A somewhat derivative challenge
Following up on my article about How to Explain Quantum Mechanics, I think it’s high time for the third-ever Scene Challenge. ![[Scene Challenge]](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/scene_challenge.png)
For the first one, Masturbating to Star Trek, you had to write an entire scene. For the second one, Make Your Introduction, you had to introduce one character. This time, it’s both simpler and more difficult:
Have a character explain derivatives, as used in the financial industry. (The thing that’s like a stock, not the thing that you learned in calculus.)
The speaker should be knowledgeable, and the listener should be a layman, i.e. a proxy for the audience. What are their names? What’s the story? What’s the genre? You decide, to the degree it matters. My suggestion would be to create a scenario in which the term needs to be explained — but only to the degree necessary. Metaphors and similes are powerful tools.
You’re welcome to write as much of the scene as you want, but the focus is on the explanation. The winning entry might be one sentence long. I strongly recommend you look at the original article for helpful suggestions.
Here are the rules:
- Post your entry in the comments thread of this article. Please don’t attempt fancy formatting. It usually just screws up the margins.
- All entries must be submitted by 8 a.m. PST on Thursday, May 8th, 2008. Remember that comments are sometimes held in moderation. Don’t submit twice. It will show up. Promise.
- I’ll pick a winner later that day.
- Winner receives hearty congratulations and a brief moment in the spotlight.
And…begin.
UPDATE: A reader asks a fair question: What if two explanations are very similar, and both great? Answer: The earlier entry wins. So there’s no benefit to waiting for the last minute, worrying that someone’s going to read your entry and do a knock-off version.
To summarize: Best entry first wins.
May 5th, 2008 at 8:05 pm
I think there are two types of derivatives that are probably both used in the financial industry. The first is a financial instrument depending on some underlying variable (like a stock); the second is the derivative of a function you learn about in calculus, i.e., the rate of change of a function.
May 5th, 2008 at 8:15 pm
@Tom:
I made it extra-clear, just in case.
May 5th, 2008 at 8:18 pm
THEO, 30, with a three hundred dollar haircut and a suit that cost ten times that, strides down a narrow hallway in a bustling office. Phones ring, computer keyboards clack, co-workers bark–and none of this slows him down. Trailing him and struggling to keep up is JOEY, early 20s, looking out of place in his cheap blazer and mall outlet khakis.
JOEY
I just don’t get the whole derivatives thing.
Theo stops in his tracks and whirls on his heel.
THEO
Okay. You’re in Vegas betting football games and throw a hundred on a wild five team parlay that pays twenty to one. You hit the first four and you’ve only got the night game to go. You took the Patriots, laying seven to the Jets. They cover, you’re up two grand. They don’t, you get nothing. To guarantee a nice score, what would you do?
Joey mulls this over for a moment as Theo stares at him impatiently.
JOEY
I guess put a few hundred on the Jets. That way you make out no matter what.
THEO
And there you go.
Theo walks off down the hallway.
May 5th, 2008 at 8:42 pm
INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT
The middle aged LANE scrapes every ounce of soup into a chipped porcelain bowl. EVAN, her counterpart with a bad combover removes his clip-on tie.
EVAN: They made me a job offer.
LANE: At a startup?
She hands the bowl to Evan, at their tiny kitchen table.
EVAN: With a lot of potential.
LANE: What kind of offer?
EVAN: You know, a lot of derivitives.
LANE: Is that money?
EVAN: Well, not yet.
May 5th, 2008 at 8:48 pm
BOBBY
Dad. I’m having trouble with my economics homework. Can you tell
me what derivatives are?
DAD
I don’t know. Go look it up on Wikipedia.
BOBBY
You suck! I want to move back in with Mom!
Bobby storms out of room. A door slams.
DAD
I’m not really your father!
May 5th, 2008 at 8:51 pm
EXT. RACETRACK - DAY
BOB and MIKE, thousand dollar suits with loose ties but Mike’s has the edge, stand silent in a roaring crowd of desperate gamblers. Bob grimaces as his horse comes in last. He rips up his ticket.
BOB
Shit.
Mike grins and wags his ticket in Bob’s face.
BOB
What? He lost.
MIKE
It’s derivatives, guy. You learn nothing from the floor?
Bob doesn’t get it.
MIKE
A grand on Holy Roller to place.
BOB
You could’ve let me in on that.
MIKE
Guy, you gotta have a back up.
He wanders off to collect his money. The crowd has thinned to a few ruined men. Bob notices Mike’s car keys on the ground. He picks them up.
BOB
Yes, you do.
He jingles the keys.
BOB
Guy.
He walks off, smiling.
May 5th, 2008 at 9:16 pm
MARY
Derivatives? What the hell’s a derivative?
JACK
You’re mine.
MARY
I’m what?
JACK
You’re my back up. I figure if I lose my job or my pension, you’ll take care of me in my old age.
MARY
Wow, you’re screwed.
May 5th, 2008 at 9:49 pm
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY
John pumps gas into his SUV while Lucy squeegees the windshield. John scowls as he sees the rising cost of his fill up.
John
Stupid gas prices! I’m paying to line the oil company’s pockets!
Lucy
No, you’re paying to get gas, which is a derivative. It derives its price from the price of crude oil, which derives its price from the high demand for oil.
John
So demand derives the price of oil because lots of people are driving!
Lucy sighs.
May 5th, 2008 at 9:57 pm
INT. Bar
A middle-aged man in a conservative suit sits in a bar full of men in conservative suits. A dozen shot glasses pin napkin stains to his table. A 13th rests in his right hand. He stares slack-eyed into nothingness as white-man blues moan futilely against the inanity of drunk white men.
