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Hard to Explain (Pilot)
by Riley Connors (rileyatc13@yahoo.com)

Rated: R   Genre: Comedy   User Review: ***
Wes Walcott is currently the world's most famous magician and a major pop culture icon. But when he finally gets tired of the razzle dazzle of showbiz, he'll find that sometimes the most enjoyable things in life aren't catered.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.



Open to a large bedroom, covered in framed posters of
musicians and public figures (David Bowie, Malcolm X). There
is a large bed with silk sheets in the center of the room.
Everything is messy.

WES WALCOTT, 26, tall, skinny, very handsome, erratic, is in
his underwear, his legs tucked into a mahogany desk, his
head asleep atop it.

CINDY, 22, blond, beautiful, ditzy and tempermental,
standing in front of him, dressed in a vintage concert
t-shirt that clearly belongs to WES.
Hey, uh...
Cindy, what time is it?
Somewhere around five thirty.
WES wipes the remaining cocaine off his face.
Wow. I don't remember too much of
the last couple of hours, but did
you have a nice time?
Yeah, of course. You are
So I've heard.
WES stands up from his desk and puts on a pair of jeans. He
picks up CINDY'S dress and throws it to her.
Are you taking me to dinner?


You know, I would. But I've got
some work related thing tonight.
CINDY puts on her dress.
You didn't say that at the bar.
What bar?
The bar at Applebee's...?
We met at an Applebee's?! Well
that's something I can cross off
my bucket list.
Do you remember anything?
Not really... It's kind of like
that "previously on..." thing they
have on TV shows. I only remember
bits and pieces, but they seem
important, like they're going to
matter later.
CINDY flips her hair and stands in front of WES.
Are you at least going to call me?
Did I ask for your number?
CINDY takes a step back.
What the hell does that mean?
WES leans back on his desk.
I'm pretty sure I never asked for
your number. If I wanted to see
you again, I would've asked for


Why don't you want to see me
Do you want me to use a cop out?
"It's not you... It's me?"
CINDY starts crying.
You piece of shit! You used me!
Like I was some piece of meat!
      (Under his breath)
I don't think meat comes with
Fuck you!
WES leans forward off the desk.
Really? Fuck me? You know and I
know you wouldn't have even looked
in my general direction if I
wasnt, well, "me".
You don't know that!
Yeah, I do.
CINDY storms out.
Add me on Facebook!
Fuck you!
Yeah, I heard you.


WES walks over to his closet, opens it, and grabs a hand vac
from the corner. He sucks up what appears to be cocaine from
the floor underneath the desk. He pauses, hearing a sound
from downstairs.
Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven...
Six... Five... Four... Three...
Two... One...
CINDY storms back into WES'S bedroom.
Where are my keys?! Where did you
put them?!
Don't ask me. I keep my hands to
I'm going to call the police!
And tell them what? You slept with
a guy an hour or two after meeting
him? I don't think that breaks any
laws. I mean, besides common
I'll tell them you're holding me
against my will! You stole my
And I thought I was the one on
Where did you put them?!
WES scratches his chin and sniffs.
Check under your side of the bed.
CINDY reaches under the side of the bed she was sleeping on.
She finds the keys and looks up at WES, who shrugs.


Blame the intuition on experience.
You're unbelievable...
Something I've also heard.
I'm leaving!
Promise? Because last time, well,
that was just false advertising.
CINDY leaves WES'S bedroom. WES takes his phone from his
pocket, checks the time and sets it down on his desk. He
walks over to his still open closet and puts on a red long
sleeve button up shirt and a black vest. He swaps his jeans
for dress slacks to match the vest. His phone starts to
ring. Wes stands up to answer it.
Hello? (Pause) Hi, Scotty. (Pause)
Yeah, I know about the interview.
(Pause) Why does it have to be so
damn late? (Pause) Since when is
there such thing as a late night
radio interview? (Pause) Scotty,
who the fuck still listens to FM
radio on purpose if the DJ isn't
Ryan Seacrest? (Pause) Well I
don't think they would if they had
a choice. (Pause) Alright, I'll
see you in ten...
WES walks back over to his closet and stares at his shoe
rack. It's practically empty, he has the choice between a
ratty pair of old Converse sneakers, or nice, matching dress
shoes. WES reaches for the dress shoes, but at the last
second he diverts his hand towards the Converse and picks
them up. He puts them on and walks towards his kitchen.
The kitchen is extremely messy. Cereal boxes everywhere,
several open, unfinished soda and beer cans. Wes pours
himself a cup of coffee. He looks at it idly then reaches at
a cabinet above him and grabs a half empty bottle of
whiskey. He pours some of it into his coffee and swishes it
around. A little bit spills off the side of the cup and onto


his counter.

He reaches behind him and grabs a magazine with his face on
the cover with the headline "Wes Walcott: The Magic World's
Dangerous New Wildcard". He uses it to mop up the spill and
throws it away. He sips his spiked coffee, muttering to
himself. WES turns on his small kitchen television, flipping
through the channels. He stops at an entertainment news
program with the headline "Rumor Patrol" with a picture of
WES and an attractive model.
They're like... Best selling
fiction writers...
SCOTTY STEPHENSON, 39, short, red haired, slightly pudgy,
neurotic and schedule focused, walks in. WES looks slightly
unhappy to see him.
Most of those tabloid journalists
want to be best sellers, so it's a
good start.
WES seems to have ignored the comment.
Knocking, Scotty... It's worked
pretty well in the past.
It's not like you were
How would you know? You don't know
how I do it, do you?
You didn't take your belt off.
WES looks down at his belt, then back up at SCOTTY.
You don't have to take your belt
You're not crafty enough to use
the weiner slot.


