ROOM
      
                     Sitting at her dining room table --
      
                     FIVE GEN Z TYPES. Three YOUNG MEN and two WOMEN. They're each
                     in the middle of reading a script. Red pens marking.  
      
                                         JANE
                                   (to kids)
                               This is Rick. He's an agent at
                               Gersh. 
                                   (to Rick)
                               The best students from my UCLA
                               extension class. They've signed
                               NDAs. I've promised them you'll
                               give them notes on their own
                               scripts next month. 
      
                     They smile at him beatifically. 
      
                                         RICK
                                   (whines)
                               They can't rewrite the scripts. 
      
                                         JANE
                               No ****. They're just doing notes.
                               We can't read five bad scripts in
                               one night. We'll hire a pro to do
                               the rewrites.
      
                                         RICK 
                               No one will touch this with a ten
                               foot pole. It's career suicide.
      
                     Jane takes the gallon of coffee and pastries from him. Sits
                     it down at the other end of the table. 
      
                     Jane grabs Rick by the arm, leads him into --
      
                     INT. KITCHEN - HOUR LATER
      
                     Rick sits at the kitchen bar and listens to Jane talk on the
                     phone, while he texts on his phone. She ends the call. 
      
                     On the list in front of her, crossed off names: Aaron, Geoff,
                     Katie, Matson, Emily... She crosses off Diablo's name. 
      
                     Only one name remains: Shane.
      
                                         JANE
                               Diablo is at Madonna's place in
                               London. Apparently the Material
                               Girl is also writing a trilogy.
      
                                         RICK
                               The pandemic has to end now!  
      
                                         JANE
                               Every A-list actor and celebrity is
                               on hold right now. They're all
                               writing passion projects, with
                               help. We're ****ed. Where's Carrie
                               Fisher when you need her? 
      
                     The both clasp their hands together, and bow.
      
                                         RICK
                               Princess Leia. May she rest in
                               peace. 
      
                                         JANE
                               That leaves Shane Black. 
      
                                         RICK
                               Not Shane. He's never forgiven me
                               for breaking off our writing
                               partnership.
      
                                         JANE
                               That's your take away? Wow. He's
                               done better without you, no
                               offense. He's upset because you
                               sold out and became an agent -- 
      
                     One of the Gen Z kids walks in. He's Asian. TOM. 
      
                                         TOM
                               Ma'am, I'm done with the notes. 
      
                                         JANE
                               Miss, not ma'am -- What's the
                               verdict?
      
                     Rick sinks in his chair. Jane sits down. 
      
                                         TOM
                               It's not terrible. It's about an
                               actress who was the biggest star in
                               the world in the eighties. She
                               falls in love with an extra. But
                               before they can hook up, there's a
                               fire on the set. As they're being
                               burnt alive, they make a vow to
                               find each other in their next
                               lifetimes --
      
                                         RICK
                               Un-****ing-believable. 
      
                                         JANE
                               Ignore him. Keep going.
      
                                         TOM
                               Cut to present day. Now the roles
                               are reversed, the man is the
                               biggest star in the world, and
                               she's an extra on his movie. They
                               fall in love and realize they knew
                               each other in a past life. But the
                               problem -- her husband is the
                               producer of the movie. 
      
                                         JANE
                               Maybe we're not as ****ed as we
                               thought. What it's called? 
      
                                         TOM
                               TWICE. The elevator pitch: their
                               love was so big it happened twice.
      
                                         JANE
                               Hmmm. Kinda like that movie ONCE.


      Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

        Meghan Fing Markle Part 2 of 2

        Code:
                                          RICK
                                 It's dead on arrival. He basically
                                 ripped off the plot from one of the
                                 biggest Bollywood movies of all
                                 time. OM SHANTI OM -- 
        
                                           JANE
                                 How do you know this stuff? 
        
                                           RICK
                                 Tagline: "He was a junior artiste.
                                 She was a star. For some dreams,
                                 one lifetime is not enough." That's
                                 the same ****ing premise. Farah
                                 Khan's biggest hit, starring Shah
                                 Rukh Khan. 
        
                                           JANE
                                 We won't distribute it in India --
                                 I mean, how big is Bollywood? 
        
                                           RICK
                                 Indians live here, too. In LA.  
        