MAN IN A SUIT
I’ve never even seen a soybean. I don’t know what they look like, taste like… I don’t even know why people buy them. And I don’t care. All I’m supposed to care… is can I get Farmer Dirt to agree to grow his little beans this year for a dollar thirty a bushel …or a dollar five. That’s all that matters. The rest is someone else’s headache.
On the other side of the table slumps another man in a suit, eyes closed, tie open, fat and balding into his fourth decade.
The first man drinks his shot and lets his hand fall back to the table. The glass bangs hard against the wood.
The other man’s head jerks up. His eyes flit open briefly, then close as his chin sinks back into his fat chest.
MAN IN A SUIT
Why should it be my responsibility to know… to know what the fucking Yen is going to do when oil hits a hundred fucking dollars a barrel and the rain doesn’t… The jerk-off computer’s supposed to know that. Everybody knows that. Everybody knows that…
His gaze wanders slowly around the room and comes to rest on his fat companion. His face tightens with contempt.
MAN IN A SUIT
You will not be missed, lard-ass.
He holds onto his anger a few moments more before his focus stumbles.
MAN IN A SUIT
Silver fucking linings. Silver fucking tidings…
May 5th, 2008 at 10:03 pm
INT. DARK CLASSROOM
NICK sitting diagonally behind CAROL, he can see her paying attention to the PROFESSOR. He notices her write down something important, underlining it twice, and then chewing her pencap. However innocuous they may seem, Nick is entranced by her movements. He’s hesitant to say something to her, but can’t help himself.
NICK
(hushed)
Psst.
Carol doesn’t budge.
NICK (CONT’D)
(hushed)
Carol.
She turns, looking slightly annoyed.
CAROL
(hushed)
What is it, Nick?
NICK
(hushed)
Hey, did you hear about my party on Sa–
PROFESSOR (O.C.)
Mr. Harver, perhaps you could explain derivatives to the class, as you seem to be doing so eloquently to Ms. Gray?
Everyone in front of Nick is looking his way. The Professor is rocking back and forth, heel to toe, waiting for an answer. Nick smiles uneasily and clears his throat.
NICK
Well, the basic principle of derivatives is that their value is relative to certain underlying variables. Generally, they can be based on but are not limited to several assets such as bonds, commodities, equities, interest rates, exchange rates, and so on. They are mostly used as a way to allay risk in other dealings. Kind of like, uh, hedging your bet.
The professor looks stunned, but is satisfied with the answer.
PROFESSOR
Pretty much, yeah. (turns back to the powerpoint presentation) As he was saying, hedging your bet is an apt way to…
The Professor drones on. Carol looks back at Nick, trying to hold back a smile but fails.
CAROL
(hushed)
Nice one.
Nick gives a “ta-da” gesture and smiles.
May 5th, 2008 at 10:19 pm
INT. RURAL DINER - DAY
We are in a grungy Waffle House that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. Most of the patrons look like truckers. We focus on a table with an OLDER and YOUNGER MAN. The former is wearing a t-shirt and blue jeans while the younger is in polo and khakis.
They are silently eating the breakfast special and only occasionally glance-up at one another.
YOUNGER MAN
(cautiously)
I haven’t had grits in years. The last time was right here.
OLDER MAN
(responding slowly)
Are you just living on take-out?
YOUNGER MAN
Yeah, it’s what everyone does. Nobody cooks at home.
OLDER MAN
Are you just working a lot?
YOUNGER MAN
Yeah, it’s crazy hours.
OLDER MAN
I’ve heard that bankers put in 80 hours a week.
YOUNGER MAN
Well, I’m not a banker. I’m a quant, a quantitative analyst.
OLDER MAN
What does that mean?
YOUNGER MAN
So, you know how normal investors will look at a stock and
think that it’s a cheap buy? We don’t do that. Instead we look to arbitrage
the markets.
OLDER MAN stares silently.
YOUNGER MAN
We trade options. An option means I can buy or sell a stock at fixed price in the future. Like you guarantee to me that I can buy Microsoft at today’s price, but I don’t pay for it for three months. And even then, I don’t have to actually buy it; I can walk away if the price falls.
OLDER MAN
What’s the point of that?
YOUNGER MAN
It’s a form of insurance. I don’t have to buy Microsoft; I buy it at today’s price three months from now if the price rises. The option gives me that right, but not the obligation. I can buy an option from you for a fraction of the price of the stock. So if the stock tanks, I’m only out the cost of the option rather than the whole stock. It’s insurance.
OLDER MAN
How do you get that option though?
YOUNGER MAN
People sell options hoping to make money off the premium. It’s called “writing the option”, just like an underwriter makes money off the insurance premium. You’re taking the risk that the stock doesn’t go up too much, just like State Farm takes the risk that any accident I get into won’t be too costly. The entire mechanism is to shift risk from one person to another. So I pay you money for the option, which guarantees that you’ll sell me the stock at a fixed price in the future if I choose to buy it.
OLDER MAN
Well, that option must be expensive to cover the risk!
A WAITRESS approaches the men for coffee. They both refuse and fall silent.
YOUNGER MAN
(slowly resuming)
The price of the option is determined by the stock’s volatility. If it’s China Mobile and the price moves a lot, then it’s expensive. If it’s Proctor and Gamble and the price is pretty stable, then the option is cheap. Like how health insurance costs more for smokers.
OLDER MAN
So how do you make money then?
YOUNGER MAN
Well, we do arbitrage. We don’t take a directional bet on a stock; we don’t care if it’s going up or down. What we care about is the volatility. Like if a company is about to report earnings. So if everyone is watching Microsoft and their stock is pretty stable right before the announcement, then the option is cheap. So we buy options that allow us to buy the stock, and then we buy options that allow us to sell the stock. So if Microsoft makes a surprise earnings announcement, good or bad, the stock price suddenly moves a lot, and thus the option price goes up from the increase in volatility. We lose some money from one of the options, but hopefully make more money from the other option to offset the loss. If we pick the volatility spikes correctly, we can make a killing, but with a lot less risk than just investing in the stock market.
