Super Summer Contest Stage One!

Please read the following stories/concepts. Once you've done that please feel free to offer as much (or as little) criticism and praise as you like. Then chose your top three. Your first choice gets 3 points, your second choice gets 2 points and your third choice gets one point (like Eurovision) and at the end of the voting period the story/concept with the most points wins!
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The Actors Call Back

A young man is an aspiring actor. While working at a local coffee shop, he meets a young girl, very pretty, but very down to earth and humble. She is getting coffee with her friend. The friend is trying to be secretive about a party that will be taking place but the debutante knows whats up. She tries to turn the convo to something more real and sophisticated, the bombing in Norway etc. but the friend isn't a current events type lady. The young man chimes in with something smart and in line with the debutantes feelings towards the subject. They hit it off. He comments about how the media alienates groups of people then when the same people lash out, everyone wonders why. Instead of focusing on our differences why don't more poepl efocus on our similarites. something like that. They exchange words and whatnot, they're obviously into each other but the circumstances don't allow for further progress. She leaves. He gets home, he has a friend who's also trying to be an actor but biding his time until his next big break as a clown. He has a convo back at his apartment with teh clown friend still wearing teh clown suit, minus a top. The young man answers a craigslist ad for 2 young, and in shape. enthusiastic male actors. He contacts and gets the details for the shoot. Next day they arrives at the place and are immediately thrown off because its a bachelorette party for some rich debutante. The party planner shuffles them off and rushes them to the dressing room where they gets their costumes or rather lack there of(a speedo, cowboy boots, and the Tom Cruise "Eyes Wide Shut" masks). The clown friend is kinda pissed but down with dancing for a couple ladies, why the fuck not right? The debutante isn't entusiatic about her impending lose of single freedom. She's getting married to a rich, egocentric man. Kind of sad while her friends hope that some male entertainment will cheer her up. "I just don't know if he's for me you know?" "Katie, he's got bank and a cherry red Masarati, if he's not for you who's he for?" As they pops out of the cake, the young man immediately recognizes teh chick, a little bit more done up than at first in teh coffee shop. He sees teh same friend. They dnace, some old lady in teh crowd trying to take the party to the next level-she's trying to stick a rubber dildo in the friends ass. She's laughing off her inappropriatness to the other ladies(yes even male strippers expect a sort of ettiquette). The debutante watches but doesn't stay for long, the other ladies are too entralled to see her leave. The young man notices. His friend is doing some crazy gymnast maneuver that gets the girls all hot and bothered. As he has them entertained-he's really enjoying the female attention, the young man takes off after the debutante. Still wearing the costume, he makes his way dancing closer and closer to her. She tells him she's not into it. He sees his attempt to draw her attention does not work, he reveals his true identity. DUN DUN DUN!. "You? Why are you...who are you?" "Tim, I work at the coffee shop...we met.."
"no I know who you are but why are you here, are you a stripper?"
"No just trying to be an actor, they should really screen teh ads posted on craigslist." She giggles, "Wanna take a walk?" She gets a towel to wrap around his waist. They walk and chat-talking about her future, his future, their ideals and morals with respect to more current events. They come to a nice romantic spot in their little journey. They stare into each other's eyes, and she leans in to kiss him. He's taken aback at first. Then composing himself, plants one as rebuttal. As they kiss, her phone rings, she answers. Party party party in the background. "Katie where are you, the speedo's off and the whip cream's out!!" "I'm just clearing my head, I'm coming back now." She clicks it off, Tim and Katie look at each other. "You gotta go? " "Yea." "What do we do now?" "Nothing." "What do you mean nothing? What about...you know.." "I'm leaving tomorrow, for Paris. I can't do anything." "You can stay." "No I can't." They hold each other's gaze for a long time. She smiles, "I'm glad to have met you Tim. Maybe in another life" "Maybe..." She kisses him on the cheek and turns to walk. As she gets really far, she turns and Tim yells "look me up if you're ever in town, TIM GREEZY" Screams out his city and state... He sits on a bench thinking about the one that just got away (obviously Katie) and mutters..."stupid". The next day, he wakes up, he pours himself some cerial. He flips the channel. He lands on the news where a breaking story is developing, local debutante, runs out on fiance and family. Whereabouts unknown, last seen boarding plane train and automobile. Any info...etc.... He sees her picture, puts two and two together. All of a sudden, frantic "KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKS" He turns with milk trailing down his chin.
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Battle: Anthony's Lawn

Anthony's girl is gonna b!tch if the grass isn't cut by the time she returns from X. If he can get the lawn cut fast enough he can watch the last quarter of the game! But the lawnmower is out of gas. He can siphon gas from his car, but the gas can in wife's SUV, must find and use an "unapproved container". Siphons gas from his car.
All gassed up, now the garage door won't open. Checks battery, checks circuit breaker, nothing. Pulls manual release lever and pushes up door.
Now the lawnmower won't start! Jump starts lawnmower from car.
Finally, he get's the lawnmower running. Despite all the shit in the yard and in the grass Anthony gets the grass cut, misses the last quarter of the game, but does avoid his wife's bitching!
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Elroy's Bread

Elroy want's to surprise his wife by making cheese bread before his she gets home. Finds recipe on line but the printer isn't working. Goto office supply to get more ink, loads cartridge. Notes he has everything but eggs. Gotta goto the store to get eggs.
Unfortunately some dummy put the empty milk carton back in the fridge. Distraught and despaired, Elroy turns off the oven and flops back on the couch.
It occurs to him to use condensed milk from pantry as substitute for milk. Bakes the bread and surprises his wife with the ugliest loaf of cheese bread ever.
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Mantis

Trevor, 18 and just graduated high school, is driving down a rural road on his way from Seattle, Washington to the coast to spend time with his friends at a graduation party they are throwing; "Senior Sunset" it's called. All of his friends have been there since Friday, and he's a day late because he had a college interview Saturday morning. He's speeding to make it there to spend as much time with his friends and girlfriend, Jessica.