                       Another Gen Z walks in. This one is TANYA. 
        
                                           TANYA
                                 I finished the talking dog script. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 Let me guess. He can hear the
                                 talking dog, but no one else can. 
        
                                           TANYA
                                 How'd you know? 
        
                                           RICK
                                 WILFRED.
        
                                           JANE
                                 What's the premise? 
        
                                           TANYA
                                 The main character is a member of
                                 the royal family who fakes his own
                                 death and becomes a dog walker in
                                 Canada -- for an actress he admired
                                 on TV. The dog gives him
                                 relationship advice on how to make
                                 the actress divorce her abusive
                                 husband and fall for him.
        
                                           RICK
                                 It's not horrible. I don't want to
                                 immediately stab myself. 
        
                                           JANE
                                 I don't hate it either. We can do
                                 something with this one. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 What's it called? 
        
                                           TANYA
                                 FOR THE LOVE OF DOG. 
        
                       Rick shrugs. 
        
                       Jane's phone DINGS. She reads at text, brightens. 
        
                                           JANE
                                 Shane's free. He's home. Go, get
                                 him onboard with the material. 
        
                       Jane takes the script from Tanya and hands it to Rick. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 What about the action trilogy?
                                 That's more Shane's speed. 
        
                       The other three Gen Z kids walk in. They're done with the
                       trilogy. ALISON speaks for the group. 
        
                                           ALISON
                                 It's called SPACE PRISON. 
        
                       Rick wordlessly stands up and grabs his keys. Grips the
                       talking dog script --
        
                       INT. SHANE BLACK'S HOUSE - NIGHT
        
                       SHANE BLACK, still hot at fifty-five, stands in sweat pants
                       and a cut-off muscle shirt. He's just finished working out
                       and his guns are ripped. He drinks a protein smoothie
                       directly out of the blender carafe. 
        
                       Flips through FOR THE LOVE OF DOG as he gulps down the drink. 
        
                       Rick stands there, trembling. Waits for the news. 
        
                                           SHANE
                                 It's not totally horrible. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 Right? 
        
                                           SHANE
                                 But I'm not going to rewrite it;
                                 you're gonna rewrite it.  
        
                                           RICK
                                 I can't rewrite Prince Harry. 
        
                                           SHANE
                                 It's a talking dog script. I could
                                 rewrite this in my sleep. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 You're Shane Black.
        
                                           SHANE
                                 So? Write a draft and bring it back
                                 in a three days. I'll coach you.
                                     (beat)
                                 But the dog has to die at the end.
                                 It'll give the story some stakes. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 No! The three of them live happily
                                 ever after.
        
                                           SHANE
                                 The dog dies, damn it. Maybe the
                                 dog knows she's dying? --
                                 Maybe title it: GINGER AND GINGER.
                                 The dog walker is a ginger, the dog
                                 is an apricot poodle. Or, GINGERS. 
        
                       INT. AGENT'S OFFICE - MIDNIGHT
        
                       Rick walks in with a shopping bag, defeated. 
        
                       He takes off his jacket and grabs a six-pack of Diet Coke out
                       of the bag, and a couple canisters of Pringles. 
        
                       Pulls out FOR THE LOVE OF DOG, and a yellow pad filled with
                       notes from Shane. Opens a Diet Coke and pounds it. 
        
                       He is now ready to write. 
        
                                           RICK
                                 **** you, Meghan Markle.
        
                       Rick sits down at his laptop. Waits for it to wake up. Cracks
                       his knuckles. Fires up Final Draft, and starts typing.
        
                       EXT. DOG PARK - DAY
        
                       GINGER, an apricot poodle, sprints across the park after an
                       orange tennis ball thrown by her owner, a B-LIST ACTRESS.
        
                                           GINGER (V.O.)
                                 It started on a crisp, fall day...
                                 I didn't know at the time that my
                                 owner would be dead from a plague
                                 causing bacteria within months... 
        
                                                               CUT TO BLACK.


        Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

        Comment


        • #5
          Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

          Adult content warning, sexual content.

          SWAPSIES


          Code:
          FADE IN
          
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          
          Handsome young stud CHRIS blinks awake.
          
          He grimaces as if he's got a killer headache.
          