OLDER MAN
Oh, so can I do this for my retirement account?
YOUNGER MAN
Technically yes, but I don’t recommend it. If you make a single wrong move, you can lose half your life savings in a day.
OLDER MAN
Ok, but I still need you to look at my annuity when we get home.
YOUNGER MAN
Yes, and fix your computer while I’m at it.
Both men share a smile.
FADE OUT
May 5th, 2008 at 10:55 pm
JACK and ETHAN sit across from each other at an outdoor cafe. Ethan looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Jack looks like he just doesn’t anymore.
JACK
You’re not even listening.
ETHAN
I’m not getting what you’re trying to tell me.
JACK
Look, it’s like, fuck, you know the stock market, right?
ETHAN
It exists, yes, I know it.
JACK
Derivatives, man. In commodities and shit. It’s a contract - but the value isn’t stable. It fluctuates. The value changes.
ETHAN
I get that.
JACK
It changes in part of an underlying value, in relation to…
(realizes he’s losing him)
…shit, buy a contract on gold. When currency and interest rates change, so does the value of gold.
ETHAN
So you give me the contract on gold…
JACK
And when external forces change…
ETHAN
…the value drops.
JACK
Right.
ETHAN
Meaning when the Senator is quiet…
JACK
His value is low. But it has the potential to rise.
ETHAN
And when he is called on to talk. And when he agrees to speak.
JACK
You hit the jackpot. But if you wait until after he talks. Damage is done. The contract’s worthless.
ETHAN
So there’s an open contract for a low price that could be worth something. And if I wait too long to put a call on it, someone may deal with him earlier for cheaper.
JACK
Right. ‘Cause you can’t kill him twice.
May 6th, 2008 at 12:19 am
INT. SMALL COURTROOM - DAY
Standing room only. A JUDGE listens intently behind her bench.
DONALD TRUMP
It’s simple Your Honor, in a forward contract no actual monies change hands.
JUDGE
Fascinating. My sympathies to Ivana and Marla.
(BANGS gavel)
Next time plug the meter.
May 6th, 2008 at 1:40 am
10-year-oid BILLY sits in the middle of a living room floor. No ordinary 10-year-old, Billy wears a suit and tie, his hair combed neatly back on his head.
Grappling with a giant sheet of pink construction paper, he is currently struggling to cut off the bottom third.
Billy’s MOM pokes her head inside the living room.
MOM
You all right in here, Billy?
BILLY
Yeah. I was just making a valentine card for this girl in my class.
MOM
How sweet! I’m sure she’ll love it. But why are you cutting off the bottom piece? Why not just use all of the paper to make one, even bigger card?
BILLY
(leaning back and sighing)
You see, mother, this smaller piece is what you might call…a derivative.
MOM
Eh?
BILLY
Well, there’s a possibility she MIGHT reject my valentine. In which case the remainder of this paper will be used to shoot spitballs at her face.
MOM
(taking a deep breath)
That does it, I KNEW we should have never let you start watching that raving lunatic on “Mad Money”.
BILLY
Aw, come on mom! I’m just preparing for the worst case scenario!
MOM
You heard Buffet! Derivatives create a daisy-chain of risk! Now go to your room before I reallocate your 529 to pork bellies.
BILLY
(muttering)
Might as well. We all know what happened to my college fund when you put it all in tech a couple of years ago…
MOM
That’s ENOUGH young man!
May 6th, 2008 at 4:04 am
INT. UNDERGROUND PARKING - NIGHT
JOHN(20’s) shuffles towards his rental beamer, he probably has watched “Psyhcho” a hundred times, yet no VP has talked to him about his shoes.
As he arrives at the car door, two armed thugs emerge from a hidden corner methologically, SCAR blocks John’s way with a baseball bat while TOOTH towers John from behind. John is spooked, in fright and tensing.
SCAR
Baba says he wants his money back.
JOHN
(pretends relief)
Whew, you had me a second there, I thought you guys from IRS.
SCAR
So where’s the money?
JOHN
It’s cool, it’s cool. I got it, two more weeks, I swear to god.
TOOTH
(grins, exposing missing tooth)
You believe this guy? Aren’t you some hotshot i-banker? You don’t have 100 grand?
JOHN
Technically I am a derivative trader.
SCAR
You trade what?
John talks faster and faster as the thugs look more and more confused.
JOHN
Derivatives, you know, futures, options, etc etc…contractual securities offering returns on the return of some other types of investment, such as bonds, interest rates, tax rate, etc etc.
(off the blank stares)
No, No? OK, say I make money by coming to work, and Baba make money by ME coming to work, so Baba’s return is based on my return, and if one of you guys break my leg and I can’t come to work, I have no money, Baba has no money, healthy?
SCAR
(scratches head)
I don’t understand, so you are saying, um, you don’t have Baba’s money, no?
JOHN
(pleased with himself)
Not yet, but I will, that’s the point. You don’t expect Baba to work my job, do you? Who would want my job? It’s long, it’s boring, it’s stressful…
CRANK. Tooth knocks him out with a crowbar, John falls down SIDEWAYS.
Tooth
He really is a BANKER.
Tooth grins to Scar, exposing his missing front tooth.
Tooth
You beli
May 6th, 2008 at 4:11 am
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
The empty living room of a suburban McMansion. The walls are stripped bare and only a large, empty TV cabinet and an aging sofa are left. A couple of infant toys and a few disorganized clumps of papers and magazines are strewn about.
