COLD OPEN INT. SUBURBAN KITCHEN - MORNING DAD (30), walks into the kitchen, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, getting ready to head out for work. His SON (12) and DAUGHTER (8) sit at the table eating waffles. His WIFE (30) is getting the kids' breakfast together. It's an idyllic American suburban family scene. DAD Mornin' sweetie. Mornin' goofies. SON AND DAUGHTER Good morning, Dad. Dad sits down at the kitchen table, pushes his plate aside. He pulls out a huge ziploc bag full of pure white cocaine. He dumps a bit of it out, pulls a credit card out of his wallet, and racks up an absolutely enormous line. He notices a couple of dollar bills that his wife has laid out for the kids' lunch money, and reaches for his son's dollar. DAD Mind if I...? His son stares at him speechless. Dad rolls up the dollar bill, then leans over and snorts the entire line in one giant epic snort. DAD Yyyeeeeaaahhhhh!!!! Wow! DISSOLVE TO: EXT. DRIVING IN PORSCHE CONVERTIBLE Dad drives a Porsche convertible at breakneck speed down a curvy road with a huge smile on his face, the wind in his hair, and some white powder still on his nose. DAD Wwwaaaaoooh!!! Yeah! A big cinematic announcer voices over. ANNOUNCER Yeah, it's kinda like that. We cut wide to get a really good look at the car, realizing that we are watching a Porsche TV commercial. ANNOUNCER The new 2020 Porsche 911 Turbo Cabrera Cabriolet. This should not be legal. Porsche logo pops up on screen. DAD Fuuuuuuccckkkkk yeeeeeaaahhhh!!! PULL OUT TO REVEAL: INT. AD AGENCY CONFERENCE ROOM - EVENING The Porsche commercial we've just seen is playing on a TV monitor on the wall of the conference room SEAN (50)sits with his team. He's an aging creative director/writer type with a plaid shirt tucked into jean, and horn-rimmed glasses. SEAN Well, there you have it. Della (28) clicks the monitor off and leans back in her chair. She's a very fit Indian-American woman, a bit like a younger Jillian Michaels, looking pretty badass in a fashionable, urban outfit. DELLA What is it we have exactly... do you think? HARRINGTON (18) nervously chimes in from the far end of the table. He's a very properly dressed English kid, gangly and pale, with horn rimmed glasses and a dorky jumper. HARRINGTON I had some thoughts about the strategic.... SCOOP (25) smacks Harrington on the head with a pen. Scoop is a young hipster, handsome but scruffy, with a mop of brown hair. He's dressed in a stained v-neck t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled into the sleeve. SCOOP Harrington! Bad dog! Bad! Bad! Sean, after a moment of thought, turns back to address the group. SEAN We have what we set out to make. A bloody brilliant piece of advertising. SCOOP (to Harrington) See? He's happy you assbagger. Scoop playfully slaps Harrington on the back, inadvertently almost knocking him out of his chair. DELLA So, what do we do now? They all look to Sean for an answer. Sean pauses for a moment, then smiles devilishly. CUT TO BLACK. ACT I TITLE ON SCREEN: EIGHT DAYS EARLIER. FADE IN: INT. AD AGENCY - MORNING Sean walks in with his morning giant coffee. He's non-plussed by everything around him and stares blankly ahead as he heads to his office. INT. SEAN'S OFFICE - MORNING Sean enters to find CARL (38), already waiting for him. Carl is a modern ad agency account manager, dressed in expensive, conservative but fashionable business casual attire, with a $300 haircut and a $30,000 Rolex, which he glances at to see it's 10:30 AM. Sean's office is gorgeous, but a bit dated, with a shelf full of advertising awards that are starting to look a bit dusty. CARL Nice of you to join us this morning, Sean. If you can call it that. SEAN Oh, it's lovely to see you as well Carl. Really. Really it is. CARL Cut the shit Sean, how's the work? SEAN Oh, it's brilliant. It's like Bill Bernbach and Federico Fellini resurrected themselves to create one final artistic masterpiece together: A TV commercial for the Egg McMuffin, of such staggering beauty that even hardened prisoners will weep at it's majesty. CARL Oh good. More artsy shit. You know, It's been lovely working with you all these years, Sean. Lots of luck. Carl gets up to leave. SEAN Carl, why did you get into this business? To shovel more bullshit into the void? CARL Why'd you get into this business Sean? To self-destruct by flinging yourself upon some altar of rebellion? If you wanted to fight mediocrity, you picked the wrong