          He lifts his head, examines his predicament. He's lying on 
          top of a big bed, naked. He's cuffed to the wrought iron 
          headboard. He tugs at the cuffs, they're solid, he's not 
          going anywhere.
          
          He sets his head back down on the pillows. Frowns, deep in 
          thought.
          
          INSERT: CHRIS'S BLURRED, FOGGY DREAM FLASHBACK
          
          CHRIS'S POV, a woman (SHERRY) leans toward him, her face 
          out of focus. She's heavily made-up, her plump red lips 
          part and she says in a husky voice,
          
                                SHERRY
                    Why don't you come back to my place, 
                    sweetie? I want to run my tongue 
                    up and down your body.
          
          Chris lifts a glass and takes a drink. Sherry's face becomes 
          distorted through the glass.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Aw yuss.
          
          BACK TO SCENE
          
          Chris pops back to reality, thinking did that really happen?
          
          Sherry, mature, attractive, wearing a dress, sits in a chair
          watching him.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Wow, hey.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Hey yourself.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Uh, at the risk of sounding stupid, 
                    how'd I get here?
          
                                SHERRY
                    You don't remember?
          
                                CHRIS
                    I remember... meeting you?
          
                                SHERRY
                    That's nice.
          
          He glances down at his naked body.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Did we...?
          
                                SHERRY
                    We were about to, but you fell 
                    asleep. I think maybe you had one 
                    drink too many.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Damn, I'm sorry. I mean, I can 
                    usually hold my alcohol better 
                    than that. I hope I didn't offend 
                    you or anything.
          
                                SHERRY
                    We got you back here and we got 
                    you undressed, that's what matters.
          
                                CHRIS
                    You're not mad?
          
                                SHERRY
                    Nah, it's okay, these things happen.
          
                                CHRIS
                    You are the most understanding 
                    woman I've ever met. And possibly 
                    the prettiest.
          
          Sherry smiles.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Thank you.
          
                                CHRIS
                    I remember you said something about 
                    wanting to run your tongue up and 
                    down my body.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Mmm, yes I did.
          
                                CHRIS
                    You still want to...?
          
                                SHERRY
                    Are you feeling up to it?
          
          Chris glances down again. Something's rising.
          
                                CHRIS
                    I believe I am.
          
          Sherry laughs.
          
                                SHERRY
                    I'm so glad to hear it.
          
          She stands up, smoothes her dress, flicks her hair.
          
          Chris watches her every move, anticipating what's coming 
          next. Possibly him.
          
          Sherry turns and goes to the door and opens it, revealing:
          
          LARRY is a silver haired fox, he's let himself go a little, 
          his naked body hangs on him like a poorly tailored suit 
          made of fat.
          
          He enters the bedroom. He and Sherry kiss. They both look 
          at Chris.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Hey, what the who now?
          
                                SHERRY
                    Chris, this is my husband, Larry. 
                    Larry, this is Chris.
          
          Larry gives Chris a smile and a friendly wave.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Pleased to meet you, but let's 
                    talk about this.
          
                                SHERRY
                    It's okay, Larry isn't into screwing 
                    other men. He's here for another 
                    reason, so relax.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Huh. Does he like to jerk off while 
                    watching you get nailed?
          
                                SHERRY
                    Something like that. Do you mind?
          
                                CHRIS
                    As long as he doesn't mind my not 
                    looking at him. I'm here for you, 
                    baby.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Glad to hear it.
          
          Sherry goes to a chest of drawers, opens a drawer and takes 
          out three things:
          
          - A set of antique brass scales with 2 dishes
          - A thick tome (book) with cracked leather covers
          - A necklace pendant with a big red jewel
          
          She shuts the drawer, then opens the tome using a bookmark 
          ribbon to turn to a specific page.
          
          Chris watches all this, bemused.
          
                                CHRIS
                    The Karma Sutra, am I right?
          
          Sherry smiles.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Something like that.
          
          She slips one dress strap off her shoulder, then the other 
          one. She shimmies and her dress cascades down to her ankles. 
          She's wearing black Italian lace undies. If you're into 
          mature women sex fantasies, Sherry is for you. She steps 
          out of her dress.
          
          Chris's hungry eyes lap her up, yowzah!
          
