Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 21:12:34 GMT -5
(Our scene opens in a small cramped room. The walls lined with shelves brimming with luggage, and sagging under the weight. One of the fluorescent light tubes flicker as we survey the surroundings. We notice a small table in the middle of the room with a single young man anxiously tapping his foot next to the black back pack he was escorted in with as he waits. His short dark hair tells a story of a long, long, day. The two days growth of his stubble does little to hide his frustration as he checks his watch before letting his hand fall to his side. The young man exhales deeply before leaning back in the steel folding chair, and putting his feet on the table. As he begins to shake his head a sudden click from the lock of the door captures his attention, and we both turn to see who is interrupting our peace.
She’s a young lady, maybe, in her late twenties. Brunette with a slim athletic build, and sun touched skin. Her green eyes hide framed behind a pair of wire framed glasses. We all follow her as she walks past the seated young man carrying a large cardboard box. She sits the box on the edge of the table revealing her uniform, takes a folded packet of papers from her back pocket, and takes a seat as she glances over one of the many forms.)
Officer; “Hello I’m Agent Clare McCain with U.S. Customs, and that would make you Randy Boo… Bol-zee-ann?”
(She looks up from her documents with an apologetic half smile. Her thin smooth lips part as she locks eyes with the young man. The dark haired gentleman takes his feet from the table as he leans forward with a slight smirk on his face.)
Randy ??; “Boolzian, Randy Boolzian.”
Agent McCain; “Excuse me?”
Randy Boolzian; “It’s pronounced Boolzian. Think ghoul with a ‘B’, then ‘she’, and finish it with an ‘in’. Say it real fast, and you get Boolzian.”
(Agent McCain takes a pen from her shirt pocket and begins flips to the next page of her packet with a subtle annoyance.)
Agent McCain; “Alright then, Mr. Bowlshyan, I know you’ve had a….”
(The young man puts up his hand to stop the agent, who tilts her head up as she pauses.)
Randy Boolzian; “You know what, everyone just calls me BoolZ. Can I call you Clare?”
(With a disinterested look.)
Agent McCain; “You can call me Agent McCain. Listen I know you’ve had a long flight, so why don’t we keep this professional and I’ll get you on your way as soon as possible. Mr. Bowlshine how long were you in Japan?”
(A grin erupts over BoolZ’s face as licks his lips before saluting the customs agent.)
BoolZ; “Just over two years.”
Agent McCain; “How over?”
BoolZ; “Oh I was way over. They loved me in Tokyo.”
(Puzzled)
Agent McCain; “Excuse me? How much longer than two years were you in Japan?”
BoolZ; “Oh, sorry, about a week or so.”
Agent McCain; “Alright, we can call it two years. Why were you in Japan for two years?”
BoolZ; “It was for work.”
Agent McCain; “And what do you do for a living?”
(Confidently)
BoolZ; “I’m a professional wrestler.”
(There is a pause for a moment as Agent McCain reveals a condescending look.)
Agent McCain; “Alright, and why have you returned to the States?”
BoolZ; “My contract expired, and I chose not to renew again. Figured I’d come home, and ply my trade state side. Listen is just like a welcome back interview, or are there more pressing matters?”
(Agent McCain glances over to the box on the edge of the table before flipping to another page of her file.)
Agent McCain; “This will only take a few minutes or so. We have a few questions about your luggage. That box of your raised few red flags. I need you to look at that box, do not touch it, tell me if it is yours, and if you would tell me what you think is inside.”
(BoolZ take an analyzing look at the box, rubs his chin, then looks back at Agent McCain with a somewhat sly smile.)
BoolZ; “Well it looks like the box I checked, and it should be full of my trophies.”
Agent McCain; “Trophies?”
BoolZ; “Yeah you know souvenirs…”
(With an inquisitive tone.)
Agent McCain; “Trophies! There are 400 pairs of women’s under garments in that box! Mr. Booslime, why are there 400 pairs of women’s underwear in that box?”
BoolZ; “Well to be fair there’s 397 pairs of panties in that box. They’re my mementos from my trip. Oh and since it’s here, and I can’t touch it would you mind adding these.”
(BoolZ leaning back in his chair takes from his pocket and tosses two more pairs of panties on the table. Agent McCain with a disgusted look of curiosity recoils in her seat pulling up here shield of paper work in front of her.)
BoolZ; “It was a long flight.”
(Agent McCain uses her pen to push aside the evidence.)
Agent McCain; “You brought those with you, or got those on the plane?”
(BoolZ does he best to hide his smirk, but can’t help but look like a kid who knows he can’t get in trouble with his hand in the cookie jar.)
BoolZ; “I got that pair from Amber, she was sitting next to me. And that pair I got from the stewardess Brittany a couple hours after she caught me and Amber in the bathroom.”
(Agent McCain pauses for a second as she looks at the box, then the two pairs on the table, and back at BoolZ.)
Agent McCain; “So you kept every pair of underwear from every woman you’ve slept with over the last two years?”
BoolZ; “We’ll only the first pair… If they were wearing any. But listen it was a long flight, I couldn’t smoke on the plane, I can’t smoke in the airport, and I don’t know what y’all were thinking about my mementos, but I think it’s clear there’s nothing sinister afoot. Is this going to take much longer?”
(Taking off her glasses Agent McCain stands up from her chair, and looks around the room pondering her next question as the scene slowly fades out. Our next image we’re outside the San Diego International Airport. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the exhaust from the barrage of taxi cabs burns in our lungs. We take a look around, and see BoolZ taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Standing with him and his box we see Agent McCain exhaling a plume of white smoke before stomping hers out as a taxi pulls up.)