A distraught WOMAN stands, fighting back tears and looking around at the empty room. Two FBI AGENTS are there. One interviews the woman while the other pokes through the few papers scattered on the floor.
AGENT #1
Your husband was leading something of a double life. Did you realize he was into derivatives?
WOMAN
(shocked)
You mean … like transvestites or something?
(a beat)
AGENT#1
No ma’am. Derivatives. They’re financial instruments - futures, forwards, options.
(beat)
Sort of like stocks, but you’re buying the right or the obligation to make a transaction in the future. Your husband was trading derivatives online. Mostly options.
The woman stares blankly.
The Agent picks up a book from the couch - “Taste of the Town 2008″. It’s one of those coupon books school kids sell for fundraisers.
AGENT#1
Like the coupons in this book.
(He shows her a page in the book)
This Burger Bonanza coupon here - “Any sandwich for 99 cents during the month of December”. That’s like a derivative. When you bought this coupon book you purchased the option to buy an item for a set price at a set time in the future.
WOMAN
I think I liked it better when he was just surfing the Internet for porn. At least my furniture didn’t disappear then.
May 6th, 2008 at 4:52 am
Hmm. Discussion of derivatives actually fits fairly well into my current project.
This scene features CHARLIE, a young businessman, and AIDAN, an elf. Charlie and Aidan are stranded in hostile (and mythological) territory, due to the machinations DORAN, an evil elf who somehow controls MR. HALLEY, Charlie’s boss.
Charlie has just been told that Doran is, for all intents and purposes, Rumplestiltskin.
EXT. FAERIE–MUSHROOM FOREST - DAY
CHARLIE
He’s playing a derivatives game
Aidan stares blankly
CHARLIE
Like with stock options.
Doesn’t help at all.
CHARLIE
(under his breath)
You don’t even know what stocks are, do you?
AIDAN
Broth. A restraining device. A store of goods–
CHARLIE
(Interrupting)
Does this stupid place even have money?
AIDAN
My neighbor can make gold from straw. You’ll forgive me if I prefer barter?
Charlie pauses. How can he phrase this?
CHARLIE
When you were telling me the rules of elfland, you said something about favors, right?
AIDAN
(Quoting)
Always repay a favor in kind.
CHARLIE
Good advice. But say you did a favor for a hunter–Shared your bread with him.
AIDAN
Then he would share his catch with me.
CHARLIE
Okay, but this is before he goes hunting. So depending on how he did, you might get venison, or you might get… squirrel.
AIDAN
Or worse.
CHARLIE
Right. But you don’t want that. So you go to the baker and you say “I’ll trade you that pie for whatever the hunter gives me”. That’s futures trading.
AIDAN
But I would forfeit the venison.
CHARLIE
That’s where options come in. If you made the right deal, It would be your choice to trade for the pie or keep the deer. And that’s what Doran’s doing.
Aidan nods. He’s getting it.
CHARLIE
He finds people in trouble, people who have potential. Helps them out–straw into gold, whatever. Later, he comes back looking for his payoff–Makes the queen find his missing name, Gets the Duke to poison the Bishop, whatever. And if they don’t cooperate…
AIDAN
Another mortal child for the Queen.
CHARLIE
Hedging his bets–Planning for every possible outcome.
AIDAN
But… Halley never had children.
CHARLIE
Wanna bet he never planned for THAT?
May 6th, 2008 at 5:02 am
INT. HALLWAY - DAY
JACK, mid-thirties, talks on a cordless phone as he makes his way down his hallway.
JACK
Damn it Harold, the derivatives are killing us!
(Listens)
Okay. Call me back. I’m going to check the prices right now.
Jack walks past his daughter’s room.
ANNA (O.S.)
Daddy.
INT. ANNA’S ROOM
Jack pokes his head in.
Anna, four, plays with her plastic kitchen set. She stirs some imaginary food.
ANNA
Daddy, what a derivative?
Jack thinks for a moment.
JACK
What are you making?
ANNA
Cake.
Jack takes a fake can of frosting Anna’s kitchen counter.
JACK
Your cake depends on this frosting for how good it is. Right?
Anna nods her understanding.
Jack pours the fake frosting into Anna’s bowl.
JACK (CONT’D)
So the cake is a derivative of the frosting.
Anna stirs her imaginary cake. She puts a bite to her lips.
ANNA
Yum. Derivatives are tasty.
May 6th, 2008 at 5:24 am
EXT. URBAN STREET - DAY
Two homeless men, JONAS and RICHARD, sit on the curb and smoke.
JONAS
And then they fired me when they found out about the turtle. You?
RICHARD
Derivatives trader. Bankrupted one of the largest and oldest banks in the Benelux region.
JONAS
Damn! But what the hell’s a derivative?
RICHARD
It reduces risk in investments. You base your performance off something else.
JONAS
Like plagiarism?
RICHARD
But with better digs.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:11 am
INT. OFFICE - DAY
Opulent office, antique desk and you know there’s a buxom blond outside the door at reception.
A barrel of a gun. Pointed straight at the camera.
DAN (O.S)
Its your fault. Your fault she left me. She was a porn star. The love of my life!
SLICK SAMMY, late 40s, sauve, fit, gray-hair at the temples stares calmly at the gun pointed at his cold heart. You get the feeling he’s done this routine a thousand times.
SAMMY
I”m sure it was love at first hard-on.
GEEKY DAN, mid-30s, beanie hat, holds the gun steady. Sammy walks over to the wet bar. Dan follows his every move with the gun.
DAN
You told me those derivatives would be valuable in the future. Like pre-order the new model sports car now, get it at a low price, accept delivery at a later date.
Sammy pours a scotch.
SAMMY
Macallan Fine and Rare, 1926, the most expensive scotch you can buy.