          Sherry walks seductively to the bed, gets on it, straddles 
          Chris's legs.
          
          She leans forward and kisses his chest, then his stomach. 
          She moves herself further down the bed, until the next 
          thing she's kissing makes Chris gasp.
          
          She does more than kiss it. Chris watches her, wide-eyed, 
          hardly able to breathe.
          
          Larry takes one of the brass dishes from the scales. He 
          looks over his shoulder at Sherry on the bed, and moves 
          his hand up and down rapidly, pleasuring himself.
          
          Chris gasps and writhes as Sherry gives him the business, 
          her head bobbing up and down.
          
          Chris's feet rise off the bed and tremble. Accompanied by 
          his DEEP GROAN of pleasure.
          
          Larry closes his eyes and gasps.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Oh man, that was just--
          
          Sherry climbs off the bed and comes over to join Larry, 
          who offers her the second brass dish. She spits into it.
          
          They carefully return both brass dishes to the scales, not 
          wanting to spill a single drop. The scales balance.
          
          Sherry puts on the pendant and settles it in her cleavage.
          
          She consults the book, and reads from the page...
          
          Here, Sherry speaks horrible words that can be made up on 
          the spot, words that will tell the audience this book, and 
          everything it contains, is evil. While speaking, she makes 
          lots of growling, throat-clearing noises, like angry German. 
          Among these words should be "Rameses" and "Horus".
          
          The lights flicker and grow dim, the bedroom darkens.
          
          Chris looks at said lights, wondering what the hell.
          
          Sherry and Larry chorus the last line together, ending on 
          a rising note.
          
          INSERT CAMERA TRICKERY
          
          Chris's face (on the left) and Larry's face (on the right), 
          alongside each other, against a black background.
          
          Their faces come together... superimpose... then move apart, 
          now Chris is on the right and Larry is on the left. They've 
          swapped over.
          
          BACK TO SCENE
          
          The lights return to normal levels.
          
          Sherry guides Larry as he sits down hard on a chair, looking 
          dizzy and confused.
          
          Sherry returns to the bed and sits on the edge. She stares 
          at Chris.
          
          Chris blinks and takes deep breaths.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Jesus, what a rush.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Is that you, baby?
          
                                CHRIS
                    You know it. Let me up, let's get 
                    him into the basement.
          
          Sherry takes a key from the bedside cabinet drawer and 
          unlocks the cuffs. Chris sits up slowly.
          
                                SHERRY
                    You okay?
          
                                CHRIS
                    Just getting the hang of it.
          
          Chris stands up, sways, gets his balance. He takes a couple 
          of test steps.
          
                                CHRIS
                    This body is so strong.
          
          Sherry unlocks one set of cuffs from the headboard. She 
          moves to Larry and snaps the cuffs on Larry's wrists.
          Larry looks up at her, puzzled.
          
                                LARRY
                    Wha's goin' on?
          
                                SHERRY
                    Everything's okay sweetie, just 
                    let us help you.
          
          She and Chris move to either side of Larry. They each take 
          an arm and help Larry to stand up.
          
          
          INT. BASEMENT - NIGHT
          
          There's a bed down here, among various boxes and abandoned 
          junk.
          
          Chris and Sherry help Larry down the stairway, no easy task.
          They bring him over to the bed and help him lie down on it.
          
                                SHERRY
                    There you go. Take it easy, sweetie.
          
          Chris grabs Sherry's wrist, turns her around.
          
                                CHRIS
                    Never mind him, what about me?
          
          He kisses her hard, Sherry grinds against him, loving it.
          
                                SHERRY
                    What about you?
          
                                CHRIS
                    You look pretty good in that bra. 
                    Be a shame if someone ripped it 
                    off with his teeth.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Big words for an old man.
          
                                CHRIS
                    I'll show you "old man."
          
          They return to the stairs, climb up and exit. The basement 
          door slams closed. LOCKS click.
          
          Larry lies on the bed, still dazed. He stares at the 
          ceiling.
          
          Muffled FOOTSTEPS from upstairs, and LAUGHTER too.
          
          Bed springs go BOING. More laughter.
          
          Chris and Sherry have at it. BOING BOING BOING.
          
          Larry frowns as he realizes what's going on above his head.
          
                                LARRY
                    What the fvck?
          