fucking industry, my friend. SEAN Oh, I think this industry has plenty of mediocrity to fight. CARL I just don't get you. Look around! You've got it made! With your Rolodex? You'd have to literally burn the place down before they'd fire you. But instead of enjoying it, you're busy trying to make everyone else as miserable as you. SEAN How'm I doin'? CARL You know I respect you, Sean. You're a legend and you've earned it. But I cannot in good faith go back to the McDonald's people with another one of your high-minded efforts to relive your glory days. I'm outta here. SEAN Sit down Carl, it's going to be fine. I'm gonna give them what they want this time. CARL Wait, what? SEAN Yep. One hip, cool, millennial Ronald McDonald, coming up. CARL You're serious. SEAN Oh yeah, you're gonna love how totally on fleek he is. He's even got a signature dance move we poached from the "Single Ladies," video. CARL Thank God! I mean, thank you, Sean. I know this isn't the direction you wanted to go with this account. SEAN It's fine. CARL And you know, I was behind the work we showed them last time, right? I thought it was brilliant, just not for them. SEAN Yes, Carl. I know I can always count on you to be you. CARL All right then. I'm fired up now! I feel a great meeting on the horizon. Carl pops up out of his chair and heads out the door. Sean looks over at a framed picture on his wall with a quote that reads, "The road to awful advertising is paved with good meetings. - Sean Rails" SEAN Hmm-mph. INT. SCOOP AND DELLA'S CUBICLES Scoop and Della peruse some storyboards, giving them a last look before they pack them up to take to the client meeting. SCOOP It's... what's the word? Garbage. DELLA It's not that bad. Scoop gives Della an incredulous glare. DELLA OK, it's that bad. SCOOP Why the fuck is he making us do this shit? DELLA Because this client kills anything that's remotely good? SCOOP Yeah. But did you come here to do this kind of horseshit? Ronald McDonald? I make fun of guys I went to school with for doing this crap. DELLA Sean knows what he's doing. They look across the office floor into Sean's office, where Sean's got his feet up and his eyes closed, snoring. SCOOP Does he? He's not exactly a spring chicken anymore. He listens to Peter Gabriel for fuck's sake. DELLA Yeah, well, his work is the reason I got into this business in the first place. SCOOP Maybe the real Sean Rails died years ago, and that guy is a doppelgänger in his place. Like Paul McCartney. DELLA Who's Paul McCartney? SCOOP Oh Jesus, no. Please tell me this isn't happening. DELLA Calm down there Egg-man. I'm fucking kidding. SCOOP Well, I'm not kidding when I say that if we have to do much more of this shit, I'm leaving. DELLA Really? And what do you plan to do. You've already been blackballed by Omnicom. What did you do again? SCOOP I bit an intern and then tried to rub ecstasy on her bite mark. DELLA Classy. SCOOP I figure I'll go out to Venice Beach, seek out others of my ilk. DELLA And what is your 'ilk' pray tell? Hipsters with douchey facial hair? SCOOP Dispossessed geniuses, who eschew material success in the endeavor to achieve self-knowledge. DELLA You know, I've never met anyone even close to being as full of shit as you. SCOOP Don't lie. I met your last boyfriend. Sean walks out of his office, coat on, and motions to them to join him. DELLA Shotgun. SCOOP Fuck you! Same surface. Scoop sprints toward the door to get ahead of Della but he trips and falls. Sean and Della walk past without reacting. INT. SEAN'S 1994 JAGUAR - LATE MORNING Sean drives, Della sits in front, Scoop in back. "Naked as We Came" by Iron and Wine plays. SCOOP Where's Carl? SEAN He got an Uber. Della tosses a gnarly old fast food bag out the window. DELLA I can't imagine why. SCOOP What the fuck is this shit music? It's making my pancreas hurt. SEAN Oh, it's a new band I found. Iron and Wine. It chills me out. SCOOP Beards & Vests? I never took you for one of those crystal reading pussy hippy boy, Sean. SEAN Go fuck yourself, Scoop. DELLA I gotta agree with Scoop on this one. They suck. Plus, they're not new, they're like 20 years old. SEAN Fine. Sean pops out the cassette tape and tosses it at Della. She catches it and looks at the label. DELLA Wow! Dolby Noise Reduction. Have you considered getting a new car? SEAN This was Emily's car. There's a moment of awkward, serious silence. Scoop finds an old cassette in the back and hands it up to