nerdland

by Andrew Kevin Walker

ANDREWKEVINWALKER.COM / first 8 pages *

MAR.2013
3rdDRAFT
EXT. HOLLYWOOD -- OVERVIEW -- MORNING
Sprawled out and spread wide like the whore that she is,
Los Angeles welcomes another hazy dawn. And in the northern
hills, we find that all-too-familiar landmark...but, wait...
The world-famous "HOLLYWOOD" SIGN is hidden beneath massive
DROP CLOTHS of CANVAS. Entirely shrouded.
CUT TO:
EXT. "LOS FELIZ CONTINENTAL TOWNHOMES" -- MORNING
Two-story-ugly-pink-stucco APARTMENTS. Parking underneath.
INT. TOWNHOUSE, ELLIOT'S BEDROOM -- MORNING
On TV: a video-game KARATE MAN, in bloodied gi, is stuck in
fight mode, KICKING and KARATE CHOPPING repeatedly in an
exact pattern, slaughtering HUMAN and MONSTER ATTACKERS from
both sides -- BURSTING heads and CHOPPING OFF limbs.
In the BED, ELLIOT, 29, is asleep, fully dressed, SNORING,
with his face pressed against his VIDEO CONTROLLER.
JOHN, 29, comes to the doorway, perturbed. A bit of a
dandy, the bespectacled John is nicely dressed in slacks and
dress shirt, wearing an ever-present BOW TIE.
JOHN
Wake up! You'll sleep the day away!
Elliot SNORTS awake, sitting up, disheveled. The joystick's
BUTTONS have left deep, red indentations in his face.
ELLIOT
Morning, John.
JOHN
Good morning, Elliot.
On TV: KARATE MAN stops defending himself and is violently
torn to gory pieces by his ATTACKERS. "GAME OVER."
Elliot lumbers from bed, kicking over empty "BrewMeister"
BEER CANS on the CLOTHING and COMIC BOOK strewn floor.
He BOWS to Karate Man, then shuffles towards the BATHROOM.
IN THE BATHROOM
Elliot faces his reflection, as always, with resignation.
ELLIOT
Not very handsome, are you? Oh,
well. What can you do about it?
Absolutely nothing.
CONTINUED
 2.

He turns on a MINI (TUBE) TV, goes to fill the TUB, pouring

in a frothing helping of "Bubble Queen" BUBBLE BATH. The TV
shows NEWS FOOTAGE of the shrouded HOLLYWOOD SIGN...
ANCHORMAN ERIC (V.O.)
(from TV)
...has Tinseltown literally on the
edge of its seat. Tonight, at long
last, the City of Los Angeles and
corporate sponsor, The Fluffy-Time
Biscuit Company, will finally unveil
the new, improved Hollywood Sign!
INT. JOHN AND ELLIOT'S KITCHENETTE -- MORNING
John pours hot TEA into a dainty TEA CUP.
Elliot pours a CAN of "Guzzle Cola" into a promotional MUG
that says, "Pacific Energy Co.; Energy is Your Friend."
John sips, pinkie raised. Elliot swills, bleary-eyed, wears
a colorful, polyester "VideoMania" UNIFORM + VISOR-CAP.
ELLIOT
Should we try to meet up with the
girls for lunch?
JOHN
Not a bad idea. Oh, and by the way,
you might want to wish me luck today.
ELLIOT
Good luck.
Elliot crosses to exit. John frowns, frustrated, follows.
IN THE LIVING ROOM
These two chumps fell for it all: NEON CLOCK, LAVA LAMP,
GUMBALL MACHINE. If they could've afforded it, they'd have
the refurbished slot machine. Elliot sits, points the
REMOTE at the TV, flipping endless CHANNELS, giving a
glimpse of a VAST WASTELAND of ERECTION MEDICATION
COMMERCIALS, BLOOPERS and violent GAFFES, and GAME SHOWS...
ON ONE CHANNEL: FIVE freaky, rotund, fuzzy COSTUMED
CHARACTERS, called THE BLOOPS, (Red Bloop, Blue Bloop, Green
Bloop, Orange Bloop and Pink Bloop) DANCE and SING...
THE BLOOPS (from TV)
(singing)
...Bloop-bloop-bloopity-bloop...!
Bloopity-bloop-bloop-bloop...!
ELLIOT
God, I hate The Bloops! They're
everywhere! Freaking Bloops!
(more)
CONTINUED
 3.