          He raises his hands, realizes he's wearing cuffs. He 
          examines his hands. He feels his own face. He raises his 
          head and looks down at his pecker. Horror seizes him.
          
                                LARRY
                    Dear God, no!
          
          
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          
          Chris and Sherry on the bed, going at it like rabbits, 
          BOING BOING BOING go the bed springs. Sherry laughs and 
          giggles the whole time, pleased with her new boy toy.
          
          
          INT. BASEMENT - NIGHT
          
          Larry slowly sits up on the bed. He puts his feet on the 
          floor and stands up. He sways and staggers around a little, 
          as if having problems with balance and coordination.
          
          He waddles to the stairs. Grips the hand rails and 
          laboriously climbs up to the door. He tries the handle but 
          the door's locked. He puts his ear to the wood and listens.
          
          Distant BOING BOING BOING sounds, and Sherry's laughter. 
          
          Larry examines the door, how can he open it?
          
          He looks around the basement. He climbs back downstairs 
          and starts opening boxes. Old magazines, old clothes, just 
          useless junk.
          
          He does a double-take at something half-hidden behind some
          boxes. He reaches down, lifts up a metal toolbox.
          
          He sets the toolbox on top of some boxes. Fumbles with the 
          latches. Opens it. Stares inside. He reaches into the 
          toolbox and takes out a short crowbar.
          
          
          INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
          
          The cellar door. SPLINTERING WOOD noises. A pause. The
          door slowly opens. Larry cautiously peers out.
          
          He emerges, dressed in a Christmas reindeer jumper and 
          badly fitting pants taken from the boxes.
          
          He creeps along the hallway to the bedroom door, carrying 
          the crowbar in both hands, his wrists still cuffed.
          
          
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          
          The door is slightly ajar, Larry peeks through the gap.
          
          Chris is fast asleep on the bed, exhausted. A sheet is 
          draped over his hips, giving him a little modesty.
          
          Larry hears A SHOWER RUNNING in the en suite bathroom.
          
          Larry catches sight of his own reflection in a mirror on
          the wall. He touches his own face again, horrified.
          
          He tip-toes to the bed. Looks down at Chris. For a moment 
          we might think he's going to brain Chris with the crowbar 
          while he sleeps. But Larry puts the crowbar down. He 
          silently opens the bedside cabinet drawer. Takes out the 
          key. Unlocks the cuffs and puts them down.
          
          He goes to the chest of drawers and examines the brass 
          scales and the old tome and the pendant necklace.
          
          He flicks the ewww juice out of the dishes. He glances at 
          the door to the en suite. The shower's still running.
          
          Larry takes deep breaths. Psyching himself up. He goes 
          over to the bed and gets down on his knees. He lifts the 
          sheet and puts his head under it. Over Chris's pecker.
          
          Chris groans, disturbed, but his eyes remain shut. Larry's 
          head starts to bob up and down underneath the sheet.
          
          The shower stops running. In the sudden silence we hear 
          Larry's slurping. Chris groans again, much louder. A 
          beatific smile spreads over his face.
          
          Larry withdraws his head, his lips pursed as if he's holding 
          something in his mouth that he's desperate to get rid of. He
          gets up and hurries back to the scales. He spits it out into
          one of the dishes. He gags and retches. He glances at the
          bed, Chris has fallen back asleep. Larry glances at the en
          suite door, it's still shut.
          
          Okay, he gets the second dish and he jerks off into it. Or 
          tries to. His parts won't cooperate.
          
                                LARRY
                    Come on, come on! You can do it!
                    You're a goddamn stallion!
          
          With much frantic motion he gets things going. Ten seconds 
          later he gasps and his knees buckle. He shakily puts the 
          second dish on the scales. The scales balance themselves.
          
          Larry puts on the pendant necklace.
          
                                LARRY
                    Activate. Power on.
          
          He struggles to remember.
          
                                LARRY
                    Rameses. Horus. Abracadabra. Open 
                    sesame. By the power of Grayskull.
          
          On the bed, Chris's eyes open wide, as if he's just been 
          shocked awake.
          
                                SHERRY (O.S.)
                    Are you ready for round two,
                    lover boy?
          
          
          INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
          
          Chris and Sherry make love on the bed, she pants and gasps.
          