Della. SCOOP Put this on! Della puts the cassette tape in, and Gleaming Spires' "Are You Ready for the Sex Girls?" bursts from the speakers. Della cranks it. Della and Scoop crack up laughing. SEAN Laugh it up. But this was the shit when I was growing up. SCOOP Don't sell yourself short Sean. It's still shit now. Della and Scoop ironically dance and rock out. SEAN Calm down you two. We're almost there. The car pulls into a huge parking lot of a massive McDonald's corporate building. INT. MCDONALD'S CORPORATE CONFERENCE ROOM Sean presents end of a storyboard to some McDonald's execs, SUSAN (55) AND MARC(40). RAZOR (40), and his team from Digitationeers smugly sit, waiting to present next. SEAN As the music crescendos, Ronald pulls off his jacket and does a sick dance move like so... Sean attempts the aforementioned "Single Ladies" dance move, and nearly falls down in the process. Scoop hides his face in shame. Della smiles at the client, trying to look confident. SEAN Not quite that. But you get the idea. And then logo and we're out. There's a long pause as the McDonald's execs whisper to each other. Sean sits and looks at a bird outside. He's done now, and is quite uninterested in whatever's going to happen next. SUSAN Thank you, Sean and team. That was just what we discussed. Solid work. Carl subtly pumps his fist victoriously and smiles at the team. But Scoop nearly throws up in his mouth at the word "solid", barely disguising it as a cough. MARC Razor, you guys are up. Razor (40) is a supremely douchey figure in a too-tight embroidered t-shirt, silver jeans, and some sort of tech headset that he's wearing for unknown reasons. He stands up next to an easel with a board on it reading "Fiesta :30" RAZOR Thank you Marc. Now... picture if you will. An office, early morning, no one there yet. The lights flash off and on, off and on, off and on. We cut to see an elegant woman's hand flipping the light switch to the beat of some music, like a conga beat, Gloria Estefan kinda thing. We cut wide to see her dancing to the beat, shaking her stuff from side to side around the desk to reveal the Egg McMuffin sitting there in all it's glory. Like a beacon of breakfast perfection. And as the music plays out, we hear a voicoever say... Razor tosses away the first board to reveal a drawing of the woman dancing by the Egg McMuffin and the title which reads... RAZOR McDonald's. It's a breakfast fiesta. Razor stands awkwardly as the McDonald's folks whisper. They don't look too happy. Razor panics. RAZOR Now, I know what you're thinking. On paper, this doesn't seem like a good idea. The McDonald's execs stare at him, confused. But if we shoot it right, I think we can make this great. Marc turns back to Susan and they confer some more, seeming to come around. Scoop lifts his head in disbelief, as Sean continues ignoring the whole thing, picking his fingernails. SUSAN I wasn't sure at first, but after what you said, we agree that if you shoot it right, it could be great. Razor makes the same sort of fist pump move that Carl just made. Scoop hurls himself out of his chair on frustration and yells like John McEnroe screaming at a Wimbledon line judge. SCOOP You cannot be serious! SUSAN I'm sorry? SCOOP If we shoot it right? If we shoot it right? Well fuckin' a! Scoop pops up manically and wildly gestures as he completely blows up the previously calm meeting. SCOOP (CONT'D) Hey guys! We can do any shitfarm thing we want, as long as we shoot it right. Sweet! Scoop pops up out of his chair moving toward client as he speaks. Carl stands up in a panic, instinctively trying to slow Scoop down. CARL Scoop, SCOOP Hey here's one! Open on a fat naked man sitting on the john with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pistol. He reaches up and blows his brains out, blood spurts out everywhere. But wait! Here's comes Ronald McDonald, brandishing an EggMcMuffin like fucking Excalibur. He jams it into the bloody hole in the guy's head. McDonalds! Fill up for breakfast. Carl tries to pull Scoop away, but Scoop gets away and approaches the client. Carl looks to Sean for help, but Sean just shrugs as if to say "c'est la vie." SCOOP We're gonna shoot it so right, it'll be the fucking tits! Scoop dances around the room victoriously with Carl chasing, then stops as a thought bursts into his head. Carl slips and falls, knocking over into the easel with the storyboards. SCOOP! Wait, no! I've got a better one! Open on