(FADE-IN: To a shot of an Aeroplane touching down on the hot runway of Denver Intl. Airport. The mid-afternoon sky is clear blue and there is not a cloud to be seen.)
(CUT-TO: Arrival Corridor. Two dozen holiday-makers walking along the corridor carrying bags and wheeling suitcase filled trolleys. They are all different shapes, sizes and colours. The camera focuses on a broad-shouldered young man with fine stubble. The young man is recent CSWA recruit and former American Football star, Reagan Jones. Reagan is a statue of power and looks to be well over 6’. He wears a white Nike t-shirt, blue denim jeans and white leather Nike sneakers. We can see thin brown sideburns on the side of his face but we cannot see all of his hair as he is wearing a black Nike cap to disguise his face. He is also wearing dark, expensive, gold framed sunglasses. He holds a small black sports bag, letting it hang over the back of his left shoulder. Walking close beside him is his personal advisor, Italian midget, Piccolo Uomo. Piccolo wears a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black trousers which look to have been cut off at the knee and a pair of children’s sized black leather shoes! He holds a little black bag.)
Reagan JONES: Is it true your name translates as Little Man!?!?
Piccolo UOMO: (bemused) Your knowledge of the Italian language impresses me, but please, don’t take the piss!
Reagan JONES: Ha. Your father. How tall is he?
Piccolo UOMO: 6’2’’
Reagan JONES: So, his name must be…Alto Uomo!?!?
Piccolo UOMO: Ha. “Tall Man”. You’re funny…
Reagan JONES: Yeah. I’m thinking of becoming a comedian if this all goes tits up!
Piccolo UOMO: Ha…and sarcastic!
(CUT-TO: The Airport terminal. There is a line of five kiosks specially for car rental. The first kiosk is for Hertz, then the last kiosk is for those who prefer cheaper car rental, Bangers Limited. Reagan and the little midget Piccolo walk towards the kiosks. Reagan walks in the direction of Hertz but Piccolo, to the horror of Reagan, walks directly to the Bangers kiosk. The young blonde lady wearing a Bangers Limited uniform and black framed spectacles cannot see the midget at the other side of the counter, so he starts frantically waving his arms, jumping up and down!)
Piccolo UOMO: (To lady behind counter) I’m down here! Can you see me!?!? Lady!?!? I can’t help being little!!!
Reagan JONES: (under his breath) I don’t believe this! You can’t be serious!
(Reagan sighs and walks along to the Bangers Limited kiosk. Piccolo continues to jump up and down.)
Reagan JONES: Ok man, relax!
(Piccolo calms down. Reagan smiles at the blonde lady and she smiles back in return.)
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: Good afternoon. Can I help you?
Reagan JONES: Umm…Excuse me, you don’t have a car under the name of Jones do ya?
Picollo UOMO: No it aint! UOMO! It’s under UOMO!
Reagan JONES: What the --- you can’t drive!
Picollo UOMO: Yes I can! (opens his bag and lets Reagan see his inflatable pillow!) I’ve got my cushion!
Reagan JONES: But --- you won’t be able to reach the fecking pedals!
Picollo UOMO: Where are you? In the fecking stone age? Hellooo! You ain’t heard of hand controls?!?!
Reagan JONES: Riiiight! (smiles at lady again.) Sorry. My mistake. ‘Uomo’? U-O-M-O?
(The lady taps into her computer.)
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: Ok. Give me a second.
Reagan JONES: Thank you.
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: Yes we have. You got a drivers licence?
Reagan JONES: (to Picollo) Your licence? You got your licence, Tiny!?!?
Picollo UOMO: (under his breath.) I told you!
(Picollo searches through his bag and finds his licence. He hands it Reagan and Reagan then hands it to the lady for inspection.)
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: Ok. That’s great.
(The young lady turns around and grabs a set of car keys from the board on the wall and hands them and the licence to Reagan.)
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: It’s in Block C.
Reagan JONES: Great. Thanks.
LADY BEHIND COUNTER: Have a nice day.
Reagan JONES: Thanks. You too.
(Reagan hands the car keys to Picollo and they walk away from the kiosk and make their way out of the Airport.)
(CUT-TO: The Airport car-park. There is a complete line of rent-a-cars. Mostly quite new, but a few are bangers! Reagan and Picollo start walking along the path, searching for their car. With every car they pass, Picollo looks at the keys.)
Reagan JONES: (looking along the line) Can you see it?