ELLIOT (CONT.)
(switching)
Hey, don't forget, the Celebrity
Jousting Tournament pay-per-view is
tonight. Fifty bucks.
JOHN
Don't you want to know why you're
wishing me luck today?
ELLIOT
Okay, sure. Why?
JOHN
Because... I happen to have a very
important meeting this afternoon,
with Brett Anderson.
ELLIOT
What? Brett Anderson? The Brett
Anderson, the famous actor?! The
star of "Murder Games," "Middle Name:
Danger," and "Rock, Paper, Scissors,
Murder?" Seriously?
JOHN
Could be our ticket to the Big Time.
(looks at his WATCH)
Oh! Better not keep him waiting.
ELLIOT
Alright, you go knock 'em dead, Mr.
Fancy Pants. I'm going to get some
writing done before my shift...
Elliot flips open his old, thick LAPTOP on the COFFEE TABLE.
JOHN
Ah, slave to a fickle muse, eh? I
leave you to it, my friend.
With a wave and a wink, John goes out the FRONT DOOR.
Elliot faces his laptop, wiggles his fingers. He sighs.
ELLIOT
The blank screen. Oh, the agony of
spinning yarns from nothing but pure
imagination. And for what...? Will
anyone ever begin to appreciate my
genius?!
(TYPES + reads; actually
pronounces the word: "int")
"'INT!' STRIP CLUB! DAY! Naked
ladies gyrate. Their huge boobs are
bouncing..."
(more)
CONTINUED
 4.

ELLIOT (CONT.)
(retyping)
No. No. "Their bosoms..." Yes.
Much better. Classier.
(typing on)
"Their bosoms... bounce like great,
jiggly melons. An angry OLD MAN
enters the club. This is RIP VAN
WINKLE. Van Winkle wears olden-time
clothing and a sleeping cap. His
long white beard reaches to the
floor. He brandishes a large
BLUNDERBUSS. 'What kind of filthy,
sinful, world have I awakened to?'
Van Winkle opens fire! BOOM! BOOM!"
(sits back, exhausted)
Whew! That's enough for today.
Ladies and gentlemen, the muse has
left the building!
Pleased, Elliot rises and, WHISTLING a tune, crosses to a
CLOSET. He takes out a BIKE PUMP and a deflated, naked
INFLATABLE WOMAN. Elliot unfurls the sex doll, then matter-
of-factly works the plunger up and down...
ELLIOT
Won't... be long... now... Mon Petite
Femme Inflatable...
She fills quickly, with her wide eyes and O-shaped mouth.
ELLIOT
No time for romance today, I'm
afraid, it'll just have to be --
DOORBELL RINGS. Elliot's miffed.
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
(through the door)
Hello? Elliot? It's Mrs. McCullers,
from next door. John said you're
home. I've baked you a cake.
ELLIOT
(still PUMPING)
You... a cake? Um, I'm a bit...
indisposed at the moment, Mrs.
McCullers. Can you leave it there?
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
(pause)
Birds will get it.
Exasperated, Elliot quickly shoves the inflated Love Doll in
the closet. He answers the door -- putting the CHAIN on.
MRS McCULLERS is a kindly older lady, holding a CAKE.
CONTINUED
 5.

MRS McCULLERS
For my favorite tenants!
ELLIOT
You shouldn't have, really. It's
just... I'm right in the middle of
one of my model kits.
MRS McCULLERS
Another? Goodness gracious, how many
model airplanes can one boy build?
ELLIOT
You'd be surprised.
Elliot glances back to see...
The CLOSET DOOR falls OPEN... Inflatable Woman falls out!
Elliot's alarmed, presses closer to the door, sweating.
ELLIOT
Um, anyhow, I... should probably...
MRS McCULLERS
Of course. Far be it for me to come
between a boy and his enthusiasms.
Here you are...
She offers the cake. Elliot sweats, then... reaches out the
too-narrow opening of the chained door, GRABS and forcibly
PULLS the cake in -- mauling the cake! Mrs. McCullers GASPS.
ELLIOT
Mmmmmm-mmm! Looks scrumptious!
Thank you. Have a nice day.
Elliot KICKS the door closed in her face, drops the cake,
crosses quickly to pick up Inflatable Woman, shaking her.
ELLIOT
Naughty little minx! Trying to
embarrass me! Why, I ought to --
Awwwwwww... what am I saying? I can
never stay mad at you.
There's a KNOCK and the FRONT DOOR OPENS, chain on...
MRS McCULLERS
(peering in)
One more thing, Elliot. I can't
remember if your favorite cookies are
chocolate chip or --
The smile plummets from Mrs. McCuller's wide-eyed face.
Elliot stands looking over, frozen, mouth agape.
CONTINUED
 6.