SIX naked fat guys, having a huge circle jerk in the middle of a church! They're pumping away at their genitalia with everything they have. But none of them can cum! Faces full of pure anguish as they struggle to pump harder... Carl now turns to Della for help, giving her a pleading look. She nods and approaches Scoop. SCOOP Until!... like a fucking big red lightning bolt, Ronald McDonald charges in with an Egg McMuffin, throws it into the middle, and they all explode with glorious streams of jizz onto it's golden deliciousness. Della taps Scoop on the shoulder once. He ignores her. SCOOP McDonald's. Cum for breakfast! Scoop spins around to find Della standing and glaring at him. SCOOP We can totally shoot that right! Della throws a perfect right uppercut and knocks Scoop out cold. Sean calmly gets up and helps Della drag Scoop out. SEAN We'll await your feedback tomorrow. Great meeting, really. Sean, Della and Scoop head out the door. Carl stands slack jawed and alone as the whole room stares at him. He pulls out his phone. CARL I'll just call an Uber. END ACT I ACT II EXT. - AGENCY OFFICE OUTDOOR SMOKING AREA - AFTERNOON Sean, Della and Scoop stand together, looking miserable, smoking. Scoop holds an ice pack on his black eye. SEAN Great meeting guys. Really. Except for you Scoop. You pretty much shit the bed there, didn't ya? SCOOP I know, I know. I'm really sorry Sean. But...but...No! Fucking fuckwads! I mean, did you hear that assjammer? If we shoot it right? What the fuck was I supposed to do? DELLA Ummm...sit there and take it, then make fun of him behind his back like everyone else does. SCOOP Dammit, you're right. I just, I need Ritalin or something. DELLA That's seriously the last thing you need. SCOOP Fuck. Are you gonna fire me, Sean? SEAN Me? No. I'd never fire someone for being passionate about great work. Keisha's gonna fire you. Sean's phone beeps. He looks at it. SEAN Ahh, speak of the devil. I'll try to get her to keep your health insurance turned on long enough for you to get that eye looked at. Sean heads upstairs to meet Keisha. Della and Scoop stand awkwardly for a moment, then both burst out laughing. DELLA I gotta admit. That was amazing. SCOOP Until you cheap shotted me. DELLA I did it out of love. And that was no cheap shot. That was some Rahman/Lewis style shit. SCOOP Let's go up. I gotta clear my stash outta my desk before H.R. does. INT. KEISHA'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON Carl sits with Sean, holding his head in his hands. Sean seems blissfully unaware of their plight. CARL She's gonna move us to pharma. I just know it. SEAN Pharma? No way. CARL Yes, fucking pharma! Incontinence meds to be specific. Urostream. SEAN Stop worrying, I'll talk to Sanders. We'll be fine. CARL Sanders? Sanders? Do you not remember his retirement party? He's on a yacht in St. Tropez right now, probably sipping Mai Tai's with his new trophy husband. SEAN Husband? CARL Shit Carl, you really have been out of it. Yeah, Sanders left Jenny and ran off with his masseuse, Julio. SEAN Julio's gone too? Damn. That guy did wonders for my stenosis. KEISHA (35) strides in confidently in tight power suit and expensive Birkin bag. Her assistant follows her in with a bottle of expensive cold-pressed juice for her. KEISHA Well, you two dumb fucks have outdone yourselves. CARL It's all fine. I told them Scoop was off his seizure medicine. KEISHA Meds. Funny you should mention those, because guess what? You guys have earned yourselves one way ticket to pharma. In fact, Carl, you're late for your Urosteam on boarding. CARL Fuck! Carl's calendar/phone beeps. He checks it, then hurries out. KEISHA Good, I've been wanting to talk to you one-to-one, Mr. Rails. SEAN You can call me Sean. KEISHA I can call you whatever the fuck I want, Mr. Rails. Because I fucking run this place now. And as hard as it must be for you to imagine answering to a black woman, that's what's happening. SEAN Wow, the race card! Cool! KEISHA Tell you what, let's both cut the shit here. I want you gone, and once your contract is up next month, you will be gone. But until then, I'm putting you on Urostream. SEAN Oh, I don't need to take Urostream. My stream has always been remarkably strong. KEISHA Really? As strong as your work? Because the McDonald's client hasn't bought anything you've pitched them in six months. SEAN That's because the McDonald's client doesn't know their ass from a hole in the