Sammy holds out the glass to Dan. BANG. The glass shatters as the bullet goes through it. Sammy places the glass bottom on the bar. A bead of sweat drools down Sammy’s chiseled cheekbone - implants of course.
SAMMY
Ever buy a lottery ticket?
DAN
Never. The mathematical odds are a joke.
SAMMY
Derivatives are like a lottery ticket. You have a piece a paper - that paper has no value - unless, unless your numbers come up. Sorry, Danny-boy, your numbers they didn’t come up.
Dan lowers the gun to his side. Sammy pours another scotch. Downs it in one gulp.
SAMMY
Please close the door on your way out.
Dan points the gun at Sammy. BANG. BANG. BANG.
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
Vivid colors clash for dominance.
Dan takes off his beanie cap. Pulls out a tiny HIDDEN CAMERA.
INT. OFFICE - DAY
Sammy types at his computer. BEEP.
COMPUTER (V.O)
You’ve got mail.
ON COMPUTER MONITOR
An envelope flies across the screen. Opens. A YOUTUBE video appears.
The title of the video: DO YOU WANT THIS GUY AS YOUR FINANCIAL ADVISOR?
Sammy, as bullets fly around him. Sammy frowns. Looks down.
Big wet spot in front of his pants. Yep, Sammy peed his pants like a schoolgirl.
The camera zooms in on the wet spot.
FADE OUT.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:25 am
INT. EMPTY WAREHOUSE - DAY
MAN (to his cellphone):
An when I say deliver the cash by 8PM, I mean that by 8:01, he is dead, and you’ll never, ever hear from us again.
He puts down the phone. Another MAN IN SUIT, tied, blindfolded and obviously beaten up is sitting next to him.
MAN:
So now we’ll just sit and wait, and by 8′o’clock you’ll get to see how much she really loves you. Bet you’re more excited than on the floor. Your life has just become… How you broker pigs say this? Den… Deb.. A derative, that’s it!
OTHER MAN:
Derivative.
MAN:
Oh, you’re right, I’m so sorry.
Punches the man in the head.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:29 am
int. Poker Room - Night
Eight people sit around a poker table, staring intently at the dealer. Most notable among the group is THE GUNNER. He’s wearing his trademark hat and uber-cool sunglasses. INTERNETKID100, as he is known on the ‘net sits to his left.
THE GUNNER
So how did you switch over to poker? You look a bit older than the average ‘net player…
INTERNETKID100
I realized I was already playing poker, just without cards.
The dealer shuffles and deals the cards. Action folds around to The Gunner.
THE GUNNER
What do you mean? Call.
INTERNETKID100
I was trading derivatives. They are just like betting a hand. We either think the risk is worthwhile to chase, or we think the other guy is taking too much of a risk…
THE GUNNER
So what are the “cards” in that game?
The three frat boys in between call the action and sip their Jack & Coke’s.
INTERNETKID100
(beat)
Anything you want them to be. I raise.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:42 am
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
How are you going to approve he’s guilty of insider trading to the court?
ASSISTANT DA
Derivatives.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
Deriva-what?
ASSISTANT DA
It’s like this. The CEO knows his product is going to fail and the company’s stock is going to crash. But he can’t sell his shares outright without drawing attention to himself.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
Go on.
ASSISTANT DA
So what does he do? He convinces some poor schmuck that his stock is going to soar based on the new product line, and gets this guy to buy them at a later date for the price they are worth now.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
And this later date is after the price falls.
ASSISTANT DA
Exactly.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:45 am
EXT. STREET - DAY
DANNY, 25, wearing a cheap suit, steps out of an office building with his cell phone attached to his ear.
DANNY
I’m not sure it went so well.
Beat.
DANNY (con’t)
Yeah, they said they’re gonna make a decision later this week.
Just ahead on the street corner sits a sleeping HOMELESS MAN. Danny is about to pass him.
DANNY (con’t)
They asked about derivatives.
The Homeless Man wakes up. Danny is now slightly passed the Homeless Man.
HOMELESS MAN
You mean like an investment that derives its value from another more fundamental investment?
Danny stops dead in his tracks.
DANNY
Hold on one second.
Danny puts his call on hold and slowly turns around.
DANNY (con’t)
Where were you forty minutes ago?
HOMELESS MAN
Sitting right here. Got a buck?
May 6th, 2008 at 6:58 am
INT - CYBERCAFE - HONG KONG - DAY
With his back to a monumental panorama across the chaotic harbourscape of Kowloon, JIMMY LICHTBLAU squints at…
…a COMPUTER SCREEN of tiny text beneath the heading: “STOCK MARKET TERMINOLOGY FOR DUMMIES (COMPLETE MORONS)”. Silence. Time passes.
Suddenly:
LICHTBLAU
Oh…come on. “Derivatives”?
(sighs)
What the f* does this -
(explodes)
F*ing gibberish! Life’s too goddamn short.
He turns, seething to face the window across the world outside. Contemplates it. Then…
…back to the computer.
LICHTBLAU (CONT’D)
Hello, YouTube, my old friend.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:48 am
PETER, 41 and as 007 as can be, shuffles hundred-dollar chips with his right hand. He rests his chin on his left wrist so his submariner watch can’t be missed.
Across the table, a WOMAN, 46, pays attention to everything in the casino but Peter. She takes a ladylike puff from her Treasurer cigarette, wearing a gown obviously intended for more than blackjack.
The DEALER, 30-ish and vaguely Asian, displays a nametag neither can pronounce. She deals, awarding herself the ace of clubs.
DEALER
Insurance?
PETER
Thank you, yes.
The woman rolls her eyes, snorting the silver smoke like a disappointed dragon.
WOMAN
A waste of money.
PETER
You think so?
