In regards to the sudden onslaught of Dio-related postings, I bring to you a script that I co-wrote about 2 years ago. It took me 6 days to write the first draft, and the draft that we were content with was finished in about another week. I did write about 95% of the script, so if you can find the 5% that is not Weaver, pat yourself on the back and treat yourself to a hoagie. Who knows what formatting blunders wills occur...
I'll post it in parts, just for the sake of the reader's time. I know that it is full of errors that I no longer do whilst writing, but enjoy it nonetheless. There are many moments in here that I'm sure that you'll appreciate. Dig in!
FADE IN:
SUPER: NEW JERSEY, 1988
INT. FRANCO'S ICE CREAM - AFTERNOON
CREDITS OVER:
Franco's ice cream is a quaint, old fashioned place that
looks like it belongs in the 1950's. Old milk bottles adorn
the walls.
A hand holding a metal ice cream scooper, digs it into a tub
of ice cream. The ice cream is then mashed on top of a wafer
cone.
A stainless steel milkshake cup vibrates while being rapidly
stirred by a mixer.
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, maple walnut, pistachio. Tub
after tub contains flavor after flavor of tasty ice cream.
Whipped cream is sprayed on top of a banana split. Money and
ice cream treats are exchanged between customers and the
happy-faced employees.
The place is quiet. No customers.
The calendar shows July 1988. But you would never guess it
was that year judging by the attire worn by JESSE, 27, who
wears the trademark costume of a 50's soda jerk.
He stares at a clock on the wall with a look of giddy
anticipation. The red, second hand on the clock gets ever so
close to the large number 12. Closer and closer until it HITS
the 12...
JESSE
Go!
Two tubs of ice cream that were embedded in the counter are
now on the floor and contain the bare feet of BRAD, 27, who's
dressed in the same costume as Jesse, the pants pulled up to
his knees.
Brad, shuffles and stomps, his bare feet through the FULL ice
cream tubs.
Brad weaves his way through in one direction and then turns
and repeats his actions in the opposite direction, laughing
hysterically the entire trek.
JESSE
...and stop!
Brad finishes his course.
Brad sits down on the counter, starts to swab his feet with a
dirty, filthy towel. He looks over Jesse.
BRAD
I think that's my best time ever.
JESSE
Might be.
BRAD
Might be? Hands down it was.
JESSE
Hurry up and get down before
somebody comes in here.
Brad climbs down from the counter top.
BRAD
Like we care what these people say?
JESSE
I just don't feel like answering
the boss's questions later when he
gets a complaint that your ass was
on the counter again.
BRAD
He say anything about the roof?
JESSE
The bag of shit or the bag of
sugar?
BRAD
Either.
JESSE
Not that I know of.
Jesse goes over to one side of the counter. The phone sits on
the counter top. Jesse picks up the phone book. He scans the
pages of the phone book. Brad is in the background putting
two down the tub tops.
Jesse picks up the phone and DIALS. Brad motions for Jesse's
attention with a head nod.
Jesse cups the bottom of the phone away from his face.
JESSE
Egypt.
Brad smirks.
JESSE (cont'd)
Um, yes, I received a telegram from
your residence a few days ago, and
I think that we may have a problem
with your request. I'm sorry?
(beat)
You wrote to me the following:
eyeball, eyeball, bird, snake
helmet, eyeball, a wavy line, and a
bird.
(beat)
Yes, I'm taking this as an insult,
Sandy. Believe me when I tell you
that you don't want me as an
enemy.
(beat)
Really, tough guy? Well, King Tut
was a homo, beyotch! Go rub some
sand on your balls.
Jesse slams the phone down and LAUGHS outloud.
Brad laughs, and points to something on the page of the phone
book.
BRAD
Here, you got to call here.
JESSE
Uganda? You know it.
Jesse dials the number. A long one to dial. The SOUND of a
CLICK is heard through the receiver. A person mumbles a SOUND
on the other end.
JESSE
Hello? Is Kamala there?
(beat)
What? This is Kim Chee. Lemme talk
to that giant African bastard.
A TRUCKER, mid-40's, with a most unkempt appearance, enters
the parlor.