ground. KEISHA Carl assured me that today's was gonna be when you turned things around. And I almost believed him. SEAN Know what? Just fire me. My contract gives me a year's severance and enough stock options to buy ten of those Birkin bags. KEISHA Oh no. You're not getting off that easy. And your stock options expire if I demote you, like right now. Keisha hands Sean a letter of demotion. His calm demeanor gives way, and he channels Scoop/John McEnroe's rage. SEAN You cannot be serious! KEISHA Holy shit!, I finally got to you. Was the money? Or the demotion? SEAN I'm not accepting a fucking demotion. I've got more awards than the rest of the department combined. KEISHA And when was the last one, Sean? 2008? SEAN 2009. KEISHA Look Sean, you've had a great career. And I respect that. But even you can't deny that you've been off your game the last year. SEAN If you hadn't noticed, my fucking wife died, which tends to put a fellow off his game. KEISHA You can't play the dead wife card forever. And I certainly can't play it with our parent company. They want you out, and frankly, so do I. SEAN The dead wife card. Thanks, Keisha. KEISHA That's Mrs. Williams to you. Look, do us both a favor, and ride out the next few months on Urostream quietly. Do that, and you'll get your title and stock options back, and I won't fire your team. Sean smashes the desk with his fist, then pauses, gathers himself and smiles grimly at Keisha. SEAN OK, you win. No problem. Urostream. Fine. A month of Urostream, and I'll be out of your hair, with a very steady pee stream to boot INT. SEAN'S NEW OFFICE. - EVENING Scoop and Della stand in a small dingy office. They look at a storyboard of a TV ad for Urostream, full of horribly cliche'd stuff: woman doing Tai-Chi, old man playing golf, couple on a bicycle built for two. All grinning like idiots. Sean enters, untucking his shirt unbuttoning his top button. SEAN What are you guys doing in my office? Scoop hands Sean a diagram of the office floor plan with their office circled by their names. SCOOP You mean our office? Welcome roomie! Scoop sarcastically tries to hug Sean, who's pushes him away. DELLA I can't believe someone's getting paid to write this. SCOOP We're getting paid to write this. The other team got put on McDonald's in our place. DELLA It's fine. We'll do something else better. SCOOP This is "something else better." The last team spent six months pushing this abomination through testing, so it's getting made by hook or crook. There's a long awkward silence. Scoop waves his hand in front of Sean's face. SCOOP Hello? Say something will ya? You're not going to stand for this right? Sean is oddly silent, stone-faced. SCOOP That's it. Venice Beach it is. A properly dressed ginger British boy, HARRINGTON (18), enters, nervous and flustered, and making weird mouth sounds. DELLA Who the fuck are you? SCOOP The interns sit down on 14, dude. DELLA Wait. You're Harrington aren't you. Harrington Matthews? You were in the newsletter SCOOP Matthews? Like Keisha Matthews? HARRINGTON I..uhh... DELLA Yeah, he's her adopted nephew. And guess what he does? SEAN Analytics. Give me that. Sean snatches a letter out of Harrington's hand. HARRINGTON Of course. My aunt told me to find you in room 1508 and give you this. SEAN (reading letter) Dear Sean, Harrington will be moving to the UroStream account and reporting directly to me. Please put him with your team in 1508 and incorporate him into your process. DELLA No fuckin' way. Theres barely enough room in here as it is. As Sean reads, LISA (44), a facilities worker arrives with a dolly holding a box with all the old award trophies from Sean's shelf. She dumps them on the floor in a dusty pile. SEAN (still reading letter) The UroStream client would like to see some mood boards before the big shoot in L.A. Harrington can oversee your team. SCOOP Oversee? Oh fuck no. No way Ron Weasley over here is gonna to tell me what to write. HARRINGTON Well, the way I work is, I collect data points from our target segments, and ... Sean wanders over to the pile of awards and picks one especially heavy looking one up, staring at it intently. SCOOP No, that's the way you used to work. Now you're going to sit in that corner over there, suck your thumb and be quiet. Sean chucks the award trophy as hard as he can, shattering the glass window and setting off a car alarm outside. DELLA Whoa! What the fuck, Sean? Sean hands Harrington his platinum