(Picollo looks and then points to a car in the middle of the line. It is a white 1975-80 AMC Pacer. To say it is nearly falling apart is an understatement. It is rusty and dinted and the chrome bumper bar is loose.)
Picollo UOMO: (Excited. Big smile on his face.) There it is. That’s it!
Reagan JONES: (hides his face in his hands, pretending to cry.) Oh--my--God!
Picollo UOMO: What’s up? You don’t like it?
Reagan JONES: No! I fecking HATE it! Look at it! I won’t be surprised if Coco The Clown uses it for his damn circus!
(TEN MINUTES LATER - CUT-TO: On the Highway. Reagan sits back in the discomfort of the torn black leather passenger seat of the car. Picollo sits at the wheel, heightened by his inflatable cushion. Reagan holds a cell phone against his ear. We can hear a female voice on the other end. It is his fiance, Portuguese babe, Ariel Cortez. We can also hear the car constantly back-firing!)
Ariel CORTEZ: (sexy Portuguese accent) How was the flight?
Reagan JONES: It was good.
Ariel CORTEZ: When should you be here?
Reagan JONES: At the hotel? I don’t really know, babe. Next week possibly! This fecking car is a pain in the ass! What is the time now?
Ariel CORTEZ: Three o’clock.
(CUT-TO: Ariel Cortez lying back on the king-size bed in a Hotel room. Very sexy, she is wearing only a wine red bra and matching panties. She holds a telephone receiver against her right ear and holds a near empty glass of champagne in her left hand.)
Ariel CORTEZ: I’m missing you, babe. Get here as soon as you can. I’m waiting! Love ya.
(Ariel puts the receiver down and finishes the contents in her glass before putting the glass on the bedside table. She gets to her feet, takes her hair out of it’s pony tail and lets it flow down her back. She turns around so we can only see the back of her. She slowly takes off her bra, throws that over her shoulder onto the bed, and then finally whips off her panties before walking to the en-suite bathroom. She walks into the shower and shuts the door behind her. The shower comes on and then in no time at all, we’re steaming up.)
(CUT-TO: A frustrated Reagan and very happy Picollo in the car.)
Reagan JONES: Why did you have to get this piece of junk?
Picollo UOMO: What piece of junk?
Reagan JONES: This!!! You say I’m in the stone age? Jesus Christ!
Picollo UOMO: It was the cheapest I could find.
Reagan JONES: (sarcastic.) Really…
Picollo UOMO: Now, come on. It’s not THAT bad!
Reagan JONES: I’m telling ya. There is NO WAY - NO WAY IN HELL - that we’re turning up at the Arena in this!
Picollo UOMO: I like it.
Reagan JONES: You midget’s are all the fecking same! You’re all fecking weird!
Picollo UOMO: That’s a bit harsh!
Reagan JONES: You got a number for the nearest dealer?
Picollo UOMO: Yeah.
Reagan JONES: Good. I can just about stand this piece of crap for tonight, but tomorrow morning it’s going back.
Picollo UOMO: Oh! Reagan!
Reagan JONES: Feck off! I’m picking the car next time. Tomorrow morning, rise and shine, I’m taking this piece of junk back and we’re getting a PROPER set of wheels. You hear? You hear me?
(Fadein, Cameron Cruise in front of a CSWA PRIMETIME backdrop.)
CRUISE: So this is the sh*t thats promised for trying my luck at bein' one o' the best huh?? I get ousted in the first round, but instead of givin' one o' their most loyal something I deserve and worked my ASS OFF for....they throw me a bone in the form of bein' the curtain jerker against some hack from Christopher Robins' neighborhood, who's idea of what the NFL would be includes a team in their league called the Phoenix Knights?? I mean, get real Thomas!!
I could understand if the kid mistakes them for the Arizona Cardinals but....well now, I can't really do that either now could I?? Who do I look like to you Thomas....Steel Viper??
(Cruise cuts himself off and sighs a moment before continuing.)
CRUISE: To get something you gotta give something, right??
Reagan Jones, listen up!!
I don't know who ya are....and quite frankly pal I could give a damn less if YOU DO. But the fact of the matter is....the REALITY of the situation is, is that I've got to prove myself over again to the bosses for why I'm a damned asset to this company.
Even though puting on shows for the past ten years hasn't done a thing for them in the apparent, either way, I've still got a problem that I've got to solve and you're part of the solution.
It's because of the expension involved. You're expendable because they need someone to start off the show and just get completely OBLITERATED in less than five minutes.
I'm expendable because of the fact that I've been overlooked for the past five years and that I get no more respect than that of Rodney Dangerfield when he was still alive.
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