FADE IN: "SURF JIMMY"
EXT. SPECTACULAR COASTAL VIEW -- DAY
Shimmering medium-sized urban city on the edge of white sandy beach.
Flock of sea birds make a "v" over paradise.
Stark contrast to --
EXT. VENDOR’S ROW -- CONTINUOUS
Tropical scenery marred by hucksters, who hawk everything from plastic
shell lamps to fried dough.
In the middle of the fray, a 6-ft. turquoise blue Styrofoam wave with a
surf board installed inside.
SIGN READS: "SURF JIMMY’S, EVERYONE CATCHES A WAVE. $10"
Beside this monstrosity, SURF JIMMY, over-the-hill surfer tries to lure in
the passersby. He weaves in and out of the crowd. Decked in hip surf gear
20 years too young.
SURF JIMMY
Surf’s up, folks. Catch a wave?
C’mon. Don’t tell me any of you
actually got in the water today.
Group of LADIES in team t-shirts and a KID stop to look.
SURF JIMMY
(suggestive)
The longboard. The money shot.
It’s erotic. It’s exotic.
Ride the big tube, Ladies?
(to Kid)
How about you, buddy? Surf’s up.
KID
How old are you?
SURF JIMMY
Under 50, okay? I made nothing of
myself and I’m proud of it. I was
a dude before dude was cool. Now
get up on the wave. Ten bucks, I’ll
get a great shot. Hurry up.
KID
It looks kind of fake-y.
SURF JIMMY
It is kind of fake, Mr. Brain.
You stand there. Pay ten bucks.
Lie and say you rode the big one.
KID
I don’t want to look like a poser.
SURF JIMMY
Do it for me, kid.
KID
I don’t want to.
SURF JIMMY
Why not?
KID
It’s not real.
Jimmy loses it, wrestles the kid to the ground.
SURF JIMMY
Of course it’s not real! It’s Styrofoam.
Nothing is real. The best things
in life are fake. We all grow up
and live a lie anyway. Go ask your
parents for ten bucks. C’mon. For me.
Pretty please?
KID
Mister, you need an intervention.
Lets kid go. But kid lingers.
SURF JIMMY
An intervention. Get out of here.
Last call, folks. Surf’s up!
KID
Take the ten bucks. Here. I don’t
want a picture. Just take it.
SURF JIMMY
(snatches bill)
All right. You win. Now get out
of here. A freak tornado just
hit Miami. We’re next.
EXT. SKY OVERHEAD
Roiling clouds whip up suddenly. A fast-moving front.
Flock of sea birds thrown out of formation, violent gusts.
EXT. VENDOR’S ROW
Tourists run by. Sandy wind starts to blow.
SURF JIMMY
Hurricane Special. Five bucks.
Hurry up, folks. Five bucks buys
an adventure. Don’t miss out.
Crowd disappears. Vendors break down their stalls. CONCESSION OWNER stops by.
CONCESSION OWNER
Everybody’s evacuating, Jimmy. You
better go home.
SURF JIMMY
Nah. Keeping a low profile.
I didn’t make my ‘nut’ this month.
Missed the rent.
CONCESSION OWNER
Hey, we all get tired of being
Peter Pan someday.
SURF JIMMY
Yeah. Guess I got to grow up
before I get too old, huh?
CONCESSION OWNER
You might have to get a regular job
SURF JIMMY
Blaspheme! I live to surf.
CONCESSION OWNER
Take cover. Take care of yourself.
Concession Owner exits.
EXT. PUBLIC BEACH AREA
Nobody in sight. Punishing rain.
Jimmy shoves the fake wave, just a huge wooden crate on wheels from the
rear view, across the pavement.
SURF JIMMY
(to himself)
Everybody Catches a Wave
everybody except Surf Jimmy.
Man, it’s weird weather.
Wind howls now. He pushes wave over the sand to the dunes.
EXT. INTERSTATE FREEWAY
SUPER -- EXIT TO POMPANO BEACH, FLORIDA
Crush of escaping stragglers. Various vehicles speed along the north-
bound lanes out of town.
ANNOUNCER’S VOICE
We know that Hurricane Candace
touched down six minutes ago. Again
this is an electrical storm, folks.
Stay away from anything metal...
(crackling static)
Small craft warning. Coast Guard alert.
This is the frequency of the Emergency
Broadcast Service. Pompano Beach,
Florida --
EXT. POMPANO BEACHFRONT
Gale force winds pound the down-at-the-heels homes that dot the
coastline. Shingles fly in the wind.
Whole porches come loose. A refrigerator does end-overs.
EXT. VENDOR’S ROW
Skeletal stalls flap in the breeze, poles come loose.
Total loss, everything blown to kingdom come.
EXT. OUT ON THE HORIZON
Sky darkens as coastal town is blown to bits.
Eerie blue web of lightning flashes overhead.
CRACK of lightning on the surface.
Spider veins of light touch down on the ocean far off.
Bright flash.
Magical. Flash of something out there.
FADE TO BLACK
EXT. DESERTED RESORT AREA
Mother Nature has quite a hangover. Household appliances litter the
shore.
A chewed-up couch glides in and out of the surf.
The place been taken apart and pieces of somebody’s life are everywhere.
EXT. ACCESS ROAD
A REMOTE TV VAN rumbles up beside the ruined bungalows.