Trevor pulls over to pick up a hitchhiker in a business suit carrying a brown aged leather backpack.

The two exchange some dialogue and Trevor has a real bad feeling about this guy. His backpack is perched on his lap and Trevor sees what looks like a long strand of blonde hair coming from inside it. The Hitchhiker is tense and is looking all around as if he's being watched. Finally, he asks to be let out and Trevor stops and the hitchhiker runs off into the woods.

10 minutes later, when Trevor reaches the destination, all of the kids have sad looks on their faces and are all staring at Trevor. He asks one of them what's going on, and they reply that Trevor's girlfriend, Jessica, had been brutally raped/murdered committed by who is believed to be a notorious cereal killer who decapitates his victims after he ravages them multiple times. They call him "Mantis".
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Gash

Four women wake up on a deserted beach. They're just normal, everyday gals who happen to be Victoria's Secret Angels. Slowly recollections from the previous night come back to them, especially flashes of being drugged, carried off in a van and taken away on a plane.

They realise that there's a mobile phone ringing right beside them and Miranda picks it up. A voice speaks to them and explains that they are on a desert island and that only one of them will be allowed to leave. The voice instructs them each to head in different directions where they will find the first clue to their survival. The voice hangs up and the girls set off with the appropriate amount of bikini clad hysteria.

When Miranda, Heidi, Adriana and Rosie arrive at their destinations they find a letter and a sack. The letter explains that in order to leave the island alive they have to kill one another and that, if they haven't done this, by nightfall that evening, they would all be killed. In the sack is an assortment of knives, machetes and swords. They each set off into the jungle.

What ensues contains a lot of gratuitous violence and emotional conflict as they all happen to be lesbians who are secretly in love with each other. However they have no choice but to kill one another and, ultimately, that's what they do.

Miranda wins.
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Top Mom

Mom's doing a bunch of loads of laundry. Afterwards she'd like to get started on supper. Gotta go pick up dirty clothes around the house. Loads and washes whites before cleaning kitchen. Whites are done! Start towels, dry whites. Whites are done! Dry towels. Fold whites.
Mom finds some socks are missing. Whatever. She gives up looking. There are a bunch of socks missing! Phone starts ringing
Mom in law (MIL) needs help finding not one but four things on the computer. Mom's never going to get dinner started! Finds two things for MIL, can't find a third, finds a fourth. Honey comes home and takes her out for being good to his mom.
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Swann Clean

ATE wakes up in a cliche filty apartment. Goes to interview for a job as a janitor. The janitor job involves both vacuuming and cleaning with spray bottle and rag. The boss, MR SWANN, notes Nate does well with the vacuum cleaner but doesn't do so well with spray bottle and rag. Desperate for a new office contract and despite shortcomings Nate is provisionally hired for the janitorial job with a warning to never sniff the cleaning solution.
But the question remains can Nate maintain his job?
Nate and his new co-worker LARRY are assigned to clean both a small and large meeting room before a deadline. Vacuum silliness & spray bottle difficulties ensue demonstrating what an excellent vacuum operator Nate is.
However, he breaks his spray bottle and has misplaced his cleaning rag. Actually, he's starting to flip out and thinks he saw himself steal the cleaning rag! Larry kids him about sniffing the poisons in the cleaning solution. Fortunately, with Larry's help he fixes the bottle and finds the lost cleaning rag. All is well until Larry tricks Nate into locking up his vacuum! Oh, no! The Boss is going to fire Nate for sure!
Using universal paperclip skills, Nate unlocks the door, continues with cleaning the meeting room on time. Despite bottle damage, missing rag and vacuum attachments by Larry, Nate does an excellent job cleaning the meeting room! Supervisor is impressed. Nate dies of cleaning solution poisoning.
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Stopcock

Arguing brothers/friends/couple are cleaning up and winterizing a cabin which includes cutting off the water with the stopcock under/behind the house and draining water from pipes. While fixing the kitchen sink the argument seems to be resolving but then goes very bad, the other party leaves in their vehicle quite angry. Mad, angry and frustrated RON grabs after a dropped screw nut into the sink, getting his hand stuck in the garbage disposal.
Fun & games ensue as he fruitlessly pulls, reaches for nearby objects, and debates cutting off his own arm with the large assortment of knives nearby. No food. No water, though.
Finally his cell phone rings! Unfortunately it's just out of reach and unanswerable. But surely the caller/pissed friend/brother/girlfriend will realize he's not returned and will come looking for him in a day or two. Or three.
Ron understands he's been a jerk and wouldn't be surprised if no one has any intention of coming back looking for him. He resolves to cut off his hand. After a gruesome and miserable process he cuts loose and drives to ER.
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2nd John Verse 1

John, a nice easy going church man becomes obsessed with the teachings of a
traveling charismatic preacher he meets one night at a Revival Tent. Zeek, the
charismatic preacher, lures John and others into what is essentially a scam.
Zeek convinces his followers that the end of the world is neigh, and folks
leave all their property and riches to the “Church Of The Red Robed Christ”


John doesn’t stop there, he becomes more and more obsessed with the end of days,
hes gone too crazy for even Zeek to deal with so Zeek of disappears with all
John’s money and property. Everyone tells John he’s been scammed etc, but he
doesn’t believe them, he knows that something is about to happen.

John begins to preach on his own, his only goal to make a trip to Jerusalem to
be there on what he is sure, will be the day of the 2nd coming of Jesus. Mary,
a beautiful, rich woman helps him with money and material support and pays for
his trip.


As John waits in the Old City, a bomb goes off, out of the rubble comes a robed
and bearded man, at first John is sure it is Christ, but as the man approaches
John sees that it isn’t. The robbed man helps John out of the chaos and they
walk into the wilderness, John is in the wilderness for 40 days with the bearded
man.