                                SHERRY
                    Oh my God this is even better than 
                    before.
          
          Underneath the bed, curled up, wearing handcuffs, and with 
          the reindeer jumper stuffed in his mouth to gag him, is
          Larry, gently sobbing. Beside him lies the pendant, its red
          jewel broken into a dozen pieces.
          
          BOING BOING BOING go the bedsprings.
          
          FADE OUT


          Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

            Games

            Code:
            FADE IN:                                          (PRESENT DAY)
            
            
            INT. APARTMENT DINING ROOM - EVENING
            
            A small table covered by a white tablecloth, highlighted by a
            petite bouquet of flowers. A half-empty bottle of wine
            crowds in between food and plates.
            
            RUSSELL (twenties), attired in an ironed button down, hair
            combed to perfection, occupies one chair.
            
            ANGELA (twenties), dressed for a night of bowling, takes the
            second chair. Angela may not be a beauty but there is
            something about her. Russell stares as Angela cuts her food.
            
                                  ANGELA
                       This is really good.    Did your mom
                       teach you?
            
                                 RUSSELL
                       Mom wasn't around much. Dad showed
                       me some stuff and I picked up the
                       rest on my own.
            
            Angela chews, keeps talking.
            
                                 ANGELA
                       I didn't know you could cook. And I
                       like these plates.
            
            Angela taps a plate with her fork.
            
                                 RUSSELL
                       They were my grandmother's. When
                       she died nobody wanted them so they
                       ended up with me.
            
                                 ANGELA
                       I got bupkiss from my grandma.
                       Everybody said I should visit more.
                       That I'd be sorry when she was
                       gone. Then surprise, she was gone.
                       Cancer, I think.
            
                                 RUSSELL
                       So are you sorry now?
            
                                 ANGELA
                       Can't say I am.
                                                            2.
            
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Anyway, I'll cook for you anytime
                      you want. There's something I want
                      to--
            
            Angela lifts her wine glass.
            
                                ANGELA
                      --Fill me up.
            
            Russell pours the wine, looks to Angela.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      There you go. We need to--
            
            Angela holds up a hand.
            
                                ANGELA
                      --I want to go first this time.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Sure.
            
                                ANGELA
                      The thing that bugs me, I mean it's
                      always the same issue. We never
                      get anywhere. You say you're going
                      to leave her but you just talk
                      about it. Why can't you just do
                      it?
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Paul Simon. "Fifty Ways to Leave
                      Your Lover.- Too easy.
            
                                ANGELA
                      I appreciate your comment. You're
                      always trying to set me straight
                      about something. Improve my life.
                      Look, I don't need your help.
                      You're not really helping, anyway.
                      Just slowing me down.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      "Just Like You.- Three Days Grace.
                      Why did you choose that one?
            
                                ANGELA
                      I'm impressed. Your turn.
            
            Russell leans back, swallows.
                                                               3.
            
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Good. Right. I want to talk about
                      something. I never thought I would
                      say this to anyone, but I've got to
                      be honest. I love you. There I
                      go. Maybe I shouldn't have said
                      it.
            
                                 ANGELA
                      Olivia Newton-John.    "I Honestly
                      Love You.-
            
                                RUSSELL
                      No. I want you to listen to me.
                      I've thought about tonight and I
                      knew I had to tell you. It's not
                      something I can hide, the whole
                      world can see it.
            
                                ANGELA
                      Hmm. How old do you think I am?
                      I'll just say this: Grass Roots,
                      "Midnight Confessions.-
            
            Russel sighs.
            
            Angela checks her cellphone.
            
                                ANGELA (CONT'D)
                      Oops. Gotta go in a minute. I
                      told Sam I would stop by tonight.
            
                                 RUSSELL
                      Sam?   Sam Sam?
            
                                ANGELA
                      How many Sams do you know?     He says
                      he likes me being around.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      I like you being around.
            
            Angela waves her hand.
            
                                   ANGELA
                      Well, duh.     I'm around you now.
            
            Angela twirls her hair.
            
                                ANGELA (CONT'D)
                      Anyway, we talk about things. I get
                      tired of always playing games.
            
            Russell pushes his chair back, stands.
                                                            4.
            
            
                                RUSSELL
                      I need to clear the table.
            
