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Written by
Alan Swanson & Doug Stahn
© 2008
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.
|
