A Puckered Strut

INT. SHITTY APARTMENT - DAY

Early 30’s dude in blue-jeans and a gas-mask lying perfectly still on his back on a stack of EV 300 club speakers. The speakers are stacked neatly against a white dirty wall, three high and five across. Dude is barefoot, shirtless and drug-ripped fit.

UP NARRATIVE:

Long gone are the days of cherry
Blow-Pops, Black-Bart and Big-
League Chew. No more Grape
Crush or peanut butter and jelly
‘cause there’s grown-up drugs in
your belly. Substance abuser
celebrities are on all the magazine
covers – recreational drug use
doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone’s
an addict. Everybody’s got a
problem. They all need help.

But I say fuck that…

Drink, drank, drunk…
Sniff, snaff, snuff…
Tiff, taff, tuff…

Dude jumps down from speakers and lands on the floor in exaggerated surfer pose.

Follow follow your nose, it
always knows.

Dude gets dressed, grabs his Sector 9 long-board and heads out the door still wearing the gas-mask.

CUT TO:

EXT. – DAY

Skate sequence in downtown Toronto. Dude is a rock solid skater, riding way up front… No tricks (save for maybe a hang-five), just good style & speed and nice tight turns - tac-tac-tac - just like that. He is a man on a mission but taking his time. Right now the skating is the thing; the drugs can wait a little longer. The drugs aren’t going anywhere. And the drug dealer is always late.