SCOTTY walks up and takes a swig of the whiskey.
So how was your day?
I got laid.
You always remember your first.
How was it?
Good for about fifteen minutes.
Then it dawned on me that the
horrible smell coming from my bed
was her. She smelled like eight
dollar steak. Have you had eight
dollar steak recently? It's like a
cheeseburger, minus the cheese and
bun, covered in steak sauce, with
a side of potato.
Alright, sure. So how'd you get
her to leave.
I just threw down the charm.
And that always works...
Like a dollar store brand condom.
SCOTTY scans what WES is wearing.


I really like the whole Thin White
Duke look, the red distinguishes
WES scans himself, examines the textures of his clothes and
looks at SCOTTY with a look of sarcastic disbelief.
Thin White Duke... Really? I was
sort of going for a Ziggy Stardust
kind of thing.
WES sits on top of his counter.
So when do we need to be at that
radio station?
SCOTTY checks the clock on WES'S oven.
Two hours... But the ride with
traffic is about a half, so do the
So why'd you show up here so
I'm a sucker for face to face
How's the wife?
Yes, Carol. As opposed to your
wife from Trinidad.
SCOTTY takes another, longer swig of whiskey.
I think she's pregnant.
What do you mean you think she is?


She hasn't told me anything yet.
WES looks at the television. He's on another segment. The
COMMENTATOR, 43, fake, smiley, arrogant, stands in front of
a cardboard cutout of WES, dressed in a red tuxedo with a
thorn design on the sleeves and breast.
Wes Walcott... Some call him the
next Houdini. I call him the next
Bjork! This outfit is not hot!
The COMMENTATOR sticks a sign with the word "NOT" on the
chest of WES'S cardboard cutout. WES slicks his hair back
and smiles, looking off into space.
I really liked that tux...
You were drunk when you picked it
Getting drunk makes my decisions
You sound like a spokesperson for
drunk driving.
That was my Halloween costume.
I bet you really decked out for
I always do. Halloween is my
Wes, you're Jewish.
Exactly. But back to this whole
Carol thing.


So do you think she's hiding her
pregnancy from you or something?
Yes, that's it exactly. I think
she's under the impression that I
don't want a kid.
Well you don't.
Well... Not right now. I just
turned thirty nine, and with work
it seems like there are not enough
hours in the day.
WES slides off the counter.
You work for me, Scotty. How busy
can you be?
Have you looked at your schedule?
It's tough being your manager, as
well as your agent, and your
You're like the Inspector Gadget
of celebrity staff.
That's such an illustrious title.
But in all seriousness, it's that
hectic? My phone hasn't been
Because I've been taking all of
your calls!


Any personal calls?
There are some personal calls, but
they're all past booty calls
wondering why you haven't called
them back.
What did you tell them?
What could I tell them? You died?
You joined the Peace Corps? It's
hard to make stuff up about you
when your life is documented on a
twenty-four hour news cycle.
Now you see my plight.
And don't even get me started with
industry people!
I won't.
They're constantly hounding on me
for access to "Wes Walcott: World
Famous Magician"!
The public can use that term, but
not us. Not among friends.
What term? Magician?
That one.
But that's your job title.
Yeah, technically. That's what it
says on my taxes. But you know
what that term, that job title


                       WES (cont'd)
represents to me? It represents
doing card tricks at some bratty
kid's tenth birthday party and
getting paid in cake and backdoor
handjobs by their overweight
soccer mom while some catchy Train
song plays in the background.
That's really specific.
Well specificity is one of my
strong suits.
Wes takes a long swig of whiskey.
So what would you prefer to be
called? Illusionist? Sleight of
hand master?
Wes and Scotty look at each other silently with extreme
seriousness. Wes starts cracking up.
Scotty, I'm just kidding. Magician
is fine. Illusionist just sounds
too serious. Sleight of hand
master? That's just pussy
repellent. I might as well call
myself a Pokemon Master, or the
Last Airbender.
Scotty smiles and shakes his head.
Why didn't you become a comedian,
or an actor?
Because they don't have the magic
Good point.
Wes walks out of the kitchen towards the front door. Scotty


Wes, we have a little bit of time
before we actually have to go.
I know, I like to be early. It
shows I'm serious about this.
But you're not.
They don't know that.
Ah, you tricky bastard.
Wes opens the door and walks out with Scotty. He closes it
behind him and locks it.
Wes looks up at the sky, the sun has just gone down. He
looks down his driveway, which partially overlooks downtown
L.A., he looks back at Scotty.
You're driving.
Of course I am. I have the ke--
Scotty checks his coat pockets for his car keys. He pats
each pocket down twice and looks at Wes angrily. Wes throws
the keys back to him.
I didn't know you still did that.
Just because someone takes a break
from walking doesn't mean they've
forgotten to tie their shoes.
Wes gets into the passenger's seat of Scotty's car. His car
is very neat, with a small CD holder velcroed to the
dashboard the only thing visible besides the essentials.
Scotty gets into the driver's seat and checks his phone.
They buckle up and drive off.