Brad greets the customer at the counter and leaves Jesse to
play on the phone.
BRAD
What can I do for you?
The trucker holds a styrofoam cup up in front of Brad.
TRUCKER
I want to return this.
BRAD
What's wrong with it?
TRUCKER
This butter crunch is bland or
freezer burnt or some shit. It's
lacking something. Needs more
butter.
BRAD
Needs more butter?
The Trucker slams the cup down on the counter with uncalled
for aggression.
TRUCKER
Let me say it for you, in English.
(slowly)
I...want...a...refund.
Brad stares at the ANGRY man.
BRAD
I can't give you any money for it.
Sorry, dude.
TRUCKER
Why not?
BRAD
Because you ate half of it.
TRUCKER
Ever hear the customer is always
right?
BRAD
That's a fallacy.
Brad looks over towards Jesse, who is still on the phone.
JESSE
You're biggest export in Taiwan is
little plastic pieces of shit that
break when taken out of the box?
Fascinating.
TRUCKER
That the manager?
BRAD
Yeah, but he's busy ordering
supplies.
TRUCKER
Then just give me my money back and
we'll call it even.
BRAD
As I've already said, I can't give
you your money, but I can give you
some ice cream in exchange. That
work?
The Trucker SIGHS, clearly irritated.
TRUCKER
Fine then. I'll take some butter
pecan.
BRAD
Sorry, all I can give you is either
rocky road or strawberry.
Brad holds his index finger over the strawberry and rocky
road, both of which are molded with a FRESH footprint.
TRUCKER
I'll take the rocky road.
Brad smiles at the customer. He begins to scoop the tub of
ice cream into a Styrofoam cup.
BRAD
Good choice.
Brad hands the Trucker his new cup of ice cream. The Trucker
snatches it from Brad's hands, turns, and leaves.
Jesse hangs up the phone. Brad grabs a box of butter from the
center freezer and RIPS it apart.
JESSE
What are you doing?
Brad takes a few sticks of BUTTER and allows them to slide
out into his free hand.
BRAD
They say it needs more butter? They
got it!
Brad grabs a spoon and then starts smashing the sticks of
BUTTER. He opens the tub of butter crunch and drops them in.
Jesse leans over Brad's shoulder, inspecting the addition.
JESSE
Mix it up good. Consistency is
crucial, here.
The SOUND of a bell clanging has marked the arrival of one:
RONNIE JAMES, late 20's, lucky to be 5 feet tall, and almost
a dead-ringer for the singer, Ronnie James Dio, enters the
ice cream parlor. The shirt he wears bears his idol.
Ronnie James trots over to the counter, and gives the sign of
the DEVIL HORNS to his compadres.
RONNIE JAMES
What's going on, guys?
JESSE
Look out! It's Ronnie James!
RONNIE JAMES
(notices Brad)
What are you doing?
BRAD
Making butter crunch.
RONNIE JAMES
Making it?
BRAD
Yeah. The public has demanded more
butter and I am giving them what
they want.
RONNIE JAMES
You guys hear about that new group,
'Guns 'N Roses?'
BRAD
They're a bunch of poseurs. They'll
be gone in a few months.
RONNIE JAMES
I don't know about that one. They
rock.
A PIZZA DELIVERY GUY, early 30's, enters the parlor. He
immediately heads straight for the cooler that contains soda
and iced tea.
Brad dumps the tub of buttercrunch into the center freezer.
He pulls out a large bottle of soda, approaches the counter,
and sets it down.
Brad glances at the bottle.
BRAD
Sixty-five cents.
Pizza Guy digs into his pants pocket. Ronnie James turns to
the Pizza Guy.
RONNIE JAMES
Hey, man, got any extra pizzas?
PIZZA GUY
What's it to you?
RONNIE JAMES
How about a trade? Ice cream for
pizza.
Beat.
Pizza Guy hands Brad some money, looking him straight in the
face. Brad nods his head, saying 'let's do it' with his eyes.
PIZZA GUY
Hold on.
Pizza Guy exits the parlor.
In a mad scramble, Brad hoists two tubs of ice cream from the
center freezer and rests them on the counter top.