His tightening grip POPS the Inflatable Woman's arm --

PPPFFFFFFTTTT!! -- and she DEFLATES to complete flaccidity!
CUT TO:
INT. HOTEL SUITE, PRESS JUNKET -- MORNING
Ultra-handsome BRETT ANDERSON shakes hands with square-
jawed, well-dressed REPORTER JESS.
REPORTER JESS
Thanks for the interview, Brett.
There's no greater actor in the world
than you. I mean that sincerely.
BRETT
Always a pleasure, my friend.
REPORTER JESS
We should grab lunch sometime.
BRETT
Absolutely not.
Reporter's lead away by a P.R. PERSON. Brett goes back to
sit in his DIRECTOR'S CHAIR beside the easel-displayed MOVIE
POSTER for "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Murder!," which shows a
FIST, a flattened HAND, a HAND with TWO FINGERS extended,
and a HAND brandishing a GUN. A FEMALE PUBLICIST leads a
very nervous John, wearing a PRESS PASS, over to a CHAIR.
PUBLICIST
Uh, Brett...this is John Truman.
BRETT
Nice to meet you.
John shakes hands, SNORTS nervously, acutely aware of his
sweaty armpits. Brett's wary, wipes his palm on his pants.
PUBLICIST
Five minutes, Mr. Truman.
The publicist retreats to watch from nearby. John fumbles
as he tries to organize CLIPBOARD, PENS and MANILA FOLDER.
JOHN
Let's get down to business then,
shall we... uh, let me see here...
(studies wrinkled paper)
Question One. When you yourself go
to the movies, Mr. Anderson... or,
Brett... may I call you Brett...?
BRETT
I'd prefer you didn't.
CONTINUED
 7.

JOHN
I see. Well, as I was saying, when
you yourself attend a moving picture,
what would you say is your favorite
fountain drink?
BRETT
Pardon me?
JOHN
Which beverage do you find most
refreshing, as a rule of thumb?
BRETT
I'm... I'm not sure what this has to
do with my new movie, "Rock, Paper,
Scissors, Murder..."
(glances to publicist)
But if you have any questions about
this gripping, psychological
thriller, I'll be glad to answer them.
JOHN
Of course. Moving on.
(sweats, refers to NOTES)
Question Two. As both an artist and
as an aficionado of the cinema... do
you prefer your popcorn with or
without butter-flavored topping?
PUBLICIST
Mr. Truman, exactly which publication
do you represent?
JOHN
I am employed by "Concessionaire
Monthly; The Magazine of the
Theatrical Food Service Industry."
PUBLICIST
You'd better come with me...
JOHN
Okay... but if I could have just one
more moment, Brett. I've got a
screenplay you'd be perfect for...
BRETT
Oh, God...
JOHN
Now, I didn't write it. My roommate
Elliot did. It's a real page-turner.
John pulls out a thick SCREENPLAY. Brett looks to
Publicist, who speaks urgently into a WALKIE-TALKIE.
CONTINUED
 8*.

JOHN
A tad long at 400 pages, admittedly,
but dramatic and touching. Laugh-out-
loud funny also; funny yet real.
It's about a U.F.O investigator,
played by you, who -- Spoiler
Alert -- falls in love with the alien
he's chasing after...
PUBLICIST
Mr. Truman, you must leave.
JOHN
Yes, except... Brett, I'm not only a
reporter, I'm a fellow actor...
(loud, SNORTING LAUGH)
I'm sorry. I'm so nervous. You see,
I am passionate about my craft... our
craft! There's a part in the script;
the investigator's sceptical sidekick.
John pulls out 8"by10" HEADSHOTS, dropping many...
JOHN
Oops! I'll get those...
John SQUATS to gather the GLOSSIES which show him costumed;
in a TUXEDO, dressed as a DOCTOR, and a sad CLOWN in make-up.
JOHN
These headshots'll give you an idea
of my range. Listen, I have to ask;
how do you get your teeth so white?
Still it full squat, John SPLITS the SEAT of his PANTS!
JOHN
...oh...
Then, John SPLITS his UNDERPANTS as well!!
JOHN
OH!
2 SECURITY MEN arrive to LIFT John bodily, dragging him off.
JOHN
Okay...thank you, Brett! My number's
in with the materials! Call anytime!
CUT TO:

Now on VIDEO and VIDEO ON DEMAND!!! (Script coming soon.) *