Wes types something into his phone as Scotty drives.
Scotty looks slightly interested.
Close... Sexting.
Anyone I know?
Unless you're pretty familiar with
Koreatown, then no.
Since when have you known girls
from Koreatown?
Since I went there yesterday.
You must have had a lot of time on
your hands.
Well, masturbating gets old, even
with Vaseline. Facebook is just as
bad. Really, that "Like" feature
is what gets me. I don't care if
you like George Lopez, or walking
your dog, or eating your boogers
in second grade. I only have you
as my friend so I can look cooler.
What I really wanted to get into
was scuba diving. But that's just
time consuming.
You don't have any patience.
I look at that as one of my few
character flaws.


Scotty's car stops at a stoplight. Wes turns on the radio to
hear 103.5 Z-XH. BOBBY, the DJ, comes on among the sound of
a heavy metal guitar solo.
Ladies and gentlemen! You're in
for a treat tonight! In
approximately forty five minutes
we'll be continuing our primetime
chat session series with magic's
once and future heartthrob Wes
That's our guy?
That's our guy...
The stop light turns green and Scotty drives forward.
Who talks like that? "Once and
future hearthrob"?
It explains why he's not on
Because you know their standards
are so high.
We're gonna want your questions!
Dial three-one-zero--
Wes shuts the radio off in a slight anger.
"Why'd you quit magic, Wes?" "Who
are you dating, Wes?" "Are those
gay rumors true?" If I wanted
people to ask me questions, I
would have a Twitter account.
Wait, you don't have one?


Nope, I haven't had one since the
one you set up for me.
And what did you do with that one?
Deleted it.
What the hell, Wes? Don't you get
it? Social networking is a big
part of the business nowadays.
I think you missed a step. I'm
taking a break from performing.
You still want to stay relevant,
right? I don't want you to get so
obscure that the only way you can
get back in the public eye is by
getting a sex change or having
some cheesy dating show. You have
to be smart about these things if
you're "taking a break".
Is that what this interview's
about? Is it about me taking a
Scotty's car comes on another stop light. Scotty turns
towards Wes.
I'm going to assume it's going to
come up at some point in the
I'm just not sure if it's going to
be a break. It might be
retirement, I haven't decided.
Let's not discuss it here, or at
the station.


The light turns green. Scotty drives forward and Wes turns
the radio back on. A spring-like sound comes from the radio,
followed by the sound of Bobby's voice.
So the doctor says, "That's like
putting a new flagpole on a
condemned building!"
A sound of fake laughter pours out the radio. Wes changes it
to a smooth jazz station.
Jesus... How long are we obligated
to keep the interview going?
His assistant said ten minutes.
Someone might as well give my dick
an indian burn!
Stop being such a bitch about it.
Says you, the man who gets to
stand being the soundproof glass
while I'm exposed to all sorts of
FM radio shenanigans.
Wes brushes his hand through his hair and sighs heavily,
almost obnoxiously.
So what does this Bobby guy look
I've been told he looks like a
Korean John Cusack.
That's impossible.
It's not plausible. That doesn't
mean it's not possible. You'll see
when we get there.


Wes changes the radio station to a hip hop station. He leans
up against the window and zones out. Show a skyline shot of
L.A. as the hip hop music plays. Cut back to Scotty parking
his car in front of the radio station. He nudges Wes.
We're here.
Wes gets out of Scotty's car.
Wes pulls out a Gothic detailed silver flask from his
pocket. Scotty locks his car, walks up and takes the flask
from his hand.
Really, really.
Wes pulls another, nearly identical flask out from his
pocket. He takes a swig and puts it back as Scotty stares in
disgust and disbelief.
You're unbelievable.
Well, that's part of the appeal.
BOBBY'S ASSISTANT, 20, small, mousy, unconfident, walks out
the front door and stands there, starstruck by Wes. He walks
towards her.
Can I help you?
                       BOBBY'S ASSISTANT
Um, yes. Bobby's ready for you.
Wes follows Bobby's Assistant. He turns back to Scotty and
sarcastically tugs at his collar in fake nervousness. Scotty
rolls his eyes.


Wes, followed by Scotty, follows Bobby's Assistant through
the main lobby, which is very front desk, a couch, a few
doors, and several hanging pictures. He casually looks at
the framed autographs of celebrities and public figures, not
really impressed. The next room is a control booth, filled
with technical gear. Scotty takes a seat in there. Wes
doesn't even glance at the contents of the room and casually
walks into the booth with Bobby, 35, fat, spiked hair, hip
hop inspired clothing.
Bobby Kwon, nice to meet you.
Wes and Bobby shake hands.
Wes Walcott.
I know.
It's good to see you've done your
Wes and Bobby stop shaking hands.
So are you ready?
Do I really have to be?
Bobby awkwardly laughs off Wes's comment and sits down,
followed by Wes. They both put on headphones. Bobby flashes
a hand signal back to the control booth and they're on the
And... We're back on 103.5 Z-HX!
I'm here with the one, the only
Wes Walcott.
Bobby presses a button by his side, it sets off a fake round
of applause. Wes looks unamused.