Pizza Guy re-enters the parlor with a pizza box in his arms.
He sets it on the counter, next to the tubs of ice cream.
Brad slides the pizza box off to the side of the counter, and
the pizza guy grabs his tubs of ice cream.
BRAD
What do you want in exchange for
this?
PIZZA GUY
What do you got?
BRAD
These are two of my best flavors.
Pizza Guy peers into them.
PIZZA GUY
What are they? They look old.
RONNIE JAMES
That ain't old. They rotate their
stock here, not like at the A & P.
PIZZA GUY
What is it?
BRAD
Buttercrunch and maple walnut.
PIZZA GUY
I'll take the buttercrunch and, um,
no, wait. Give me--
BRAD
Since I'm almost to the end of
these, why don't you take 'em both?
Even Steven. Tit for tat. They're
yours.
Pizza Guy looks at Brad. Look at the ice cream.
PIZZA GUY
The whole thing?
BRAD
Yup.
PIZZA GUY
Both?
BRAD
You got it, chief.
PIZZA GUY
(smiles)
Nice doing business with you.
Pizza guy exits the parlor.
Beat.
Brad starts to laugh. Jesse and Ronnie James look at him with
looks of confusion.
BRAD
That sumbitch just walked out of
here with 100% real butter crunch.
And if he ever needs a screw, all
he needs to do it dig deep into his
maple nuts and bolts!
They all laugh and head for the box of pizza.
CUT TO:
INT. FRANCO'S ICE CREAM - MOMENTS LATER
The guys lounge about the parlor. Most of the pizza is gone.
They eat the remaining slices of pizza and drink from their
bottles of soda.
RONNIE JAMES
...it's not as easy as you think,
man.
JESSE
I never said it was.
RONNIE JAMES
Beating 'Punch-Out' without getting
hit once is like, like, it's bad
ass, man.
BRAD
Did you give up on 'Pro Wrestling?'
JESSE
'Kin Korn Karn' is the best.
RONNIE JAMES
Fuck that dude. He's lame. Piston
Honda would crush him.
Jesse waves his hand at Ronnie James in disgust.
JESSE
It's all about 'The Amazon.'
Brad tears a scrap of pizza away from another. Ronnie James
leans in and quickly nabs the other scrap Brad left behind.
Brad saunters to the back of the store, the scrap of pizza
hangs from his mouth.
RONNIE JAMES
When's your sister coming in?
JESSE
Tomorrow.
RONNIE JAMES
Who's she marrying, again?
JESSE
Some sped named Marco.
RONNIE JAMES
Marco?!
BRAD (O.S.)
Polo!
RONNIE JAMES
You serious?
JESSE
Yup. My parents met him once when
they visited Claudia after she got
engaged. They say he's nice, I
guess.
RONNIE JAMES
There goes my chances, huh?
JESSE
In your wildest wet dreams.
Brad returns from the back.
BRAD
His parents say I'm nice, too.
JESSE
I get to meet the guy tomorrow. And
then we'll go from there. The
wedding's Saturday, so hopefully I
won't have to see him after that.
BRAD
This Saturday? Where's my invite?
RONNIE JAMES
Yeah, man?
JESSE
Don't ask me. I'll ask her highness
tomorrow.
RONNIE JAMES
Well, I'd love to stay but the
food's out, so I guess that's my
que to leave.
BRAD
Later.
JESSE
Yeah, see ya.
Ronnie James walks towards the door and STOPS in his tracks.
Before him is the man they call BALD BULL, 30, 6'4" black man
with a shiny scalp and loads of muscles. His EYES instantly
spot Ronnie James as he blocks his exit.
BALD BULL
I've got a bone to pick with you,
little man.
RONNIE JAMES
Bald Bull.
(beat)
Every time I look at you, you make
my ass pucker, you evil demon!
Bald Bull remains stolid.
RONNIE JAMES (cont'd)
What do you want?
BALD BULL
You've been running your trap that
no one can beat Tyson in the first
round of Punch-Out.
RONNIE JAMES
Your point?
JESSE
We know it can't be done.
BALD BULL
Jesse, Jesse, Jesse...you can do
it.