WOMAN
So say the experts.
PETER
Are you calling me an ameteur?
The woman shrugs.
PETER
If I have a natural twenty-one, I’ll make a hundred dollars. If I don’t take insurance, I have two-to-one odds of winning a hundred and fifty, or three-to-one of a push. It’s a simple derivative.
The woman glances up from her cigarette.
WOMAN
You’re in finance?
Peter shrugs. Perhaps.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:50 am
INT. FRAT HOUSE - DAY
Party detritus everywhere. Trash, food, condoms. CALEB wakes up, realizes he’s tied to the couch, stark naked. RON walks down the stairs, back in his Gucci suit, cigar in hand. Miles from his toga-wearing self.
CALEB
Ha ha, Ron, very funny… Can you untie me now?
RON
Caleb, let’s talk about your future. Do you know what a derivative is?
CALEB
Dude. I have to pee.
RON
You pay cheap today for something expensive tomorrow. Listen, be quiet for a second.
Ron dials his cellphone, puts it on speaker. Two rings. Caleb is intrigued.
TESS
(on phone)
Hey Ron! Some party last night, huh?
RON
Tess, sugar. Remind me again why you won’t have sex with Caleb?
TESS
(on phone)
No ring no gets. He knows that. Why? Is he complaining again?
RON
Will you still be hot twenty years down the line?
TESS
What?
RON
Twenty years from now, will you still be hot?
TESS
I don’t know. I’ll be like 40. What do you care?
Ron hangs up.
RON
That’s why I’m not letting you marry her.
He walks out the door, leaves Caleb to his naked thoughts.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:53 am
JIM walks in and drops a stack of papers on JACK’s desk. While Jim smiles broadly, Jack picks them up and starts leafing through them slowly.
JIM
Well?
Jack looks at him, pained, then leafs through the papers again. Jim’s exaggerated smile has not dimmed.
JIM
Good, eh?
JACK
I don’t know. Seems a bit… derivative.
JOE sticks his head into the office, leaning in far, his tie swinging, suit coat falling open.
JOE
Derivatives? You guys playing the market?
Jim and Jack freeze staring at him.
JOE
You know, derivatives? Financial instruments? Futures, options? You know, follows some other thing, spreads the risk?
Jim and Jack have not moved.
JOE
Derivatives?
JACK
We’re going over Jim’s wire frames.
Joe withers a bit under their hard looks.
JOE
Oh. Okay.
He knocks on the door jamb.
JOE
Good. Good job. Carry on.
(under his breath) Fucking creatives.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:59 am
Scene
Two friends Mara and Nick sit eating dinner in front of the TV. The T.V is tuned to the news station.
TV anchor:
Join us at 6pm. Gas prices are up again today. Consumers say they are spending less on food.
Nick:
OH NO, here we go again. Now what?
Mara:
All these price increase definitely is a derivative of the gas situation
Nick:
What? A Deri-What?
Mara:
Well take groceries for example- stores are paying more to hull their food.
So they are passing the costs to their customers. Hence people are spend less on food
Nick:
So you are saying if the price of gas goes down, people will start eating again
Mara:
Certainly, if you want to put it that way
May 6th, 2008 at 8:18 am
INT. OFFICE - DAY
AGENT sits at his desk, and MUSICIAN sits across from him. MUSICIAN flips through his contract, scratching his head impatiently.
MUSICIAN
Arbitage? Derivatives? I don’t know what any of this stuff means, I sing about martinis and unicorns for Christ’s sake.
AGENT
Just to make sure you stay in line.
MUSICIAN
Well I’m not going to sign anything I don’t understand.
AGENT
All right, take derivatives. In this contract, they’re offering you 5% of each concert ticket sold for under $20. Over $20, we’re offering you 20%. You’ve got an incentive to write good music and get those ticket prices up, see.
MUSICIAN
I don’t get what’s in it for them.
AGENT
If you turn out to be a bad investment, they lose less money than they would with a standard-rate contract. If you become a star, everyone wins. It’s like taking a matching test in grade school and putting the same letter for two answers you’re not sure about–you’ll get one wrong and one right, but it’s better than getting both wrong.
MUSICIAN
Glad I got into music and not finance.
May 6th, 2008 at 8:19 am
INT-TENEMENT HALLWAY-NIGHT
A short, bookish looking CHINESE MAN comes barreling down a hallway with an awkward gait. He gets to a door and then pulls out a key ring attached to his belt by a retractable cord. He fumbles frantically trying to find the key. He glances down the hallway, growing increasingly nervous. Then we see why.
Another MAN, broad, tall, wearing a wife beater stained with blood, comes sprinting down after him. The Chinese man, fumbles more. The Man gets closer, closer, closer. Just then the Chinese Man finds the key and unlocks the door. He enters and is about to close it when…
The Man’s hand grabs the door preventing it to close.
MAN
I don’t want to hurt you. I just need to know about the key.
CHINESE MAN
You don’t understand. They’re already here. You have to go.
MAN
Wait, please, they have my wife. What does it mean that the key is just a derivative?
CHINESE MAN
It means that the key is only as valuable as what’s behind the door that it unlocks.
MAN
Okay, but then where do I….
Just then THE BACK OF THE APARTMENT IS RIPPED OFF IN A TERRIFYING EXPLOSION OF TWISTED METAL AND BROKEN STONE. The Chinese Man gets yanked out of the gaping hole as if he was jettisoned out into the gleaming fluorescent metropolis below by some unforeseen force.
MAN
Christ.
The Man takes off running down the hall as the rest of the apartment starts to crumble beneath his feet.
May 6th, 2008 at 8:24 am
INT. DIRTY APARTMENT - DAY
TOM sits on the couch, despondent. His dress clothes are wrinkled, like he’s hasn’t changed them in days.