How're you tonight?
Good, and yourself?
Fantastic. So first question...
You start off quick.
That's what all my exes say!
Bobby presses another button by his side, this one plays a
generic laugh track.
So... First question?
Right, first question. Lacey from
Ocean Beach asks, "Are you done
with performing, or just taking a
break?" That's what I was going to
ask, actually.
Wes sits back, comfortably, like he's at home.
Yeah, I'm taking a break. If I
like it I guess I may just retire.
But for now it's just a break.
Scotty face-palms himself and sinks into his chair.
What do you mean by that? Are you
retiring all together? Don't tell
me you're going to pull a Joaquin
That was a hoax... No, I'm not
switching careers. I'm just taking
a break from magic, from TV
appearances, from the whole thing.
But what about your fans, Wes? The
ones that brought you from the
bowels of the Internet to the big
time? They live to see you


                       BOBBY (cont'd)
Wes awkwardly laughs for a second.
Well, that's always encouraging to
hear. The thing is, my schedule
really takes a huge toll on me.
But all celebrities have a busy
schedule, Wes. It sounds to me
like you're really sort of biting
the hand that feeds.
I don't mean to alienate my fans.
They've made me a lot of money...
Scotty buries his head in his lap.
So you're saying that your fans...
The ones who put you on top...
They're just paychecks to you?
Don't put words in my mouth.
I don't need to.
Here's the deal, Bobby. I'm tired,
I'm overworked. And I need a
break. I've been doing magic shows
since I was seventeen, and It's
starting to wear on me. Right now
I'm taking a break, I may retire.
Who knows?
Well Lacey from Ocean Beach,
there's your answer, kind of.
We'll be right back with Wes
Walcott after a few mandatory
Bobby takes off his headphones and flashes another hand
signal to the control booth. They go to commercial. Wes
takes off their headphones.


Wow, you might have just made my
Fuck you!
It's not everyday you have a major
celebrity just short of announce
their retirement on your show,
give a reason for it, then
continue to be cryptic about it.
This is going to be all over the
web, the news, you name it. For a
guy who wants to stay out of the
spotlight and settle down you
really don't do yourself any
Scotty comes out from the control booth.
This interview's over, Bobby.
What the fuck do you mean it's
You're just going to pick away at
him no matter what he says until
you get better ratings.
You can't do this!
Hell yes I can, there was never
any contractual obligation, just
an informal one.
Wes and Scotty walk out of the booth, through the control
room, and out the door.
Scotty looks back at Wes.


Do you mind telling me what the
fuck that was all about? He
cracked you like a walnut!
I have no idea what happened in
Suffice to say, it was terrible.
Would this be a bad time to say I
told you so?
Yes, an extremely bad time.
Wes and Scotty settle down. Scotty unlocks his car.
Wait. My house is going to be
crawling with photographers and
those god awful tabloid people.
Do you want to stay at my place?
Will the wife care?
I don't think it's going to
matter. It's not like I can do
much worse in her eyes. I already
knocked her up.
That's what I'm hoping at this
If you keep this mentality up
you'll love this kid enough to
have cameras follow them around
until they're ten.
What happens at ten?


Well that's when they start
getting ugly, or people stop
If you're getting out of the
business then it probably wouldn't
be a terrible idea. Who knows,
maybe I could have a spin-off
after they turn ten?
You know no matter what I'd take
care of you.
I appreciate the gesture but I
never asked you to be my mountain.
I have no idea what that means.
Wes and Scotty get back in Scotty's car.
Wes takes his vest off and sets it in the back.
You're aware that Bobby just got
rich off that gem of
miscommunication you laid out
during that interview, right?
I'm painfully aware, thank you.
There was a point there where I
thought I was watching the Montel
Williams show.
I got it. Blame the therapeutic
part in me.
Already done.


That's nice.
Scotty pulls his car into a lot in front of his condo.
I forgot how close you lived to
the station...
Well it's the best place I can get
with the money you pay me.
I'll make a note of that.
Scotty parks his car, turns it off and gets out, Wes
The two walk towards the front door of Scotty's condo.
You sure Carol won't mind?
Of course not, you're like family.
Is that why I'm on your Christmas
Scotty pats down his pockets again and turns around. He
turns back and looks at Wes.
Did you...?
No idea what you're refering to.
I left my phone in the car. Just
walk in, Carol's probably asleep
by now.
Scotty turns around and walks back to his car. Wes opens the
door to Scotty's condo.


Wes walks in. The condo is very boringly decorated, just
pictures and bland furniture. He stops and hears rustling
coming from the living room. He slowly walks towards the
rustling to find CAROL, 33, short, Hispanic, having sex with
a TATTOOED MAN, 31, bald, tattooed head to toe, fat. He
glances at them in shock, then silently turns around and
walks towards the door. Scotty walks in, unassuming.
What's up?
Carol's not home. We should go out
for drinks or something.
What do you mean? I saw her car in
the parking lot.
Scotty looks at Wes, extremely concerned. Wes brushes his
hair back and awkwardly smiles.
So where do you think she is?
Uh... Not here?
Scotty rushes towards his living room frantically. Wes waits
in the hall, back turned to the living room, rubbing his
Carol?! Carol?! Carol! Carol, what
the fuck is this?! Who is this
Wes runs towards Scotty. Scotty is shoving the Tattooed Man,
now covered in a towel. Wes breaks them up.
Scotty! Scotty! Chill!
The Tattooed Man and Wes walk back to the kitchen area and
watch as Scotty argues with Carol, covered in a blanket.
Carol, what is this?! Who is this


I'm sorry, Scotty! I was going to
talk to you about it!
About what, Carol?! That you're
fucking the Tattooed Man?!
                       TATTOOED MAN
Wes turns towards the Tattooed Man.
Dude, if I were you I wouldn't say
a word... Wait, why are you still
here?! Get out!
The Tattooed Man grabs his clothes and hurries out the front
      (Lightly Crying)
Scotty, I've started divorce
Wes and Scotty simultaneously look flabbergasted at Carol.
Wes walks out of the kitchen towards Carol and Scotty.
Were you just going to surprise
him with a cake and a card or
Wes! Stay out of it!
Wes walks outside of Scotty's condo as Scotty and Carol
continue to argue.
Wes waits outside the door, listening to the shouts coming
from inside. Scotty swings the door open and slams it shut
as he walks out. He looks stern and depressed. Wes follows,
keeping quiet.
She's pregnant.