Agent McCain; “I should be getting back anyway.”
BoolZ; “Be safe Clare.”
Agent McCain; “You’ve got my number BoolZ, and welcome home.”
(Agent McCain walks back into the building as BoolZ puts his backpack and box in the trunk of the taxi.)
BoolZ; “Number 400.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ hops in the cab, and the vehicle pulls out.)
She’s a young lady, maybe, in her late twenties. Brunette with a slim athletic build, and sun touched skin. Her green eyes hide framed behind a pair of wire framed glasses. We all follow her as she walks past the seated young man carrying a large cardboard box. She sits the box on the edge of the table revealing her uniform, takes a folded packet of papers from her back pocket, and takes a seat as she glances over one of the many forms.)
Officer; “Hello I’m Agent Clare McCain with U.S. Customs, and that would make you Randy Boo… Bol-zee-ann?”
(She looks up from her documents with an apologetic half smile. Her thin smooth lips part as she locks eyes with the young man. The dark haired gentleman takes his feet from the table as he leans forward with a slight smirk on his face.)
Randy ??; “Boolzian, Randy Boolzian.”
Agent McCain; “Excuse me?”
Randy Boolzian; “It’s pronounced Boolzian. Think ghoul with a ‘B’, then ‘she’, and finish it with an ‘in’. Say it real fast, and you get Boolzian.”
(Agent McCain takes a pen from her shirt pocket and begins flips to the next page of her packet with a subtle annoyance.)
Agent McCain; “Alright then, Mr. Bowlshyan, I know you’ve had a….”
(The young man puts up his hand to stop the agent, who tilts her head up as she pauses.)
Randy Boolzian; “You know what, everyone just calls me BoolZ. Can I call you Clare?”
(With a disinterested look.)
Agent McCain; “You can call me Agent McCain. Listen I know you’ve had a long flight, so why don’t we keep this professional and I’ll get you on your way as soon as possible. Mr. Bowlshine how long were you in Japan?”
(A grin erupts over BoolZ’s face as licks his lips before saluting the customs agent.)
BoolZ; “Just over two years.”
Agent McCain; “How over?”
BoolZ; “Oh I was way over. They loved me in Tokyo.”
(Puzzled)
Agent McCain; “Excuse me? How much longer than two years were you in Japan?”
BoolZ; “Oh, sorry, about a week or so.”
Agent McCain; “Alright, we can call it two years. Why were you in Japan for two years?”
BoolZ; “It was for work.”
Agent McCain; “And what do you do for a living?”
(Confidently)
BoolZ; “I’m a professional wrestler.”
(There is a pause for a moment as Agent McCain reveals a condescending look.)
Agent McCain; “Alright, and why have you returned to the States?”
BoolZ; “My contract expired, and I chose not to renew again. Figured I’d come home, and ply my trade state side. Listen is just like a welcome back interview, or are there more pressing matters?”
(Agent McCain glances over to the box on the edge of the table before flipping to another page of her file.)
Agent McCain; “This will only take a few minutes or so. We have a few questions about your luggage. That box of your raised few red flags. I need you to look at that box, do not touch it, tell me if it is yours, and if you would tell me what you think is inside.”
(BoolZ take an analyzing look at the box, rubs his chin, then looks back at Agent McCain with a somewhat sly smile.)
BoolZ; “Well it looks like the box I checked, and it should be full of my trophies.”
Agent McCain; “Trophies?”
BoolZ; “Yeah you know souvenirs…”
(With an inquisitive tone.)
Agent McCain; “Trophies! There are 400 pairs of women’s under garments in that box! Mr. Booslime, why are there 400 pairs of women’s underwear in that box?”
BoolZ; “Well to be fair there’s 397 pairs of panties in that box. They’re my mementos from my trip. Oh and since it’s here, and I can’t touch it would you mind adding these.”
(BoolZ leaning back in his chair takes from his pocket and tosses two more pairs of panties on the table. Agent McCain with a disgusted look of curiosity recoils in her seat pulling up here shield of paper work in front of her.)
BoolZ; “It was a long flight.”
(Agent McCain uses her pen to push aside the evidence.)
Agent McCain; “You brought those with you, or got those on the plane?”
(BoolZ does he best to hide his smirk, but can’t help but look like a kid who knows he can’t get in trouble with his hand in the cookie jar.)
BoolZ; “I got that pair from Amber, she was sitting next to me. And that pair I got from the stewardess Brittany a couple hours after she caught me and Amber in the bathroom.”
(Agent McCain pauses for a second as she looks at the box, then the two pairs on the table, and back at BoolZ.)
Agent McCain; “So you kept every pair of underwear from every woman you’ve slept with over the last two years?”
BoolZ; “We’ll only the first pair… If they were wearing any. But listen it was a long flight, I couldn’t smoke on the plane, I can’t smoke in the airport, and I don’t know what y’all were thinking about my mementos, but I think it’s clear there’s nothing sinister afoot. Is this going to take much longer?”
(Taking off her glasses Agent McCain stands up from her chair, and looks around the room pondering her next question as the scene slowly fades out. Our next image we’re outside the San Diego International Airport. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the exhaust from the barrage of taxi cabs burns in our lungs. We take a look around, and see BoolZ taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Standing with him and his box we see Agent McCain exhaling a plume of white smoke before stomping hers out as a taxi pulls up.)
Agent McCain; “I should be getting back anyway.”
BoolZ; “Be safe Clare.”
Agent McCain; “You’ve got my number BoolZ, and welcome home.”
(Agent McCain walks back into the building as BoolZ puts his backpack and box in the trunk of the taxi.)
BoolZ; “Number 400.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ hops in the cab, and the vehicle pulls out.)
