Dirt

IN BLACK:

The sound of a shovel into dirt.

FADE IN:

On the shovel, the hands grasping it. Reveal DON KONKEY, of

indeterminate age, a schlub, digging a hole. Wears a “MILF

HUNTER” T-shirt. Tubby, greasy hair, mouthbreather.

Expressionless. His clothes are filthy, you can almost smell

him.

He stops digging. Examines his work. It appears to be a

grave. He lays down in the hole. Begins covering himself

with dirt.

Don covers himself thoroughly. He is now buried.

CUT TO:

INT. STAPLES CENTER

A basketball game in progress. An insanely hot woman sits

courtside, wearing a teensy-weensy wife beater and a little

denim skirt. She smiles at PRINCE TYREESE, superstar point

guard and multi-million dollar endorsement magnet. He’s

about to bang a three-pointer, but instead drives inside and

SLAMS the ball, hangs from the net staring at the woman. She

uncrosses her legs and parts them.

INT. STAPLES CENTER LOCKER ROOM

Prince Tyreese stands there naked, 6’8’’ and tatted, his BOYS

lounging around him.

He leans over and whispers something, dispatches one of them.

INT. STAPLES CENTER

Courtside, post game. Tyreese’s homeboy talks to the hot

chick in the bg...

While in the foreground, Tyreese poses for the cameras with

his perfect, camera-ready FAMILY, beautiful WIFE and FOUR

KIDS.

INT. STAPLES CENTER LOCKER ROOM

Tyreese, dressed, leaves the locker room.

As he walks out, the LOCKER ROOM ATTENDANT picks up his

cellphone...

2.

EXT. STAPLES CENTER

A HUMMER pulls up. Tyreese’s ride.

INT. BLACK SUV

SUV GUY watches the Hummer pass, makes a call.

SUV GUY:

Houston, we have a booty call.

EXT. LUCY SPILLER’S OFFICE -- EARLY EVENING

LUCY SPILLER is looking into the mirror in her office,

changing her clothes while talking on the phone. Behind her

are blown-up tabloid covers, documenting the rise and

(mostly) fall of the rich and infamous.

Lucy is Executive Editor of NOW Magazine (like PEOPLE), THE

BOMB (like an even trashier ENQUIRER), and has a decent-sized

media empire at her fingertips. She’s good-looking, late 30searly

40s, and has maximized her assets. She is in the

process of putting on a Dries Van Noten suit, a fair amount

of her Pilates-ripped body showing. She moves with the

voracious, muscled efficiency of a tiger shark.

She smiles, looks like they got this guy.

LUCY:

Okay. Call me if anything changes.

CUT TO:

DON KONKEY’S POV

Back in his “grave.” We see Prince Tyreese and the Hottie

cavorting into frame. Devouring each other.

They stumble into the hot tub, and in a flash she is topless

and riding the all-time high scorer...

Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce...

She reaches the top of her bounce and we -FREEZE

FRAME:

On the hot model/hooker, perched in ecstasis, one arm in the

air like a bronc rider, her full lips wet and parted, caught

for eternity at the height of sexual bliss.

DON’S POV

Tyreese and the Hooker, from the dirt and leaves. We hear

his labored, rhythmic breathing, hear the whisper-quiet

shutter of the camera as-

3.

MUSIC COMES UP:

The Out Crowd’s “Son Of A B*tch (Plastic Ear Infection Mix)”

And now we see the scene before us -UN-

FREEZE:

And FREEZE again, over and over, as he captures the scene

before him; the rapturous, whimpering Hottie, the grim and

determined Tyreese, unaware his fate is about to change

forever.

A SERIES OF STILLS

These include:

--Tyreese spanks her.

--She spanks him.

--He “chokes” her.

--She fastens on a strap-on, grins wickedly...