It's not mine.
I take that back.
Wes and Scotty enter Scotty's car.
Scotty drives off and almost immediately is stopped by a
stop light. He lays his head on the steering wheel, he turns
his head towards Wes.
Do you think I have a nice car?
What? Yeah, you do. Why are you
Because I'm probably going to be
living in it for the next few
Bullshit! I'm not going to let you
live in your car! Your wife just
left you!
Oh, I forgot...
Sorry... But seriously, I would
never do that to you.
Duly noted.
Scotty looks up from the steering wheel to see a green
light. He pulls forward. Cut to Scotty's car pulling up in
front of Wes's house.


Scotty pulls up to see paparazzi surrounding Wes's house.
Wes squirms in his seat.
They're like fucking ninjas.
I thought you liked the attention?
Yeah, like three years ago, when
it got me laid all the time. Now
it just causes me to wear
sunglasses at night and have a
grudge against flashes.
Wes gets out of Scotty's car. The paparazzi swarm him with
questions and camera flashes, he ignores all of them. He
walks up to his door, unlocks it, and walks in.
Wes walks into his living room, decorated almost identical
to his bedroom. He flops down on his couch and turns on the
television, fliping through the channels, some of them have
him on there, some don't. Wes yawns and turns it off. Scotty
walks in from a side door.
How're you feeling?
Like I can walk on water, thanks
for asking.
Wes grimaces and opens his laptop on the coffee table. He
opens his email, his jaw drops.
What is it?
258 new messages.
It's like your Facebook account.


On a slow day... This email's
from... James Guster in Amarillo,
Read it.
He writes, or types, "Dear Mr.
Walcott. First off, fuck you. You
let me down. I was your biggest
fan." I've heard that one before.
"I wanted to be a magician just
like you. But now I don't know who
or what I want to be. Whatever it
is, it certainly won't be anything
like you." Oh man, that was harsh.
That was intense.
It was like emo poetry.
There is a banging at the front door. Wes stands up and
walks up to it. He opens it sticks his head out. The
paparazzi swarm him again.
Get off of my property or I'll
call the police. Last warning.
Wes sticks his head back in and slams the door. He turns to
see Scotty lightly crying.
Scotty wipes his tears away.
I'm sorry, man. I was just so in
shock that I didn't really have
time to process it. This whole
thing, you know...
Now you know how I felt after the
last Spy Kids movie came out.


Scotty and Wes share a collective laugh. Wes sits down on
his couch and types something in on his laptop.
So what are we going to do now? I
mean, considering I'm getting
divorced and you've just about
quit your "job"?
I'm currently working on that...
Okay, I got it. Two tickets to
Amarillo, Texas. The flight is
tomorrow morning at ten.
That was fast.
I have good wi-fi.
Hold on... Why are we going to
Amarillo? Is it because of that
James Guster kid?
Of course. I don't want some kid
in the middle of the lone star
state to feel... Well, lone.
Aren't you noble.
Well, I know what it's like, to be
alone I mean.
Texas and Ohio aren't the same
place, Wes.
But places are all the same when
you feel alone. It doesn't matter.
Is this going to be a common
thing? Take a special trip to
visit everyone that sends you an
angry, heartfelt email?


No, it's just something that I
want... That I need to do.
And you're just assuming that I
want to come along?
Well I know you don't want to stay
Yeah... That's probably for the
Hence why I said it.
Wes stands up, pats Scotty on the back and walks to the
kitchen. Scotty follows.
Wes grabs the still open whiskey off his counter and takes a
swig, then holds the bottle up to Scotty.
To Amarillo!
Scotty looks at Wes, clearly still sad. Then takes a swig
himself and holds it up.
To Amarillo, and wherever else the
road may take us.
"To Amarillo, and wherever else
the road may take us"?
I thought that sounded heartfelt.


By heartfelt do you mean super
Now you have to bring the
sexuality card into it?
I have no idea what you're talking
Just go to bed.
That was exactly what I was going
to say to you.
Okay then.
Have a good night, man.
You too.
Scotty walks upstairs.
Don't let me hear you crying
I'll try not to!
Wes puts away the whiskey and walks up to his bathroom.
Wes opens up his foggy bathroom mirror. Behind it there are
rows of pill bottles. Wes carefully examines them and picks
out one. The pills were clearly not prescribed to him, as
someone else's name is on the bottle. He puts two pills in
his mouth and swallows them down with mouthwash. He grimaces
and sets the mouthwash down.


Hot damn.
Wes splashes water on his face and smiles at his reflection
in the mirror. He walks out into his room.
Wes strips to his underwear and flops on his bed, only
covering the back of his head with a small throw pillow. Cut
to a plane flying through the air, then landing.
Wes and Scotty wait with their luggage outside of the
airport. The sidewalk is dirty, covered with bags and
people. Scotty looks tired.
How you holding up?
What do you mean?
You talk in your sleep.
That's not something I'd make up.
What was I talking about?
Something about St. Barts?
That's where Carol and I had our
A taxi pulls up. Wes and Scotty load their things and get


Wes leans towards the window. The TAXI DRIVER, 52, Hispanic,
tired looking, looks at him, awaiting directions.
                       TAXI DRIVER
Where to?
The cheapest motel in the downtown
area. I would prefer one that I
wouldn't have to worry about being
raped or murdered in.
                       TAXI DRIVER
Whatever, buddy.
The taxi drives off. Wes turns to Scotty.
See man, you can't read to far
into this Carol thing.
Are you aware that this whole
thing happened less than twenty
four hours ago?
Oh, don't worry, it's crystal
clear. All I'm saying is enjoy
yourself. You're single, you're in
a new place. You're with me...
Don't get carried away. I want to
ease into things.
Personally, I can't see any easier
way for you to ease into things
besides getting your D wet.
You just skip right to the point,
don't you?
Go big or go home, man.