                                ANGELA
                      Can I help?
            
            No response.
            
            Angela gets up.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      I'll get the door for you.
            
            Angela turns as the door is opened.
            
                                ANGELA
                      You're not mad, are you?
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Why would I be mad?
            
                                ANGELA
                      I don't know. You just got quiet
                      all of a sudden.
            
            Russell glares.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Okay. What if you went to a bunch
                      of trouble to fix me dinner and
                      then I jumped up and said I had to
                      go see somebody else? How would
                      you feel?
            
                                 ANGELA
                      Russell?
            An awkward pause.
            
                                ANGELA (CONT'D)
                      Throw me a bone, Rusty. I can't
                      read your mind.
            
            Wheels turn in Angela's head.
            
                                ANGELA (CONT'D)
                      Wait a minute. If you could read
                      my mind. Take a long look at my
                      face. "If I'd Been the One.-
                      Thirty-eight Special.
            
            Angela leans forward, kisses Russell's cheek.
                                                          5.
            
            
                                ANGELA (CONT'D)
                      That was nice. See you later.
            
            Russell closes the door.
            
                                RUSSELL
                      Right.
            
            
            
                                                      FADE OUT


            Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: Entries - Summer Vacation writing contest

              The Vineyard

              Code:
                             QUICK SERIES OF SHOTS: THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL
              
                             - THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL FROM AFAR: A faux-English HUNTING
                             LODGE sits overlooking ROWS UPON ROWS OF VINES.
              
                             Mountain MIST floats by. It's isolated. Spooky.
              
                             - THE GROTTO: a curated GARDEN with GREEK GODDESS STATUES,
                             HIGH HEDGES, and a MAN-MADE CAVE.
              
                             It looks like an 1800s aristocrat's "grounds."
              
                             Expensive.
              
                             Curated.
              
                             Controlled.
              
                             But the whole area is COVERED IN VINES.
              
                             Natural.
              
                             Chaotic.
              
                             Primal.
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - GATES - DAY
              
                             XAVI (40s) a potbellied, mustached gent in a STRAW HAT drives
                             up a GRAVEL ROAD. He stops at an IRON GATE.
              
                             He's driving a beat up pickup TRUCK. GARDENING GEAR stacked
                             in the back. He hits the INTERCOM.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY (OVER INTERCOM)
                                       Crowley estate. Chauncey speaking.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       Hey, it's Xavi. From Craig's List.
                                       I'm here to trim your backyard --
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - PATH - DAY
              
                             CHAUNCEY (40s) leads Xavi through the VINEYARD. He's a
                             slender BUTLER in PIN-STRIPE TROUSERS and a VEST.
              
                             Balding. And he walks with a SLIGHT LIMP.
              
                             Chauncey has an incredibly strange vibe.
              
                             Paranoid. Shifty. Chauncey is constantly "scanning."
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       -- I didn't know they had vineyards
                                       this far back.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Mr. Crowley needs his isolation.
                                       Great men need isolation. You
                                       wouldn't know anything about that,
                                       would you, Xavi?
              
                                                 XAVI
                                           (yikes)
                                       I guess not.
              
                             They arrive at the --
              
                             GROTTO
              
                             -- the controlled space with the MAN-MADE CAVE and the VINES.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Here we are. Mr. Crowley's grotto
                                       is overrun with vines and it's
                                       quite embarrassing for him.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       This is no problem. I can fix this.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Of course you can. I wouldn't have
                                       hired you if you couldn't. Now
                                       listen to me. These vines are very
                                       precious to Mr. Crowley.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       I understand.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Trust me. You don't. What I'm about
                                       to tell you is a direct order. You
                                       CANNOT and WILL NOT get closer than
                                       four feet to the vines. Repeat that
                                       back to me.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       Huh?
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       You CANNOT and WILL NOT get closer
                                       than four feet to the vines. Repeat
                                       that back to me.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                           (confused)
                                       I cannot and will not get closer
                                       than four feet to the vines --
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - GATES - DAY
              
                             Xavi grabs an EXTENDED ARM TRIMMER from the back of his
                             TRUCK. He laughs to himself.
              
                             What a ****ing joke.
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - GROTTO - DAY
              
                             Xavi trims the VINES off of the HIGH HEDGES.
              