Slam Slam Slam! POUNDING at the door jolts Tom into coherence.
On edge, he dashes to the door and looks out the peephole to see –
JACK and ROLAND,
two enforcer thugs. They both have big, shit-eating grins on their faces.
Tom steps away from the door and takes a quick breath.
Slam Slam Slam!
ROLAND (O.S.)
Open the door, jim.
Tom hesitantly unlocks the door and opens it. He steps back as Jack and Roland burst into the apartment.
TOM
(nervous)
Hey guys, how’s it go…
Roland shoves Tom, seating him on the couch.
ROLAND
That’s enough, banker.
JACK
You know why we’re here, so let’s get right down to business.
Roland walks behind the couch and seizes Tom’s arms, holding him steady.
Jack pulls out his .38 REVOLVER.
JACK (CONT’D)
It’s been a week, tell us you got the stolen bonds.
Tom hesitates.
TOM
No, I, uh…
Jack unzips his jacket to reveal a bloody T-SHIRT. Tom gasps.
JACK
We’re in a hurry and I’ve got an itchy trigger finger. So, unless you want me to make you number three for the day, you’ll cough ‘em up.
A beat. Tom hangs his head.
TOM
I don’t have ‘em.
ROLAND
(to Jack)
I told you he was a bad investment.
Jack flips open the cylinder of the revolver.
JACK (CONT’D)
OK, we’re gonna play a little game. You tell me how many more days you need to get the bonds, and that’s how many bullets I’ll keep in the cylinder.
Tom fixates on the revolver, thinking.
TOM
(with a smirk)
Three.
ROLAND
Your funeral.
Tom watches nervously as Jack quickly removes the first, the second, then the third bullet, without incident.
Jack closes the cylinder and spins the barrel.
JACK
Say when.
A nervous beat.
TOM
(confident)
When.
Jack quickly slams the cylinder shut, pulls the hammer, and points the gun at Tom’s face.
Click. Tom breathes a sigh of relief.
JACK
No one’s ever won on three bullets.
Jack opens the cylinder and dumps the bullets into his hand. He peers at them.
JACK (CONT’D)
Son of a bitch.
TOM
Don’t tell me I’m a bad investment.
Jack hands two of the bullets to Roland. Roland looks them over and sees that they are SPENT SHELLS.
TOM (CONT’D)
You’re gonna make me number three for the day? Not if you’re in a hurry you’re not.
Roland chucks the empty shells across the room.
ROLAND
Damn bankers.
TOM
Jack, you’re like any other financial derivative. You’re an option, whose value is only as good as it’s ability to reload a pistol, and to have the luck to pick the right bullets.
JACK
What are you trying to say?
TOM
You’re bad stock, Jack. If I was your boss, I’d dump you as fast as I could.
Roland presses the barrel of his GUN into back of Tom’s head. Tom freezes.
ROLAND
That’s why our boss hedged his bet on a second gun.
Bang!
May 6th, 2008 at 8:25 am
ANGEL
The Pendleton Vertex. That’s the last thing he said?
FRED
Well, “gluk errk.” But I think he was choking on blood.
GUNN
Whatever it is, it’s bad. Means Angel’s time is up.
WESLEY
It doesn’t show up in any of the prophecies.
WOMAN’S VOICE
That’s because it’s not a prophecy.
Enter LILAH MORGAN, Wolfram and Hart’s junior partner and Wes’s sometime bedmate.
LILAH
The Pendleton Vertex is an instrument. We invented it.
FRED
Like an evil corporate flute?
LILAH
A financial instrument. A derivative.
(seeing blank faces, Angel)
Two hundred years on Earth and not one business class.
ANGEL
Been busy saving the world.
LILAH
So have we. It’s not all Armageddon, Angel. Wolfram and Hart has signifiant investments in this dimension, and the Pendleton Vertex helps offset the risk.
WESLEY
(suspicious)
Offset how?
LILAH
We all know the vampire-with-a-soul plays a big role in the endgame, but no one’s sure how. So one of our quants in infernal securities — Pendleton — put together a package based on all the variables: Angel, Angelus, Buffy, the Gogolurn, et cetera…
GUNN
What’s the Gogolurn?
WESLEY
I’m more worried about “et cetera.”
LILAH
The derivative is like a hedge: if Angel stays good, we gain. If Angel goes bad, we still gain.
ANGEL
If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.
LILAH
See, you do have a business instinct. The Vertex has been stable for decades. Now suddenly, someone’s been selling the security short, betting the farm that you don’t live until sunrise. Which, given our position, could be…expensive.
ANGEL
So you’re here to protect me?
LILAH
I’m just here to cover our assets.
May 6th, 2008 at 8:58 am
INT. WINE AND COCKTAIL BAR - NIGHT
[SEB, 32, handsome, sits opposite an attractive woman - CATE, 29. Both have extraordinarily colourful drinks with pineapple slices clinging to the sides of the glass. They are 'Speed-Dating'. A bell rings to signal the start of the next round.]
SEB: So, [Looks at badge on CATE'S chest] Cate, what do you do for a living?
CATE: I’m a model.
SEB: Bet you get to hang out with the all top designers?
CATE: Sorry?
SEB: What’s the gossip from the catwalks?
CATE: I’m not that sort of model. I don’t wear clothes.
SEB: Whoa! I knew this evening would be a good investment of my time, and money. I turned down a lot of options to be here tonight.
CATE: I model for an art class at the University.
SEB: Inspirational.
CATE:[Shrugs] Has it’s ups and downs. What about you?
SEB: I’m in banking.
CATE: Oh. [BEAT] Doing what?
SEB: Derivatives.
CATE: Come again?
SEB: Derivatives.