Isn't that what you said after
getting gonorrhea?
No comment.
Scotty plugs headphones into his phone and stares out the
window. Wes looks over at him and does the same. Cut to the
two being dropped off at a motel. Wes pays the Taxi Driver
and Scotty gets their things. They walk into the motel.
The motel is decorated in 70's era furniture, all of it
plastic covered. The CLERK (19, gaunt, mohawk) looks at Wes
and Scotty as they enter. Scotty sets their bags down. The
Clerk stops writing and squints and smiles at Wes.
Do I know you from somewhere?
Well I don't know you.
Oh shit! You're Wes Walcott! What
the hell are you doing in
Alright, first of all...
Wes signs the motel's sign in book as "Ted Doorhumper".
Second, nice to meet you. But my
business is my business.
I'm sorry, I... I'm just a big
Wes grabs a piece of scratch paper from the side of the
front desk, signs his name and hands it to the Clerk.
I always appreciate a fan. If
anyone asks about this autograph,
say you got it two months ago when


                       WES (cont'd)
I was performing in Austin.
Got it.
Damn right you do. Now where can
my friend and I find a room.
The Clerk eagerly hands Wes a door key.
Up the stairs, second on your
Wes reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.
How much do I owe you?
The first night's on me.
Wes smiles back at Scotty and looks back at the Clerk.
Well, thanks man.
No problem Mr. Walcott.
I'm not the president, call me
Uh, Wes... I'm gonna be here all
night. So if you need directions,
or a rental car, or something,
just call.
I'll keep that in mind, thanks.
Scotty tosses Wes his bag. They walk up the stairs and enter
their room.


The room is very much in the same vein as the lobby, 70's
looking, neat, newly dusted. Scotty examines the two beds
and sets his things down next to the right bed. Wes sets his
bag in the bathroom and flops down on the left bed. He leans
over towards Scotty.
So you want to move the beds
I put some heavy consideration
into it. But I'm going to have to
go with no.
Suit yourself.
Wes hops off his bed.
What's with you today?
I want to go and walk around the
From the looks of things there's
not much to do.
There wasn't much to do in
Oh Jesus, don't talk about Omaha.
In case you're wondering... I
wasn't the father.
I think I figured that out.
Wes grabs a couple things from his bag and puts it in his
jacket pocket. He looks back at Scotty.


You sure?
Is the Pope catholic?
I don't know his life.
Yes. Yes, I'm sure.
I'll have my phone on me.
Wes leaves. Scotty sits up and slides back towards his
headboard. He curls up in a ball and opens up a picture on
his phone. It's of a slightly younger Carol holding a puppy
and smiling. Scotty buries his head and lightly starts to
cry. Cut to Wes, standing on a nearby street corner,
The streets are dusty, sparsely populated. A BUSINESS
MASCOT, 21, skater type, dressed like a hotdog, walks up to
                       BUSINESS MASCOT
Hey man, have you heard the news?!
Please tell me you're not a hotdog
trying to tell me about the "Word
of the Lord" or some shit.
                       BUSINESS MASCOT
No man! O'Grady's Hotdogs is
having a two for one sale! Open
twenty-four seven!
That's a relief... Wait,
twenty-four seven?
                       BUSINESS MASCOT
Yeah, man. Times are tough.
      (Smugly smiling)
Tell me about it.


Wes puts out his cigarette. The Business Mascot hands him a
flier and dances off, muttering a verse from a pop song. Wes
walks down the street and quietly observe the people around
him. He notices a nearby young boy trip and let go of a
balloon. Wes jumps and grabs it and hands it to the boy. The
boy's father stops to thank Wes. He recognizes him, Wes
smiles, shakes his hand and walks off. His phone vibrates in
his pocket. He answers it.
Hello? (Pause) Hey, Mom... How are
you? (Pause) Yep, I did. (Pause)
What? (Pause) That's great!
(Pause) Yeah, sorry... (Pause) I'm
currently in Amarillo. (Pause)
It's in Texas. (Pause) Yeah, I'll
be home soon. (Pause) I love you
too, Mom. (Pause) I'll talk to you
Wes hangs up his phone. He puts it back in his pocket and
walks down the street. Cut to a skyline of Amarillo as the
sun goes down. Cut to Wes knocking on his motel door.
Scotty?! I thought we had a rule
about locking doors?!
I'll be right there!
Scotty opens the door and lets Wes in.
Scotty sits back on his bed, the sheets are ruffled.
Thanks, man. So you ready to go
You just came back.
I'm aware of that fact.


Don't you want to settle down?
That's what my mom asks. But no. I
want to go out again. This time to
a bar, or a club. Your choice.
Yeah, really. Bar or club?
Scotty smiles widely.
Not my first choice...
Trust me, It'll be fun.
Scotty grabs a suit coat from his bag and follows Wes out
the door. Cut to Wes and Scotty walking into the bar.
The bar is very southern flavored, but otherwise typical.
Wes and Scotty sit down and order drinks.
So, have you talked to Carol yet?
Wes and Scotty are slid their drinks.
Scotty chugs his whole drink, grimaces, sets it down and
orders another.
Slow down there, Wally West.
I don't get the reference.


