This morning I saw the trailer for a movie coming out shortly. I’m convinced that it will be the most important movie since Jaws in that genre. Based on the few scenes I saw, I was prompted to imagine a part of the script. This is what I came up with.
Scene: Nighttime. A gigantic swimming pool outside a gigantic mansion.
Girl: This time of night is so awesome. All the little stars are cool. When I behold such magnificence, I’m reminded of the immensity of the universe, and how profoundly kinda itty-bitty we are.
Guy: Yeah. It’s deep, but we can both swim, I think, so let’s jump in.
Gal: I’m so flattered that you called little old me after all these eons. You know, I’ve watched your modeling career in magazines and those cool cologne TV ads. Dude, you still look super for your age.
Guy (stripping off T-shirt): Thanks, babe. Even though I’m retired now, I still try to work out and watch my diet. (Flexes muscles) Thirty is a lot tougher age than I thought it would be. I didn’t realize how hard it could be to stay in the kind of perfect shape I’m in.
Gal: Wow, stud. Your abs are the bomb. I’d be happy to wash my clothes on those anytime.
Guy: Take off that skimpy little suit of yours and do it?
Gal (Laughing): You always had the awesomest sense of humor. But seriously. Is that like a six-pack or a sixteen-pack?
Guy: Hey, thanks, babe. You always knew the right way to tell me how good I look. You look great, too, by the by. I mean you were one hot number when we were senior prom king and queen, but for thirty, your body is tighter than one of those drum top things, Angelica. And wowsers. Did you have breast surgery?
Gal (Blushing): I’m flattered you noticed. It was expensive and painful. By comparison, the botox was a breeze.
Guy: Yeah mama, babe. You were already a solid 9 by senior year. But now, woohoo, I’d say you’re a brick-hard 10.
Gal: (Blushing even more and waving her hand at the guy). Oh pshaw, Guy (his name really is Guy) I bet you say that to all the girl supermodels.
Guy (Blushing and waving his hand at Angelica): Believe it or not, babe, you’re the first woman I’ve ever rated a hard 10. I’m talking brick-hard. And I’m here to boast that I’ve been fought over by and then bedded every top-of-the-heap model in the biz.
Gal (Blushing even more and pretending to bury her face in her hands): Oh you, you’ve always been the sweetest sentimental guy I’ve ever known. And if I’m a brick-solid 10, then I give you a boulder-hard 10 plus. And I’ve never said that about any of the pro jocks I’ve jumped into bed with.
Guy: Hey, nuff with the compliments already. Whadayasay we get naked and dive in this awesome two-million-dollar infinity pool I just had installed. The water’s a perfect 72 degrees. Not too hot and not too cold. Just right, babe. Perky, if you know what I mean.
Gal: (Stripping off her top and her thong): I thought you’d never ask, stud. (Takes a beat as Guy is about to drop his shorts). But maybe you’d better keep your shorts on. I don’t want your neighbors to think we’re shooting an X-rated movie over here.
Guy: Yeah, babe, good thinking. Naked women are cool. Naked guys not too much. Unless we’re showing off our bods in the locker room.
Gal: I know, right? Why is that?
Guy: Guys just like to show other guys what they got.
Gal: No, you silly rooster, I mean why is it that folks drool over naked ladies, but not over naked guys?
Guy (Scratching head): I don’t know why. But I know people — unless we’re a bunch of dudes in the locker room like I said — don’t want to see our junk, even if we’re well hung, like me. Just seeing this bulge (points to his), is hot enough for most chicks. Gents, well, you know, we don’t like that whole imagination waste-of-time deal-e-o. It takes too much brain strain. We just like to see the whole shebang from the get-go.
Gal (Blushing and waving her hand at him): I hope you’ll at least show it to me when we get out of the pool and lie down on that amazing bearskin rug in front of your roaring fireplace.
Guy: You better believe it, babe. I’m going to give you the full package. Let’s rock.
(The two dive into the pool. They both come to the surface.)
Gal: Hey, Guy, I have an idea. Instead of us getting right into like a hot embrace or something like that, how about we play a game?
Guy (Bummed out): Yeah, well, okay. I know you females like to play games. Us males, we like to get right to it, but hey, we got the rest of our lives to grope each other. What’s the game?
Gal: When I was a kid, before I grew into that rock-hard 9 you flipped over in high school, I used to love to play this game called Marco Polo. Did you ever play that game called Marco Polo?
Guy: Hmmm, Marco Polo. Is he the time guy with the big hat who taught the Asia guys how to make spaghetti, or is he the guy with the shirt line?
Gal: No, you silly turkey. He brought eggs to China to show them how to make egg foo young. But that has nothing to do with the game. The game is this. One person closes his eyes, and then it’s kind of like Tag. You know Tag, right?
Guy (Scratching head): Yeah, babe, I think I sorta know that game. But I never played it. It looked too hard.
Gal: Well, if you thought Tag was hard, Marco Polo is even worse. But I think you can do it. Like I said, one person closes his eyes and tries to tag the other people in the pool.
Guy: But how does he find them?
Gal: He says, “Marco,” and then the other people say, “Polo.”
Guy: And?
Gal: Well, he uses his ears to find them.
Guy: What he hears? He has to find them only by following what they say? Are you kidding me, or what?
Gal: No, I’m not kidding you, you silly pheasant. So you think you comprendo?
Guy: Wow. That does sound hard hard hard hard.
Gal: Come on, Guy, give it a try. You were senior prom king. You can do anything.
Guy: Well, okay, if you think I can, then I’ll try it. Who closes his eyes first, me or you? We don’t both close our eyes, right?
Gal: Hmmm. You know, I’ve never played it that way. But if you get good at doing it with one person with his eyes closed, maybe we can try that next.
Guy: So who’d the first eye-closer?
Gal: You wanna try?
Guy: Yeah, well, okay. Here I go. (Closes his eyes). Now what again?
Gal: You call out, “Marco,” and I’ll say, “Polo.”
Guy: And I have to find you without opening my eyes?
Gal: Yes.
Guy: Okay. I’ll give it a shot. Hah hah. Like my steroids. Okay. Marco.
Girl (Side-stroking away): Polo.
Guy: I heard that.
Gal: Good. That’s real, real good. So where am I? Come get me. I know you want me. (Changes direction)
Guy: I guess I’m getting the hang of this. So okay. Marco.
Gal (Still stroking): Polo.
Guy (Turning slightly toward her voice): Marco.
Gal (Changes direction): Polo.
Guy (Begins tentative breaststroke toward her voice): Marco.
Gal (Still stroking): Polo.
Guy: Marco.
Gal (No response)
Guy: Marco.
Gal (No response)
Guy: Come on, babe, you gotta help me out here. Marco.
Gal (No response)
Guy: Mar –
The rest is silence.
Close-up of the water becoming still. The camera draws back to show the entire pool. Neither the perfectly ripped body of Guy nor the exquisitely rock-hard naked 10 body of Angelica can be seen. Not even on the bottom of the pool dead. They’ve disappeared completely and eerily, like magic. Satan’s evilest kind of evil magic. Fade to black.
So that’s my best guess at a tentative part of the script. For water genre movies, as I say, I believe we’ll have seen nothing like this since Jaws. Jaws scared me out of the ocean. Now, I’m pretty sure, this one will scare me out of swimming pools for life. I can hardly wait.
Note: This is my rough draft for Sunday 12.17.23.
Lanning Lee 