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Written by
Alan Swanson & Doug Stahn
© 2009
WGAw No. 503176
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FADE IN:
EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS (1978) - DAY
A black 62 Lincoln Continental slowly enters a college
campus and pauses in front of two signs. The first sign
reads, "Mankato State Teacher's College". A temporary sign
next to the main one reads, "Mankato State Welcomes the
Freshman Class of 1968!" The Lincoln continues on its way
through the campus and comes to a stop in front of
EXT. BOY'S DORMITORY/COURTYARD - DAY
Groups of students and parents laden with suitcases and
other belongings make their way inside the dormitory.
INT. LINCOLN CONTINENTAL - DAY
CLAY TEMBRO, a timid, clean cut, doughy teenager smiles to
his FATHER in the driver's seat. Clay's father, a gruff,
portly man in his middle fifties, wears a printed silk shirt
with flying geese and horseshoes, and polyester pants. The
pants are secured by a frayed belt with a large, unsightly
hubcap belt buckle.
CLAY'S FATHER
Your first day of college... pretty
exciting stuff... right?
Clay's father cuffs him on the knee and smiles, enabling a
gold crown in his mouth to sparkle ever so slightly.
EXT. BOY'S DORMITORY/PARKING LOT - DAY
ROB, an all American jock and his equally athletic father
say their good-byes. They use some sort of ritualistic
handshake/tackle/bear-hug combination. Rob's father gives
his son a final wave, youthfully leap frogs into a red
convertible and peels out of the parking lot.
INT. LINCOLN CONTINENTAL - DAY
Clay's father places his hand on his son's shoulder.
CLAY'S FATHER
You know Clay, you've worked real
hard to get college... don't do
anything to blow it.
CLAY
No way.
CLAY'S FATHER
Remember... whatever you do...
Having heard this many times before, Clay subtly mimics his
father's lip movements.
CLAY'S FATHER
Don't drink, don't smoke, and... for
goodness sake... don't get involved
with a girl!
CLAY
I know. I know.
CLAY'S FATHER
Remember, your education is the most
important thing for you right now...
if you ever want to get a decent job,
that is.
Clay hastily exits the Lincoln and pokes his head back
through the open window.
CLAY
Dad... you know you can count on me.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S BEDROOM (1999) - DAY
Clay's bedroom contains several conspicuous items... a dusty
college diploma, a mood ring, several programs from Chicago
Cubs games spanning the 70's, 80's and early 90's, a pet
rock, a collection of Life and Time magazines, a few
pictures of Clay and his father during the odd fishing or
camping trip. A belt with a large brass buckle hangs
conspicuously on the knob of a closet door.
An electronic alarm clock buzzes. A pale white hand appears
from under a plaid blanket and slowly makes its way to the
snooze button.
CUT TO:
EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD - DAY
Clay drives his car, a dilapidated "Herbie the wonder bug
from hell". Only the front two quarter panels are covered
by rust. The car makes a distinct groaning and chugging
sound and coughs like a lifelong smoker when it idles.
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
A hula girl statuette, mounted on the middle of the
dashboard, dances violently whenever the car idles.
The song "GREAT BALLS OF FIRE" plays from the static filled
radio. Clay joyfully devours a package of strawberry
snow-balls while lip synching to the song. The hula girl
joins in the merriment too, dancing as fervently as ever for
Clay.
EXT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Clay stops for a traffic light. A yellow corvette pulls
along side of him.
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Clay checks out the driver of the corvette as the song
"POWER" by Chill kicks in over the radio.
TO YELLOW CORVETTE
BRITTANY, an athletic, free spirited young woman in her
early twenties thumbs through a magazine. She glances up at
Clay as she straightens out her strawberry blonde hair.
BACK TO DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG
In Clay's b.g. sits a movie rental store displaying a
Saturday Night Fever movie poster. In Brittany's b.g. we
see a music store with posters of today's most hip rock
stars.
Clay winks at her. Confused, Brittany shakes her head and
giggles. He winks at her once again as his car chugs and
spews smoke like a half dead dragon about ready to die.
As the smoke clears, we see Clay blowing a big, juicy kiss
to a pot bellied construction worker driving a rusted out
mini-van and smoking a big cigar. The radio station playing
the song "POWER" fades out and a weaker station playing
"YMCA" by the Village People takes over.
The construction worker tips his hard hat graciously in
Clay's direction. After blowing a long, steady stream of
cigar smoke toward Clay, he smiles back at him from under
his mustache and winks.
Clay continues on his way, popping an eight track labeled
"Electrosux" into his car's tape deck. A soundtrack of
cheap elevator theme music plays as a monotone, nasal
instructor speaks in a manner reminiscent of a 1950's
science professor.
INSTRUCTOR V.O.
Electrosux sales tips, volume number
twenty one. Your goal for this week
is to ad-lib during your sales
presentation.
Clay concentrates on the message.
CLAY
Hmm... good idea.
EXT. CONSERVATIVE RANCH STYLE HOME - DAY
The wonder bug turns a corner and parks alongside the
street. Black oil smoke spews forth from the exhaust, even
after Clay shuts off the ignition.
INSTRUCTOR V.O.
And remember, as always, to make your
presentation to the customer as
professional as possible.
The wonder bug backfires, knocking off the few remaining
leaves on a nearby elm tree and causing a nerdy teenage boy
to wipe out on his mountain bike. Clay steps out and
straightens out his tie. He unloads his equipment... an
Electrosux vacuum and a grand piano sized salesman's case.
EXT. FRONT DOOR - DAY
Clay steps up to the door and rings the doorbell. A very
elegant chiming sound comes from inside. An ELDERLY COUPLE,
the "Ma and Pa Kettle" type, open the door. They stare
blankly at him and offer no greeting.
CLAY
Hello. I'm Clay Tembro, your
official ambassador to the Electrosux
vacuum corporation. I alone hold the
key to your entry into a 21st century
universe of housekeeping miracles.
Clay proudly motions to his ever-ready salesman's case.
CLAY (CONT.)
Could I interest you in an on-site
demonstration of our fine product?
The elderly couple stare at each other at a loss for words.
They turn back to Clay and shrug their shoulders.
INT. CONSERVATIVE LIVING ROOM - DAY
Several piles of items sit on the carpet... dirt, sand,
gravel, nuts, bolts and nuts with bolts.
CLAY
As you can see, the Electrosux Pile
Picker 2069 has a wide variety of
attachments.
Clay grandly motions to his open salesman's case which has
four tiers of attachments protruding out of it like some
giant tool box of the gods.
CLAY
Mr. and Mrs.?
ELDERLY MAN
Mr. Hoover.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Ms. Kirby.
They smile with pride.
ELDERLY MAN AND WOMAN
(in unison)
We live together.
The elderly man sneaks his hand behind his girlfriend and
tweaks her behind. She jumps and giggles at the same time.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Alfred... stop that!
CLAY
I see. Well, before I quickly whisk
away all of the items I have laid out
before you, let me take a moment to
demonstrate some of the other
auxiliary uses of the Pile Picker.
INT. OLD FASHIONED KITCHEN - DAY
A number of attachments have been placed around the vacuum,
creating a diabolical contraption similar to an experimental
military vehicle crossed with a 1950's space robot. Two
large antennae protrude from the base, between which an
occasional "JACOB'S LADDER" style wisp of electricity runs
up with a humming sound.
Clay dons a large chef's hat, scoops some ice cream and
malted milk balls inside a container and turns the machine
on. Growling like a rusted, robotic version of Godzilla
devouring its prey, it creates a pitcher of malted milks.
The elderly couple sip aimlessly on their malts as they
watch Clay change attachments.
Clay takes what seems like a bar of soap from above the
kitchen sink, deposits it into a plastic pouch and uses the
vacuum to seal it air tight.
CLAY
Look at that, will you! Sealed...
When Clay turns the package around for the elderly couple to
inspect, we can see that he actually sealed a pair of false
teeth.
CLAY (CONT.)
Air tight! And now for the grand
finale.
INT. CONSERVATIVE LIVING ROOM - DAY
Clay strips the vacuum down to its regular setting and turns
it on. As he picks up the piles of dirt, sand, gravel, nuts
and bolts, the vacuum's pleasant whirring becomes a
despicable growling.
Clay barely picks up the pile of nuts with bolts when he
decides to implement his sales tip for the week... ad
libbing.
Clay points a drapery attachment at a large hair ball in a
corner of the carpet.
Before the elderly couple can stop him, he vacuums up the
hair ball. A cat frantically screams and meows O.S. from
the innards of the vacuum.
Clay goes for the off button, but hits the reverse suction
button instead. The vacuum coughs a couple of times and
then blows up in Clay's face, spewing out all items
processed during the demonstration along with a few small
clumps of cat fur... but no cat.
INSERT - CLAY'S BOW TIE
spins around several times.
BACK TO SCENE
Clay bites the fingernail of his right index finger.
CLAY
Oops.
The elderly couple purse their mouths and frown.
CLAY (CONT.)
I guess this concludes our
demonstration.
The elderly couple roll up their sleeves and make their way
toward Clay with clenched fists. Clay squints, winces his
eyes and then gulps.
EXT. CONSERVATIVE RANCH STYLE HOME - DAY
Clay's salesman's case comes flying out the front door and
lands in the middle of the street. Clay follows, running
out hastily with his tail between his legs.
Slumped over in defeat, Clay gathers the attachments strewn
about the street into his larger than life salesman's case,
his face still dirty with the bowels of the vacuum.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Clay watches television while shelling and eating peanuts.
He turns on his Electrosux vacuum and cleans the shells off
of his lap. Clay studies a picture of his parents.
CLAY
Well mom and dad, at least I got a
free vacuum out of that job.
The vacuum coughs and moans. Clay shuts it off and peers
inside the dust bag. A soot covered cat springs out and
knocks the picture of Clay's parents onto the floor.
A few minutes later, the cat, cleaned up and bandaged from
head to paws, sits on Clay's lap licking milk from a saucer.
Clay turns his attention to the television as a commercial
comes on.
CUT TO:
INT. AVERAGE AMERICAN BATHROOM - DAY
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN in polka-dot pajamas takes a dropper full
of medicine.
SPOKESMAN V.O.
Hyper Lax... the laxative that makes
you go, go, go... and go!
As soon as the middle-aged man sets the bottle down, he
grabs his paisley drawers and makes a beeline for the
bathroom.
MIDDLE-AGED MAN O.S.
Yahoo!
SPOKESMAN V.O.
Hyper Lax. Now available in extra
strength, super strength and hyper
strength. Ask about our new mint and
beef jerky flavors. Consult your
physician before using.
CUT TO:
INT. WHITE ROOM - DAY
We hear an OLD MAN speaking in a slow, slurred voice which
echoes slightly.
OLD MAN O.S.
TDL cassette tapes, the best tapes
that money can buy. And if they
weren't the best tapes that money
could buy...
The old man gradually comes into view. He bears a striking
resemblance to Richard Nixon. A large assortment of TDL
cassette tapes labeled "Watergate" surround him. He makes
the "V" for victory sign with both hands as the
"PRESIDENTIAL" theme plays.
OLD MAN (CONT.)
I would still be President of these
United States.
The iron doors of the old man's jail cell slam shut.
CUT TO:
EXT. ANIMATED UNDERSEA WORLD - DAY
An energetic little cartoon FISH swims by.
FISH
Oh... woe is me! Here I am, lost
once again in the sea of
unemployment!
The fish swims over to a very large OYSTER. The oyster's
mouth slowly opens.
FISH
Oh boy, pearls!
The fish swims around for a closer view. When it nears the
lip of the oyster's shell, the shell abruptly snaps shut...
trapping the fish by its dorsal fin. A pair of evil eyes
open at the top of the oyster's shell.
FISH
Help! Help! Somebody please help
me!
A giant PORPOISE appears from nowhere and nudges the oyster
upside down. The oyster muffles a cough or two and then
reluctantly loosens its grip on the poor fish.
Stunned, the little fish swims quickly away.
PORPOISE
Hey kid, come back here! You don't
have to be afraid any more.
The fish cautiously makes its way back toward the porpoise
and the upside down oyster.
OYSTER
I never get any respect... know what
I mean?
PORPOISE
It can be a real jungle out there
kid. Stick with me... I'll take care
of you.
FISH
Who are you?
PORPOISE
I'm a porpoise.
OYSTER
What does he look like, a tuna?
PORPOISE
I'm here from Porpoise Temporary to
help you start a new career working
for one of our many satisfied
corporate clients.
FISH
Gee whilickers! You're my ticket
outta here.
OYSTER
Hey! What about me? It's rough down
here!
PORPOISE
Sorry, Rodney.
The porpoise and the fish swim happily away, leaving the
oyster behind to mumble obscenities to itself. A telephone
number flashes across the screen as a breezy ANNOUNCER cuts
in.
ANNOUNCER V.O.
Porpoise Temporary... give us a call
and we'll bait you with a brand new
career with one of our many fortune
500 clients.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Clay contemplates the last commercial.
CUT TO:
EXT. LUXURIOUS RED FERRARI - DAY
We see one of the Ferrari's alloy wheels quickly spinning as
it makes its way down an interstate. We check out the
entire length of the Ferrari's sleek body, eventually
winding up on the familiar horse logo.
INT. LUXURIOUS RED FERRARI - DAY
Clay, hair slicked back and sporting a pair of designer sun
glasses, wears a two piece Giorgio Armani suit with gold
cuff links and a matching Rolex. A cellular phone rings.
Clay speaks out loud without grabbing the handset.
CLAY
Tembro here.
EDDIE O.S.
Mr. Tembro, this is Eddie from
research. I wanted to give you an
update on the Lewis project.
CLAY
Please proceed.
EDDIE O.S.
We expect to obtain final approval
sometime this week.
CLAY
Good! Good work!
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE - DAY
Clay pulls his Ferrari up to a valet parking stand. After
removing a cigarette from a golden cigarette case, he takes
a gold Execumate 2000 lighter from his suit coat. Clay
pushes the first button to ignite it and lights his
cigarette.
CLAY (CONT.)
Just a second... I have to transfer
our call.
Clay pushes the third button on the gold lighter and pulls
out a thin set of two panels from either end of the lighter
as an antenna automatically telescopes out.
He presses the second button to pass his call from the
Ferrari's phone to his lighter.