Scotty is slid another drink. Wes finishes his and orders
Wally West? The Flash, man! You
never read comics as a kid?
No, did you?
You've never seen the collection
in my house?
Wes is slid another drink.
I try to avoid looking around your
house. I'm afraid what I might
Two men come up behind Wes. One (JUDD, 40, fat, balding)
slides up next to him. The other (ELI, 32, small, skinny,
missing teeth) sits back. Wes continues looking forward,
avoiding eye contact. Scotty looks tense.
That was my seat.
That's the one I just picked out.
It's right between the TV and that
bartender with the big titties.
The BARTENDER looks offended.
You are just a big, illiterate,
walking stereotype, aren't you?
What the hell's that supposed to
Judd backs up towards Eli. Wes turns towards them as Scotty
burrows his head and onlookers stare and whisper.


I'm guessing you don't think Obama
was born in this country, do you?
Well he wasn't!
Right... And you own a truck?
Biggest and baddest in the county!
Judd turns back to Eli, angrily.
Shut up, Eli!
And you probably think there's
nothing wrong with fucking your
first cousin?
You don't fucking know me!
Wes turns around on his bar stool and looks at Judd.
I don't need to... You can sit
anywhere else in this bar, hassle
anyone else you want. But my
friend and I, we're not leaving.
Alright then...
Wes turns around as Judd walks off. Judd stops, turns around
and lunges at Wes. Wes slides off his chair, causing Judd to
land on the bar. Wes smashes a beer bottle on the bar and
holds the sharp edge to his throat.
Many have tried, motherfucker.
Many have tried.
Eli lunges at Wes, but Scotty punches him out. He shakes his
fist in pain. Wes looks up, impressed.


And I was thinking you were the
world's biggest pussy...
The onlookers cheer and Wes slaps a hundred dollar bill on
the bar. He and Scotty walk out of the bar as two men go to
check on Judd and Eli.
Wes and Scotty walk to a nearby bench, littered with
advertisements, and sit down.
That was awesome.
I know right?
So when are we meeting that Guster
I haven't really thought that far
Don't you have his address?
Yeah, you'd be suprised how many
people in Amarillo don't have the
last name Guster.
Why don't we go pay him a visit?
      (Matter of fact)
Well, for starters, it's nine
Hasn't stopped you before.
True... What's gotten you so


The fight! Have you forgotten
about it already? You were great
in there!
Thanks, but it just wasn't the
highlight of my night.
Then what was it?
I think "Texas Flood" was on the
jukebox. That's an awesome song.
Scotty shrugs off the comment.
Are we going to see this kid, or
Call a cab.
Scotty pulls out his phone and starts dialing. Wes walks
Where are you going?
To take a piss.
That's illegal.
Yeah, I know.
Wes walks off into an alley as Scotty calls a cab. Wes pulls
a small beaker filled with cocaine from his inside jacket
pocket. He snorts it, shakes his head and rests his head
against a wall.
      (Quietly singing)
Pour... Some... Sugar on me...
Bada... Doom... Doom...


Wes leans his head off the wall, shakes it, and walks back
towards Scotty.
Call a cab?
Yep, did you drain the main vein?
Indeed I did.
A taxi pulls up.
Their depot is only located like a
block and a half away.
That's convenient.
Wes and Scotty get in the taxi.
Wes leans forward into the seat in front of him as Scotty
gives the Taxi Driver the address.
Wes? Are you alright?
Did you have too much to drink?
Wes leans back.
I'm fine... Just got a little
carsick for a second and a half.
Wes leans his head on Scotty's shoulder.


Aw, shucks.
Keep your pants on.
Will do.
Wes closes his eyes. Cut to the Taxi stopping. Scotty nudges
What's up?
You know, I may talk when I sleep.
But you... You sir, you mutter
when you sleep.
So you can put words together. Big
deal. Are we at that Guster kid's
Yeah. By the looks of things, he's
not so lonely after all...
Wes takes his head off Scotty's shoulder and looks out the
Taxi's window. Jame's House, a one story, medium sized
house, is lit up, with loud music emanating from it.
Apparently not...
Scotty pays the Taxi Driver and he gets out of the taxi. Wes
follows and brushes himself off. The taxi drives off into
the night.
Scotty walks towards the front door, Wes follows.
Let me go first.
Wes walks in front of Scotty.


Wes rings the doorbell.
Trust me.
JAMES, 17, medium height, acne faced, shaggy hair, answers
the door.
Yeah, I know, It's me. Can my
friend and I come in?
Of... Of course.
Wes and Scotty follow James into his house.
The house is nicely decorated, average looking. But with all
the kids partying it is messy. All the kids at the party go
silent and spread to create a path for Wes as he and Scotty
follow James.
Like fucking Moses...
Why wasn't it like this at the
They weren't my demographic.
A DRUNK TEENAGE GIRL thrusts herself at Wes chest first,
Scotty and James stop.
                       DRUNK TEENAGE GIRL
Oh my god! Sign my tits!


Of all places?
                       DRUNK TEENAGE GIRL
Yeah! Do it!
I've got something to attend to...
But maybe when I come back.
James continues walking, followed by Wes and Scotty.
                       DRUNK TEENAGE GIRL
Suit yourself! You won't get
another pair like these!
Wes looks back at Scotty as smirks.
James leads Wes and Scotty into his room.
James turns on the lights. His room is filled with posters
and memorabilia, most of which are Wes-related. Wes and
Scotty look at each other, each slightly creeped out.
      (Slightly shocked)
So... I take it you're a big fan.
James looks at the contents of his room, embarrassed.
Yeah... Yeah, I am.
So what was up with that email?
Wes glares at Scotty.
James looks flustered and sits on the edge of his bed.


