The Only Action You Need [NOEL JHW]
Jul 26, 2023 11:53:58 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by Cross Recoba on Jul 26, 2023 11:53:58 GMT -5
OVER BLACK
TITLE: JAMES CAMERON WAS TOO BUSY BEING SMUG ABOUT SUBMARINES TO NOTICE
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
Downtown L.A. Noon on a hot summer day. On an EXTREME LONG LENS, the lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity. In SLOW MOTION they move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to bumper. Heat ripples distort the torrent of faces.
CUE DRUMS
*DUH-DUH DUH DUH-DUH*
A TITLE CARD fades in:
NEW YORK, AUGUST 4TH 2024
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PLAYGROUND - DAY
*DUH-DUH DUH DUH-DUH*
Intense heat has melted the jungle gym, the swings are warped, and the merry-go-round has sunk. Small skulls sit on an ash drift next to a faded hopscotch area. The camera rests on a rusted tricycle, the tiny skull of its owner next to it.
*CUE HORNS*
A pink and yellow foot crushes the skull like china.
DISSOLVE TO:
FIRE. SLOW, BOILING, ENORMOUS. FILLING FRAME
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. TRUCKSTOP - NIGHT
Two TRAILERS are parked side-by-side in the lot of the all-night truckstop.
Strange lightning forms a round opening in the air before a flash of light reveals a FIGURE in a form of ENERGY BALL. A thunderclap turns the screen to white.
As the white fades back to night, we see the figure clearly, a naked man. EDMONDS has come through. Physique: lacking, sad. Face: sagged. EDMONDS stands and surveys his surroundings with the look of a man bored of his own shit.
INT. TRUCKSTOP DINER - NIGHT
TRUCKERS sit over bowls of chilli at a table. Behind them THREE BIKERS shoot pool, their empty ZERO-ALCOHOL BEER BOTTLES line the rail of the table. The truckstop’s owner, FLOYD, stands behind the bar with a soiled apron. He looks satisfied with the average night.
The door opens and an old, naked guy walks in, no longer an average night. Every eye falls on EDMONDS who retains an emotionless gaze as he walks through the room, sizing up the patrons. Everyone is frozen, unsure how to react.
SWITCH TO: POV
We move past the staring truckers, past FLOYD and a waitress with a cigarette expertly balanced in her mouth. Awestruck, the waitress’ cigarette sheds its ash in amazement. We stop at a nasty-looking BIKER puffing a CIGAR.
The BIKER’S eyes narrow. He inhales on his CIGAR, the tip red-hot.
He grinds the CIGAR out on EDMONDS chest. Not the slightest bit of reaction to the pain…until now.
A bell rings and the CREW step back. The DIRECTOR walks up to EDMONDS.
EDMONDS mills around, almost loitering.
EDMONDS’ stink-eye returns.
EDMONDS narrows the stink-eye.
CUT TO:
EXT. STUDIO ENTRANCE - DAY
The SAG protesters are in full-swing outside the gates. The picket line looks a volatile place to be.
EDMONDS approaches another SECURITY GUARD
Blank.
A look of familiarity forms on ENTRANCE GUARD’s face.
CUT TO:
BLOBBY cowers as a girl maybe just about of teenage years and dressed in puritanical garb jerks backwards and forwards. Two other GUARDS flank her as she violently moves her body as she wails.
The girl is semi-transparent and almost hovers above the ground.
EDMONDS rushes over.
EDMONDS finds a switch on the back of the girl and changes it from COMMUNIST to SAG MEMBER.
The twitching stops.
BLOBBY and EDMONDS walk off.
BLOBBY runs in place and points.
BLOBBY starts to stab the air with his hand.
BLOBBY goes into the foetal position.
TITLE: JAMES CAMERON WAS TOO BUSY BEING SMUG ABOUT SUBMARINES TO NOTICE
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
Downtown L.A. Noon on a hot summer day. On an EXTREME LONG LENS, the lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity. In SLOW MOTION they move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to bumper. Heat ripples distort the torrent of faces.
CUE DRUMS
*DUH-DUH DUH DUH-DUH*
A TITLE CARD fades in:
NEW YORK, AUGUST 4TH 2024
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PLAYGROUND - DAY
*DUH-DUH DUH DUH-DUH*
Intense heat has melted the jungle gym, the swings are warped, and the merry-go-round has sunk. Small skulls sit on an ash drift next to a faded hopscotch area. The camera rests on a rusted tricycle, the tiny skull of its owner next to it.