card. SEAN Harrington, old sport! Call McKinley spirits on 16th, tell them Sean Connery needs two cases of their finest Kentucky Rye whisky. HARRINGTON Sean....Connery. Right. SCOOP Actually, I'm more of a single malt guy, so could you... SEAN Scoop, shut up and come here. You know that fellow that you spoke with outside a few minutes ago? SCOOP Teeball? SEAN Yes, your drug dealer. SCOOP Sean, he's not a... SEAN Yes, he is. And we need him now. Now Scoop! DELLA Hey you OK? You look a little red in the face. Sean grins devilishly. SEAN Never better. I've finally realized the answer. Just do what they want us to do. And right now, they want us to do pharmaceuticals correct? DELLA Yes. Sean picks up one of his awards and peels the bottom off, revealing a bag of mushrooms. SEAN Then let's do some goddamn pharmaceuticals! Scoop snatches the mushrooms out of Sean's hand. SCOOP Fuck....yes! We're finally goin' gonzo! I never knew you had it in you Sean. SEAN Believe it or not Scoop, there are things in this world you don't know. Time to show you guys how we rolled in the 80's. BEGIN SLOW MOTION PARTY MONTAGE "Do You Wanna Funk?" By Sylvester plays as the team does mushrooms and shots of booze. Teeball arrives with big bags of coke and the and the cocaine starts to flow. Della and Scoop forcibly pour two shots of liquor down Harrington's throat. Sean makes a call, and a group of male and female prostitutes arrives. Lisa, the facilities worker randomly joins the party. A now drunk Harrington snorts lines of coke, until a female prostitute leads him into the back with a sly smile. Everyone else dances like mad, doing more lines and drinking more booze. Scoop grabs the fire extinguisher and shoots it out the window just for fun. END SLOW MOTION PARTY MONTAGE. The Dandy Warhols' "Not Your Bottle" plays, and the pace of the party slows. Scoop, Della, Lisa and the prostitutes have worn themselves out a bit and sit calmly, doing more coke, which is the only thing keeping them going. One prostitute leads a now shirtless Harrington, out from the back. He has the smile of a young man who's just gotten laid for the first time. Sean sit and chats with Teeball, playing with a cigarette lighter, singeing his award trophies. TEEBALL So what are these for, like TV shows or something SEAN Just the commercials. This is an advertising agency. TEEBALL You know I got a customer who was telling me he needs some advertising. Teeball pulls out a business card and hands it to Sean. TEEBALL Yeah, this dude. Sells Porsches. Good customer. You should text him. SEAN I will in the morning. Thanks. TEEBALL No, I mean like, now. He's awake believe me. SEAN OK If you say so. Sean sends a text. And nearly immediately gets a reply. SEAN Wow. We're meeting with him at 9am, which is...4 1/2 hours from now. TEEBALL Don't worry man. I'll tell him you're cool. INT - CHANT MCGREGOR'S OFFICE - MORNING CHANT (37), sits in his office at a Porsche dealership, across the table from Sean, Scoop, Della and Harrington. He's a classic coke-head, dressed in a Miami-ish suit, with too much hair product and a fake tan. Scoop and Della are clearly hungover, and Harrington looks as though he might hurl. CHANT Ad agency guys eh? Listen, it's fucking good timing for you fuckers to come in. Tee-Ball sent you? SEAN Yes, that's right. CHANT Fuckin' love that guy. If he sent you, then you must be the fuckin' tits. Chant pulls out a bag of coke with a mirror and straw? CHANT You mind? SEAN By all means. Chant proceeds to rack up and snort two big lines as he talks. CHANT Yeah, you ad guys probably do this shit all the time right? SEAN Yeah, umm, so can you tell us a little about your dealership? What is it you're looking to communicate. CHANT See? I knew you got it. Communication is the key man, but not like communicating on molecular level. I mean, a big bold kick in the nuts fucking statement that Porsche is not to be trifled with. Not some fuckin' family shit like in those rice burner commercials either. I need brutality, beastiality, and fucking balls tastic fuckin' badassery. Chant racks up four more lines and gestures to offer some to the team. Sean declines, but Scoop perks up at this and snorts one. Della is now asleep. Harrington runs out of the room to go hurl. SEAN Are you sure you meant to say beastiality? CHANT Yes,I mean. No. Whatever. Look, Shane. What I'm saying is that we're not selling station wagons here. These are motherfucking