The Good, the Plaid, and the Ugly
By Justin Langer
Copyright 2013
All characters, products and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
FADE IN:
INT: HIGH SCHOOL BATHROOM. 1997.
High school senior TIM HOFFLEDAY rinses his left hand in a sink. Blood runs down his hand and mingles with the water as it washes down the drain.
Beside Tim, JERRY TARMACK combs his hair in the mirror.
TIM
Dammit, Tarmack, I can't believe you guys ran. The only one who stuck around to bail me out was Jack.
TARMACK
Sorry, Tim. It was about to get real ugly and I didn't see a reason for all of us to get caught. Like I said, I am really sorry.
TIM
It's alright. I am sure this whole thing with Jack will blow over in a couple of weeks. But as for me, I am walking the straight and narrow from now on. No more Mr. Last Minute. It is just as mischievous a quality as it is admirable.
TARMACK
Sure. So, why'd they name him Jack? Did they realize the serious threat his name would pose to his high school image? What was wrong with Bill or Mike?
TIM
I don't think my parents were looking that far ahead when they named him. Besides, it had to be Jack, after our grandfather. It's a tradition thing. Our family is BIG on tradition.
TARMACK
That's like naming your kid Harry, when his last name is Balls. Or naming him Dick, when his last name is Licker! Or naming him...
TIM
(interrupting)
I get the point, Tarmack.
Tim watches the water swirl down into the drain.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT: DAIRY COOLER. PRESENT DAY.
All is black.
JACK
I never thought I would end it like this. So dark, so cold, and so alone. I can see my breath pierce the frigid air. In the desolate silence, my voice echoes back as the walls close in on me. The darkness surrounds me like a shroud of…
Suddenly, the steel door swings open and RANDY peeks in. He is bald with glasses. His mustache looks like a thick, hairy caterpillar crossing his face with every word he speaks.
RANDY
Jack, are you in here slacking off, again?
Silence. Randy flips on the light. JACK HOFFLEDAY sits on an empty milk crate in the middle of the dairy cooler. His face is scruffy and his work uniform is wrinkled and stained. He hides an opened carton of chocolate milk behind his back.
RANDY
What in the hell are you doing, boy? Get off your ass and get to work.
Jack rises to his feet and continues to hide the milk carton.
RANDY
What time did you get here today?
JACK
Umm, earlier.
RANDY
What's earlier?
JACK
A little while ago.
RANDY
I am not playing this stupid game. What time did you arrive at work today?
JACK
Eight (pause) Thirty (pause) -Ish.
RANDY
Jack Hoffleday, you give me a straight answer, now! And don't lie because I can check the time-clock.
Long awkward silence.
JACK
Eleven.
RANDY
That's the last time, Jack. I will not tolerate you being insubordinate anymore. One more slip and you're fired. So, shape up or ship out! Understood?
JACK
Yes, sir.
RANDY
Good. Give me an All American Supermarket salute and get to it.
Jack salutes Randy and accidentally douses him in chocolate milk.
RANDY
Jack, why don't you take the day off and go home early. And don't bother EVER coming back. Maybe you can do that much right without being a LOSER?
Jack slides past Randy out the cooler.
CUT TO:
INT: ALL AMERICAN SUPERMARKET. AISLE 14.
Jack drags himself down the aisle. He casually pulls a box- cutter from his pocket and jams it into a bag of sugar. He drags the box-cutter the entire length of the aisle through bags of sugar, flour, and salt. They flow down into large neat mounds like dozens of little white ant-hills. Jack cracks a smile.
CUT TO:
INT. AISLE 12.
Jack grabs a cheap 2-liter bottle of grape soda and a bag of potato chips. He rips open the bag of chips and dumps it all over his face. Only a handful falls into his mouth as the rest pile onto the floor. He drops the bag and moves on.
CUT TO:
INT: FROZEN FOODS AISLE.
Jack reaches into a cooler and grabs six canisters of pizza dough.
CUT TO:
INT: REGISTERS.
Jack carries the soda and canisters in his arms and makes for the exit. Randy and another associate, TAMMY, stand and watch him. Tammy plays with her hair as she chomps on her bubble gum.
TAMMY
Sorry to see you go, loser.
Jack ignores her and looks down at a stack of newspapers on a stand. He reveals a devious smile while tapping on the corner of the top newspaper.
JACK
Ninety-five. It is going to be a hot one today!
Jack exits the store.
TAMMY
Randy, aren't you going to stop him? He just left with all that stuff!
Randy contemplates Tammy's statement for a moment.
RANDY
No. It is a small price to pay to get him out of here quickly and painlessly. Don't you have some work to do?
CUT TO:
EXT: PARKING LOT.
Jack sits under a tree and chugs some grape soda from the bottle. He pours the rest out and pops open one of the canisters of pizza dough. He scoops out the dough and begins stuffing it into the empty two-liter bottle.
CUT TO:
EXT: FIVE MINUTES LATER.