*CUE HORNS*
FEMALE VOICE (VO):
8 billions lives ended on July 30th, 2023. The survivors of the Nuclear Trash Can Fire called the war ‘NIGHT OF CHAMPIONS’’. They lived only to fight a new nightmare, the Crinkly Bottom Boys…
A pink and yellow foot crushes the skull like china.
DISSOLVE TO:
FIRE. SLOW, BOILING, ENORMOUS. FILLING FRAME
FEMALE VOICE (VO):
Noel Edmonds, the sociopath who controls the Crinkly Bottom Boys, sent back a warrior to try and kill the leader of the resistance, El Rey….My Son.
EXT. TRUCKSTOP - NIGHT
Two TRAILERS are parked side-by-side in the lot of the all-night truckstop.
Strange lightning forms a round opening in the air before a flash of light reveals a FIGURE in a form of ENERGY BALL. A thunderclap turns the screen to white.
As the white fades back to night, we see the figure clearly, a naked man. EDMONDS has come through. Physique: lacking, sad. Face: sagged. EDMONDS stands and surveys his surroundings with the look of a man bored of his own shit.
INT. TRUCKSTOP DINER - NIGHT
TRUCKERS sit over bowls of chilli at a table. Behind them THREE BIKERS shoot pool, their empty ZERO-ALCOHOL BEER BOTTLES line the rail of the table. The truckstop’s owner, FLOYD, stands behind the bar with a soiled apron. He looks satisfied with the average night.
The door opens and an old, naked guy walks in, no longer an average night. Every eye falls on EDMONDS who retains an emotionless gaze as he walks through the room, sizing up the patrons. Everyone is frozen, unsure how to react.
SWITCH TO: POV
We move past the staring truckers, past FLOYD and a waitress with a cigarette expertly balanced in her mouth. Awestruck, the waitress’ cigarette sheds its ash in amazement. We stop at a nasty-looking BIKER puffing a CIGAR.
NOEL EDMONDS
I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle.
The BIKER’S eyes narrow. He inhales on his CIGAR, the tip red-hot.
CIGAR BIKER
You forgot to say please.
He grinds the CIGAR out on EDMONDS chest. Not the slightest bit of reaction to the pain…until now.
NOEL EDMONDS
FUCK! FUCKINGFUCK!!!
DIRECTOR (OS)
CUT!!!!
A bell rings and the CREW step back. The DIRECTOR walks up to EDMONDS.
NOEL EDMONDS
WHAT DID YOU CUT FOR?
DIRECTOR
You’re not meant to show pain!
NOEL EDMONDS
Why am I doing my own stunts? That wasn’t in the deal!
DIRECTOR
You said you didn’t need any of the SAG benefits, that’s the deal. You’re working because everyone worth their salt is in the union and Steve Awesome didn’t return my calls! You think Zoran Sainovic would cry when a cigar’s put out on his chest? That’s cryotherapy to him!
NOEL EDMONDS
I said that SAG didn’t want me when Reagan was in charge and I don’t need them now! I’ve got to show the Network what they’ve got! I’ve held every tag-team belt worth having on the Network, the XHF Tag Team titles, the GUNS Tag Team titles and even the GUNS Gentlemens Pairs titles! I’m the oldest guy on the Network and yet I still hold the quickest knock-out in GUNS Fight Club! Zoran’s too busy playing ‘dad’ to a walking target for bullies and now I hear Hogan joined! HOGAN! I’M THE RIGHT-WING GOD! Not him!
DIRECTOR
Right…but we need to redo this shot and this time, you can’t scream.
NOEL EDMONDS
What’re you going to do if I do?
DIRECTOR
Well…
The DIRECTOR runs a hand down a piece of paper on a clipboard.
DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
Dylan Black would save us a tonne of money on make-up…
NOEL EDMONDS
You have Blobby! He’s below scale! All it took was a kilo of sherbert, that’s fifty dollars!
DIRECTOR
EVERYBODY TAKE FIVE!!
EXT. FILM SET LOT - DAY
EDMONDS mills around, almost loitering.
SECURITY GUARD
Hey, buddy! Your granddaughter’ll be out when she’s out. Be glad that Big Harv isn’t still around or I’d be lending you a paperback…
SECURITY GUARD
Fine, I’d recommend an article on The Atlantic, you just don’t seem the sort…
NOEL EDMONDS
I’ve got big things on my mind…
SECURITY GUARD
If she doesn’t get the part, there’re plenty of ways she could make a living one subscription at a time…
SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)
Look! She don’t even got to be pretty, there’s niches…
NOEL EDMONDS
I’m waiting for my co-star to arrive, he’s not hard to miss. Where are all the arrivals?
SECURITY GUARD
They’re with my new boss. She’s old school but she’s thorough.
NOEL EDMONDS
SHE?
CUT TO:
EXT. STUDIO ENTRANCE - DAY
The SAG protesters are in full-swing outside the gates. The picket line looks a volatile place to be.
EDMONDS approaches another SECURITY GUARD
ENTRANCE GUARD
Stand back, sir.
NOEL EDMONDS
Blobby, pink and yellow, doesn’t say much beyond variations of Blobby.
Blank.
NOEL EDMONDS (CONT’D)
About six-feet tall and wild-eyed.
ENTRANCE GUARD
You mean Austin Kade?
NOEL EDMONDS
HE’S CHARISMATIC!
ENTRANCE GUARD
OH!...
(glumly)
I have bad news for you, sir. He’s over there with our Head of Security.
BLOBBY cowers as a girl maybe just about of teenage years and dressed in puritanical garb jerks backwards and forwards. Two other GUARDS flank her as she violently moves her body as she wails.
The girl is semi-transparent and almost hovers above the ground.
PURITANICAL GIRL
SATAN! DAMN HIM TO THE ASHES, THROW HIM TO THE FLAME! HE MADE ME SIGN MY NAME IN THE BOOK, IN THE DEVIL’S BOOK!
EXPOSITION GUARD
She’s never wrong, by lord, Abigail Williams is never wrong!!
PURITANICAL GIRL
SEND HIM TO THE GAOL! HE MADE THE BIRDS ATTACK ME, HE MADE ME DANCE IN THE WOODS LIKE GOODY CLEMSON!
NOEL EDMONDS
WHAT IS THIS?
EXPOSITION GUARD
Your friend here is a bonafide SAG member trying to infiltrate and spy!
NOEL EDMONDS
Blobby’s many things, an addict, a philanderer and a spy but, and I repeat, he is not a member of EVE!
EXPOSITION GUARD
Our Abigail is never wrong….
The twitching stops.
MR BLOBBY
BLOBBY?
ABIGAIL WILLIAMS
You may go now…
MR BLOBBY
BLOB BLOBBY!
NOEL EDMONDS
Yes, you might be a witchy communist, Blobby but I need your help.
MR BLOBBY
BLOB?
NOEL EDMONDS
I’m stuck here on this lot and this weekend I’ve got to face off against people who can wrestle. People who don’t want to get sucked into my dirty war of words and what can I do? I don’t even understand the rules!
MR BLOBBY
BLOBBY!
NOEL EDMONDS
I could treat it like a cross-country race, ignore the map and just follow the leader until it becomes clearer but there are three X*Crown Champs and one of them’s Dylan Black, you remember him? Part man, Part Kinder Egg toy? Another’s El Rey and even though he’s the Champion he’s not the scariest…that’s Zoran Sainovic!
BLOBBY starts to stab the air with his hand.
NOEL EDMONDS (CONT’D)
That’s him. Very stabby, almost certainly knew Slobodan Milošević and might actually really be his mate Arkan. I don’t want to get stabbed, not in New York inside that’s not what Frank Sinatra meant when he sang about the Big Apple. I don’t even know what happens if I don’t win because each of the opponent’s is worst than the last. Random’s Scottish and that just means that she’s got Welsh relatives, Eli’s got no holes in her game, til Sainovic changes that. I could finish lower than Eron Hunter and what do I do then? It’d give SWAT credibility and then I wouldn’t even be the most prominent misogynist in wrestling!
MR BLOBBY
BLOBS?
NOEL EDMONDS
Don’t even mention Charles, he somehow beat actual people to win the XHF Junior Heavyweight title. Makes belts like our Gentlemens Doubles titles look like jokes so really, what do I do?
MR BLOBBY
BLOBB!!
NOEL EDMONDS
It’s my only hope.