Porsche's. They go one eighty in negative 3rd gear. Chant gestures towards an especially bad ass looking Porsche gleaming in the sunlight, just outside. CHANT That new Cabrera will make your nutsack crawl right up into your intestines. Can you put that in a commercial? Can you? SEAN I can certainly give it the old college try. CHANT College. Ha. I never went to college. SEAN Surprising. How'd you get this dealership anyway? CHANT Mom gave it to me. Chant gestures towards a big ornate frame holding a picture of his mother, MISTY (75). She's a very rich, very ornately dressed old woman with a big scowl on her face. CHANT (to the picture) Love ya, Mom! Chant sees his actual mother walking around looking for something, with the same scowl. CHANT Oh shit! Cover for me. Chant dives under the desk to hide. His mother stands in the doorframe scowling at Scoop, Sean and Della. Harrington arrives back from hurling in the bathroom, takes one look at Misty, and turns around to go back. MISTY Where's Chant? SEAN Um, who? Misty grunts and walks off looking a little confused, but still scowling. CHANT Thanks man. See? I knew you guys were the tits. SEAN We are indeed the tits. Della rolls her eyes at Sean. CHANT So whaddaya think, can you help me? SEAN Indeed we can. Just give us a budget, and we'll bring you back everything you wanted...except the beastiality of course. Chant snorts another huge line, and writes Sean a check. He signs it and leaves it blank. Suddenly emotional, Chant gets up and initiates a group hug. CHANT Fuck yeah! Fuck yeahaaaahhhhaa! I fuckin'' love you guys. Just fill in the amount for whatever you need. Chant sees Misty coming their way again, and dives under the desk again. SEAN We'll see ourselves out. They walk out of the Porsche office together. SEAN Guys, it's time to go to L.A. END ACT II ACT III EXT - LA STUDIO BACKLOT - MORNING Scoop, Della, Sean and Harrington meet at a table in front of craft service. Scoop is chowing on an enormous plate of food as they talk. SEAN So here's the plan. Harrington, you're gonna go with the B-crew to supervise the UroStream shoot. HARRINGTON But I've never... SEAN Della and Scoop, you guys are with me and Danny. DELLA Who's Danny? Famed director DANNY BOYLE (62) arrives at their table. DANNY BOYLE Hey guys. We're about to start inside. Head on in when you're ready. Danny Boyle heads outside. HARRINGTON That was Danny Boyle! SCOOP Sean, what the fuck is Danny Boyle doing here on our shoot? SEAN He shot some stuff for me in 92, back before Trainspotting. HARRINGTON That was Danny Boyle! DELLA Yeah, but he never shoots commercials anymore. He's one of the best directors on Earth. HARRINGTON Danny Boyle! SEAN Yeah! And this is also Danny Boyle. Sean shows them all some old polaroids he's pulled from his coat pocket. They look on with shock. SCOOP Is that a... SEAN Yes. Hence, he's shooting our commercial. Harrington, don't worry. Danny's B-team is like most A-teams. Just let them do their thing. BEGIN SHOOT MONTAGE We cut back and forth between the two shoots, the Porsche shoot with Della, Sean, Scoop and Danny Boyle, and the Urostream shoot with Harrington and Danny Boyle's "B" film crew. Both shoots seems to be going well, and everyone's happy. The UroStream shoot wraps first, and the crew all drink beer from a keg in front of craft services. The crew make Harrington do keg stands until he's wasted. The Porsche shoot wraps, and Della, Sean and Scoop arrive at craft service to find Harrington passed out and shirtless again as the crew draws on him with Sharpies. END SHOOT MONTAGE INT. AD AGENCY CONFERENCE ROOM - EVENING We are now seeing a repeat of the earlier scene in the conference room. SEAN We have what we set out to make. A bloody brilliant piece of advertising. SCOOP (to Harrington) See? He's happy you assbagger. Scoop playfully slaps Harrington on the back, inadvertently almost knocking him out of his chair. DELLA So, what do we do now? They all look to Sean for an answer. Sean pauses for a moment, then smiles devilishly. SEAN We put this sucker on the air and let the chips fall where they may. Sean clicks "Upload" on his laptop, sending the commercial to a TV network. CUT TO BLACK INT - SEAN'S NEW OFFICE - MORNING Scoop, Della, Sean and Harrington sit idly, glancing up at a storyboard of the pharma commercial now and then, but mostly ignoring it. SCOOP Anything? SEAN Not yet. Della gets up and looks down the hallway, seeing nothing. DELLA