A VALET tips his top hat as Clay steps out of his car.
VALET
Good morning, Mr. Tembro.
CLAY
Good morning yourself, Nick.
Clay takes a thin platinum brief case from the Ferrari and
opens it to verify its contents. The bottom portion holds a
miniaturized notebook computer. The top contains several
layers of pockets, gold pens and other executive trinkets.
After verifying the presence of a couple of documents, Clay
closes his case, handcuffs it to his left wrist and makes
his way to the elevators.
CLAY
Eddie? You still there?
EDDIE O.S.
You bet.
A yellow corvette pulls up to the valet parking stand.
Brittany steps out and adjusts her white business suit. She
smiles over at Clay and joins him at the entrance to the
building. Clay turns his attention back to Eddie.
CLAY
Why don't you deliver the Lewis
report to me this afternoon, when
you're finished?
EDDIE O.S.
Consider it done, chief.
Clay pushes the third button on his lighter. As the antenna
retracts, he smiles over to Brittany and holds the lighter
up to his mouth like a "STAR TREK" communicator.
CLAY
Beam me up... Scottie.
INT. ENTRANCE LOBBY - DAY
Clay and Brittany arrive at an elevator with golden doors
and a card reader. Clay wipes his lighter across the
scanner. A poised and sophisticated ELECTRONIC VOICE
responds.
ELECTRONIC VOICE V.O.
Welcome to the Sears Tower, Mr.
Tembro. May I take you to the
executive suites this morning?
INT. PLUSH CORNER OFFICE - DAY
Clay successfully shoots an executive golf ball into a high
tech hole simulator. A miniature golf cart travels out to
him and deposits the ball back onto the putting green.
We can see that his office contains a generous collection of
Italian furniture and several priceless works of art.
Brittany brings in a fresh pile of faxes and lays them on a
blotter on Clay's antique desk.
BRITTANY
Number One wishes to speak with you.
CLAY
Show him in... after I make this
putt.
Clay once again putts the golf ball into the simulated hole.
THURSTON, a gray haired mogul with the poise and charm of a
world diplomat, enters and knocks on the inside portion of
the office door.
THURSTON
May I come in for a moment?
CLAY
Sure Thurston, have a seat.
Thurston passes Brittany on his way in. He seats himself on
one of the plush chairs surrounding Clay's desk. Clay
removes a pair of Cuban cigars from a decorative gold box
and offers one to Thurston.
THURSTON
Oh... thank you.
Thurston takes a cigar and inserts an end into a statue of a
mermaid on the desk. Clay does the honor of pushing the
mermaid's tail down to cut the end off of Thurston's cigar.
Thurston returns the favor by lighting both cigars with his
own Execumate 2000 lighter.
THURSTON
What's the status of the Lewis
project?
CLAY
Eddie informs me that we have good
news.
Clay blows a perfect smoke ring and then blows little
ringlets which dart through and around the larger ring.
THURSTON
You mean that...
CLAY
Yes! Our funding has enabled the
Jerry Lewis Foundation to develop a
complete cure for Muscular Dystrophy.
THURSTON
Splendid! In just the past two
months you've done more than
outstanding as our acting Vice
President of Public Affairs.
Clay smiles back modestly to Thurston and shrugs off his
compliment.
THURSTON (CONT.)
You have turned the Lewis endowment
completely around. Superb!
CLAY
I have to be honest with you... it
was a team effort.
THURSTON
Clay, I would like to offer you a
permanent position with our
company...
INT. BRITTANY'S OFFICE - DAY
Brittany eavesdrops on Clay's meeting with Thurston.
THURSTON O.S. (CONT.)
As Senior Vice President of Public
Affairs.
She begins primping herself up.
INT. PLUSH CORNER OFFICE - DAY
Clay puffs his cigar and relishes Thurston's offer.
THURSTON (CONT.)
And, if you accept our offer to leave
Porpoise, you will be entitled to all
of our Golden Executive perks. This
includes a company Ferrari, a full
country club membership...
INT. BRITTANY'S OFFICE - DAY
Brittany's eyes widen as Thurston continues laying out the
offer.
THURSTON O.S. (CONT.)
An unlimited spending account with
platinum credit cards and generous
corporate jet privileges.
INT. PLUSH CORNER OFFICE - DAY
Clay smiles and contemplates Thurston's complete offer.
THURSTON (CONT.)
Please keep in mind that as a Senior
Vice President, you will be required
to attend the three week corporate
manager's meeting in the Bahamas
every year.
Clay puffs his cigar as deeply as he can.
THURSTON
So, there it is. Please take all the
time you need to decide.
Clay sits up from his desk and blows out a long steady
stream of smoke.
CLAY
I am happy to inform you that I
accept your offer, Thurston.
Thurston indicates his overwhelming happiness and relief.
CLAY (CONT.)
I'm all yours.
Both men stand and embrace each other like old Russian
comrades.
THURSTON
Welcome aboard! Let me call Porpoise
Temporary to make all of the
necessary arrangements for your
transferal.
Thurston walks out and Brittany immediately strides back in.
BRITTANY
Congratulations! I hear that
Thurston made you one of the gang.
CLAY
I guess he did.
BRITTANY
This calls for a celebration, don't
you think?
CLAY
Why not?
Brittany takes a bottle of vodka from the generously stocked
bar in the office and prepares a shaker of martinis. She
presents the golden shaker to Clay.
BRITTANY
Stirred, never shaken?
CLAY
Of course.
Clay reaches for a remote control unit lying on the table.
He punches a few buttons. The window blinds automatically
close as a secret ceiling panel slides over to reveal a
fancy array of mirrors. A concealed bed rises up from the
floor and slowly turns around in circles as the lights in
the office dim.
Brittany finishes stirring the martinis, walks seductively
over to Clay and pours them each a drink. She sets her own
drink down, sits on Clay's lap and feeds him the olive from
his drink.
Brittany reaches for her own drink, accidentally spilling a
portion of it onto Clay's lap. He peers down to find out
just where on his suit the drink was spilled.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Clay snaps out of his fantasy to see the cat taking a little
tinkle on his lap. He gazes at the television. A public
service announcement featuring Jerry Lewis comes to an end.
Bound inside a straight jacket, Jerry laughs and kicks
hysterically as two orderlies whisk him away. Clay shakes
his head quickly to verify that he has come back to reality.
Recalling his fantasy, he picks up the telephone and dials.
CLAY
Hello, my name is Clay... Clay
Tembro. I saw your television
commercial. Yes. I would like to
make an appointment for an interview.
When could I come in?
Clay closes his eyes to relive his fantasy. He opens his
eyes.
CLAY (CONT.)
As soon as possible.
CUT TO:
EXT. DECREPIT BRICK BUILDING - DAY
The marquis above the building reads, "Porpoise Temporary,
Inc." Above the marquis hangs a cheesy figurine of a
porpoise. Water spews forth from its mouth and lands into a
tiny little receptacle at the base.
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Clay approaches the receptionist, MANDY FISHER, a
conservative but modern thirty-something woman.
MANDY
Welcome to Porpoise Temporary, may I
help you?
CLAY
Hi. I'm Clay Tembro.
MANDY
You're the guy who saw our ad.
She shakes Clay's hand as if he were an ambassador.
MANDY (CONT.)
I'm Mandy. Why don't you fill out
this application so we can get
started.
INT. TINY CUBICLE - DAY
Clay sits in front of a very old typewriter, trying to
complete an overly exhaustive typing test. His heavy typing
causes a lamp on the same table to slowly make its way to
the edge and fall. He abandons his test and gallantly
rescues the lamp.
Upon examining the lamp, he discovers it's made entirely of
plastic.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
MORTIMER WISENWACKER plays with his Nunchaku Play Master, a
hand-held electronic game for kids. A tiny mouse of a man,
he resembles a feisty, obnoxious Charlie Chaplin without the
moustache. An arrangement of luxury sports car models sit
on his desk. One particular model stands out... a Porsche
944 encased in a beautifully lit display case.
As Mortimer's game comes to a climax, we can see his eyes
bulge out of their sockets.
MORTIMER
Yes. That's it! Almost there. Yes!
Yes!
Unfortunately, Mortimer loses. As the game exuberantly
plays the "game over" theme, Mortimer throws a whale of a
tantrum. He contemplates slamming the game into a wall,
but... at the last moment... he comes back to his senses.
Mandy escorts Clay into the office.
MANDY
I'd like to introduce you to Mortimer
Wisenwacker, General Manager and
Owner of Porpoise Temporary.
Mortimer, this is Clay Tembro.
MORTIMER
Tembro? Let me think... why does
that name sound familiar?
Mortimer snaps his fingers.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Oh, I remember now! You're the schmo
who answered our television ad.
Mortimer shakes Clay's hand absently as Mandy heads back to
her dreary little reception area.
MORTIMER
Please... have a seat.
He motions for Clay to take a seat as he studies his
application. He takes an imitation gold plated box and
offers it to Clay.
CLAY
Oh no, but thanks anyway... I don't
smoke.
Mortimer opens the box and withdraws a cherry Porpoise
lollipop for himself. He removes the flimsy cellophane
wrapper and pops it into his mouth as he flips the
application over to study the back side.
MORTIMER
Hmm, let me see. It says here that
you are seeking permanent employment
with one of our corporate clients.
CLAY
Yes, I am. In fact...
MORTIMER
Great... great. Well, let me tell
you a little more about Porpoise
Temporary.
Mortimer banters in a rehearsed fashion as he gestures his
porpoise lollipop in Clay's direction.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
I look at all of the employees of
Porpoise Temporary as my children. I
feel that together... as a family...
we are all working to obtain the same
goal.
Considering his real goal... to make himself as filthy rich
as possible... Mortimer smiles greedily.
CLAY
What goal might that be?
Clay's question catches Mortimer by surprise.
MORTIMER
Well... ah... to, well... get America
working again.
Mortimer grimaces, slightly annoyed at having been put on
the spot.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Yes... that's it... we want to get
America working again around here.
CLAY
I see... huh.
He hands Clay a folder displaying the Porpoise Temporary
logo on it.
MORTIMER
I would like to welcome you to our
little family. This folder will
explain all of our agency's policies
and benefits.
CLAY
What will my starting salary be?
Mortimer scowls and chokes a bit, as if having swallowed
something which disagreed with him.
MORTIMER
Salary? Oh... we don't pay salaries
at Porpoise Temporary. Every
associate works on an hourly pay
schedule.
CLAY
And may I ask what the hourly pay
schedule is?
MORTIMER
You may.
Clay rolls his eyes and sighs. Mortimer squints his eyes
and smiles.
CLAY
What is the hourly pay schedule?
MORTIMER
For entry level associates such as
yourself?
CLAY
Yes.
MORTIMER
Five dollars an hour... no overtime.
CLAY
What about for experienced
associates?
Mortimer turns his back towards Clay and starts putting away
his Nunchaku Play Master.
MORTIMER
Five dollars an hour... no overtime.
CLAY
What's the difference?
Mortimer faces Clay once again, but does not look him in the
eye.
MORTIMER
Experienced associates enjoy four
days of company paid vacation...
after five years of professional
service.
Mortimer removes the model Porsche 944 from its lit case to
admire it in detail.
CLAY
And how long does it take to receive
a job offer with one of your fortune
500 clients?
Mortimer stands up from his desk and draws Clay's attention
to a window facing the parking lot.
EXT. DECREPIT PARKING LOT - DAY
We see a shiny new red Porsche 944 parked in front of the
building, in a stall marked as reserved.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer proudly turns back to Clay.
MORTIMER
Isn't she a beauty? I just got her
last week. She can do zero to sixty
in just six point one seconds.
CLAY
Really? That's great.
Mortimer sighs, his heart heavy with the love for a fine
automobile.
CLAY (CONT.)
But you never answered my question.
MORTIMER
Huh? Oh, you wanted to know...
CLAY
About getting job offers from your
corporate clients.
Mortimer carefully returns the model Porsche to its place of
honor on his desk. He spots a dust particle on one of the
headlights and carefully removes it with his pinky before
closing the model's case.
MORTIMER
Oh, anywhere from one to three
months... it all depends.
CLAY
On what?
Mortimer steals one more glance at his prize automobile
sitting in the parking lot.
MORTIMER
On you, of course.
CLAY
Okay. When can I start?
MORTIMER
We don't have any corporate
assignments open at this exact time.
Clay attempts to respond, but Mortimer interrupts him.
MORTIMER
Why don't you go home for now. You
needn't call us, we'll call you as
soon as a something comes up.
Mortimer stands up briskly shakes Clay's hand.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Welcome once again to Porpoise
Temporary.
He gestures toward his office door.
MORTIMER
If you'll excuse me, I have a very
tight schedule this morning and must
take my leave of you.
Clay smiles faintly and walks out of Mortimer's office. All
alone, Mortimer looks at his watch, returns to his desk and
takes out his Nunchaku Play Master.
MORTIMER
Well kid, I guess it's just you and
me now.
Mortimer reaches for his intercom.
MANDY
Mandy?
MANDY O.S.
Yes, Mort?
MORTIMER
Can you make a TQC to IFC for Mr. C.
T. ASAP?
MANDY O.S.
But he hasn't taken the SAT or the
ACT.
MORTIMER
That's AOK, it's not part of their
SOP. Let's show Mr. C. T. some
TLC... okay?
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Mandy clicks off the intercom and directs a solemn stare at
Clay, who we see walking through the parking lot outside.
MANDY
You poor SOB.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Having acquired yet another new employee to exploit,
Mortimer happily resumes playing his game. He loses again.
This time Mortimer cannot contain his anger and he chucks
his game into the nearest wall.
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Hearing the ruckus, Mandy's eyes grow as big as saucers.
She dashes to a nearby closet.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mandy enters and scurries about, collecting the remnants of
the electronic game with a whisk broom and a dustpan.
Mortimer, oblivious to Mandy's presence, tries to collect
himself. He pours himself a glass of scotch from his
private stash and then removes a box from his desk drawer.
He opens the box and produces a new Nunchaku Play Master.
We see that the desk drawer contains a generous reserve
stock of games... for just these occasions.
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Mandy opens the lid of a special trash can, revealing the
remnants of other electronic games and toys. She sighs as
she dumps in the new debris.