RONNIE JAMES
Says who?
BALD BULL
Says me! I did it three days ago,
and have been looking for you ever
since.
RONNIE JAMES
Imagine that one, man.
Ronnie James tries to sidestep Bald Bull to the door. Bald
Bull allows Ronnie James to pass.
BALD BULL
If you're so tough, then why not
put your money where your mouth is,
little man?
RONNIE JAMES
Me?
BALD BULL
Maybe you're afraid?
RONNIE JAMES
Not at all.
BALD BULL
Then it's a yes?
RONNIE JAMES
100 percent.
BALD BULL
I knew that you were too stupid to
say no.
RONNIE JAMES
Too stupid? You're the jackass
who's mouth makes checks his ass
can't cash.
BALD BULL
(smiles)
We'll see about that. I'll be in
touch.
Bald Bull lets Ronnie James pass and leave the establishment.
BALD BULL
Hey, little man!
Bald Bull exits as well.
The SOUND of their continued arguing echoes from the parking
lot.
Brad and Jesse shake their heads in mild disbelief. An
IMMIGRANT, 40's, enters the parlor.
BRAD
Can I help you, sir?
The Immigrant stares at a piece of construction paper taped
to the back of the cash register. It is for a 4th of July
benefit. The Immigrant runs his finger up and down the text
of the paper, and then looks at Brad.
IMMIGRANT
I want a meelkshakes.
Brad leans over the counter and slightly squints his eyes at
the immigrant.
BRAD
(quietly)
Hey, buddy? Want a free cone?
The Immigrant puts the tip of his finger in between his lips
and stares at Brad with a look of complete confusion.
IMMIGRANT
Meelkshakes.
Brad lets out a sigh of frustration. Jesse walks into the
back of the parlor.
BRAD
What flavor do you want?
Silence.
IMMIGRANT
(yells)
Chocolate chips ice cream.
Waiting for more to make a final judgment. The arguments about Punch-Out are funny and natural. I liked Bald Bull because he’s an interesting skewed play on stereotypes.
However, the “Immigrant” is really cliché and borderline offensive. Working with stereotypes can work and pushing PC buttons can be funny, but outright naming the character “Immigrant” creates a tone of contempt, which would be fine for the characters, but I don’t think you’d want to bring that tone to you as the writer.
I also get a major "Clerks" imitation vibe from the entire story.
However, you do set up who these characters are well. Waiting to see where this is going.
As far as naming the person "Immigrant", what else can one do? Call him "New American" or "Guy Born in a Foreign Country"? If this particular guy was more than a bit part and a piece of a running joke for the guys at the parlor, he would get a name and more personality than what was given. But I do understand what you mean as far as how the writer could be perceived in opting for such a character name.
Clerks? Eeeewwwww. Yeah, you throw a few chatty bastards and some antics at their workplace and that comes to mind right away. I knew that going into this, but made it a point to write my way out of the comparison as the story develops.
And thanks for taking the time to read this mess, I do appreciate it.
As for the "Immigrant" character just call him "Indian Guy" or "Indian Man." Or whatever simple physical description that applies. "Immigrant" can be taken as a slight. Especially for a throw away character that's really just in the script for color. And I don't mean that in a racial way... well you know what I mean.
If you want to establish him as a newly arrived immigrant than that's got to come out in dialogue or action. But from what I've read so far, his status as a new person to the country is inconsequential.
I recently attended a screenwriting seminar lead by a script reader from the studios and he even said that using “mom” or “dad” is even frowned upon if the viewer can’t easily determine whose mother or father it is right away. So as a rule of thumb in naming characters, especially minor ones, stick with names that a viewer can identify with the bit part just by looking at them.
It can be silly sometimes especially when you get to things like “Girl at Party #7.” But it makes things clear and doesn’t add implications to the script that were not intended.
I think you should call him Foreign Bastard or haji or Sand N!gger ...just kidding don't call the bigot police on me. One thing caught my attention though ,...When Jesse says "beyotch"..people didn't say that in the 80's.
Yeah, there are many references and things said that were ahead of their time, so to speak. I think we used a special wide-gapped, two-toothed comb to scour for such errors.