John learns that he is to become a prophet and prepare the way for Christ to
come.

John wakes in a hospital bed, confused he sneaks out and finds his way home.

John’s family finds him preaching on the street, presumably crazy as a loon, and
have him committed for his own safety.

A nurse preps John for extreme electroshock; the DR enters the room and
dismisses the nurse. It is Marry! She pats him on the cheek and tells him.

“well done good and faithful servant” at the sight of Mary, John has
flashback\recall.

Mary set him up to carry the bomb to Jerusalem in which explosion he was
supposed to die, but lived and woke in the hospital after he was in a comma for
40 days!! Now show must silence the only witness. zaaaappppp sizzle, and John
drools..
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Bert's Bubbles


BERT can't blow bubbles with bubble gum and endeavors to learn how. He is introduced to NELL who gives Bert "special" gum. It tastes funny and Bert is reluctant to even try. However, with Nell's "special" gum BERT learns to blow his very first bubble!
He practices blowing bubbles in different places. Delighted with his modicum of success, he shows his nascent bubble blowing skills to his big brother TED, the Bubble King, mired in his own troubles as he considers leaving town for job/college.
Nell tells Bert he could become the new Bubble King! This angers Bert who loves his big brother very much, causing Bert and Nell get into relationship ending argument. Big brother get's job/acepted into college and leaves. Bert is now alone with no one as his friend.
BERT realizes his foolishness, resolves his issues with both Nell and Ted before trying to become the new Bubble King. Devastated by learning Nell's "special" gum isn't special Bert carries on to blow his best bubbles ever with Nell's help.
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Production

America’s debt problem goes unsolved. In a last attempt for recovery from what was once the most powerful nation, the government legalizes Marihuana.
Charlie Doe was once a waiter. Working long hours for little money in the city that brews stars takes its toll on a man’s mind. It affected every aspiring-something to ever set foot in Los Angeles. First, you take up a job you hate, trying to make your way to stardom. But soon after that, that crappy job turns you into a bitter being, resenting everything and everyone, finally abandoning its dreams. Nevertheless, there’s always someone who powers through it all. Sweat and blood, tears and pain. Juggling two jobs and an internship. Giving up relationships and fun, all for a final goal. That guy was not Charlie; he was hit by a producer’s limo when taking the trash out at the local Parrillada. He sue the hell out of the producer, and with the eight digit settlement, he started his own studio. Today, he spent his time in his office, approving scripts and budgets.
A buzz. Waking him up from his nap. Charlie looked around his office, trying to locate the source from the sound. From the mahogany desk, to the mahogany bar. Maybe behind the mahogany curtains? The intercom buzzed again.
-“Ya, Mr. Dibbler is here to see you man”- Said Sarah, his assistant. After reminding her that she was a stoner, and not a Jamaican man, he asked her to let Dibbler in.
-“Dude!”-Greeted Dibbler. If you looked at both man today, you wouldn’t know, but they went back a long way. Dibbler sold weed to Charlie while he was working at the Parillada. Maybe they did not go a long way back. But still…
-“It’s been a long time man!”
-“A long time in-deed my-friend”- Said Dibbler. He often spoke like that. His friends always blamed the repetitive blows to the head. Dibbler blamed massive vaccination conspiracies. He continued -“This office…There’s something about it…is awesome, but…”-
Charlie knew what he meant. His office always, almost reflecting its owner, smelled like fear, and respect. Also, pot, and burnt hair.
-“Take a sit dude!”- Said Charlie, pointing at two seats by the window and pouring two glasses of scotch.
Stories went back and forth. So did the six inch joint.

-“Du…Dude…DUDE! You are not listening”- Dibbler was right, Charlie was too busy pulling threads out of his seat’s fabric.
-“Yes I am!”- Now, Charlie was admiring Dibbler’s hair. It was captivating. The red highlights?
-“No you are NOT”-
…Maybe the long, feathered hair braid?
-“Okay, I wasn’t”- He was positive it was the meticulously combed blond bang.
-“I’m trying to pitch you a story!”-Said Dibbler, taking off his snow hat, revealing a clearly shaven head.
Dibbler continued -“Okay, picture this! There’s this massive quake! Buildings collapse, streets rupture…A huge bowl of clusterfuck replaces L.A!”-
-“Oh…and…and, is it like, all shaky and cloverfieldy!?”-The excitement was clear in his voice.
-“OF FUCKING COURSE!”- Charlie’s hands start shaking. Dibbler continued -“So, we hear this huge footsteps. BAM! BAM! Shadow covers the city. We look above. There’s like…like this giant…Dorito “- As soon as this sentence was over, Charlie finally wetted his pants with excitement. Excitement and urine.
-“GREEN LI”-
-“It’s not over”- Dibbler interrupted. -“Jets fly by and bomb the shit out of this Dorito…And it falls down in slow-mo. It hits the ground. The smoke clears. The Dorito it’s not there. It’s a giant Cheeto!”- It was over. Dibbler stood up, and took a bow.
-“Oh, Bra-vo”- Said Charlie, clapping. A single tear rolls down his cheek.
- “Green light it! 3D! No 4D! No, 4D with smell.”- Charlie stood up, and run around the room.
He continued, -“I want Seth Rogen on this. And Shyama...Shyamalmaam…Malyasha- The guy from Sixth Sense!”- Charlie walks towards the intercom -“Sarah, get me the guy from Sixth Sense on the phone. Right now.”-
-“Sure thing man. The guy from Armageddon?”-
Charlie crosses himself. Poor guy…who in his right mind would think to build a real transformer.
-“No! Shyamla…Shamaly…Fuck, I’ll send you his IMdB page.”-
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Goth District

