EXT. PLAYGROUND - DAY
The black top’s dark expanse looms before us. Light
up sneakers strike the pavement as they skip over the whizz of jump ropes.
Singsong chants and chatter infiltrate the air.
A lunch aid finishes painting her toe nails and
lays back in a lounge chair to let them dry. She puts in headphones and places
cucumbers on her eyes. She wears a yellow pin that says “minimum wage minimum
effort.”
A shadow creeps towards a neon hopscotch area where
children play in blissful ignorance. The shadow blankets the children and they
turn, cringing in fear as they see:
Two heavy boots stomp into the picture. The boots
pause for effect, and as they walk up to the hopscotchers we see they’re
attached to baggy, camouflage pants. A bulky hand adorned with fake plastic
“pimp” jewelry shoots out towards the kids. They collectively jump back before
obediently handing over their lunch money one at a time in a single file line.
The hands belong to KARL, an imposingly overweight
bully with a sloppy Mohawk and the onset of premature mustache syndrome. He
smiles, revealing a set of mossy teeth.
EXT. BASKETBALL COURT - DAY
A few fourth graders goof around as they play
pickup basketball. TIMMY, a short, spectacle clad, nerd raises his arms for a
pass, waving them above his head. As if to say “look at me, I’m open!”
His classmates stampede past him from left to right
as Timmy screams down court. Timmy points, demonstrating that he has isolated a
gaping hole in the defense.
Ignoring him, they stampede past towards the
opposite basket. Realizing it’s no use; he jogs with a charmingly uncoordinated
gate.
Then the impossible happens. A rebound knocks off
of a tall kid’s head, past the outstretched arms of the capable players, and
rolls up to Timmy’s feet. He picks it up like a hand grenade.
KIDS
: Shoot! Shoot the ball!
Timmy squares up and musters the most confident
face he can find. All is quiet, but the silence is broken by the heavy thud of
boots. The shadow creeps, the children stare, Karl glares, Timmy is ready; this
is his glorious moment.
He leaps and soars upward; his dream an imminent
reality! He goes up, up, up until:
Karl’s large hands crash down from behind and clamp
onto Timmy’s shoulders, revealing he had only been a foot off the ground.
Karl snatches the ball and throws a pulverizing
shoulder slam, knocking Timmy to the ground and breaking his glasses before
laying in an easy basket. Timmy begins blubbering.
KARL:
Oh I’m sorry, did I hurt you?
Timmy nods, snot running down his nose. Karl
reaches out his hand and helps him up. He pats him on the back and dusts him
off.
KARL (CONT’D)
Ya know I just hate to see you like
this buddy, you’re really getting banged up out
there.
He places one arm over Timmy’s shoulder and the
other produces the school handbook. He waves it in his face as he speaks.
KARL (CONT’D)
Have you ever read the school
handbook? Timmy shakes his head no.
KARL (CONT’D)
Well on page 6 the handbook clearly
states that, wait one sec I got it book marked
here. That “each and every student should be mindful of endangering themselves
and others.”
He chucks the book, hitting some random third
grader in a dinosaur shirt in the head. He lets out a wimpy scream as his eyes
bulge and he falls flat on his face.
KARL (CONT’D)
Now it would be irresponsible of me
to allow you to continue to place yourself in such
(he uses hand quotes) “Dangerous situations that
seriously undermine the goals of a positive learning environment.”
TIMMY
Uhmm, thanks, but how could you
possibility do that?
KARL
Oh well that’s simple, chum! You
aren’t going to play basketball anymore.
TIMMY
But the only reason I got hurt just
now is because you knocked me over.
KARL
And whose to say I won’t do it
again? You really just can’t trust people these
days. But I’ll tell you what, I don’t want you feeling left out because that
would just
(hand quotes)
“exacerbate” the situation. So if you
can’t play, then no one can.
He throws the ball up and punts it high over the
school.
KARL (CONT’D) See ya in class losers!