                             Keeping his distance.
              
                             He stops and grabs a DRINK OF WATER. 
              
                             Behind him --
              
                                              A VINE REACHES OUT FOR XAVI!
              
                             He doesn't notice and goes back to work.
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - GROTTO - LATER
              
                             Xavi trims VINES off the GREEK GODDESS STATUE.
              
                             He leans in a bit close and --
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             A VINE shoots out and knocks his STRAW HAT off.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                           (Spanish. Subtitled.)
                                       What the hell?
              
                             Xavi leans in to grab the STRAW HAT.
              
                             CLEARLY closer than four feet.
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             A VINE GRABS HIM BY THE ARM!
              
                             Xavi YANKS on the VINE.
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             A VINE hits him on the FOREHAD.
              
                                                 XAVI
                                           (Spanish. Subtitled.)
                                       Ahhh! Jesus.
              
                             Xavi YANKS on the VINES and they RIP from the STATUE.
              
                             PLOP! He falls on his ASS!
              
                             He touches his FOREHEAD.
              
                             BLOOD!
              
                                                 XAVI
                                           (Spanish. Subtitled.)
                                       Oh my God.
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             Vines WRAP AROUND HIS LEGS!
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             AROUND HIS TORSO AND HIS ARM!
              
                             -- BLAM! --
              
                             THE VINES FLIP XAVI AND SMASH HIS FACE INTO THE DIRT WITH
                             INCREDIBLE FORCE!
              
                             -- RIIIIIIIIIIP --
              
                                                 XAVI
                                       AHHHHHHHH!
              
                             The VINES RIP XAVI'S ARM OFF!
              
                             BLOOD SPRAYS OUT OF HIS STUMP LIKE A FOUNTAIN!
              
                             -- THWIP --
              
                             The VINES WRAP AROUND HIS NECK! Blood comes out of his MOUTH. 
              
                              THE VINES LIFT XAVI OFF THE GROUND AND
                                                  SUCK HIM INTO THE HEDGES!
              
                             All that remains is his STRAW HAT and a PUDDLE OF BLOOD.
              
              
              
                             EXT. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILL - GROTTO - DAY
              
                             Chauncey picks up the STRAW HAT.
              
                             There's BLOOD everywhere.
              
                             It looks like a coyote got ahold of a dog.
              
                             The VINES SHAKE!
              
                             -- PLURP -- 
              
                             They spit out XAVI'S SKULL!
              
                             There's still some SKIN on it.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Oh my.
              
              
              
                             INT. THE MANOR HOUSE - GREAT ROOM - DAY
              
                             The manor house is decorated like it's the 1800s. Portraits
                             of WHITE MEN IN HUNTING GEAR.
              
                             Stuffed DEER HEADS.
              
                             Bearskin RUGs.
              
                             BUFORD CROWLEY (80s) stares into a MASSIVE FIREPLACE. In a
                             WHEELCHAIR. A great man at the end of his life.
              
                             Yellowed EYES. Liver SPOTS. Diminished VOICE. 
              
                             Chauncey enters.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Mr. Crowley?
                                           (nothing)
                                       Mr. Crowley?
              
                             Buford Crowley snaps out of his trance.
              
                                                 BUFORD CROWLEY
                                       Yes?
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       How should one say this... the
                                       vines ate another gardener.
              
                                                 BUFORD CROWLEY
                                       I see. How many is that?
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Four this summer. Ten in total.
              
                                                 BUFORD CROWLEY
                                       I told you to feed them first. They
                                       have to be fed, Chauncey.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       I told you so? I told you so? I
                                       have to coverup another missing
                                       gardener and the sympathy I get is
                                       I told you so?
              
                                                 BUFORD CROWLEY
                                       Now now. Don't fret. Remember.
                                       Great men are forged but doing what
                                       lesser men won't.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       Well said, sir. I'll call the Chief
                                       of Police and tell him we need
                                       another cover up.
              
                                                 BUFORD CROWLEY
                                       Good. Good. Good. Make sure the
                                       bribe is generous.
              
                                                 CHAUNCEY
                                       I always do.


              Hey! You might do it in your house, but in this house we don't lick our butts. -- Mother Teresa

              Comment

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