School security guard, VIC, assigned to direct goth students away from the side of the building. Trying to get them to leave he accepts a drink from a cute girl goth but spills the drink on himself. Laughing and cajoling at Vic's predicament it looks like the goths are going to leave until Vic is accidentally sprayed with Mace from the girly goth's key ring. Vic gets sick, vomits, passes out behind the school.
Waking from fainting he finds his nails are painted black and his wet uniform shirt changed for black. His injured head from the fall is bandaged with black scarf. Wondering where he is, Vic's co-worker Kurt goes to find him, find's the girly goth's car keys, sees the goths are still not removed from the side of the school and goes to get help. When they return Kurt and the guards find Vic has become a Goth!
Persecuted by former friends, Vic must get girly goth's car keys from the office to escape before he gets fired!
Vic gets keys, gets to car, gets home to a clean uniform but say's screwwit and doinks the girl goth instead!
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Humiliation

Three friends bored watching TV, as a gag SAM suggests ROB try to convince BOB through a shared dreaming experience that Bob is a woman. Rob knows he can do it, but is afraid his small joke might become a permanent problem for Bob. Rob accepts the challenge only if Sam assists.
All three are inducted into a shared dream several levels deep culminating in Bob about to put on a dress.
But Bob refuses because he's embarrassed and confesses he wants to become a transvestite, Rob and Sam laugh until Rob breaks down crying inconsolably for ruining Bob's life.
Sam feels bad about hurting Rob's feelings and tries to make him laugh by putting on the dress and makeup. Rob, Sam and Bob all wake up and Sam is actually wearing make up and women's clothes and confesses to investigating transsexual surgery.
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Pickpocket

Pickpocket in the street. She's a pregnant drug addict. Her name is Asia.
It's a really hot day, barely anyone in the street.
Asia tries her pickpocket tricks on an old lady. The lady, very bravely, breaks the umbrella she carries to protect her from the sun, onto Asia’s head.
Sweating, hungry, Asia's hanging around an ice cream parlor.
A man goes out of the ice cream parlor, enjoying a huge ice cream.
She follows him, swallowing every time he has a bite of the sweet, melting ice cream.
Asia’s eyeing the money showing from the man’s back pocket.
The man stops, startled by the vibrating mobile phone in his pocket.
Asia stops too. Pretending she minds her own business.
He picks up the phone while biting a generous amount of the ice cream. He’s laughing loudly at what he hears on the phone. Turns around and slaps his thighs.
Asia’s minding her own business… Looking at opposite direction of the man (who’s now chocking with laughter).
Now she can hear him really chocking.
Ice cream in his trachea, the man can’t breathe.
Asia approaches the man and hit him on the back, while taking the money out of his pocket.
She hurries away.
The man chokes.
The desperate noise of him trying to breathe makes Asia stop.
Asia goes back and hit him on the back again, a lot harder this time.
She’s almost running away now.
She looks back. The man is lying on the ground. Dying.
Asia is angry with herself. She can’t believe she goes back to the man. Puts her arms around his chest and presses hard. Ice cream goes out of the man’s trout.
Asia is holding her pregnant belly. It hurts.
The man is breathing now. Turning around to thank his savior …
Asia is hurrying away.
Turning around the corner, she’s counting the money…
Streaks of blood coming down her legs.
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Insertion

ROB and MARY are hi-tech shared dreaming pimp & prostitute. BOB is a new customer very eager to pay Mary enough to have "D-sex" with her, but balks at Rob attending, which he insists for security purposes. Finally Bob agrees to pay for the D-sex with Mary.
The sexcapades go levels deep as Bob demonstrates that he's really a very nice and wealthy guy. Bob suggests Mary leave Rob and run away with him. Undeterred, Mary knows Rob will always be there for him.
They uncover that Rob is actually a user bastard and Mary falls in love with Bob, will leave Rob, and run away with Bob to get married.
Angry and scared Rob figures a way out, tricks Mary and Rob into an infinite loop, Rob and Mary wake up and drown sleeping Bob in the bathtub.
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Deep Blue

It was strange, he thought, to have one’s future decided by a machine.
Sergey Rublov was not hooked up to life support. He was not even by the wheel of the imported Opal that had served him so well during his years of exile. He was looking down at a letter that had been sent to him, special delivery, and which contained an invitation to what ‘they’ considered the future.
When he was eighteen years old Rublov had fled the Soviet Union in order to ply his trade in the liberal democracies of the west. He still represented the USSR on a formal level but he had forever swapped the beautiful grey landscapes of Moscow for the decadence of European airport hotels. ‘Is this the life that you wanted when you left?’ He asked himself, time after time. And again and again he reached the conclusion that he could have done no more, that he could have been no happier in himself.
And yet- this letter that he clutched in his gnarling hands was an indication of failure. Not a failure that he had already committed but one that people would expect him to commit. During the matches that he had played over the years, he had proved to opponents and spectators that he was invincible, irreplaceable. Now ‘they’ lined up to replace him, and whilst he did not wish for the illusion of perfection to be dismantled, he knew that the cold, hard facts were stacked against him.
After a match that he had played against the Danish Grand Master Magnus Jensen in 1987 he had experienced one of the two profound revelations of his life. He and Jensen had gone to enjoy a beverage in the hotel bar and deconstruct the match that they had played, which Rublov had emphatically won. It was during this conversation that Jensen told him that he considered the Rook to be the best defensive piece. Its limitations in attack, he argued, meant that it was, when well placed, an immovable object. At the time Rublov had listened but not disagreed and it was only when he was taking a taxi to Stockholm International the next day that he considered what Jensen had said. Jensen, he concluded, was fundamentally wrong. Just because he had failed to use the Rook as an attacking piece did not make it the best defensive piece. Clearly the Queen, with her limitless mobility and grace, was the best defensive piece, much as she was the finest offensive piece.
The second profound revelation came to him upon the birth of his first born son, Michael. Having been married for three years the pregnancy had been expected and approved of by his and his wife’s families. When Michael was born he was struck with the same realisation that strikes so many parents as they see the squirming tangle of DNA which they helped to produce: His life was no longer his own and his son would have to take precedence over the game which he had spent his life perfecting.
It is wonderful, he would often consider, to be able to play a game and for people to consider it work. It is the same for footballers and ice hockey players- they are allowed to have fun seven days a week without people considering them to be ‘slackers’. Once Michael had been born he did not practice every day. He let his FIDE ranking slip, allowed himself to engage in his former life only when his reputation was at stake. But ‘Sergey the Terrible’ lost none of his reputation nor, during those nights when he was awake nursing Michael, his formidable ability.
And so now, aged forty three and with his son ready to start high school, Rublov contemplated the proposal in front of him. He was to play ‘Ian’. He supposed that this was an acronym humorously developed by programmers for some endless company, but the real name escaped him. In calling him ‘Ian’ he somehow managed to make him real, to assess his enemy as though he were a real man, with a real psychology and an original mentality.
Except that he knew this was the wrong way to approach the subject. ‘Ian’ wasn’t a real man. Every time Rublov made a move ‘Ian’ would check to see what the most effective defence or counter-attack was. ‘Ian’ could not be creative, could not lull Rublov into believing that he had a strategy. Rublov could feign and bluff all he liked but ‘Ian’ would simply roll the permutations over inside his inexorable layers of circuitry and the move that came out at the end would precisely serve his purpose. ‘This is’, Rublov considered, ‘how the world will end, with men fighting robots and not knowing whether to run or to fight.’
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Conception