CUT TO:

EXT. MOVIE PREMIERE -- NIGHT

A crowd gathered around the red carpet. A caste system of

(from lowest to highest) fans, paparazzi, “legit” press, and

the be-jewelled actors and above-the-liners walking the

carpet.

Working the press area with deep intensity is Lucy Spiller.

We MOVE with her as she tells photographers and videographers

what to get/do/look for...

LUCY:

(to a videographer)

Just get anything unflattering.

Back-fat, asses, saddlebags, bra

straps, bellies...

She moves to a photographer.

LUCY (CONT’D)

Full body fashion shots only,

Damon.

She moves to an ON-CAMERA TABLOID REPORTER.

4.

LUCY (CONT’D)

Ask Carlo about the thing with the

nanny...see if you can catch him

off guard, he’ll be expecting

softballs.

She sees Don off to the side, trying to eat some chili-cheese

fries while standing up. Loaded down with all his gear.

Still filthy from his earlier assignment, still with the MILF

HUNTER t-shirt, but now with a deeply rumpled old sport coat

over it. Lucy looks annoyed.

LUCY (CONT’D)

Don.

DON:

Hey, Lucy. Want some chili-fries?

LUCY:

God, no.

(sotto)

Did you get Prince Tyreese?

DON:

(regular voice)

Yes.

LUCY:

(sotto)

You got everything?

DON:

(regular voice)

I got them having sex for two

hours. And the coke. And he

choked her. And the strap-on.

Lucy puts up her hands to silence him.

LUCY:

Don...not so loud.

DON:

‘Kay.

LUCY:

And remember, this one’s between

you and me. I don’t want Alex to

see this footage until I figure out

how to break it.

DON:

‘Kay.

Don stares at her legs. He puts a handful of chili fries in

his mouth. Like he’s watching a movie.

5.

LUCY:

Don?

DON:

Yeah.

LUCY:

Get candids of Holt and Julia, all

right?

DON:

‘Kay.

INT. EXPEDITION LIMO -- NIGHT

JULIA MYERS, 27, superstarlet, queen of Young Hollywood,

looks distractedly out the limo window as they creep along

Hollywood Boulevard.

Her boyfriend, HOLT McLAREN, 33, a better-looking Sean Penn,

vogues to the lighted make-up mirror, pulls at his carefully

crafted spiky bedhead.

MICHELLE, their driver, turns around and regards the couple.

MICHELLE:

You ready?

HOLT:

Ask her, she’s the star.

JULIA:

One sec.

She takes out a lip gloss, doesn’t even look in the mirror,

applies it in one move and hands it to Holt.

JULIA (CONT’D)

You mind? I don’t have any

pockets.

And indeed she doesn’t. The gown is one piece of sheer,

clingy fabric.

She steps from the limo out on to the red carpet.

MUSIC:
“Ride It On” by Mazzy Star...

SUPER SLO MO -- MOS

As her Jimmy Choo-clad feet touch down on the red carpet.

Holt climbs out after her, having to slide across the seat to

get there, so his exit is not nearly so graceful. We

recognize his camera face from his vogue-ing in the mirror.

6.

Posters and print ads from the movie everywhere; “Subliminal

Velocity,” all ice-blue with guns and futuristic wardrobe.

They face a SEA OF FLASHES. The “LEGIT” PRESS elbow the

PAPARAZZI...they’re all out in full force, screaming, waving,

flashing, taping...we see but don’t hear their hysterics.

Spittle on the corners of mouths, grabbing at competitors,

faces contorted in desperate pleas for a shot...

ON JULIA AND HOLT

SUPER-DUPER SLO-MO now, as they walk up the red carpet,

holding hands. They are the essence of beauty, symmetry,

love.

RETURN TO SPEED -- EAR-SHATTERING SOUND

As the PAPARAZZI scream...and behind them, the deafening

Greek Chorus that is THE FANS, set up behind ropes that are

set up behind ropes. They scream for one glance, one wave,

knowing that their Gods will never make it over to them for

an autograph.

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