Side READS: "WJNX! Florida’s Finest" Reporter RON DANIELS hops out of
the van. His down-to-earth assistant LISA LAWLER hops out after him,
with camera man MARK.
DANIELS
It’s Emmy time. Find me a bird’s nest.
We pan up from broken shells in a
battered nest to homes destroyed.
Dreams ruined. That kind of thing.
Break the eggs if you have to --
LISA
Ron. Don’t be a pig.
DANIELS
Lisa. Genius at play, remember?
Radio Arty. Just tell him we’ve
got a real find. I’ll ad lib.
LISA
He’ll ad lib. Wonderful.
She enters the van.
EXT. DUNES NEAR THE BUNGALOWS
Ominous BOOT PRINTS on the dunes. Mark sets up the camera as Daniels
stakes a claim.
EXT. NEAR REMOTE VAN
Lisa talks into TV-van’s CB.
LISA
(into mouthpiece)
He’s taken the high ground.
Made Mark set up on a hill...
ARTY (VOICE ONLY)
Don’t let him go theatrical.
Promise me, Lisa?
EXT. LEEWARD SIDE OF DUNES
Mark fiddles with the tripod.
DANIELS
Is the light good here?
O.S. BANGING heard.
MARK
Did you hear that?
DANIELS
What?
MARK
Maybe somebody’s in trouble.
DANIELS
We’re not here to help. Period.
We got the news to report. I
have to find some good light.
Daniels wanders off a ways.
CLOSE ON MARK: he adjusts a leg on the tripod.
Then looks down to see shadows of THREE FIGURES on the sand.
Instead of words, his jaw drops open.
Mark tries to speak, but can’t.
Off his reaction, Daniels turns to see a bizarre swarthy trio: curly haired
BLAHA, 40s, in a leather vest; weather-beaten old man YARBOROUGH, and a
disgruntled third younger man, MARLIN.
BLAHA
Speak your name.
DANIELS
(to Mark)
Disasters. You get the Red Cross.
Perverts. Recluses. Nuts out of
the driftwood.
(to Blaha)
Recognize me? The Ron Daniels.
Eye-witness news. WJNX.
Want my autograph?
BLAHA
Is this America?
DANIELS
Last time I checked.
MARK
Ron. Let’s boogie. I mean it, man.
DANIELS
Are you kidding? The light’s great.
Roll the tape. They’re harmless.
A stand-off. Mark now has his hands up in the air. More BANGING in the
background, which makes the newcomers edgy.
BLAHA
We are nomads. Feared by man
and country alike --
DANIELS
Bet it beats a day job. We’re
on deadline, buddy. Camera. Now.
Daniels faces the camera. Mark gets behind the eyepiece.
DANIELS
(to camera)
Ron Daniels, reporting live.
We’re here, in the path of the
biggest natural disaster to hit
South Florida in five hundred years.
We see first-hand that, as man must
fear other men, so must we live
in Nature’s shadow --
Yarborough and Marlin bushwhack him.
MARLIN
How about we slit ye from your
gullet to your zatch?
WHAM, black eye for Daniels. They rough him up easily.
Mark hangs onto his equipment for dear life, still filming... until
Yarborough comes over to inspect his camera. Big FACE in the lens, a
curious glare.
YARBOROUGH
I can see myself...
MARK
START THE VAN, LISE!
Blaha pulls his men off Daniels.
Ron scurries on all fours. Gets up, rushes after Mark.
They hop in the van, which HONKS loudly. Sand flies.
YARBOROUGH
Never seen the likes of them.
MARLIN
Nor I.
BLAHA
Aye. We’ve hit land, all right.
What manner of place is it?
EXT. FARTHER DOWN BATTERED BEACH
VW Camper parked on the beach. Sand-blasted.
CLOSE ON: VW CAMPER
Temporary home of Surf Jimmy.
He bangs on the fogged windows. Tries window levers, which are stuck.
The van rocks as he yanks on door handle, also stuck.
SURF JIMMY (VOICE)
Open the door. Somebody! Open up --
BLAHA
Who hails there?
The throwbacks circle the van.
SURF JIMMY (VOICE)
HEY. Yoo-hoo. Try the handle.
The handle, moron.
YARBOROUGH
It’s a man. Trapped inside!
BLAHA
To whom does he hold allegiance?
SURF JIMMY
Hey. I’m talking to you, MaGoo.
Is it safe to come out yet?
Suddenly the door gives way, Jimmy spills out.
Razor sharp, an ornate sword blade comes to rest on his neck.
SURF JIMMY
Pardon me, do you have any Grey
Poupon?
BLAHA
(to Jimmy)
I saved your stinking hide.
Now you are mine.
(beat)
D’ye pledge yer loyalty?
SURF JIMMY
Under these conditions? Yes.
They rifle his clothes.
YARBOROUGH
He has all his teeth, Blaha.
SURF JIMMY
Thanks. I floss. You are?
BLAHA
Deadly. Feared from Hispanola
to the Tortugas Islands.
SURF JIMMY
That’s quite a pronouncement.
And such remarkable diction
for a maniac. You are a
maniac, aren’t you?
BLAHA
On your feet, yeoman.
SURF JIMMY
Yeoman?
BLAHA
On your feet or die.
SURF JIMMY
‘On your feet or die.’ Sounds like
English. With an unfamiliar twang.
Do I have any other options?