MARY and Rob are hi-tech dream surrogate and broker. BOB is a new customer very eager to pay Mary enough to have a shared dream-family with her, but balks at Rob attending, which he insists for security purposes. Finally Bob agrees to pay for the D-sex with Mary.
The family life go levels deep as Bob demonstrates that he's really a very nice and wealthy guy. Bob suggests Mary leave Rob and run away with him. Undeterred, Mary knows Rob will always be there for him.
They uncover that Rob is actually a user bastard and Mary falls in love with Bob, will leave Rob, and run away with Bob to get married.
Angry and scared Rob figures a way out, tricks Mary and Rob into an infinite loop, Rob and Mary wake up and drown sleeping Bob in the bathtub.
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The Joy

A pair of space-aliens have been sent to Earth, to scout for feasibility of an invasion, and annihilation of the human species. Forced to take the form of human beings, they are able to experience what it's like to be human. Once they are exposed to the joy of sex, they decide that instead of completing their mission, they must convince their superiors not to invade/annihilate.
 
ABC

I decided to have a smoke. There hadn’t been any movement in ages, so I had the time. I took a cigarette from its packet, placed it firmly between my lips and lit it. The first drag was always the best. I held it in, enjoyed it, contemplated its effects on my lungs. Who cares? I sure didn’t. I exhaled slowly, watching the plumes of grey smoke filter off into the night sky.
It was cold out here tonight. Up here, on the roof of this anonymous building, there was no shelter, nothing to protect me from the cold lashing of wind I was receiving, something I must’ve seemed to deserve.
This was possibly the most uncomfortable I’d ever been, sitting on an overturned milk crate, surrounded by concrete and silence.
A noise, down at street level. A quick glance confirmed there was nothing for me to concern myself with. I went back to my smoke. The second drag was always the worst.
I coughed, lightly, restrained.
A noise behind me now. I turned. A pigeon, fat and stupid, its wings fluttering unnecessarily, sat on a concrete bollard, a few meters back. It stared at me, perhaps through me, its black, beady eyes, piercing like the tip of a dart. I didn’t like it. Vermin. “Shoo!” I said, a quiet whisper, waving my hand towards it. It didn’t move. It tucked its wings away and stood motionless, its head turned to one side, in profile. It was still watching me, I was sure of it. Fuck it. I turned my back on it.
My cigarette was burning away nicely. I flicked the ash away and took another drag, then another. I dropped the butt at my feet and slid my left foot over it. The cigarette, half extinguished, half still alight, allowed a thin trail of smoke to rise from its dying carcass, its soul, reaching for the heavens. I slid my foot over it again, pressing harder. It was out this time.
I checked my watch, 00:50. It was getting close.
I bent to retrieve the case I had placed at my feet, nearly four hours ago. A twinge in my back pulled at the muscles, hurt like a bitch. It felt as though the vertebrae in my spine had fused together. I rubbed it, massaged the pain away.
I took the case and lifted it to my lap. Two coded catches held it securely shut. I entered the codes, ‘141’ on the left, ‘414’ on the right. The two catches snapped open. I lifted the lid and removed the cardboard file that sat on top.
The file, plain brown card, flimsy, cheap, had a white label on the front, the number “#141414” printed in black. I opened the file and took out the paper work; three sheets of plain white paper, the details of an individual printed on each one.
Sheet number one had the title “Target A” printed along the top. Below, an empty box, the words “NO PICTURE AVAILABLE” stamped in red ink. I scanned the sheet, trying to take in as much detail as possible, in as little time as possible. Male, twenty-seven, five-eleven, seventy-three kilos, brown hair, brown eyes... I knew all this already.
I flipped to sheet number two. “Target B”, no picture available. I scanned the page. Male, twenty-seven, five-eleven, seventy-three kilos, brown hair, brown eyes...
I didn’t need to read the third sheet, I knew it would be the same.
A buzzing, vibrating in the inside pocket of my jacket. My phone. I took it out and checked the screen, flashing black and blue. The name on the screen read: “MICHAEL”. I answered it, ‘Hello?’
‘Targets are on route. Two minutes.’ The voice was one I’d heard numerous times before. “MICHAEL” was my employer. He was also a man I’d never met.
‘Okay,’ I replied before the line went dead. I returned the phone to my pocket.
That was it. The call I’d been waiting for. Time to set up.
I dropped the file on to the floor and went about taking the gun from the case. An M5-40 Mk.II, the current standard issue to military snipers. Extreme range, way too over the top for this job, but sure, as the boss always said, it’d get the job done.
This particular rifle was supplied in parts, easier to transport. That just meant it took a minute or two to put together. I removed the body from the case, attached the stock, the barrel, the scope. I checked the magazine. Fully loaded, twelve shots. I wouldn’t need twelve. The job was for three targets. I’d only need three bullets. I clipped the magazine into position.
In the case, folded neatly into a tiny package, was a tripod. Most shooters needed one to steady their aim. I didn’t need one any more, I’d practiced enough. Besides, if I needed stabilisation, I’d just use the wall before me.
I thought about it. Decided that would be the best bet.
I leant forward and placed the body of the rifle onto the wall. Lifting the stock, tilting the barrel downwards. The angle offered me a perfect view through the scope.
I could almost see the grain in the wooden door of the nightclub.
I moved my head from the scope, checked my watch. It was 00.59. They were due any second. I looked over my shoulder. The pigeon was gone.
The unmistakable creaking of the old wooden door, slowly opening, emanated from below me, the chattering of a few voices accompanying it. This was it. I leant forward, my eye fixed firmly to the lens of my scope.
There they were. Chatting, shaking hands. Targets A, B and C. I didn’t know which was which. It didn’t matter. They all looked the same. For all intense purposes, they were the same.
They were all me.
I didn’t understand the who’s, the how’s, or the why’s of cloning, or time-travel, or teleportation, or any of this shit they’d found out that they could do over the past few years. I didn’t care, that was for the boffins. This was my job, a gunman for hire.
I lined up the sights, the furrowed brow of one of the men, one of me. I fired and watched his brains splatter over the wall behind him.
It felt good, killing yourself.
A moment of confusion passed between the two remaining men. No panic.
I fired again. The second man’s brains joined the first. Panic now.
The last man ducked his head low, scanned his surroundings, looking for the location of the shooter. At the same time, he was reaching into his jacket, reaching for a gun no doubt. It was too late for him. I took my shot and he was dead.
Away from the scope, I looked down from my vantage point. Three bodies lying in a heap outside the nightclub. Three of me. A. B. C. Their respective skulls were now empty, exactly as I’d been told they should be. A job well done. I’d buy myself a drink later.
I lowered my gun, set it against the wall.
This wasn’t the first time I’d killed myself, or other versions of myself, at least. I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
I decided to have a smoke. I took a cigarette from its packet, placed it firmly between my lips and lit it. The first drag was always the best.
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Day of the Topiaries