Jack squishes his face into the driver's side window of a 1998 Toyota Camry.
JACK
Nice car, Randy. I see it pays well being an asshole.
Jack tries every door of the car only to find that they are all locked. He stands defeated for a moment until he notices the open sunroof. He lops the two-liter bottle of dough into the car, and trots off.
CUT TO:
INT: TIM'S HOUSE.
Jack lies face down on a corduroy couch. Tim's beagle, Sammie, is sprawled out on top of him belly up.
The telephone RINGS. Jack's arm comes to life and grabs the phone.
JACK
If you're calling about the puppies, we've decided to keep them all.
JIM-BOB
(V.0.)
Hey, dude. What are you...puppies? Dude, did Sammie have puppies?
JACK
Yeah, Jim-Bob. Right after his sex-change.
JIM-BOB
Poor Sammie. Anyways, what are you up to right now?
JACK
Nothing. Just reclining on my brother's sweet new couch.
JIM-BOB
Want to ditch the couch and join me and Joe-Bob at the beach? We got some chairs and a cooler of cold beer. We'll be there in like twenty minutes after Joe-Bob shaves his head.
JACK
Sweet! I will bring the lime. See ya!
Jack hangs up the phone.
CUT TO:
EXT: CLEARWATER BEACH.
Jack strolls onto the sand in his mismatched beach attire and flip-flops. He drags his beach chair past a sign.
INSERT: SIGN
Welcome to Clearwater Beach.
BACK TO SCENE
The beach is swarmed with kids b
uilding sand castles, guys playing volleyball, and girls sunbathing in bikinis. All the cleavage of the tanning women reflects off Jacks sunglasses.
He unfolds his chair next to two guys in cut-off army camouflage shorts. JIM-BOB has creamy tanning lotion smeared all over his chest and a head full of stringy hair. JOE-BOB is bald and wears a hat.
Jim-Bob hands Jack an open bottle of beer from a cooler full of ice.
JIM-BOB
Hey, dude. Bring us a lime?
JACK
No, sorry man. I, umm, went to the store and they didn't have any because, there's a, umm, lime shortage this year.
JIM-BOB
That's harsh. Oh well. Drop down and catch some rays.
JACK
But hey, I did bring a can of lemon lime soda.
Jack opens the soda and tops off his bottle of beer.
JACK
Dude, this is BETTER than lime!
Jim-Bob takes the can and tops off his beer. He takes a swig.
JIM-BOB
Dude, that is awesome!
Jack drops down in his chair, kicks off his flip-flops and chugs his beer.
JACK
So I've been doing some deep thinking and I got a solid name for our band. You guys ready for this?
The Bob-brothers stare at him.
JACK
Picture this on a marquis. In bold black letters, it says, "Peanut Brittle Bone Disease."
Silence.
The Bob-brothers slump back in their chairs as if Jack said nothing. Jack shrugs and chugs his beer.
CUT TO:
EXT: TWENTY MINUTES LATER.
Jack opens another beer and tops it off with lemon lime soda.
JACK
So I bought these pretty sick VHS tapes the other day.
JIM-BOB
Yeah, like some girl on girl stuff?
JACK
What? No. It's male on male stuff.
The Bob brothers look at him in disgust.
JACK
No, not like that. It's some wrestling tapes with my man, Rowdy Roddie Piper. You guys wanna come hang later and watch them?
JIM-BOB
Why would we do that when he is in town tomorrow night? Did you forget only the most important night of the year?
JACK
Oh shit! That's right, there's a show tomorrow night in Ybor City. Jim-Bob, you know I got you later if you can spot me the dough for the ticket.
JIM-BOB
Nope. I'm broke, buddy.
JACK
Joe-Bob?
Joe-Bob sits quietly like he never heard Jack.
JACK
Why is Joe-Bob so quiet? I've been here twenty minutes and he hasn't even made one perverted remark about a girl's titties.
JIM-BOB
Oh, he is a little sensitive right now.
JACK
Joe-Bob, sensitive?
JIM-BOB
Yup. He didn't realize he had such a funny shaped head until after he shaved it.
Joe-Bob removes his hat to reveal his bald, crooked head covered in cuts and nicks.
JACK
Yeah, that’s a pretty fucked up shaped head, dude. Put your hat back on.
Joe-Bob flops the hat back on.
JACK
His head is always going to be that ugly. Did you tell him that the hair will grow back?
JIM-BOB
No. Do you think that will make him feel better?
JACK
Probably not, but THOSE will make him feel better!
Jack points towards a couple of women tanning in front of them. Both women are face down with their tops undone. Jack chugs his beer and wipes his mouth.
JACK
Jim-Bob, another beer, please. I'm feeling hot!
CUT TO:
INT: MEETING ROOM.
Twelve important looking people sit at a long table, including MR. LEGHORN, MS. WILSON and an older Jerry Tarmack. They all stare at 26-year old Tim Hoffleday. Tim wears a business suit and is
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