CUT TO:
INT. CORPORATE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Clay passes by a sign made of large gold lettering. It
reads, "International Financial Corporation". The place
wreaks of corporate stuffiness. He strolls over to the desk
of the RECEPTIONIST, a frumpish, middle-aged woman who acts
as the "eyes and ears" of the entire organization.
CLAY
Hi, I'm Clay Tembro, your temporary
professional from Porpoise Temporary.
The receptionist taps a number three pencil against her
oversized hair bun and considers.
RECEPTIONIST
Clay Tembro? From where?
CLAY
Porpoise.
RECEPTIONIST
Ah.
She shakes her head, full of pity for Clay.
RECEPTIONIST (CONT.)
Oh, you poor puss.
CLAY
Excuse me?
RECEPTIONIST
Oh, you're from Porpoise. Let me
call Mr. Thompson, the Customer
Service supervisor, so you can get
started.
INT. CORPORATE LUNCHROOM - DAY
Thompson gives Clay the ten cent tour of the office.
MR. THOMPSON
And over here is our corporate
lunchroom... complete with a
refrigerator, microwave and water
cooler.
An elegant SECRETARY with long frizzy red hair and full,
sensuous red lips enters the lunchroom.
SECRETARY
Your wife is on line two.
MR. THOMPSON
Thank you, Sharon.
Thompson throws up his arms and sighs.
MR. THOMPSON (CONT.)
What does she want now? Please
excuse me Tembro, I'll be right back.
Thompson and Sharon exit together. Clay swallows
methodically and massages his dry throat. Spotting the
empty water cooler, he takes the plastic seal off of a new
water bottle and sets it aside. Clay accidentally bumps
into the corporate fish tank as he removes the old water
bottle.
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay sits down at his work area and waits for the phone to
ring. Sharon strolls by. He drools.
CLAY
I think it's time for a little
male-female bonding.
He follows Sharon into the lunchroom.
INT. CORPORATE LUNCHROOM - DAY
Clay finds a basket of cheddar goldfish crackers next to the
water cooler. He stuffs a few crackers into his mouth as he
winks at Sharon. His phone rings.
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay discovers that the crackers have made his mouth bone
dry. He greets the caller in a weak, raspy voice like an
old death valley prospector uttering his final words.
CLAY
Good morning, Clay Tembro here. May
I help you?
NERVOUS HOUSEWIFE O.S.
Hello? Hello? Who is this?
He responds in a voice twice as harsh as before.
CLAY
You've reached the customer service
department of IFC.
The nervous housewife concludes that she mistakenly called
the number of some old pervert.
NERVOUS HOUSEWIFE O.S.
You're sick! Ooh!
She angrily hangs up.
INT. CORPORATE LUNCHROOM - DAY
Clay steps up to the water cooler and guzzles several cups
of water to revive himself.
CLAY
Ah... that hits the spot!
INSERT - CLAY'S OPEN MOUTH
A live goldfish sticks its head out of Clay's mouth and
looks around.
BACK TO SCENE
Clay's eyeballs go cross eyed and wide at the same time.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clay arrives home, tired after his first day of work. The
cat greets him at the door. He spots the business left by
the cat near his easy chair.
CLAY
Oh Tiddles, I'm so sorry. I forgot
to set out a litter box for you. Why
can't I ever learn?
He takes out his Electrosux vacuum, turns it on and attempts
to pick up the cat dung with the drapery attachment. This
proves to be the final act for the contraption and it blows
up, cutting all of the electricity in the apartment
building.
EXT. AGING APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
The entire apartment building goes completely dark; not a
single chink of light can be seen.
CLAY O.S.
Oops.
INT. DARK, DREARY BASEMENT - NIGHT
Clay searches for the fuse box with his flashlight. Finding
the fuse box, he shines his light down at a tray in his left
hand. It has quite a generous assortment of fuses. He
opens the fuse box and shines the light inside. It has only
one fuse... about the diameter of a softball in size.
CLAY
Oh boy... I guess the other tenants
are going to be really upset.
CUT TO:
EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - DAY
A handicapped STREET VENDOR sells snack food from a stand.
Clay walks by on his way to work.
CLAY
I'd like the economy size can of
cheese balls, please.
STREET VENDOR
Will this be for here, or to go?
CLAY
To go, please.
The bewildered street vendor reaches below his stand and
produces a container of cheese balls about the size of a
small garbage can.
CUT TO:
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay eats the cheese balls at his desk. Mr. Thompson
strolls by. Thompson massages his tired eyes. When he
looks at Clay again, he appears to him as a gigantic gray
mouse gnawing on one large cheese ball. Clay sees him and
waves. Mr. Thompson shakes his head quickly in disbelief.
He looks again and sees the old Clay; it was just his
imagination.
INT. CORPORATE MEETING ROOM - DAY
Clay and several of the other temporary STAFFERS watch Mr.
Thompson motion to one of many phrases written on a
whiteboard at the head of the room.
STAFFERS
Who am I to disagree with you?
MR. THOMPSON
That's right. And if a customer
insists on talking to your
supervisor, simply state the
following...
Thompson uses a telescoping pointer pen to indicate a phrase
on the whiteboard to the staffers.
STAFFERS
I'm sorry, but Mr. Thompson is
temporarily indisposed at this time.
MR. THOMPSON
Very good! Now if a customer wants
to file a formal complaint, just
say...
Thompson motions to the whiteboard once again.
STAFFERS
To date, Mr. Thompson has had only
satisfied customers. There hasn't
been a single complaint yet.
The staffers demonstrate their boredom by yawning,
stretching, doodling or playing with their hair. But not
Clay. He fervently jots down notes from the whiteboard as
the class progresses.
MR. THOMPSON
Excellent! And finally, if a
customer complains about one our IFC
policies, simply reply...
STAFFERS
Mr. slash Ms. blank, I don't like it
any more than you do, but there's
really nothing I can do about that.
Mr. Thompson gleams with pride. A loud thud comes from
somewhere in the class. Then another. And then another.
Slowly, one by one, each of the staffers fall asleep. About
half lay their heads down on the table in front of them with
a thud. The other half begin an endless and viscous cycle
of nodding off, awakening and then nodding off again.
MR. THOMPSON
I would like to remind all of you
that IFC will be offering permanent
positions at the end of this week to
the temporary employees with the best
performance records.
Clay sits up in his chair, still jotting down notes and
hanging onto every word spoken by Mr. Thompson.
The receptionist arrives bearing a platter of pastry, bagels
and cream cheese. In an instant the staffers and Mr.
Thompson descend on the tray like a pack of insatiable
vultures.
Clay, his appetite still sated from his cheese balls,
happily skips out of the meeting room to resume his
duties... armed with Mr. Thompson's customer service
phrases.
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay eagerly awaits his next customer service call. After a
short while he becomes bored, and fashions a little toy pig
out of a desk eraser and push pins. Just as he places a
snout on the pig, his phone rings.
CLAY
Good morning, IFC customer service,
may I help you?
MATRONLY WOMAN O.S.
Hi, I'm calling about your company's
billing grace period. It's too
short! I think it should be at least
forty five days.
He hastily checks his notes.
CLAY
Who am I to disagree with you?
MATRONLY WOMAN O.S.
Can't you do something about it then?
CLAY
I'm sorry, I don't like it any more
than you do, but there's really
nothing I can do about that.
MATRONLY WOMAN O.S.
Oh really? Well, perhaps I should
have a word with your supervisor
about this.
CLAY
Regretfully, Mr. Thompson is
temporarily indisposed at this time.
INT. MR. THOMPSON'S OFFICE - DAY
Thompson gnaws off a generous portion of a chocolate eclair.
The creamy center oozes out, landing on his phone. He takes
the cradle off of the base and hastily cleans up the mess.
Far more interested in savoring his pastry, Thompson forgets
to place the cradle back on the base.
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay patiently hangs on the line.
MATRONLY WOMAN O.S.
I'm sure he's busy handling all sorts
of complaints.
CLAY
Actually, to date, Mr. Thompson has
had only satisfied customers. There
hasn't been a single complaint yet.
MATRONLY WOMAN O.S.
I see. Well, I guess there's nothing
you can do. Thanks anyway for your
help.
He ponders the last call as he hangs up.
CLAY
Huh... it really works.
Sharon walks slowly by Clay's cubicle, stopping at a filing
cabinet across from his desk. She reaches over to open the
lowest drawer. Clay quickly becomes engrossed in observing
her dimensions.
The phone rings. Clay, still focusing on Sharon in all her
splendor and glory, answers.
CLAY
Good morning, IFC customer service,
may I help you?
INT. PRISTINE LIVING ROOM - DAY
BERNETTE THOMPSON sits on a luxurious white couch covered in
plastic. A huge picture of her and Mr. Thompson rests on an
end table. In the picture, she looms menacingly over her
despondent husband with a rolling pin.
BERNETTE
Hi, this is Bernette Thompson. I
don't seem to be able to reach my
husband's office. Could you please
take a message for him?
INT. CORPORATE CUBICLE - DAY
Clay continues observing Sharon's proportions at the filing
cabinet.
CLAY
I'm sorry, but he's temporarily
indisposed at this time.
Sharon lifts one of her shapely legs to reach further back
into the drawer.
BERNETTE O.S.
Indisposed! What in the hell is he
doing, having a rendezvous with that
secretary of his... right there in
the office?
CLAY
Who am I to disagree with you? To be
quite honest with you, to date, Mr.
Thompson has had only satisfied
customers. There hasn't been a
single complaint yet.
Sharon finds what she wants and closes the file cabinet. As
she straightens up, she methodically presses out a couple
wrinkles in her skirt.
BERNETTE O.S.
Well, I never. I find your candor
nauseating! Just who in the hell do
you think you're talking to... some
sort of cheap bimbo?
CLAY
I don't like it any more than you do
Ms. Thompson, but there's really
nothing I can do about that.
BERNETTE O.S.
Oh, that does it! We'll just see
what my husband has to say about
this!
Bernette slams the receiver down. Clay pauses for a moment
and then it hits him... he just totally insulted his
supervisor's wife! Clay covers his hands over his face and
bows his head onto his desktop.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Already six sheets to the wind, Mortimer pours himself
another scotch, spilling most of it on his desk. He holds
his Nunchaku Play Master up to his face.
MORTIMER
I'll beat you yet, you son of a...
The intercom buzzes.
MANDY O.S.
Clay Tembro is here to pick up his
paycheck.
MORTIMER
Tembro? I don't know any... oh yeah,
the big corporate climber.
Mortimer dons an devilish grin.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Send him in, Mandy dearest.
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Mandy sighs heavily and shakes her head.
MANDY
Oh God, his Scotch Imp is out again.
Perhaps I should mail you your check?
CLAY
Well, I kind of need it today. Would
that be a problem?
MANDY
It depends. Just be careful with
Mortimer, at least during this time
of day.
Clay gives Mandy a friendly wink.
CLAY
Gotcha!
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Clay bashfully enters and seats himself in front of
Mortimer's desk as Mortimer hastily stuffs some sort of
bottle into his lower desk drawer.
MORTIMER
Tembro, I've got some really exciting
news for you. Mr. Thompson called
from IFC.
CLAY
He did?
MORTIMER
Yes. And he would like to offer you
a permanent position within his
organization.
CLAY
As a customer service rep?
MORTIMER
Better! As an executive trainee
under his personal tutelage.
CLAY
Wow! He really wants to hire me?
Mortimer smiles to Clay and lifts his head in a nodding
motion.
MORTIMER
No.
Mortimer holds his laughter for a few seconds, belches and
completely cracks up. Clay tries to laugh along with
Mortimer, but his laughter cannot hide his disappointment...
and hurt.
MORTIMER
No, I'm sorry. Mr. Thompson did call
me. But it was to inform me about
this sordid affair about you calling
his wife, and I quote, "a cheap
bimbo"?
CLAY
That was an accident.
MORTIMER
Right, whatever.
Mortimer searches his desktop, finding only Nunchaku Play
Master debris and cartridges. Eventually he checks his
wastebasket, where he finds an envelope under some discarded
chicken bones. Mortimer scrapes a hunk of chicken fat off
of the envelope and reluctantly hands it to Clay.
MORTIMER
I'm afraid that, due to...
He searches for just the right words to use.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Low availability, we're going to have
to give you a few... oh, shall we
say...
He loftily waves his hands in the air.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Non-glamorous assignments.
Clay tilts his head slightly.
CLAY
Non-glamorous assignments?
CUT TO:
INT. NEIGHBORHOOD CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT
Cheap, haphazardly erected sales displays crowd the store's
sales counter. A nearby rack holds the Saturday edition of
the Chicago Tribune.
INSERT - SATURDAY EDITION OF THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE
The main headline reads: "Lotto Fever Hits Illinois".
Below the headline lies a full blown picture of Clay wearing
a huge lotto ball marked "42".
BACK TO SCENE
Clay wears the same lotto ball. Not having adjusted to
wearing the costume, he repeatedly knocks over the flimsy
sales displays on the counter. A sign posted next to the
lotto machine indicates that the guaranteed grand prize sits
at 165 million dollars. The clock on the wall shows
the time to be past 9:30 in the evening... less than one
hour before the big drawing.
INT. NEIGHBORHOOD CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT
An ELDERLY WOMAN steps up to the counter. She smiles
warmly.
ELDERLY WOMAN
One quick pick, please.
CLAY
Alrightee.
In the blink of an eye Clay punches up a quick pick for her.
CLAY (CONT.)
That'll be one dollar, ma'am.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Alright.
The elderly woman gingerly opens up her antique purse. She
produces a single, shiny penny which she meticulously lays
on the counter.
CLAY
Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I said that
will be one...
We see Clay gasp and his eyes bug out as the elderly woman
once again reaches into her purse and hands over yet another
shiny penny.
The elderly woman continues picking individual pennies in
this fashion, counting each one carefully under her breath.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Three... four... five... six...
seven...
A line of anxious customers quickly forms.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT
The line of customers queues up outside the door, spilling
well out into the parking lot.
INT. NEIGHBORHOOD CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT
By now the elderly woman has managed to get an entire
quarter's worth of pennies out onto the counter. Her
magnificent pace enables her to remove a penny from her
antique purse every three to four seconds.
The customers waiting in line to buy lotto tickets complain.
Subtle yawning and throat clearing gradually turn into
explicit comments and insults.
Clay sympathizes with the elderly woman. He grabs the
microphone of the store's P.A. system.
CLAY
Would you people please learn to be
more patient? My parents taught me
to always respect my elders. Didn't
your parents do the same?
Rebuked and ashamed, the entire store demonstrates their new
found understanding for the elderly woman by helping her
count out her last remaining pennies.
ENTIRE STORE
Ninety eight... ninety nine... one
hundred!
The ordeal of waiting now finally over, the crowd of
customers cheers. As Clay hands the elderly woman her quick
pick, he turns to the rest of the customers to give them a
"Now that wasn't so bad!" look.
Just as the elderly woman seems ready to walk away, her face
lights up and she turns back toward Clay.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Young man, why don't you give me just
one more quick pick.
Clay's face remains frozen in a bewildered expression. All
of the customers moan in unison, slap their foreheads in
despair and collapse backward like dominos.
CUT TO:
EXT. RUNDOWN FAMILY RESTAURANT - DAY
A huge, disgusting statue of a boy wearing blue and white
checkered pants, suspenders and sod-buster shoes stands in
front of the restaurant. The boy appears poised in a
skipping motion and hoists a large hamburger platter above
his head with his left hand.
His right hand wields a giant, drool filled spoon. The
boy's tongue sticks out of its salivating mouth in a wiping
motion.
A neon sign next to the statue reads... "Sprat Boy Family
Restaurant". We see a pair of buzzards perched above the
sign. As the sign rotates, so do they.
Clay gets out of his car and walks over to the statue. He
spots a large button at the base and presses it.
SPRAT BOY V.O.
Hi ya! Welcome to Sprat Boy! Hungry
for a big, greasy burger? Or how
about a generous helping of fried
chicken...
The speaker system goes out, pronouncing "fried chicken"
as "froyd cheek'in", shutting down with a distinctly morbid
and grotesque belching noise.
INT. SPRAT BOY KITCHEN - DAY
Clay places a skinned chicken on top of a chopping block.
He stretches the head and neck of the chicken out. Sadly,
he lifts the chicken from the chopping block.
CLAY
You deserve a better fate than this,
my friend.
He replaces the chicken onto the chopping block and
reluctantly lifts his meat cleaver. Not able to bring
himself to watch, he squints and grimaces away as he brings
the cleaver down on the chopping block with a smack, missing
the chicken completely.
BOB PIPER, Clay's overseer for this assignment stops over to
inspect Clay's progress. A tall, wiry relic from the
1960's, Bob wears his beige and brown plaid uniform with
pride.
He glares at Clay from over his wire rim glasses.
BOB
You oughta be shot! Geez... you
missed the board. That means you
lose.
CLAY
May I please take my break now?
BOB
Oh, alright now. You can take a
fifteen minute break.
INT. SPRAT BOY LUNCH COUNTER - DAY
Clay sips on an ice water while trying to regain control of
his stomach. A WAITRESS passes by.
WAITRESS
You can have anything on the lunch
menu for your break, hun... on the
house.
CLAY
Thanks. Why don't you bring me an
iced tea for starters.
WAITRESS
You got it.
A ROUGH-AND-TUMBLE MAN wearing a working smock and jeans
sits down on a stool next to Clay's. A patch at the corner
of his smock reads "BEN" in cursive script. He speaks in a
gravelly voice.
BEN
Howdy! I'm Ben.
CLAY
Clay Tembro.
Ben shakes Clay's hand vigorously and smiles, revealing a
golden tooth. Clay shows him his menu.
CLAY
It looks like you come in here quite
often... anything on here you can
recommend?
BEN
Personally, I'm rather fond of the...
Ben pulls his face close to Clay's and looks around as if he
were about to disclose the most confidential of information.
BEN (CONT.)
Baked beans!
He emphasizes the two B's and sprays Clay in the face. Clay
winces a little. Ben appears hollow with seriousness.
After a moment of silence, both men laugh out loud.
However, Ben's beefy laughter easily drowns out Clay's.
BEN (CONT.)
Just stay away from the damned
chicken.
He sprays Clay once again. Clay winces and recoils
backward.
CLAY
How about the salmon?
BEN
Oh sure, it's pretty good. Say, have
you ever fished for salmon?
CLAY
Not recently. I used to quite often
with my father, before he passed
away.
BEN
I once helped a famous tour guide
fake a salmon catch for his
television show.
CLAY
If you don't mind my asking, just how
exactly does one fake a salmon catch?
Ben uses his hands against either side of his throat to
indicate gills.
BEN
Shucks... that's easy. We just
filled a live ten pound salmon up to
the gills with battery acid and
released it back into the lake.
CLAY
You mean the salmon was still alive
after all that?
BEN
Yep, up until the poor thing jumped
blindly over three logs and landed
inside our boat with a...
He slaps his hands together in front of Clay's face.
BEN (CONT.)
Splat!
INSERT - THREE STOOLS AT THE LUNCH COUNTER
Three tough and dirty biker dudes dressed in leather scarf
up their salmon steak lunches at the lunch counter. Ben's
last remark prompts the bikers to throw down their eating
utensils and search for the right place to hurl.
BACK TO SCENE
Clay grimaces as the waitress returns to take their orders.
WAITRESS
You boys decided what you want yet?
CLAY
I think I'll stick with my iced tea.
BEN
Aren't you hungry?
Clay shakes his head.
BEN
Spaghetti and black coffee for me,
Florence... on the house.
WAITRESS
You got it.
Clay shoots Ben an inquisitive stare.
BEN
The owner of this place was in my
unit in Korea. I saved his life.
CLAY
And to repay the debt...
BEN
I get my meals free. Kind of nice,
huh?
The waitress brings over Ben's coffee, amused by the last
exchange of conversation.
CLAY
If you don't mind my asking, what do
you do for a living?
BEN
Well, I'm sort of semi-retired from
this construction company.
CLAY
Semi-retired?
BEN
I work the odd half day or two when
they need me. You know...
part-time... to help stretch out my
pension and my social security.
Bob pokes his head back through the kitchen door.
BOB
Hey Clay! Your fifteen minute break
will be over in one and a half
minutes.
Ben gives Bob the coldest of gazes. Bob retreats back
behind the door like a scared puppy. Ben leans over once
again toward Clay. Anticipating another jungle spray, Clay
raises his napkin up to his face.
BEN
I carry a lot of clout around here.
EXT. SPRAT BOY FAMILY RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Clay carries a step ladder and a bucket out to the Sprat Boy
statue. He unlatches a trap door at the back and unscrews a
cap resembling one used by a gasoline tank. Thoroughly
disgusted, Clay places a crusty funnel into the hole and
pours in the contents of the bucket.
CLAY
I don't believe this! A restaurant
statue with a refillable drool tank.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
Clay looks for something to prepare for supper. Just as he
spots the perfect frozen dinner, his phone rings.
CLAY
Hello?
MORTIMER O.S.
Tembro, Mortimer here. I just got
off the phone with Sprat Boy.
CLAY
You did?
MORTIMER O.S.
They said you did an exemplary job
over there.
CLAY
Really?
MORTIMER O.S.
Yes, they were especially happy with
your work in the kitchen.
Clay sees a chicken dinner in the freezer and turns away
from it like a vampire shunning a cross.
MORTIMER O.S. (CONT.)
I have a new assignment for you as a
lab assistant for a company downtown.
It would involve...
CLAY
Do you think this client might be
interested in hiring me full time?
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - NIGHT
Mortimer talks through a fancy telephone headset. Clay's
absurd question prompts him to throw down his Nunchaku Play
Master and stand up at his desk.
MORTIMER
Oh yes! Yes! I can definitely see
that. Yes, it's coming into focus.
Let me see now...
He squints his eyes and massages his temples.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Clay Tembro, former Porpoise
employee, now goes to work every
business day to a laboratory in
downtown Chicago to test condoms.
CLAY O.S.
Condoms?
MORTIMER
Yes... condoms! My, that would be
just splendid, wouldn't it? I don't
know why I didn't see that
possibility earlier. Please forgive
me!
INT. CLAY'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
Clay checks his telephone's headset.
CLAY
Mortimer? Hello? You still there?
Clay turns to Tiddles and sighs.
CLAY
I was just asking a simple question.
The cat yawns widely back at him. Clay grimly anticipates
his new assignment.
CLAY (CONT.)
Condom testing?
Tiddles looks back at him wide eyed, licks its mouth and
then starts in on its private parts.
CUT TO:
INT. INDUSTRIAL OFFICE - DAY
HEATHER GOODNOUGH, a blonde bombshell disguised as a mild
mannered lab supervisor, busily reviews test results at her
desk. EUGENE and FRED, a couple of red neck painters, stop
by.
EUGENE
Ms. Heather? Can we move some of the
furniture from the infirmary into
your lab while we paint?
HEATHER
I don't see why not. Just make sure
you guys obey standard company policy
this time around by wearing your
particle masks.
FRED
But...
HEATHER
Oh come on now Fred, it's not that
bad. Besides, you know that your
asthma has been acting up a bit.
EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET - DAY
Clay tries to find the location of his next assignment...
102 North 2nd street. He approaches a small brick building.
INSERT - PARTIALLY BLOCKED SIGN
The sign in front, partially blocked to the right by a
painter's ladder, reads:
JOHN|
PROP|
102|
BACK TO SCENE
CLAY
This must be the place... Johnson
Prophylactics, Inc. 102 North 2nd
Street.
He passes Eugene on his way in. Eugene retrieves his
ladder.
INSERT - FULLY VISIBLE SIGN
The sign in front of the building, now fully visible, reads
JOHNSTON, KOHL & SUMMERS
PROPANE TANK SHELLS LTD.
102 SOUTH 2ND STREET
INT. INDUSTRIAL OFFICE - DAY
Clay sheepishly enters.
CLAY
Hi there. I'm Clay, your temporary
from Porpoise here to help you with
your... testing.
Heather doesn't bother to look up from her paperwork.
HEATHER
I didn't request a temporary. Oh
wait... it must have been Marlene in
large case testing.
She glances up from her desk long enough to check Clay out.
HEATHER (CONT.)
Well Clay, I guess you're my
responsibility for today. Have you
ever done this kind of testing
before?
CLAY
No, but I think I can get the hang of
it. I have become over the years...
a sort of... jack of all trades.
HEATHER
I see.
Heather indicates the direction of the lab.
HEATHER
Why don't you put your things in one
of the empty lockers outside the lab
and then come back in here so we can
get started.
She leans over closer to Clay.
HEATHER (CONT.)
You and I had better get busy... we
have a lot of work ahead of us.
INT. INDUSTRIAL HALLWAY - DAY
Clay finds a vacant locker and deposits his coat and lunch
inside. He passes the doors to the testing laboratory and
decides to take a tiny peek inside.
INSERT - TESTING LABORATORY
Only a large feather bed can be seen.
BACK TO SCENE
Dazed, as if under the influence of some weird spell, Clay
fantasizes.
CUT TO:
INT. TESTING LABORATORY - DAY
Heather's mouth, now red with lipstick, overlays our view of
the bed in the lab. Heather seduces Clay.
HEATHER
Have you ever done this kind of test
before?
She lurches seductively toward Clay.
HEATHER (CONT.)
You and I had better get busy... we
have a lot of work ahead of us.
She takes off her glasses and removes a hair pin, letting
her long blonde hair fall to her shoulders. What a knock
out!
She presents Clay with a triple pack of condoms, takes his
hand and escorts him into the lab... to the feather bed.
CUT TO:
INT. INDUSTRIAL HALLWAY - DAY
Clay heads back toward Heather's office, covered in sweat.
CLAY
There has to be a logical explanation
for all of this.
Fred intercepts Clay just outside of Heather's office.
FRED
Hello there! Aren't you the new guy?
CLAY
I guess so.
Clay sizes up the situation. He motions to Fred's particle
mask.
CLAY
Do you always have to wear one of
those?
FRED
Oh no. This is for special projects
like today's. You know, to help us
keep from getting out of breath.
Clay's eyes widen.
FRED (CONT.)
I bet you'll have to wear one for
Heather, too.
Clay squeaks like a tiny mouse.
CLAY
For Heather?
INT. INDUSTRIAL OFFICE - DAY
Clay tries to speak, but finds himself a bit tongue tied.
CLAY
I... I don't know if I can do this
kind of testing, Ms. Goodnough.
He states her name as "GOODEN-OFF".
HEATHER
Goodnough.
She states her name as "GOOD-NUFF".
HEATHER (CONT.)
My name is Heather Goodnough. Please
call me Heather.
He feebly shakes her hand.
CLAY
Good enough.
He nervously laughs and cringes as Heather runs her right
hand against her lab coat.
HEATHER
Yes... well... I'm sure glad you're
here. I've been one man short for
quite some time now.
CLAY
You mean it won't be just us in
there?
HEATHER
I may have Fred pinch hit for you
this afternoon, if you're feeling
tired. After all, this is your first
day... and this can be very strenuous
work for the inexperienced.
CLAY
I see.
He looks off into the distance.
CLAY (CONT.)
Oh boy.
HEATHER
But this morning, it will be just you
and me...
CLAY
Ah.
HEATHER
And Barb.
CLAY
Barb?
HEATHER
My assistant.
Heather reaches over to her intercom.
HEATHER
Barb, will you step in here for a
moment?
BARB enters the office from the testing laboratory. Like
Heather, Barb's striking features cannot be hidden by her
white lab coat. Heather indicates Clay.
HEATHER
I'd like you to meet Clay. He'll be
giving us a hand with this morning's
work in large case testing.
BARB
Great!
Barb takes full assessment of Clay's physical features.
BARB (CONT.)
Having a big guy in the lab always
works out the best.
HEATHER
It sure does.
CLAY
I'll bet.
He wipes the perspiration from his brow with a tissue.
BARB
Heather hun, I've got everything set
up for the three of us in the lab.
Barb spots a small feather on her sleeve, which she
playfully lofts at Clay. We hear Clay's heart beat more and
more rapidly.
Heather and Barb both stand and put on latex gloves,
snapping each one tight against their wrists.
HEATHER
Alright you two... let's slide on
over to the lab and start the first
round of durability and thickness
tests.
Clay's eyes flutter as he slowly arches backwards and faints
onto the floor.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer reprimands Clay like a pint sized drill sergeant.
MORTIMER
A bed! You saw a bed in the lab.
Clay quietly nods.
MORTIMER
And you thought you were supposed to
go to bed with them to test the
condoms?
CLAY
That was my assumption, yes.
Appalled by Clay's ineptitude, Mortimer raises the volume of
his screaming a couple of notches.
MORTIMER
You imbecile! No woman in her right
mind would do such a thing! Not with
you, anyway.
CLAY
Excuse me?
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Mandy uses her intercom to eavesdrop.
MORTIMER O.S.
And for you to think that not one but
two woman wanted you, well that does
take some imagination.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Clay shrinks a bit in his seat.
CLAY
You forgot to mention Fred.
MORTIMER
What the hell are you talking
about... Fred?
CLAY
Oh, nothing. Look, I'm awfully
sorry. I had no idea that I went to
the wrong building.
INT. SPARSE RECEPTION AREA - DAY
Clay exits Mortimer's office with a defeated appearance.
MANDY
How did it go?
CLAY
I blew it... as usual.
MANDY
Don't sweat it, everyone makes
mistakes. Right?
He picks up an executive teddy bear from Mandy's desk and
fusses with it a bit.
CLAY
Some of us make more than others.
MANDY
That's because we're entitled to.
We're human, aren't we?
He returns the executive teddy to Mandy's desk, propping it
up against a pink bunny rabbit in a white dress.
CLAY
I suppose.
MANDY
How about if we continue this
conversation over lunch... my treat?
Clay's dim expression quickly brightens.
CUT TO:
EXT. CHICKEN TAKEOUT EMPORIUM - DAY
We see a restaurant resembling a rundown chicken coop. A
sign outside reads... "Mr. Chicken". Below the sign hangs a
cartoon billboard of a portly, demonic chef wielding a meat
cleaver. The chef lustfully chases a frightened, whimpish
chicken wearing a red bow tie. A smaller add-on sign
reads... "Where you always get more CLUK for your BUK!"
INT. EMPORIUM DINING ROOM - DAY
The dimly lit dining area contains live chickens in wire
cages stacked along the back wall. PATRONS ruminate about
the cages, trying to pick out the most prize chickens for
their meal.
The dining tables resemble barn doors with hay bails for
chairs. A rusted and worn kerosene lantern sits on each
table. Pictures of local and national celebrities along
with a variety of life size Barney Fife and Mr. Green Jeans
posters hang on the walls.
Clay and Mandy enjoy their lunches and each other's company.
CLAY
And then I told her that I couldn't
have sex with her.
She drops her soup spoon and gasps.
MANDY
Let me guess... you told her that
your education was more important to
you.
CLAY
Something like that, yes.
She gleefully laughs and folds her hands up to her face.
Clay laughs too.
MANDY
That's so sweet... you're such a nice
guy!
She folds her red and white checkered napkin into her lap.
MANDY
May I ask you a personal question?
CLAY
Shoot.
MANDY
Do you actually like the temporary
assignments you've been getting
lately?
CLAY
Like?
As Clay considers the question, a ghastly clucking comes
from somewhere in the kitchen, after which a few feathers
fly into the dining room.
CLAY
The way I look at it, somebody has to
do the work, right? Why do you ask?
MANDY
Its just that...
She hesitates a bit as another loud clucking comes from the
kitchen and more feathers come sailing in.
MANDY (CONT.)
I hate to see anyone get taken
advantage of, especially a big teddy
bear of a guy like you.
Clay sneezes, stirring up a couple of feathers and few
fragments of hay. They settle back on top of Clay's lunch.
CLAY
I appreciate that. I don't think
anyone is trying to take advantage of
me.
He picks up one of the fragments of hay from his meal.
CLAY
Hmm... added fiber.
They share a smile.
CLAY
If anyone's taking advantage of
anyone else, it's me. I'm using
Porpoise to find a good job. I'm
also taking advantage of you...
He reflects quickly on his last statement.
CLAY (CONT.)
Of your lunch time, I meant.
Without thinking, Clay reaches for Mandy's hand. But Mandy
beats him to the punch, grasping both of his hands with
hers. They join eyes. Unsure of what to do or say next,
Clay withdraws his hand.
CLAY
Mandy, can I tell you something
special about myself?
MANDY
Sure.
CLAY
Remember my limited sexual experience
when I started college?
Mandy smiles and nods. He leans over to her and whispers.
CLAY (CONT.)
Well... I'm still a virgin.
For a moment, all of the activity in the restaurant
screeches to a grinding halt. The other patrons cease
talking. The chickens stop clucking. All eyes... and
ears... turn toward Clay.
MANDY
I think that's sweet.
CLAY
You do?
She nods. The other patrons quickly absorb the tenderness
of Mandy and Clay's courtship.
PATRONS
Ah...
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clay and Tiddles watch the show "Wheel of Fortune" on
television. The phone rings.
CLAY
Hello?
MORTIMER O.S.
Tembro... I have a brand new
assignment for you. It's a night
job, but I know you'll love it since
you're obviously in your second
childhood.
CUT TO:
INT. SHOPPING MALL HALLWAY - NIGHT
We see the entrance to an arcade. The sign over the
entryway reads... "Quack-n-Jack Arcade".
INT. SHOPPING MALL ARCADE - NIGHT
Clay cleans video game monitors and empties out tokens. He
comes across a game he has not seen before. It resembles a
flight trainer... the cockpit of a fighter jet designed to
rotate and turn in any direction following the maneuvers of
the player.
He feeds three tokens into the game and climbs aboard,
accidentally forgetting his tray of cleaner on top of the
game. The cleaner spills. Sparks come from somewhere
inside the game and it goes haywire, spinning, turning and
pivoting at dangerous speeds.
He loses his grip on the controls and flies through the air,
landing in a net above a miniature golf hole featuring a
giant figure of King Kong.
Before Clay can free himself, the net gives way and he ends
up in King Kong's hand in lieu of a figurine of a beautiful
blonde heroine. This figure has been thrust to the next
hole which features a wax likeness of Dinty Spree, the
popular circus clown turned children's television star.
Dinty and the female figurine now strike a sexy and
extremely compromising pose.
CUT TO:
INT. EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY
Clay receives chiropractic therapy while lying face down on
a table. DR. SCMITTENHOFF, a petite German woman about one
third Clay's size, perches herself on top of his back.
DR. SCHMITTENHOFF
Gut! Sehr gut! Das ist alles, Herr
Tembro.
Clay sits up from the examination table and stretches.
CLAY
Wow! That feels much better. Danke,
bitte!
DR. SCHMITTENHOFF
Also. Mochten Sie mit Herr Kong
gespielen? Das ist nicht so gut, ja?
Clay stands up and walks around the examination room.
Although no longer in back pain, there appears to be one
drawback to the treatment... the new alignment of his back
muscles forces Clay to goose step slightly.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clay checks through his mail. He opens a letter from his
insurance company and reads it to himself.
CLAY
We are sorry to inform you Mr. Tembro
that your chiropractic treatment is
not a covered expense.
Clay finds a thick pamphlet in the folder of benefit
information given to him by Mortimer.
CLAY (CONT.)
Porpoise Temporary, Inc. certificate
of coverage. All medical expenses
are covered at 100%, except for the
following...
Clay shuffles through the remaining ninety eight pages of
coverage exceptions.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
We see Mortimer's face... full of vanity and conceit.
MORTIMER
You will join me this weekend for a
little skiing trip, won't you Ms.
Fisher?
Mortimer caresses a pair of female shoulders as he whispers.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
It will be all business my dear... I
promise.
A small knock comes from the door.
MORTIMER
Come!
Clay cracks open the door. Mortimer hastily gestures for
him to enter.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Tembro, you are by far...
Clay waits intently for a compliment which never arrives.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
One of the biggest bu-ffoons we've
had around here for quite some time!
CLAY
If this is about the video arcade,
I'm awfully sorry.
Mortimer impatiently shakes his head... he has heard this
excuse before.
CLAY (CONT.)
I had no idea that game would go
haywire like that.
MORTIMER
Did you even stop to think about the
horrible dilemma you put me into when
you climbed aboard that contraption?
Idiot!
Clay lowers his head before Mortimer in embarrassment.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Quack-n-Jack wants to file a lawsuit
against Porpoise.
CLAY
A lawsuit?
MORTIMER
However, I managed to talk them out
of it.
CLAY
Wow... that's great!
MORTIMER
But to convince them not to press
charges... I had to buy that damned
mannequin you damaged.
As Mortimer returns to his desk, we see the mannequin
perched in a chair in front of the desk... dressed and
poised as Mandy.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
I'm going to deduct $20 a week from
your paycheck until she's paid off...
all $780 worth.
Clay takes a seat in an empty chair next to the mannequin.
CLAY
Mortimer, I wanted to follow up with
you on something.
Mortimer gestures impatiently for Clay to spit it out.
CLAY (CONT.)
I was wondering how close you are to
placing me with a client who could
hire me full time?
Mortimer winces a bit, displaying his "Oh no, not this
again!" face.
MORTIMER
Oh yes... that.
He removes his model Porsche from its lit display case,
stands up from his desk and motions Clay to follow him to
the door. He pats Clay on the back.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Let's not worry about that for now.
CLAY
I wouldn't ask... but I really want a
regular, full time job with a big
company... an important job.
Mortimer clutches his model and considers.
CLAY (CONT.)
It's very important to me... it's
what I want from Porpoise.
Mortimer turns back to him, with something up his sleeve.
MORTIMER
Alright... I'll tell you what Tembro.
If you can get through your next four
assignments, with no complaints...
I'll line you up with an A-1 job
offer from IFC.
CLAY
What about that incident between me
and Mrs. Thompson?
Mortimer cocks his head back and grins.
MORTIMER
You let me worry about that...
Thompson and I go back a long way.
He extends his free hand to Clay.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Trust me on this. But remember...
four assignments, no complaints. Do
we have a deal?
Clay readily shakes his hand.
CLAY
Deal!
MORTIMER
Then let's prepare you for your next
assignment, shall we?
CLAY
Fire away.
Mortimer returns to his desk and motions Clay to join him.
There we see a tape recorder set up with an external
microphone.
MORTIMER
Read this script... out loud.
He hands Clay a script. As Clay studies it, his eyes grow
larger. He opens his mouth, but Mortimer preempts him.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Just read it, okay?
Clay reluctantly nods. Mortimer switches on a tape recorder
and hands him the microphone.
Clay makes his delivery flat, with no intonation.
CLAY
Oh baby I want you so bad I itch.
Mortimer motions inward to the microphone with both his
hands.
MORTIMER
Again, again! But this time with
gusto... and passion!
Clay turns on the heat.
CLAY
Oh baby, I want you so bad I itch!
Mortimer promptly shuts off the recorder and plays back the
last reading.
CLAY V.O.
Oh baby, I want you so bad I itch!
Mortimer nods approvingly.
MORTIMER
Thank you... that will be just fine.
Mortimer walks Clay to the door once again. He motions to
Mandy at her desk.
MORTIMER
Ms. Fisher, please get me Lee
Rathmanner on line 1... stat!.
Closing his office door behind him, Mortimer lovingly places
his model Porsche back to its place of honor on his desk.
The intercom buzzes.
MANDY O.S.
Lee Rathmanner on line 1, Mort.
Mortimer picks up his telephone and punches up the line.
MORTIMER
Hey Reeves... it's Weasel... wait till
you get a load of the sweet throat
I'm sending you.
CUT TO:
EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY - DAY
Clay's dilapidated wonder bug putt putts its way down the
interstate.
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Clay passes a yellow corvette on his right. He looks over
and spots Brittany. She notices him too. We hear the
song "I WANT YOUR SEX" by George Michael playing over the
radio. The woman smiles at Clay and slows down. Clay does
the same. She unrolls her car window. He leans over and
unrolls the passenger side window of his car as well.
CLAY
How's it going?
CUT TO:
EXT. IDOT TOLLWAY PLAZA - DAY
Clay's dilapidated wonder bug slams into the cross guard of
an Illinois Department of Transportation (IDOT) tollbooth.
The TOLL SUPERVISOR angrily shakes his head and reaches for
a telephone inside his booth.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
Barney, get me the state police...
pronto!
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Fraught with dismay and embarrassment, Clay lays his head
down on the fur covered dashboard, right next to the hula
girl.
CUT TO:
EXT. RECORDING COMPANY OFFICE - DAY
A neon sign depicting a huge set of sexy lips talking into a
telephone receiver hangs outside a grungy brick building
from the 1950's. The cheaply made sign next to the neon
display reads... "S & M Telecomm U.S.A.".
INT. RECORDING COMPANY OFFICE - DAY
LEE RATHMANNER, a pathetic, washed up power lifter in his
early forties sits in a lounge chair reading a woman's
bodybuilder magazine. He wears slimy, faded jeans and a
blue t-shirt with the "Lee" jeans logo on it. Lee's
grooming consists of a Hitler mustache and a crop of hair so
ghastly that even the most robust hair stylist wouldn't
touch it with a ten foot cattle prod.
LEE
Hey Reeves... are you here for a
training session? If you are, you're
about a year too late.
CLAY
Excuse me? I'm Clay... I'm here for
a temporary assignment.
Lee scratches his head. And as he does, we see his hair
line shift ever so slightly, betraying the true source of
that grotesque hair... a hideous, disgusting wig. Clay
winces as he makes the same discovery.
LEE
Ah... you must be that sweet throat
from Porpoise... the one Weasel
warned me about.
CLAY
Weasel? Sweet throat? You're not
making any sense.
Lee strikes a bodybuilder pose, lofting his hands up into
the air and flexing his muscles. Because of his excess
weight, he shows absolutely no definition.
LEE
Weasel's my nickname for Mortimer.
He folds his fat arms behind his back and tries to show off
his triceps.
LEE (CONT.)
A sweet throat is a whimp... kinda like
you. You should train with me
sometime.
Lee repositions himself into a full blown crab pose.
LEE (CONT.)
Tell me the truth... would you rather
have arms like mine or arms like
yours?
Clay throws his arms up.
CLAY
Can we start over? I'm here from
Porpoise for an assignment.
Lee puts a hand on either waist and goes into a new pose,
puffing out his massive cheeks like a swollen blow fish.
LEE
Man... if only I had some music. And
look at these diamond shape calves.
He flexes each of his chubby calves.
LEE (CONT.)
All natural... no implants. What do
ya think?
CLAY
About what? Your antics?
Lee grits his yellowish teeth, which come together in an
overbite more hideous than his hair.
LEE
If I weren't on probation, I would
definitely body slam you for being
such a jerk and a brat.
CLAY
Probation? What did you do...
threaten your father?
A small amount of humility overcomes Lee.
LEE
No... my mother.
CLAY
What did she do... refuse to feed
you?
LEE
She wouldn't change the oil in my
T-Bird like I asked.
INT. RECORDING COMPANY HALLWAY - DAY
Lee and Clay walk down a hallway lined by various studios.
CLAY
What exactly will I being doing here
today?
LEE
Do you ever watch television... late
at night?
CLAY
Sometimes I do, yes.
LEE
And you still don't know what we do
here?
CLAY
Do you record records?
LEE
No, not quite. We deal in secret
love confessions... for sweet throats
like you.
As they make their way toward studio #9, Clay observes the
activity in the other studios. Unattractive men and women
with exceptional voices make recordings or converse with pay
by the minute customers. However, one studio contains a
sound stage... and remarkably good looking actors and
actresses who produce television commercials.
INT. STUDIO #9/RECORDING ROOM - DAY
Lee tosses a wrinkled, dog eared script at Clay.
CLAY
What's this?
LEE
Your first script. Bone up my little
sweet throat, and I'll check back on
you later.
Lee waddles out of the studio. Clay struggles through his
rehearsal.
CLAY
Hi there... I'm Biff. How would you
like to spend the day with me out on
the beach? I'll bet that you and I
would look just like Barbie and Ken.
He sighs.
CLAY
Why in the hell do they want me for
this?
He browses forward through the script, eventually reaching a
juicy section.
CLAY
I have a confession to make. In the
afternoon, when I have spent almost
an entire day without you, I start
fantasizing about our next encounter.
Oh baby, I want you so bad I...
Clay winces in pain as we hear someone entering the studio
from behind. In walks Rob, Clay's friend from college. He
appears quite fit and trim for his age. In fact, he could
easily be a male model.
CLAY
Rob! You old dog! How have you
been?
The two ex-classmates shake hands enthusiastically.
ROB
Good. And y-y-you?
Rob's squints even deeper than before when he stutters.
CLAY
Things could be better. You know,
I'm awfully sorry about your stereo
speakers. I had no idea my tarantula
cage would fall on top of them.
ROB
Water under the b-b-bridge my friend.
Clay beams, happy to see his old friend again.
CLAY
What are you doing here?
ROB
I'm playing some guy named B-B-Biff
for a television c-c-commercial.
CLAY
Wait a minute. Biff... that's me!
I'm supposed to be Biff.
ROB
That's great! You're g-g-going to be
the voice behind my f-f-face.
A silent pause follows. Clay reacts as if having just been
hit over the head with a two by four.
CLAY
Let me see if I've got this straight.
My voice is good enough to record...
but not my appearance. These people
think that you look the way women who
hear my voice would want me to look.
ROB
Yeah. That's about the s-s-size of
it.
Clay turns away from Rob and stares into a full length
mirror in the studio. Somberly studying Rob and himself in
the reflection, Clay massages his eyes, wiping back a tear
or two. Rob senses his friend's pain.
ROB (CONT.)
I didn't mean t-t-to hurt your
f-f-feelings.
Clay pulls himself together.
ROB (CONT.)
It's really no b-b-big deal. These
outfits all work the s-s-same way.
CLAY
Yeah, yeah... I know.
ROB
Are you going to b-b-be okay?
CLAY
Don't worry about me, I'm okay...
sort of.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S KITCHEN - NIGHT
Clay tosses all of the junk food in his apartment into the
garbage.
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clay sits on his couch, drinking an iced tea. Tiddles curls
up on his lap, purring pleasantly.
CLAY
Why am I such a nice guy?
He rummages through his apartment. His belt with the brass
buckle comes into view... the one he wore at his college
freshman dance. We hear his father's voice, coaching Clay
once again.
CLAY'S FATHER V.O.
Whatever you do... don't drink, don't
smoke and don't get involved with a
woman!
That last word... "woman", echoes back and forth in his
mind. A resolved look comes over Clay's face. He grabs a
phone book and pages through it. Finding the number he
wants, Clay picks up the phone and dials.
MANDY O.S.
Hello?
CLAY
Hi, Mandy? This is Clay.
MANDY O.S.
Hi!
Mandy sounds uplifted and glad to hear from him.
CLAY
Would you be interested in going out
with me on Saturday?
MANDY O.S.
Oh Clay, I'm so sorry. I already
have plans... Mr. Wisenwacker asked
me to go with him this weekend on a
company retreat to Wisconsin.
Clay weighs her response carefully.
CLAY
I see.
MANDY O.S.
No, really. And I think he's
planning on asking you to come with
us.
CLAY
I wonder why he hasn't said anything
to me about this?
CUT TO:
EXT. SKI LIFT - DAY
Clay stands on a ladder attached to a ski lift support,
greasing the bearings. A lift chair containing Mandy and
Mortimer passes by on the right and stops. Mortimer smiles
greedily down to Clay and waves to him like Oliver Hardy.
MORTIMER
You're doing a good job on those
bearings, Tembro!
Clay strains to keep his balance.
CLAY
Thanks.
Clay notices Mandy's shapely underside and loses his
balance. He reaches out to the right for support, grabbing
both of Mortimer's legs and pulling them through the bottom
of the lift chair. Mortimer reacts by spastically flailing
about his lift chair.
MORTIMER
Tembro!
Clay's added weight makes the lift chair sink slowly to the
ground. And if that weren't bad enough, his pants fall down
around his ankles.
INT. CHALET/RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Mortimer and Mandy sit at a table in the restaurant.
MORTIMER
What's keeping Tembro?
MANDY
He went to his dorm room to put on
some warm clothes.
MORTIMER
I was just wondering... would you
ever date a guy like Tembro?
MANDY
Sure.
Completely surprised, Mortimer eyeballs Mandy.
MORTIMER
Why on earth would you get involved
with a guy like him?
Mandy appears cornered and a bit flustered.
MANDY
If you must know, I find him kind,
sincere, gentle...
MORTIMER
But that's so boring.
MANDY
Maybe to people like you, but I think
Clay's a total gentleman.
Appalled by this toxic level of sweetness, Mortimer scowls.
MORTIMER
Oh... please. How do you know he's
not a wolf in sheep's clothing, just
waiting to force his sexual desires
and fantasies on you?
MANDY
Look, I know for a fact that he's
still a...
Mortimer's interests peak.
MORTIMER
Still what? Common... out with it.
You can trust Uncle Morty.
Flustered and upset, Mandy whispers under her breath.
MANDY
Clay's still a virgin. There...
satisfied?
Mortimer grins, all knowingly.
MORTIMER
Very.
Clay saunters into the restaurant, wrapped in a plaid
blanket to help warm him up. Mortimer turns to him.
MORTIMER
Ah... Tembro, my boy. Since you
were, shall we say, indisposed, I
took the liberty of ordering for you.
A tiny snicker escapes from Mortimer. Clay shivers.
CLAY
Th-thanks.
The waiter brings out their meals... three fried chicken
dinners.
INT. MANDY'S GUEST ROOM - NIGHT
Mandy prepares for bed. A knock comes from the door.
Mortimer greets her with a lustful smile and a chilled
bottle of champagne.
MANDY
Mr. Wisenwacker?
MORTIMER
Hi there. You don't mind me paying
you a little...
Mortimer searches for the right phrase.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Social call, do you?
MANDY
That depends.
Mortimer presents the champagne bottle to Mandy like an
inept French waiter... obviously the first of several moves
he has in store for her.
MORTIMER
I've been saving this for a special
occasion.
MANDY
This is an occasion?
Mortimer smiles fiendishly, pops the cork on the bottle,
generously fills each champagne glass and motions Mandy to
join him on the couch. She does so, reluctantly.
Hoisting his glass, Mortimer offers a toast.
MORTIMER
Here's to us.
Before Mandy can utter a single word, Mortimer guzzles down
his glass, tosses it against the wall and slinks lustfully
down toward Mandy's end of the couch.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
I've been meaning to talk to you
about your future.
MANDY
With Porpoise Temporary?
MORTIMER
No... with me.
Mortimer reaches over and caresses Mandy's right knee.
Mandy immediately snaps to attention, stands up and pries
off Mortimer's other hand from her shoulder.
MANDY
I think you had better go, Mr.
Wisenwacker... it's awfully late.
MORTIMER
Oh, that's alright. It's not a work
night... we can sleep in tomorrow
morning.
MANDY
We? Goodnight!
Mandy drags Mortimer like a stubborn old mule to the door.
Before he can concoct an excuse for staying longer, she
hastily slams it shut in his face.
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE MANDY'S DOOR - NIGHT
Angry, Mortimer hefts the champagne bottle as if to christen
the door of Mandy's room with it. He thinks better of this,
takes a large swig from the stem of the bottle and staggers
away down the hallway.
CUT TO:
INT. MEN'S DORMITORY - NIGHT
Clay lies in the upper portion of a bunk bed trying to get
some sleep. A few of the other MEN keep him awake with
their snoring and other noises.
Mortimer walks through doorway and calls out to Clay in the
darkness.
MORTIMER
You did a fantastic job greasing
those bearings. You know what? Your
work helped to pay for our little
outing this weekend.
Mortimer takes another swig off his champagne bottle.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Oh, I'm sorry that we had to put you
up in the men's dormitory, but there
weren't enough single rooms
available.
Mortimer takes yet another swig.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
You understand, don't you?
CLAY O.S.
What can I say?
Mortimer hoists the half empty bottle of champagne in the
direction of Clay's voice.
MORTIMER
Here's champagne wishes and sexual
dreams!
Mortimer giggles, takes a generous nip off of the bottle and
suppresses a burp. Clay turns on a small night light
attached to his bunk. A pure, angelic like aura emanates
from Clay's bunk bed, making him appear almost saintly.
CLAY
I think that's 'caviar dreams'.
MORTIMER
Oh, that's right. People in your
situation don't know about sexual
dreams. Isn't that right?
All of the other men in the dormitory cease their snoring.
We see their outlines, as one by one they sit up in their
bunks.
CLAY
What did you mean by that?
Mortimer finishes off his champagne. This time a loud belch
does manage to get through.
MORTIMER
Oh, don't worry. Your secret is safe
with me.
CLAY
What secret?
MORTIMER
Geez... do a have to spell it out?
The fact that your forty two years
old and still a virgin.
We hear a round metallic object hit the floor and swivel to
a resting position. The dorm men cut loose with shrieks of
laughter.
DORM MAN #1 O.S.
Oh my God! I was having sex by the
time I was ten!
DORM MAN #2 O.S.
Me too!
DORM MAN #3 O.S.
I'm fifty and homeless... and I'm
having sex with someone in my bunk
right now.
DORM WOMAN O.S.
Shut up and kiss me you fool.
We see Mortimer fall down on the floor, pounding out shrills
of laughter with his feet and fists.
MORTIMER
Can you guys believe this clown works
for me as a temporary?
The men howl even louder.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
And he can't even complete a job
testing condoms!
The men respond in unison.
DORM MEN O.S.
It figures!
The laughing frenzy peaks with a few of the men falling out
of their bunks and rolling around the floor with Mortimer.
CLAY
Oh... go to sleep you guys!
DORM MAN #1
As if you had anything better to do!
We see Mortimer still rolling on the floor with some of the
other men, laughing like a pack of wild hyenas. Disgusted
and embarrassed, Clay gets out of his bunk and storms out of
the dormitory.
CUT TO:
INT. MANDY'S GUEST ROOM - NIGHT
Mandy, still upset from Mortimer's advances, tries to sleep
but can't. Another knock comes from the door. She tries to
ignore it.
CLAY O.S.
Hello? Mandy, are you still awake?
Mandy springs out of bed and opens the door. She has on the
cutest pair of teddy bear pajamas.
MANDY
Clay, what are you doing up?
CLAY
I need to talk. Do you mind?
MANDY
No, not at all. Come in.
Clay and Mandy seat themselves on the same love seat used by
Mortimer during his failed seduction.
CLAY
I've been thinking about what you
told me over lunch the other day...
about Mortimer trying to take
advantage of me.
MANDY
And?
Clay fidgets with his night shirt.
CLAY
And I'm starting to think that you
were right.
MANDY
What happened?
Clay blushes and concentrates on the floor.
CLAY
Mortimer is using personal
information about me to embarrass me.
MANDY
Personal information?
CLAY
Yes, like the fact that I'm still a
virgin. Wait a minute... how does he
know that?
Mandy starts fidgeting with her teddy bear night shirt and
concentrates on the floor too.
MANDY
Clay... there's something I have to
tell you.
Clay sits up straight in the love seat as Mandy sinks even
lower into it.
MANDY (CONT.)
I told Mortimer that you were a
virgin... it just sort of slipped
out.
Clay stares blankly at Mandy as she cowers before him.
MANDY (CONT.)
Sorry.
Clay solemnly stands.
CLAY
I think I'd better go.
Expressionless, Clay walks out of Mandy's room and closes
the door softly behind him.
MANDY
S__t!
CUT TO:
INT. MEN'S DORMITORY - NIGHT
Mortimer and the other men have not yet ceased howling at
Clay's expense. Clay returns and angrily makes his way to
his bunk. Mortimer turns on the light.
MORTIMER
Hey guys!
Mortimer enthusiastically indicates Clay to the other men.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Heeeere's...
DORM MEN
The virgin!
Clay arrives at his bunk and pulls back the covers. A
cheap, blow-up sex doll lies underneath. When Clay holds it
up, we see that it's completely bald.
Mortimer produces the doll's blonde wig from behind his back
and puts it on. He impersonates Madonna.
MORTIMER
Like a virgin...
DORM MEN
Touched for the very first time!
The men strike up a new round of screaming and howling, with
Mortimer acting as their band leader... blonde wig and all.
CUT TO:
EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY - DAY
A Porsche 944 travels at top speed toward Chicago.
INSERT - LICENSE PLATE OF PORSCHE
The license plate reads... "MORTY".
INT. MORTIMER'S PORSCHE - DAY
Mortimer drives his most prized possession like a bat out of
hell. Mandy, tired and worn down, sits next to him.
Clay, quarantined in the backseat with only his matted down
hair and eyes visible, stares angrily at Mortimer and
mumbles to himself.
CLAY
Just two more assignments... and I'm
home free.
CUT TO:
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Tiddles sits with Clay in the front seat.
CLAY
I know it's not fair, but I'm really
in a bind here.
Tiddles looks sadly back at Clay and strikes the most
pathetic of poses.
CLAY (CONT.)
Don't look at me like that. Oh...
geez. I'm really sorry, but I just
can't keep you.
Tiddles makes more of the same pathetic gestures for Clay's
benefit.
CLAY (CONT.)
The animal shelter will find you a
good home, with someone who can
actually spend time with you.
The cat rubs itself gently against Clay as it purrs.
CLAY (CONT.)
Someone who'll love you.
Tiddles turns up the purring volume a few notches. Clay
grimaces and gives in.
CLAY (CONT.)
That's not fair! Alright, okay...
I'll try my best to keep you.
Clay playfully scruffs the top of the cat's head.
CLAY
There! Satisfied now?
Delighted, Tiddles springs up to the dashboard and does a
twist with the hula girl. Clay claps along, easily amused
by these antics.
CLAY
What could possibly be more silly?
CUT TO:
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - DAY
Clay wears a court jester's outfit. Dinty Spree, retired
circus clown turned children's television star, stands next
to him.
Dinty mirthfully conducts the rest of the CHILDREN in the
audience through the show's kick off.
CHILDREN
D!
A pudgy little boy happily vaults a banana cream pie into
Clay's face. The children in the audience howl with glee.
CHILDREN
I!
A freckled red headed girl politely tosses a pie at Clay.
It lands on his chest.
CHILDREN
N!
A pair of identical twin brothers each hurl a pie at Clay,
each hitting one of Clay's legs.
CHILDREN
T!
A rough and tumble looking girl in a black leather coat
nails Clay in the groin with a pie.
As he keels over in deep pain, several fathers in the
audience show their sympathy by wincing too.
CHILDREN
Y!
Clay scans the audience for the next pie. Dinty approaches
Clay and crowns him with a fresh one.
DINTY
What does that spell?
CHILDREN
Dinty! Dinty! Dinty Spree!
A wave of pies fly in from random locations, all finding
their mark... Clay.
CLAY
And don't for get me...
A gaggle of chicken feathers float down from the ceiling and
land on Clay, transforming him into a giant chicken.
CLAY (CONT.)
Bippity...
A giant boxing glove attached to an expandable metal arm
flies out from the left hand side of the stage and pounds
Clay onto the floor.
CLAY (CONT.)
Bop.
A rubber ball the size of a Yugo drops down from the stage
nails Clay in the gut. It bounces to the ceiling and hits
him a second time in the snoot. The children in the
audience all laugh with delight.
DINTY
We'll be right back, after this word
from our sponsor... Nelson Pork
Rinds.
CUT TO:
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO/LOBBY - DAY
A young GIRL and her MOTHER are the last guests to leave
after broadcasting the show. Clay observes that the little
girl has been crying and kneels down before her.
CLAY
Hi there sweetheart. What's wrong?
MELISSA
Dinty f-forgot my present.
CLAY
He did! Is there anything I can do
to help?
The girl's mother couldn't be more angry.
MOTHER
I'm afraid it's too late for that!
The mother indicates her daughter.
MOTHER (CONT.)
The damage has already been done...
look.
CLAY
What happened?
MOTHER
Dinty broke his promise to Melissa.
He promised her a birthday present.
CLAY
Today's your birthday? How old are
you sweetheart?
MELISSA
S-six.
The mother reaches over to wipe the latest set of tears from
her daughter's eyes.
MOTHER
Obviously Mr. Spree either forgot
about his promise or, more likely,
doesn't really care.
CLAY
Hmm... could you do me a favor?
MOTHER
What?
CLAY
Stay put right here until I get back,
okay?
Before the mother can respond, Clay heads off toward Dinty's
dressing room.
INT. DINTY'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY
Dinty, still dressed in his clown uniform, smokes an
obnoxious looking cigar, chugs some sort of "beverage" from
a clown sippy cup and studies a cheesy adult magazine
featuring female clowns. He pulls out the centerfold and
lustfully scrutinizes it. Ecstatic as a schoolboy, Dinty
cackles mirthfully and toots his clown nose twice.
DINTY
Oh my, but you do have a splendid
pair of...
Dinty spots Clay standing at the doorway. Without
acknowledging Clay's presence, he continues studying his
magazine.
CLAY
Excuse me, Mr. Spree?
DINTY
Aha.
CLAY
I believe we forgot to give Melissa,
a girl in the last audience, a
birthday present.
Scowling from behind his painted on smile, Dinty eyeballs
Clay.
DINTY
I didn't forget anything... you dolt!
This girl got to see me in person,
didn't she?
Dinty returns to ogling his magazine.
DINTY (CONT.)
That should be enough of a present to
delight any child.
CLAY
Yes, but sir, I really don't think...
Dinty belches.
DINTY
That's right! I'm not paying you to
think.
Dinty stands up from his studio chair, staggers over to Clay
and gruffly squeezes his cheeks.
DINTY (CONT.)
I'm paying you to provide me with
that cute little face of yours for me
to throw my pies in!
Dinty reaches into a white cardboard box sitting on his
dressing room table. He produces a banana cream pie and
hurls it in Clay's face.
DINTY (CONT.)
There! You see?
Dinty returns to his studio chair.
DINTY (CONT.)
Oh, don't worry. You're good. Real
good. In fact, I'm thinking of
having you back on for another show,
if you get out of here right now and
leave me alone.
Agitated, Dinty returns to his magazine. Clay backs out of
the dressing room, wiping off the banana cream from his
face.
INT. STUDIO HALLWAY - DAY
Clay snaps his fingers... he has an idea.
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO/LOBBY - DAY
Clay approaches Melissa and her mother, holding something
behind him. He kneels on one knee and slowly produces
Tiddles from behind his back. Melissa's face immediately
lights up.
MELISSA
Kitty!
The mother sees her her daughter's instant rebirth. She
smiles at Clay, indicating her approval.
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO/EXIT - DAY
Clay waves goodbye to Melissa and her mother as they make
their way out toward the parking lot.
Walking back to the studio, Clay stops by the pie debris
scattered about the stage floor. Disappointed, he shakes
his head as he examines the ruins of the pies in disgust.
INT. DINTY'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY
Clay storms inside Dinty's dressing room without knocking.
Showing absolutely no hesitation, he grabs Dinty by his
clown collar, lifts him out of his studio chair and slams
him into a nearby wall. Completely shocked, Dinty gasps for
air. Clay honks Dinty's clown nose several times to solicit
his full attention.
CLAY
Now you're going to get what you
deserve.
He reaches for the spray bottle of seltzer water on Dinty's
dressing room table. He jams the end of the bottle in
Dinty's mouth and squeezes the trigger. After a few seconds
Dinty's eyes widen. Clay scowls.
CLAY (CONT.)
I think the kids have had their fill
of you, Dinty.
Dinty explodes, leaving behind a thick residue of confetti.
INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - DAY
Clay shakes his head vigorously... he was just day dreaming.
Dinty stops by and takes a deep puff off of his cigar.
DINTY
Oh for crying out load! Haven't you
left yet?
Clay casts Dinty as much of a dirty look as he dares.
CLAY
Go suck on some seltzer... you pie
head.
CUT TO:
INT. CLAY'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Clay watches television. A commercial for the cheesy 1-900
operation comes on. Five seconds of the commercial contain
provocative video clips of Rob with Clay's VOICE OVER.
CLAY V.O.
Hi there... I'm Biff. How would you
like to spend the day with me out on
the beach?
Disappointed, he throws up his hands.
CLAY
How much worse can it get?
CUT TO:
EXT. IDOT TOLLWAY PLAZA - DAY
Clay busily collects change from motorists on the
interstate. It has gotten worse. Clay's supervisor grins
approvingly at Clay.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
Hey... you're pretty good at this!
CLAY
Gee, thanks.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
Don't I know you from somewhere?
Clay shifts his eyes.
CLAY
I don't think so.
The toll supervisor goes into an awful, but heart felt,
Uncle Sam impersonation.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
Clay, the Illinois Department of
Transportation wants you!
He points directly to Clay in his little booth.
TOLL SUPERVISOR (CONT.)
How would you like to work out here
with me every day... as a full time
employee?
Clay chokes on some exhaust.
CLAY
I appreciate your offer, but I've
sort of got a lock on this office
job. Sorry.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
If you ever change your mind... I'll
be right here.
A beige Ford LTD pulls into Clay's booth. Clay accepts a
dollar bill from the driver... Mr. Thompson.
CLAY
Hey Mr. Thompson! How are you doing?
MR. THOMPSON
Do I know you?
Clay hands back his change.
CLAY
I worked for you as a temporary...
about a month ago.
Thompson considers.
MR. THOMPSON
Oh yeah... you're the asshole who got
me in dutch with my wife.
Thompson grits his teeth and leans out of his car to address
him face to face. He points his index finger right at
Clay's nose.
MR. THOMPSON (CONT.)
I hope you're happy you son of a
bitch... you cost me a dozen roses
and a box of chocolate bon bons.
Clay gasps.
MR. THOMPSON (CONT.)
Not to mention that I was forced to
fire my secretary.
Thompson grabs the collar of Clay's IDOT smock and angrily
whispers
MR. THOMPSON (CONT.)
She made life bearable for me. But
thanks to you... I'm stuck in a
private hell.
As Thompson returns to his seat, the passenger on the other
side nails him with her anvil shaped purse. Bernette
Thompson leans over to address her lifeless, slug of a
husband.
BERNETTE
Get moving Harry... now!
Clay sadly shakes his head.
CLAY
Does this mean that you won't be
offering me a job with IFC?
MR. THOMPSON
Ha! I've never hired a temp from
Porpoise... and I don't intend to
start.
Thompson angrily points to Clay as he starts driving away.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
And you can tell that sleazoid boss
of yours that too.
Clay sadly assess this latest turn of affairs. A purple El
Camino pulls into his stall. The driver, Dinty Spree, hands
him a dollar bill.
DINTY
Wait a moment... I know you, don't I?
You're my court jester!
Dinty hunts in the backseat for something.
DINTY (CONT.)
Here's a small tip for you.
He pelts Clay with banana cream pie fit for a king. Clay
angrily tastes the pie as Dinty chuckles and drives away.
CLAY
Banana cream... my favorite.
EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY BEFORE TOLLWAY PLAZA - DAY
A black Mustang GT with polarized windows speeds toward the
tollway plaza with no sign of slowing down. The song
"HIGHWAY TO HELL" blares at full volume over the car's ten
speaker stereo system. It maneuvers with the precision of a
surgeon around surrounding cars and the first set of break
skids in the road.
EXT. CLAY'S TOLLBOOTH - DAY
Clay finishes collecting money from a Pinto as the Mustang
GT comes into view. Realizing that it intends to speed by
him, Clay fumbles around his booth for a pen and paper.
CLAY
Holy...
The Mustang flies through Clay's booth like the Road Runner
dashing by right under the nose of Wyle E. Coyote.
TOLL SUPERVISOR
Clay! Clay! Clay!
The toll supervisor jumps up and down in his own booth like
a whirling dervish being given a hot foot.
TOLL SUPERVISOR (CONT.)
Get the damned license plate for the
state police!
Clay focuses on the back end of the Mustang GT, now orbiting
away at warp factor nine.
We see the back license plate, all covered by snow. Panic
stricken and full of stress, Clay bites his lower lip and
wipes away the remaining banana cream from his face.
CLAY
It's time to kick ass.
He storms out of the tollbooth and heads for his
dilapidated, yet trusty, wonder bug.
INT. DILAPIDATED WONDER BUG - DAY
Clay chases the Mustang GT in his bug. He lays on the HORN
for intimidation... "AAAAAHOOOOOGAH!"
Fortune smiles on Clay Tembro today... the engine of his bug
backfires, providing a rocket-like thrust forward. He
manages to drive his quarry off of the interstate and onto
the shoulder.
EXT. INTERSTATE SHOULDER - DAY
Clay approaches the Mustang GT, preparing himself as best he
can for a hand to hand fight.
EXT. MUSTANG GT/DRIVER'S WINDOW - DAY
Clay arrives at the driver's side window and vigorously
knocks on the polarized glass. As the window slides slowly
down, a plume of white smoke rolls out. The driver comes
into view.
We see the elderly woman from the convenience store who paid
for her quick pick with pennies! The song "LITTLE OLD LADY
FROM PASADENA" by the Beach Boys plays on her car stereo.
CLAY
Ma'am! Why in the hell didn't you
stop to pay your toll?
ELDERLY WOMAN
Young man, I couldn't pay my toll...
I left my pennies at home.
Clay peers upward to the heavens, sighs and faints. The
elderly woman turns to us with the largest grin her aged
face can possibly bear.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Works every time!
The elderly woman puts on a pair of dark sunglasses and
cranks up "HIGHWAY TO HELL" on her car stereo. She revs up
the engine with a triumphant smile. She burns major rubber
peeling out to get back to the interstate. When the black
oil smoke finally clears, we see Clay still passed out on
the shoulder, just to the right of two very dark skid marks.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAT BOY LUNCH COUNTER - DAY
Clay enjoys an early morning breakfast with Ben.
BEN
Sounds like a feisty old gal... just
my type. Too bad she got away.
CLAY
I know where to find her, though...
at the Denver mint, in the penny
division.
Disappointed, Clay throws down his fork. Ben scuffs him on
the shoulder. He skewers a flaky biscuit with his fork and
waves it in front of Clay.
BEN
But at least you stood up for
yourself. You've come along way.
Clay nods, but says nothing.
BEN (CONT.)
How's it going with that receptionist
gal you're interested in?
CLAY
It's a mess. She told Mortimer some
personal information about me... it
was all kind of a big
misunderstanding.
BEN
I see.
CLAY
I don't know. Maybe I should call
her?
Ben bites off a generous portion of bacon.
BEN
Maybe you should.
INT. SPRAT BOY ENTRANCE/PAY PHONE - DAY
Clay holds onto the receiver, waiting for the other party to
pick up. An unsophisticated yet feminine voice answers.
HOLLY O.S.