It's strangely quiet. Everyone jerks awake to the sound of Chant outside on the fire escape, banging on the window in a lather of panic. CHANT You bastards! Let me in goddamn it. Scoop opens the window and Chant hurls himself into the office. SEAN Chant, what brings you here? CHANT You know goddamn well what brings me here. I'm dead. DEAD! SEAN You said you wanted something big and bold. "Balls-tastic" I believe was the term. SCOOP We could put more cocaine in it. CHANT You motherfucker!! Chant tries to attack Scoop but Della restrains him. HARRINGTON You know, our research showed that scenarios of reclaiming lost youth really resonate with your target of 45 year old upscale males. CHANT Is that right? Well, tell me this you limey fuck wit. How's it going to resonate when my fucking mother sees it and pulls my dealership? How's that going to resonate you ass-blasting gingerbread cocksmoker! SEAN You said you wanted crazy. We gave you crazy. That's how this works. CHANT I was high as shit when I said that. SEAN You look pretty high right now. CHANT Fuck, I think I'm gonna have a heart attack. Della picks up a bottle of the expensive whisky from Sean's desk and tries to hand it to Chant. DELLA Have a little of this, it'll calm you down. CHANT No, no no no. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you. I'm not listening to you fuckfaces any longer. No way. If I'm doin' down, I'm goin' in blaze of hype ass motherfuckin' glory. Richard Pryor style, bitches! Chant pulls our some drug paraphernalia and attempts to freebase, but he doesn't know what he's doing and drops everything into the trash can, setting it on fire. Della trips over Scoop and drops the bottle of whiskey into the fire. The growing fire now hits the papers on Sean's desk, getting out of control. SCOOP I got this shit. Scoop grabs the fire extinguisher and squeezes the trigger, but nothing comes out because he emptied it out the window at the party. They all look at each other and run out the door as the flames expand. FADE TO BLACK. AUDIO ONLY: FIRE! FIRE! SIRENS, ETC. EXT. - OUTSIDE THE OFFICE - LATE MORNING Sean, Scoop, Harrington, Della stand along with the rest of the agency people, watching their building burn to a crisp. SEAN Kinda beautiful isn't it? DELLA Hey Scoop, when you ran screaming like a pussy boy just now, did you happen to grab your stash. Scoop pulls a bag out of his pocket and shows it to Della. DELLA Good. Because of all the things this situation calls for, sobriety is not one of them. Della and Scoop rack up a couple of lines on top of a nearby metal trash can. Everyone else around is too engrossed in the fire to even notice. Sean's phone rings. SEAN Hello. Yes it is. I don't understand. I see. We can. But it'll just be me and my team. All right then. Tomorrow at 8, we'll be there. HARRINGTON Who was that? SEAN Strangely enough, it was Pope Gregory the Ninth. HARRINGTON I know that's from Black Adder. SEAN Just checking. It was Jennifer Quinn, the Chief Marketing Officer of Porsche USA. HARRINGTON Oh dear. That can't be good, can it? SEAN Actually, it's quite good she's gonna hire us. Seems Porsche 911 Cabrera sales are up 900% in the last 36 hours. HARRINGTON That's amazing. DBB&OB has never won a car account. SEAN No, DBB&OB. WE won it. The new agency I'm starting...now. You should come work for me. Or you could stay here. They both look over to the fire. HARRINGTON Will we be doing more of what we did this week? SEAN Well, nothing's for certain in this world, but...well, no that is certain. We definitely will be doing much more of that. HARRINGTON Then yes, I'd like to come work for...what's it going to be called? SEAN Not sure yet... Sean looks over to see Della, Scoop and now Carl all snorting giant rails of cocaine off the trash can. He smiles devilishly. SEAN But I have a couple ideas. A huge sound of an engine racing blasts through the scene. A Porsche 911 Cabrera Cabriolet races around the corner doing a unstable dodgy Tokyo drift move. As it speeds by, we see the DRIVER (50) with a bunch of white powder on his face. DRIVER Fucccckkk!!!! Yeeeeaaaahhhhh!!!!! The Porsche crashes into a telephone pole as the team looks on. "Hot! Hot! Hot!" by The Cure begins to play. Credits roll as we hear the first lines... "Hey, hey, hey, well I like it when that lightning comes. Hey, hey, hey, yes I like it a lot." END OF EPISODE [ top ] Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft.