INT. POOL DECK - NIGHT
Overhead shot of a pool deck filled with partygoers, which tracks backward and ends inside the open window of an upstairs bedroom. The camera pans sideways to focus on ZEKE, who is looking out over the party, pensively. ZEKE turns as the door to the bedroom is opened and MRS. ROBBINSWORTH enters the room.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Oh. I guess this isn't the bathroom, is it?
ZEKE: It's down the hall.
They stand for a moment, looking at each other.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: How are you, Zeke?
ZEKE: Fine, thank you. The bathroom is down at the end of the hall.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH moves into the room and sits on the edge of the bed.
ZEKE: Look, Mrs. Robbinsworth, I don't mean to be rude, but...
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH takes a cigarette from her purse and lights it.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Is there an ashtray in here?
ZEKE: No.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Oh - I forgot. The football star doesn't smoke.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH blows out the match and puts it down carefully on the bedspread. ZEKE picks up a wastebasket, walks over to the bed, picks up the match and attempts to put it in the wastebasket, but somehow the exchange goes wrong and the match ends up on the floor.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Does it have to do with the F-16's?
ZEKE: Does what have to do with the F-16's?
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Whatever it is you're upset about.
ZEKE: Oh - no. I'm just sort of disturbed about the USAFL.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: In general.
ZEKE: That's right.
There is a long pause.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Zeke, I want to ask you something.
ZEKE: What?
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: Will you take me home?
ZEKE: What?
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: My husband took the car. Will you drive me home?
ZEKE reaches into his pocket and hands MRS. ROBBINSWORTH a set of car keys.
ZEKE: Here - you take it.
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH looks at him.
ZEKE: Do you know how to work a Mormon shift?
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH shakes her head.
ZEKE: You don't?
MRS. ROBBINSWORTH: No.
There is another long pause.
ZEKE: Let's go.
She throws the keys to him. They fly past him and into the night, landing with a small splash in the pool.
—
INT. DFO PRODUCTION OFFICE – DAY
A pair of sleazy Hollywood producers are seated on their couch, both holding copies of a script.
ZACH WILSON: So…what do you guys think?
DARKEST TIMELINE ZACK MORRIS: It’s good.
RIKKI-TIKKI-DEADLY: Very good.
DTZM: Dare I say great?
RTD: I dare you.
DTZM: Double dog dare?
RTD: Triple dog dare.
DTZM: [raises eyebrows] All right. I’m gonna say it. Great.
ZACH WILSON: Wow! Thanks!
RTD: Bit of a problem, though.
ZACH WILSON: Oh no! What’s the problem?
DTZM: It’s a little…hmm…how do we put this diplomatically?
RTD: Derivative?
DTZM: That’s too diplomatic.
RTD: [presses lips together] Yeah, I can see that.
DTZM: Now I dare you to say it.
RTD: Same stakes?
DTZM: [nods solemnly]
RTD: [swallows] Plagiarized. It’s too plagiarized, Zach.
ZACH WILSON: What? No it’s not!
DTZM: It is, Zach. It’s basically a word for word copy of The Graduate.
ZACH WILSON: You can’t be serious.
RTD: We’ve each read the original Buck Henry script at least a dozen times.
DTZM: We know it by heart.
ZACH WILSON: But I swear to you, I wrote this all myself! I’ve never even seen that movie before.
RTD: [holds up script] And yet here it is, right on the pages you gave us.
ZACH WILSON: Everything in there – everything in that script – all of that really happened to me!
DTZM: It did?
ZACH WILSON: Absolutely.
RTD: [peeks ahead in the script] All those trysts at the hotel under the name “Mr. Happyrock”?
ZACH WILSON: That’s right.
DTZM: And how Mrs. Robbinsworth was trapped in a loveless marriage and had only married her husband because she accidentally got pregnant?
ZACH WILSON: That’s the basis for like seventy percent of the marriages where I’m from!
RTD: Fair point.
DTZM: But what about the part about taking Mrs. Robbinsworth’s daughter to a strip club so she’d think you were a creep? You don’t even have strip clubs in Utah.
ZACH WILSON: Well, no, but I did take her to the most scandalous place in town.
RTD: Which was?
ZACH WILSON: The public pool.
Both RIKKI-TIKKI-DEADLY and DARKEST TIMELINE ZACK MORRIS cross their arms and lean back, in obvious disbelief.
ZACH WILSON: I’m telling you, all of these things actually happened! The only thing I changed was the names. It’s one of those…you know, Roman Polanski things.
RTD: Pretty sure you mean roman à clef.
DTZM: Unless…[flips further ahead in the script]…no, guess not.
RTD: We’re very sorry, Zach.
DTZM: We can’t do anything with this.
RTD: And anyways, we’ve got our hands full with this 2000 Broncos thing.
DTZM: We really shouldn’t take on these consignment projects.
RTD: It’s fine, once the check clears we’re gonna Alan Smithee it anyways.
DTZM: Anyhow, thanks for stopping by, Zach.
RTD: It’s been interesting…
DTZM: …and we certainly do wish you the best of luck.
RTD: Please do let us know how things turn out.
DTZM: We’re hopeless romantics.
RTD: We just really want to see things work out well for people.
ZACH WILSON: [rises] Well, I appreciate that. I’ve got a good feeling about [makes air quotes] “Eleanor” and me.
RTD: Eleanor? [glances at the script] Oh, right, right, the girl. Yes, we’ll keep our fingers crossed for that, too.
DTZM: We were actually wishing you luck with regards to the whole “playing football for the New York Jets” thing.
ZACH WILSON: Oh.
RTD: One of these days, you mark my words…one of you fellows is gonna have a happy ending.
ZACH WILSON looks stricken.
DTZM: Now now, Rikki, don’t tease him. Relax, Zach. Nobody’s trading you to the Patriots. At least not after the numbers you put up last week.
ZACH WILSON: [takes a couple steps towards the door] Oh. One last thing. You guys know lots of producers and movie stars and all that, right?
RTD: [laughs] Of course.
ZACH WILSON: How about models?
DTZM: [smiles modestly] We might know two or three.
RTD: Maybe seven or eight.
DTZM: All right, all right, fifty or sixty.
ZACH WILSON: So…is there any chance you can get me Gisele’s number?
—
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