Chapter 1: The Orange Stone
It was the height of summer, and their laughter echoed across the
rolling green hillsides as they descended the last hill into the
forests edge. Susan, 10, and Jeremy,8 had been playing in the woods
all summer long while their parents stayed at the palacial vacation
home atop a nearby hill.
On the previous day, the monotony of their regular forest exploration
had been broken by an unusual discovery. Well off of the path, a
half mile into the forest, they had found an old abandoned church.
Night had been falling, and the two were forced to return home
afterjust a few minutes inside.
They had talked about it most of the evening before, and came
equipped this time, with flashlights, and Susan with a rag doll for
extra security.
The two walked quitely through the woods, a little scared, but mostly
exited. The previous day they had left a marker where they had come
back to the path from the church, a bright red scarf tied to a
branch. A cold wind was whipping the scarf about when they arrived,
with grey clouds moving unusually quick above the forest canopy.
"It'll let up" Jeremy says, not relishing the long walk back with no
treasure.
"We should probably go back, this place isn't going anywhere" Susan
replies, looking concerned at the massing clouds, and gripping the
doll more tightly.
But Jeremy was running ahead already, flashlight in hand.
He slowed as he approached the doorway, it was four times his hieght.
Moss covered the entire structure turning brown around the rust of
the huge metal door. It was still cracked open from their visit
yesterday, and he swung it open.
Within the church was a wide open room. Walking in, he began to
notice some unusual things that had not been clear in the previous
days waning light. It was less like a church, and more like a
cathedral. There was a great deal of intricate work across the
building's cieling and walls. But not the usual christian symbolism
he was familiar with. Odd Chandeliers made of rocks in the shape of
the stonehenge 3d pictures he had seen in his viewmaster. There were
eroded paintings on the walls, telling some kind of story depicted in
a scene of what appeared to be hundreds of strange looking angels
hovering around a box with a glow coming out of it.
Down the center isle of the church, there was a very strange stone
podium, which looked more like an alter than anything. Susan came up
behind him, jolting him for a moment out of his fixation with the
large stone.
"What is this place" She said, shining her flashlight around the
room to light up the darker corners. "It's creepy"
He walked past the stone alter and up to the elevated stage behind
it. Something was odd here. While most of the vines and foiliage
that covered the room was half dead, he noticed that it became very
green in a radius surrounding an old rotting rug that covered the
center of the stages floor.
When he stepped on the area at the very center of the green, he heard
a creak, just loud enough to echo through the old stone building.
Susan had been nosing around the various paintings, and had gotten
around to where he was now.
"Come over here"
"Did you find something?"
"Maybe, step right here" Jeremy motioned with his foot towards the
center of the green.
She cautiously extended her foot forward and applied pressure. The
creak sounded again. The two looked at each other, and then quickly
moved to grab the two back corners of the rug. They rolled the rug
back with great effort, it was hideously dirty and a number of
insects began to scuttle from the rug as it was rolled.
When it was halfway across the floor, a wooden trapdoor became
visible, inset into the stone floor. Atop the door was a small brass
ring. The two crouched beside the small door, maybe just 2 feet
square. Jeremy pulled on the ring, and for a moment, the door
appeared to be stuck, then groaned open. Inside the hole was a
ladder, going down into the darkness. They looked at each other
again, this time in trepidation. Outside the clouds had become even
darker, and though only mid afternoon, it appeared dark in the
church.
"I'm not going down there" susan said, shinig her flashlight into the
hole. There was only blackness and the ladder going down as far as
the flashlight could penetrate.
"I'm going" Jeremy replied, "There could be a million dollars down
there!"
She held the door as he began to descend, Watching anxiously and
keeping the flashlihght on him. As he climbed down far enough that
the flashlight beam didn't reach him, she heard his voice from deep
in the shaft. "I can see the bottom" a moment later, there was a
small crashing sound, and for a moment she was as tense as she had
ever been. Then a quick "i'm ok" came from the shaft, and she
relaxed, realizing she was unconsciously strangling her doll.
In the cave below, the flashlight beam shone about the jagged edges
of a narrow rock tunnel. He came to a room where the passageway
split into five more tunnels. he paused for a moment, and noticed a
thin orange light flickering from one of the tunnels. It was thinner
than the others, almost a fissure in the rock. It wove for a few
dozen yards but as he walked the orange light became stronger. The
tunnel emptied out into a large natural cave, lit with a shadowy
caustics by a large pool in the center of the room that glowed the
brightest orange he had ever seen.
He approached the waters edge, eyes wide, and stared into the pond.
The light seemed to be coming from some sort of round object at the
bottom of the pool. As the room was well lit, he sat down the
flashlight, and swam out to the middle of the pool. The glow was
only about 12 feet under the surface, and he dived down into the
water to retrieve it. Upon reaching the bottom, the light was almost
blinding, even through the murky water. He reached out and grabbed
the light stone, and shielding his own eyes from it with his hand, he
could see again. There were large snakes in the water, and one was
moving toward him. He began to swim furiously towards the surface,
but the rock slowed him considerably. The black shape of the snake
was whipping through the water faster now, and straight towards him.
He reached the edge of the pool gasping, and climbed onto the rock
edge of the pool. Pulling himself up, he stood for a moment by the
rim of the pool and cupped the cool slick rock in his hands. It's
shade was like the orange in fire opals, lit by the fusion of the
surface of the sun.
Without warning, the snake leapt from the water, sinking it's fangs
deep into the boy's leg. His scream echoed through the cavern as he
flailed his leg to shake off the beast. The snake flew across the
rock floor and struck the wall hard, falling inert on the floor.
He felt a little dizzy, then a lot. He was running towards the
ladder, the cave around him blurring and morphing in a cacophany of
orange and black. He was weak, but reached the ladder and began
climbing. She saw the light first, at the bottom of the shaft, and
soon, her brother appeared in the flashlight beam. He looked grey,
ghostly. With great effort he pulled himself up to the trapdoor, and
sue reached down to grab his hand and pull him out.
"What Happened?" she cried out, seeing the blood on his leg, her eyes
then travelling to the glowing stone.
"And what is that" she said, in a more hushed tone"
"I've been bitten, we have to get home" he said, his voice weak.
They wove through the woods in the fading light, her supporting him
as he limped quickly down the path. They were still a hundred yards
from the house when he fell unconscoius. Tucking the stone into the
bag she carried, she began dragging him across the field, crying.
Her father saw them from a distance, and ran across the field to meet
them. He was a large man, at least six foot and he scooped up the
boy off of the ground.
"What happened, where did you go?"he shouted, both angry and scared
at the same time.
She tried to tell him, but was crying to hard to talk. He ran with
the boy towards the large house on the hill.