Is that why you're here? Because
of that email? I'm sorry... I
It's fine, really. I just wanted
to stop by and say... Well, I may
not be performing, for right now
at least. But I'm still around.
Which leads to the fun part...
Wes reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a
check and a ripped piece of paper and hands it to James.
Take a look.
James looks down at the check in shock. It's worth $50,000.
I may have given up on my dreams.
But you... You don't have to. You
want to be like me, so here you
go. This is enough to get you the
best training money can buy.
Scotty looks at Wes in a similar shock.
Th... Th... Thank you!
James springs off his bed and hugs Wes.
My number's on that sheet of
paper. So if there are any bank
James lets go of Wes.
Whose party is this, yours?
My brother's, actually. He just
goes to the community college.


Well, we've got a flight to catch
in the morning. It was really nice
meeting you.
You... You too.
Wes and Scotty walk out. Wes comes back.
Hey, forgot to mention... Don't go
blabbing about that check,
alright? Cash it and don't talk
about it.
Wes waves to James and leaves his room. James sits shocked
on his bed, looking at the check.
Wes catches up with Scotty, who ignores him, as another path
opens up. The Drunk Teenage Girl thrusts herself at Wes
                       DRUNK TEENAGE GIRL
Wes lightly shoves her off.
Sorry, honey. There are laws
against that sort of thing.
Wes and Scotty walk out the front door.
Wes looks at Scotty, who has his back turned to him.
Did you call another cab?
I texted them.


The glories of the future, right?
Scotty turns towards Wes.
Do you think those kids in there
can hear us?
Wes turns towards the house, then turns back to Scotty.
No, why?
Scotty pushes Wes, extremely angry.
What the fuck, man?!
Why are you giving out fifty G's
to some kid?! Are you Willy Wonka
all of the sudden?!
The money... It's not a big deal
to me. I'm going to recoup that in
royalties probably by Monday.
But that's not the issue! People
are going to hear about this!
But there's a non-disclosure
Where's the contract?
What contract?
The contract I know you don't
The taxi pulls up. Wes and Scotty get in.


Scotty checks the time on his phone as Wes gives the Taxi
Driver directions. Wes leans back on his seat.
So, in conclusion, you don't trust
this James kid?
Does a bear shit in the woods?
I don't know the details of a
bear's life.
No, Wes, I don't trust this James
Fine, well let's recap. Exhibit A:
this kid's obsessed with me, he
wouldn't dare cross me. Exhibit B:
nobody seems to give a shit about
him anyway, so no one will notice.
Exhibit C: the money's out of one
of my foreign accounts, so he
really has no proof, that money
could've come from anywhere.
But what about those kids at the
party? They know exactly who you
are! Jesus, the press probably
knows we're here!
Well, for starters, I don't give a
flying fuck about the press
tracking me. Good luck. Second,
those kids are probably so
hammered right now they'll wake up
tomorrow thinking I was the ghost
of Bing Crosby or one of those
things from Avatar.
It's fine. Don't worry about it.


Wes brushes his hair back.
So, anything new?
So my mom called me today...
Really? How long has it been?
Five months.
Anything new in the land of Akron?
My sister had a baby.
Gives a whole new meaning to
"Brenda's Got a Baby", right?
Yeah, I guess it does.
And, unless you have a problem
with it, I'm probably give her
some money too.
So that's where we're going
tomorrow? To Akron?
That's the plan. But if you want
to go back to L.A. I understand.
To L.A.? Are you kidding me?
There's nothing left for me there.


Good, that saves me money on
another plane ticket.
So you just assumed I was coming
with you?
The Taxi Driver stops at a stoplight and turns towards Wes
and Scotty.
                       TAXI DRIVER
This is the third time I've driven
you two today, and you know what?
We're both extrememly attractive?
                       TAXI DRIVER
No! You never shut the fuck up!
Jesus, man! I don't know how your
other customers are, but I'm not
paying you to listen!
Wes, I'm paying...
Besides the point... You know
what, driver? Drop us off.
                       TAXI DRIVER
It's your dollar.
Uh, actually my dollar...
Scotty pays the Taxi Driver. He gets out, followed by Wes.
The taxi speeds off into the night. Wes and Scotty sit on
the sidewalk, littered with beer bottles and paper.


What the hell was that all about?
Would you want to be a Texas taxi
What time is it?
Five thirty-nine.
Crazy how the night passes by...
What's there to do in Amarillo at
five thirty-nine in the morning?
Wes sits and ponders.
I think I know something...
Don't say strip club.
Wes reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the folded
flyer from earlier. He hands it to Scotty, who looks it
O'Grady's Hotdogs?
Open twenty-four seven?
Yeah, times are tough.
Where did you get this?


A guy in a hotdog suit with a love
of pop music.
That's sexy.
That's what I thought.
Wes and Scotty laugh as the sun slowly comes up.


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From vito jennette Date 12/16/2010 ***
Really enjoyed the script...Dialog was good, refreshing to read something so well structured! The ending was a nice surprise, and the story really flowed well. Not really sure the introduction of the saga was necessary though? Fell in love with the wes character. Funny as hell! If you get a chance two of my scripts are posted as well. Bullycide & The Second Coming

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