Open on the interior of a small log cabin. MA is at the stove, stirring a large steaming pot. APRIL lies on one of the beds reading a book. The front door bangs open and snow billows in as PA enters, wearing his polarbear-skin coat and carrying an armful of wood. His beard is caked in ice.
PA: I'm home! I brought this wood I chopped for the fireplace. Boy oh boy, a man could freeze to death out there! Life sure is hard in the old frontier times.
MA: You said it! I've been slaving over this wood stove for thirteen hours just to make us a tasty meat pie for dinner. Luckily I'm almost done.
I awoke to the aroma of freshly-ground coffee. I could tell it was expensive coffee due to the way it smelled: Expensive. It made sense, of course. Only the finest coffees would be permitted in the mansion of infamously-handsome sex playboy Rick Mexico. I let out a sigh and began to reminisce about the countless acts of debauchery the two of is had engaged in the night before, but a sudden knock at the door jarred me from my reverie. The door swung open, and a small wrinkled Cuban hobbled in, clutching a tray of erotic breakfasting materials.
"Hot dog! Eats!" I cried, greedily rubbing my hands together before seizing several handfuls of what I took to be vagina-shaped pastries. As what shoved these into my mouth, Rick strode through the door.
"Good morning beautiful" he grinned, his teeth flashing like some diamonds someone was shining an LED flashlight onto, "I see you're enjoying Koko's novelty baked goods."
The door opened, revealing an extraordinarily handsome man in a white leather three piece suit. He extended his hand, "Hello, I'm eccentric billionaire Rick Mexico. I made my fortune by being successful in big business. I'm looking for a sexually-active woman with whom I can share my material and emotional riches. Won't you come in?"
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mexico," I said, stepping into the foyer and fanning my brow with an ornate Asian fan, "You'll have to forgive me for not returning your handshake, but your masculine jawline has my heart fluttering like the pages of a butterfly book."
"You're not so bad yourself, sweet cheeks." He laughed a meaty laugh, and his eyes began scanning my body like a pair searchlights on a big city skyscraper.
An alien approaches and informs you that you are to be the subject of an experiment on human nature. The alien says you are to receive a number of randomly assigned superpowers, and that you are free to use these powers as you see fit.
You rub your hands together and say, “Alright then.”
The alien squeals with delight and flips a switch. A bell rings and the floor opens up, sending you tumbling out of the ship.
What do you do?
Attempt to fly
Shake your fist angrily at the ship as you plummet towards earth
I glanced at the clock. 6:04. The show had already begun. Grinding my teeth in anticipation, I flipped on the television. A fierce battle sequence erupted on screen. I rocked and squirmed in my chair, punching the air and feeling every blow. Captain Niros kicked a bandit in the face, sending him tumbling to the bottom of a steep incline, where he was graphically impaled on a number of jagged rocks. Suddenly the title card appeared: "Legendary Journey". I cheered, pumping my fist, and cleared my throat in anticipation of the theme song.
Click, went the television, changing to channel 46. The intro to a funniest videos program blared from the speakers.
"Um, excuse me," I said, to no one in particular, "I was watching that."
"One can't say for sure," George muttered, scooping up a handful and dropping it into his mouth, "I came upon it while tilling the fields. It's true origins remain shrouded in darkness." He sputtered, swallowing.
I picked up a handful and began to chew. The stuff was absolutely foul, and had a texture like dry bark. Grimacing, I choked it down, and sat wondering what I had gotten myself into. It wasn’t long before I started to feel it coming on. I felt slightly disconnected and an almost imperceptible warmth and weightlessness crept into my limbs. I laughed a little and said something like, “Mmmmmmm.”
George stood and looked around. He flexed, grinning and widening his eyes.
“Nnnggg!” he cried, "OHHHH!”
“Finally,” I said, putting my arm into one of the sleeves. “Hey, what exactly are you writing anyway?”
“It’s private,” the doctor said without looking up, “Private medical notes.”
I stood up and pulled the shirt over my head.
“Private…what’s that supposed to mean?” I said, frowning and walking over to him, “Let me see it.” I reached for the book.
“No!” the doctor pouted, pulling it away. “It’s mine.”
By Acclaimed Film Director Paul Haggis
Hello, I'm acclaimed film director Paul Haggis. I've written scripts for hit family shows such as Walker: Texas Ranger, The Facts of Life, and [Hey,] Whose the Boss [Is This?]. Most recently, I penned the script to the (triple) Oscar winning film Crash which starred actors like Don Cheadle, Sandra Bullock, Keith David, Don Cheadle, and Don Cheadle.
While crash was a huge success, I was never quite satisfied with the way it turned out. Due to pressure from studio bigwigs, I was forced to tone down the "obscenely unrealistic characters & situations" and "dialogue so laughable it seems to have been written by someone who is completely unfamiliar with the way normal human beings speak or interact with one-another"(their words), leaving my script toothless and ambiguous (the film is anti-racism, in case you were wondering).
So that's why I've decided to share my original vision for Crash with the world. Here's just a short excerpt. Hope you enjoy it.
Through the haze I saw the arm come down. Watched in horror as the heavy piece of lead drove itself into skull, marveling at the wet cry and spray of blood and bone as it glistened in the air. For an instant, each nodule of blood was fleck of cream. The bone fragments reformed themselves into a buttery orange chocolate-covered garnish. I slid forward, mouth open, reveling as the gooey pieces oozed into my mouth and down my throat. Time snapped back. The boy was on the floor, a dark pool spreading steadily around him.
Father Jameson grinned, pressing the cold steel barrel of the revolver into the child's temple.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..." the boy blubbered.
"Shudthefuggup." the priest rumbled, closing his eyes and taking another drag from his cigarette, "It's too late for that."
"He didn't know! He didn't mean nothin' by it, honest!" the mother cried from the doorway, taking a step forward. "He--"
"Back off!" the priest screamed, turning his gun to her, "Back off or I'll blow your brains all over the gawddamn wall!"
"Alright," she quavered, extending her shaking hands, "Alright, I didn't mean nothin' by it I swear, just don't hurt him. I'm sure we can work this out."
"Ain't nothin' to work out," Father Jameson muttered.