Chapter 2: Death's Door
Later that night, after both of her parents had questioned her
relentlessly for hours about what happened, the county doctor
arrived. His black car pulled up in the circular drive at 9pm or so,
amidst a severe downpour, and the flash of distant lightning.
Jeremy had been fading in and out of conciousness for the last few
hours, cought in a high fever, and tossing violently from time to
time in his bed. She had sat beside his bed the entire evening,
trying to talk to him in his brief moments of consciousness.
The doctor was an older man, who wore a great black coat and had a
variety of medical devices hanging from his neck. He examined the boy
with a stethiscope, and took a long look at the wound. His face
became more and more serious as he checked the pulse and temrerature
several times. Susan was excused from the room and from outside in
the hallway, she could hear feverish whispering.
A half hour later, her parents sat her down on the large couch in the
sitting room, to have a talk.
"You need to be strong, because we have to tell you something very
difficult" Her father said,his eyes grave. Her mother had begun to
cry softly.
"your brother has been bitten by a very poisonous snake" He paused,
staying in complete controll, only his eyes conveying the terrible
strain he was under.
"But He's going to be OK, right" She said, tears welling up in her
eyes.
"The poison from water snakes is very bad, and the doctor says your
brother won't survive the night. I'm sorry."
She ran from the room and up the stairs, to her brothers bedside. For
a moment, he was lucid, suddenly grabbing her arm and looking at her
confused. He still looked very weak.
"Did you save the stone?" he asked trembling.
"Yes" she said, crying even harder.
"I want to hold it" he said, and then as quickly as he came, he was
gone again, his body falling limp back into the bed.
She looked at him for a moment, then walked across the room to get
the stone from the pack in her corner. The light flared brightly in
the night, and she quickly buried it deep beneath the many layers of
bedcovers to dim the light, placing her brothers hand around the
stone.
Her mother knocked lightly at the door and then came in. "you need
to go to bed, the best chance we have is to let him rest" she said
softly, taking Susan's hand and leading her from the room.
Chapter 3: Day of the Topiary
The dawn was spectacular that morning, with orange and red beams
filtering across the misty hillsides and illuminating the summer
house. Susan awoke as the light crossed her room, and then
stiffened, as she remembered the circumstances.
She rushed down the hallway and flung open the door of Jeremy's room.
He was sitting up on the edge of his bed, eating a bowl of oatmeal
as though he hadn't eaten in days. She looked on in shock, which
quickly turned to joy.
"I feel great" he said, his mouth still full of oatmeal. "I gotta
show you something"
But before he could go further, their parents came in.
"Isn't it amazing" her father said, his hands on her mothers
shoulders.
"a miracle" her mother said, shaking her head in disbelief, but
smiling.
That night, he told her about the stone, and the fly in his room, but
it would be some time before he could show her.
For a few days, they made Jeremy stay in bed. The doctor came back
twice running various tests, shaking his head in amazement each time,
but eventually, the concerns that he might relapse faded away.
One day, weeks later, they were allowed to go out and play again,
within sight of the house. They walked out to the south lawn of the
estate, and into the topiaries that adorned the property. Great
looming rabits and lions made of trimmed hedges. Looking to make
sure no one could see them, he removed the glowing stone from his
bag.
 
1) Topiaries-awesome story like to see what comes of this.
2) ABC-a cool twist
3) Gash-wanna see an Adriana Lima look alike...
 
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Okay, I've only read one, and I'm going to offer a critique, but I want to announce, beforehand, that I do not intend to pick on this story, and when I read more, I do plan on offering critiques on some of the others. But I do think I should point something out, right now, as it's kinda relavent to the contest (and should, perhaps, influence both your voting, and which story you'd like to adapt).

I scanned down the page, curious to see the early votes. I noticed that "ABC" was getting a lot of love, so I chose to read that one first. I want the author to know that I like this story, and I'm really not trying to pick on this story, but the thing I want to point out is that I think it is much better suited for written word, not so much for a film.

The vast majority of the story is stuff that you can't effectively show on film. The fact that he knows what the third target is gonna be, so doesn't bother looking at the paper. The fact that he's never met his boss. The fact that most shooters use a tripod, but he doesn't need one. There's not really a quick way to show any of those, and that's true of almost this entire story. The only way you could come even close to making a short film out of this story (and having it match what's written here) would be with VERY heavy use of voice-over narration. It's possible that maybe that's exactly what the author had in mind. Or, maybe not. Me, personally, I wouldn't want to write, shoot, or edit a movie that would require such an overwhelming amount of exposition, through narration.

Anyway, I point this out to explain that I think it's important to consider the final product, when voting on these stories. Basically, pretend you're a big-time producer, reading spec scripts. Or, maybe not? Maybe it's better to just vote for the one you like, and let the participants of stages 2 and 3 worry about how to turn it into a complete film. Just thought I'd throw that out there.
 
One more thought, same subject as last post.

The story would totally work, as a short film, but if I were producing it, I would pretty much start by stripping it down to it's barest elements --

An assassin guns down three clones of himself.

That could definitely make an intriguing story. But many of the details of how that story unfolds would have to be very different, than what's written here (if I were producing). :)
 
@Cracker Funk: But that's the fun isn't it? We're judging these here as stories/concepts, not as short films. How a screenwriter chooses to adapt it for Stage Two is the really intriguing part...
 
so is that I have six points total to spend? Can I spend em all on ONE story? Vote 1, 2 and 3 for the same idea? 'cmon, I want to game the system. :) Just kidding.


1) Day of the topiaries
2) Bert's Bubbles
3) Stop cock
 
@Cracker Funk: But that's the fun isn't it? We're judging these here as stories/concepts, not as short films. How a screenwriter chooses to adapt it for Stage Two is the really intriguing part...

Fair point. I'm not saying my method of voting is how everybody should vote, but I think it's worth considering. :)
 
My votes:

#1: Day of the Topiaries
#2: Gash
#3: Bert's Bubbles

And some quick critiques. So, I wrote short (a couple sentences) critiques for every one of these, but then just felt weird about posting it. I feel more comfortable posting critiques of the ones I'm voting for, and if anyone else is curious of what I thought about their story/concept, feel free to PM me.

Gash
This could very well be the plot for the next installment of "Saw". Since the concept isn't exactly original (I mean, really, it's "Saw", but on an island, and with hot chicks), I think it'd be best to go full-blown campy B-movie, with a strong element of spoof. Something like the Wayans brothers might produce (I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that's at least close to what the author intended). And that could end up being really hilarious.

Bert's Bubbles
Silly spoof of cliched Sports Movie? Is that what you're going for? If so, I'm totally onboard, otherwise, I'm not really getting it.

Day of the Topiaries
I feel like there's a metaphor in there, but I'm not quite getting it. I love the little details you add, though, like the unintentional strangling of the doll. This story feels feels very fleshed-out to me, and though I do like it, overrall, I'm confused by the rock.

Cheers! :)
 
#1: Day of the Topiaries

Has the feel of a Miyazaki film, whose work I really enjoy, so this one struck a chord with me. Also had the flavor of a Bradbury short, whose work I also love. For story's sake, this one engaged me most. Although I wasn't sold on the ending and I don't know how in hell it could be easily produced. But no matter. I enjoyed reading it.

Not sure about #2 and #3 yet...

* also a little Brothers Grimm in there, too. I suppose with two kids exploring the woods that makes sense ;)
 
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#1: Day of the Topiaries... and I don't know how in hell it could be easily produced. But no matter. I enjoyed reading it.
Um... yeah. The point of these is to actually film some derivation of them.
Film some PRODUCE-ABLE derivation of them.

Reading something enjoyable is fine and all, but if few in stage three of this contest can film flights of fantastical fancy, then...




Consider what is reasonable to shoot on a lo-no budget.
Locations.
Props.
Costumes.
Actors.
Fitting dialog.

Can it be done? Yeah, but at what cost?

Grade and vote accordingly.

This shouldn't be voting for literature points for printing.
This is putting on your producer hats, and green-lighting what your studio would spend money on to enter into a shorts festival.
 
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