Good morning, Porpoise Temporary.
CLAY
Mandy?
CUT TO:
INT. NEWLY REFURBISHED CUBICLE - DAY
Holly, a woman short on corporate sophistication but long on
girlish beauty plays with the cord of her telephone. A
large lava lamp sits in lieu of Mandy's executive teddy
bear. A travel magazine lies open on her desk.
HOLLY
Mandy Fisher no longer works here.
May I help you?
CLAY O.S.
What? Where is she?
Mortimer sneaks up from behind and covers Holly's eyes. He
croons a greeting to her.
MORTIMER
Guess who?
HOLLY
Is that my mighty tadpole?
He twirls her chair around and plops himself down on her
lap. Holly drops the receiver and wraps her arms around
Mortimer.
INT. SPRAT BOY ENTRANCE/PAY PHONE - DAY
Clay concentrates on listening to the events unfolding on
the other end of the line.
HOLLY O.S. (CONT.)
Oh, stop that! Remember... we're
working.
MORTIMER O.S.
We sure are.
We hear some mumbling O.S. and then the gleeful screams of
Holly.
HOLLY O.S.
Cut that out! Really... do you
always do this with all your
receptionists?
There's this strong kissing/sucking sound, capped by a
vociferous pop. Clay raises his eyebrows and gasps.
MORTIMER O.S.
Why yes... except for my last girl.
I'm afraid she was a bit too frigid.
There's this weird sucking sound. Holly squeals joyfully.
MORTIMER O.S. (CONT.)
I had to let her go... damn shame.
Clay throws down the receiver of the pay phone and marches
back to the lunch counter.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAT BOY LUNCH COUNTER - DAY
Clay slams a five dollar bill down on the counter, causing a
reaction from all of the patrons. He snatches his coat and
heads straight for the door.
CLAY
I'll see you later... there's
something I've got to take care of.
CUT TO:
INT. NEWLY REFURBISHED CUBICLE - DAY
Clay enters the receptionist area just as Holly steps out of
Mortimer's office. She hastily pulls back her hair and
straightens out her skirt.
HOLLY
Oh... hello. May I help you?
Clay grinds his teeth together.
CLAY
Mortimer.
Holly glances back at Mortimer's office.
HOLLY
Are you here for an interview?
Clay speaks in a soft, but decidedly angry tone of voice.
CLAY
I'm Clay Tembro. I work here.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer plays his Nunchaku Play Master game and carries on
as usual. His intercom buzzes.
MORTIMER
Yes, sweetcakes?
HOLLY O.S.
Clay Tembro to see you, darling.
Mortimer winces.
MORTIMER
Show him in, hun.
Holly enters ahead of Clay, circles around Mortimer's chair
and runs a long red fingernail along his shoulders.
Mortimer grins with childish pleasure and then playfully
tweaks her cheek.
CLAY
Mortimer! Why did you lie to me
about getting me a job with IFC?
Holly cringes. Eager to avoid this confrontation, she
leaves the room. Mortimer shrugs his shoulders and fingers
his electronic game.
MORTIMER
Look on the bright side... you
completed your last four assignments
without any complaints, and that's
four better than I thought you could
do. Want to try for five?
CLAY
You double-crossed me! And you
didn't even give me a chance to make
it! Lottery ticket dispenser?
Condom tester? Secret love
confessor? Dinty's court jester?
Clay points an accusing finger at Mortimer.
CLAY (CONT.)
Those were crummy jobs that you had
no one better to dump on!
MORTIMER
Or dumber.
CLAY
What a fool I was. To even consider
looking up to you, let alone
entrusting the future of my career to
you!
MORTIMER
No argument here... I agree... you
are quite a fool, my confused friend.
CLAY
We're not friends. And about
Mandy...
Mortimer smiles ever wider in complete defiance of Clay's
sobering attitude. He reclines back in his plush office
chair, kicks his feet back and continues to listen.
CLAY (CONT.)
I can only say that you've been a
real asshole. I should convince her
to sue the pants off you for sexual
harassment.
Mortimer removes his feet from on top of his desk and stands
to face Clay eye to eye.
MORTIMER
Tembro my boy, I've got just two
responses for you. Number one,
you're fired, effective immediately.
A hollow appearance comes over Clay.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
And B, I don't care what a simpleton
like you thinks of me. And I doubt
very much that you'll find the nerve
to follow up on your petty little
threat.
Clay swallows to get rid of the lump inside his throat.
CLAY
You mean that...
Mortimer finishes his sentence.
MORTIMER
You don't have the balls to fight
back. You never have. You never
will.
Clay's eyes widen.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
I'm going to call everyone I know in
this business and see to it that you
never work in this town again.
Clay's lower lip quivers.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Now what are you going to do? I bet
you feel like crying... don't you?
Mortimer brings his face close up to Clay's with the most
sarcastic of smiles. He gestures to the temple of his own
chin with his index finger.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
I dare you Tembro... hit me with your
best shot!
Clay backs off. Mortimer smirks.
MORTIMER (CONT.)
Just like I thought... you're a
spineless jellyfish with absolutely
no balls... not a one.
Clay stares blankly back at Mortimer.
CUT TO:
EXT. SPRAT BOY PARKING LOT - DAY
Clay drags himself through the parking lot just as Ben walks
out from the restaurant. They spot each other and meet up
by Ben's truck.
BEN
Aren't you going to be late for work?
Slightly embarrassed, Clay sits down on an island in the
parking lot. Ben removes his hard hat and joins him.
CLAY
Balls!
BEN
What?
CLAY
I don't have any balls... and that
son of a bitch knows it.
Ben scratches his head.
BEN
I'm afraid I still don't follow you.
Is this is about your boss?
CLAY
My ex-boss.
Ben glances at his beat up old Timex.
BEN
I'd love to stay and talk you through
this one... but I've got to get to
work. We're tearing down the Dykstra
building today.
Clay turns slowly to Ben and stares. Clay considers for a
moment and makes a decision to himself. He stands up and
brushes some gravel off of his pants.
CLAY
Can it wait for a couple of hours?
Ben shrugs as Clay picks up his hard hat and tries it on for
size.
CLAY (CONT.)
I need your help.
CUT TO:
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer fusses over his model Porsche as the phone rings.
He tears himself away after the fourth ring and answers the
call on his telephone headset.
MORTIMER
Mortimer here. Talk to me.
CLAY O.S.
Wisenwacker, let me just say this...
you were only half right.
Mortimer carefully puts down his model Porsche. He stands
up and pounds his fist into his desk... missing his precious
model by a fraction of an inch.
MORTIMER
Tembro? You blithering idiot! Just
what in the hell are you talking
about?
CLAY O.S.
Take a look out your office window.
CUT TO:
EXT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION VEHICLE - DAY
We see the exhaust stack of the construction vehicle come to
life.
INT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Clay, still wearing the hard hat, looms over Ben in the cab,
holding a hand held cellular telephone. He glares intensely
up toward the window of Mortimer's office. We can make out
Mortimer's visage, gaping down in absolute horror at the
scene in the parking lot.
MORTIMER O.S.
No... don't! Not my baby! Please
Tembro... we can make a deal.
CLAY
Mortimer, you're an a__hole.
Clay powers down the cellular telephone and hands it back to
Ben with a nod. Ben pushes a lever. A giant steel cable
starts moving from somewhere above.
EXT. MORTIMER'S PORSCHE - DAY
A giant wrecking ball clobbers Mortimer's Porsche, totally
destroying the roof and part of the hood.
MORTIMER O.S.
No!
INT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Ben pulls the same lever, retrieving the wrecking ball from
on top of the Porsche.
BEN
One more?
CLAY
After what he did, are you kidding?
Besides, his insurance should cover
the damage, shouldn't it?
Clay gestures to the operator's chair.
CLAY
May I?
BEN
Be my guest.
Both men snicker like a couple of teenagers as they switch
places inside the cab.
MORTIMER O.S.
In the name of humanity... stop!
Stop! Stop!
Clay releases the wrecking ball for a second time.
EXT. MORTIMER'S WRECKED PORSCHE - DAY
This drop pulverizes the engine of the Porsche into
oblivion. The horn continuously honks.
INT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Ben resumes control of the operator's chair. He lets Clay
keep the hard hat on.
BEN
So, am I to understand that you are
in need of a job?
CLAY
Yes, I'm afraid that would be just
so.
Ben concentrates on the road as he drives the vehicle slowly
away. He smiles at Clay.
BEN
You know, I've heard that there is a
vacant manager's position open at
Sprat Boy.
CLAY
Common, Ben. I doubt very much the
folks over there would want to hire
me as their manager, even with your
backing and clout.
BEN
I believe the owner of a business can
hire anybody they want. You see, I
own Sprat Boy.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer wants to rush out into the parking lot outside, but
can't... violent convulsions have taken control over him.
INT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Clay studies Ben.
CLAY
You told me you saved the owner's
life during the Korean war and that
you were entitled to meals on the
house.
BEN
Yes. And I did receive many free
meals. But two months ago the owner
passed away and left me his business.
And I have been trying to find
someone to run it for me ever since.
Clay absorbs this.
BEN (CONT.)
You see, I think a man needs to be
tough to succeed in the construction
business. I'm tough. And I love
construction... especially the
demolition part. But I need someone
who is tough and honest to run my
restaurant for me.
Ben puts his hand on Clay's shoulder and smiles.
BEN (CONT.)
And I think I've finally found the
right man for the job.
INT. SPRAWLING OFFICE - DAY
Mortimer stands frozen in an expression of convulsive
horror. Holly tries to snap him out of it by waving a
bejeweled hand in front of his face. It doesn't work.
EXT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/REAR END - DAY
The wrecking ball sluggishly makes its way to the end of the
parking lot. The morning sun gleams in the b.g. We can
just make out the outlines of Ben and Clay in the cab.
CLAY
Would it be alright if I hire Mandy
on as my bookkeeper?
BEN
That's no longer up to me. That will
be up to my new manager... if he
accepts the job.
Clay takes off Ben's hard hat and hands it back to him with
a smile.
CUT TO:
EXT. APARTMENT DUPLEX/UPPER UNIT - DAY
Clay raps lightly a flower covered door. Mandy peaks
through the door and then opens it wide. We see her in her
workout attire... a tight pair of black lycra pants and a
white silk shirt.
CLAY
Hi.
MANDY
Hi.
Awkward silence follows.
MANDY (CONT.)
Look, I'm really sorry. I...
Clay presents Mandy a single, yellow tulip.
CLAY
I know. I'm sorry too.
CUT TO:
EXT. MORTIMER'S WRECKAGE - DAY
Mortimer examines the wreckage of his Porsche with the hope
of still being able to drive it. Holding his model Porsche
next to the real thing, he sadly assesses the full damage.
CUT TO:
INT. MANDY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Clay sits next to Mandy on a cozy little couch printed with
marigolds and daisies. A book of pressed dandelions lies
open on the coffee table. Mandy and Clay hold hands while
they laugh.
MANDY
You dropped a wrecking ball on his
Porsche?
CLAY
Yep.
MANDY
That's outrageous... I love it! But
what are you going to do now?
In his excitement, Clay almost hits the ceiling as he jumps
off of the couch.
CLAY
Oh... that's why I'm here! I want to
offer you a job as my assistant
manager.
MANDY
You want to offer me a job?
CUT TO:
EXT. MORTIMER'S WRECKAGE - DAY
Giving up hope of being able to drive his car ever again,
Mortimer slams his model onto the pavement. It breaks into
a thousand pieces, just like all of his other toys did.
CUT TO:
INT. MANDY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Mandy and Clay slowly join in a romantic first kiss. They
separate, but continue looking into each other's eyes.
Overwhelmed, Clay's voice cracks a bit.
CLAY
Does that mean you'll take the job?
Mandy playfully stands up from the couch, walks over toward
the window and stretches... seductively.
MANDY
What do you think?
Clay shrugs.
MANDY (CONT.)
But, there is one thing we should get
straight.
Mandy unties the shirt tails of her blouse and walks back
toward Clay.
MANDY (CONT.)
This girl won't work for a virgin.
Clay stands up, turns away from Mandy for a moment and then
turns back to her with a big grin.
CLAY
Are you trying to seduce me?
She slowly removes her tennis shoes and drops them
individually to the floor.
MANDY
I would hate to have to turn down
such a magnificent job offer...
Mandy eases out of her black lycra pants... revealing her
pink teddy bear underwear.
MANDY (CONT.)
So you've left me with little choice.
EXT. APARTMENT DUPLEX PARKING LOT - DAY
The large construction crane sits in 4 parking stalls. A
squad car pulls into the parking lot.
INT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Ben studies a worn issue of Popular Mechanics over his
reading spectacles. A rugged, gray haired POLICEMAN taps on
the door of the cab with a night stick.
BEN
Good afternoon officer. What can I
do for you?
The policeman speaks with an unmistakably Irish accent.
POLICEMAN
Hi there. I'm afraid I'm going to
have to ask you to remove this
vehicle from these premises
immediately.
BEN
I'm waiting for my partner.
Ben indicates the upper unit of the apartment duplex to the
policeman, who casually sizes up the situation.
BEN (CONT.)
He should down any minute now.
INT. MANDY'S LIVING ROOM - DAY
Mandy, wearing nothing more than her underwear and a smile,
approaches Clay. She removes his coat and unbuttons the
first few buttons of his shirt. But when she goes for his
belt buckle... it sticks.
A bit regretful, Clay gently removes her hands from the
buckle.
CLAY
Mandy... I think there's something
you should know.
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING/UPPER WINDOW - DAY
We hear this loud snap from inside the upstairs apartment.
CLAY O.S. (CONT.)
I'm the only one who can undo this
buckle.
Clay dangles his belt out of the window and then releases
it. It lands on the outstretched arm of the crane and
slides slowly down toward the cab.
EXT. LARGE CONSTRUCTION CRANE/CAB - DAY
Confused, the policeman removes the belt from the crane's
arm for a closer inspection.
POLICEMAN
Are you sure your partner will be
right down? I'd sure hate to have to
issue you a citation.
We hear Mandy giggle as she tosses her panties out of the
window. They settle over the lip of the policeman's
checkered hat... teddy bears and all. Ben proudly beams
upward at Mandy's open window and puts his hard hat back on.
BEN
On second thought officer... I think
I'd better move.
FADE OUT.
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