CATE: Erm… You gotta help me out here, Seb.
SEB: How long you got?
CATE: I think we’ve got 22 seconds left.
SEB: It’s like I pan for gold. Except the global economic riverbed isn’t yielding any treasure at the moment.
CATE: That’s a tough gig.
SEB: But don’t let me drive you so wild with excitement you decide to hail a cab and we wind up back at my chic bachelor apartment and fall into bed… Purely to help take my mind off my fluctuating, highly-pressurised career. So, do we have a date?
CATE: Sorry. I’m looking for a man with prospects.
May 6th, 2008 at 9:10 am
Kurt Godel: I bet you that this sentence is a derivative.
Bertrand Russell: Hey man, no dice. I’m not going to let fall for that textually self-referential, incompleteness tripe again.
Kurt Godel: The joke’s on you Bertrand! It really is a derivative.
May 6th, 2008 at 9:50 am
INT. CLASSROOM-DAY
Max looks around the room. Books, papers everywhere. Large charts hang on the wall defining various financial terms. SHEILA his potential witness seems unconcerned that a police officer wants to talk to her. She is attractive like if he actually had a life he’d bang her in a minute.
MAX
Professor, you worked with the victim Pete Meyers?
SHEILA
(laughs)
Not exactly.
MAX
Then he?
SHEILA
I paid him to be a derivative.
MAX
Derivative?
SHEILA
(smiling at her own joke)
I’m an economics nerd, Officer. Some women have boy toys I have–had– a derivative.
MAX
I’m not following. You had a relationship with this guy?
SHEILA
He was my option, insurance against some future event–a derivative.
MAX
And you paid him for what?
SHEILA
To be available. If I needed to use him I could. Depending on a future event. A derivative.
MAX
Uh huh.
(then getting it)
A derivative is a economic term?
SHEILA
It’s a financial instrument. It has no value of its own only from something else. That something else being a future event.
MAX
Sounds like Pete–no value on his own. When did you last see him?
SHEILA
Tuesday. I had four lectures that day. I got bottled up that day so I sent him–
MAX
To the Fourth Street bridge to buy drugs?
SHEILA
(not expecting that)
I get high from reading stock reports.
MAX
He was a drug addict, Professor.
SHEILA
Every investment has a risk.
May 6th, 2008 at 10:12 am
INT. NYC — PARK AVE — TOWNHOUSE — LIVING ROOM — DAY
Two yuppies, MOMMY and DADDY, perch on a sofa in their light, airy “parlor,” addressing their seven-year-old GIRL, who sits in a chair, opposite.
DADDY
Sweety, the reason Mommy and I called this family meeting is because there are going to be a couple changes around here, which–we’re not afraid of change–
MOMMY
It’s for the better–
DADDY
–change is great. But the important thing is, it’s not your fault.
(Beat. The GIRL’s way ahead of them; she’s not an idiot.)
GIRL
So you’re getting divorced.
DADDY
Oh, no no, God no, nobody’s getting divorced.
MOMMY
We love you too much to do that.
DADDY
That’s right.
GIRL
So, then… what?
(Tiny beat.)
MOMMY
Honey, your Daddy is going away for a bit.
GIRL
Going away?
DADDY
Now, it’s just for a little while, so don’t you worry.
GIRL
Where are you going?
DADDY
Well, it’s actually a very special secret. It’s for the government, special government business–
MOMMY
Honey, have you ever heard of minimum-security prison?
DADDY
That’s enough, Mommy.
GIRL
You’re a criminal?
DADDY
Honey, trust me, you don’t want to listen to everything Mommy says.
MOMMY
Oh, don’t lie to the her.
(To her GIRL.)
Yes, honey, Daddy has been convicted of white-collar crime.
DADDY
Sweety, have you ever heard of entrapment?
MOMMY
Oh, sweet Jesus, not this again.
DADDY
Entrapment is when somebody tries to get you to play, say, derivatives markets–
MOMMY
–just tune Daddy out when he does this, sweety–
DADDY
–with money you’ve borrowed, on a temporary basis, from your company.
GIRL
You stole your company’s money?
MOMMY
That’s right, and then he lost his company’s money just like he lost ours.
(Beat.)
GIRL
How?
DADDY
Well, um… I made some investments in derivatives markets, which I thought would work out, and I’d pay back all the money, you know, but…
GIRL
What’s “derivatives markets”?
DADDY
What’s–uh. Good question. Well…
MOMMY
Honey, you know when two people get married, and they promise to stay married for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse…
GIRL
“Till death do us part.”
MOMMY
That’s right. And you hope that that person will end up being a profitable earner, a father for your children–
DADDY
–a caring partner, an understanding spouse–
MOMMY
–but instead sometimes they’re a petty thief–
DADDY
–or the embodiment of human greed–
MOMMY
–or a paunchy, balding loser?
DADDY
Or your friends call her “Loose Lucy”?
MOMMY
And you have do what you said anyway, for the good of your child, and stay married? That’s derivatives.
DADDY
It is amazing what truly shitty luck I have in that department.
(END SCENE.)
May 6th, 2008 at 11:10 am
EXT. LAS VEGAS - NIGHT
Two young men are crossing the street towards a night club. One, APEX (nickname) is an alpha male in a flashy suit, the other one, STEVE, a geek out of water. Steve is visibly nervous.
STEVE
I’m not sure about this. Talking to women I just - I freeze up.
APEX
We’re gonna change all that. Do the stuff I told you - the opener, the negs, the freeze out - you’re gonna get laid in no time. I’ll wing you all the way.
STEVE
But what if I don’t? It’s the rejection that kills me. I don’t know how much more I can take.
APEX
I’ll get you a derivative. You can’t lose.
STEVE
A deriwhat?
Apex waves for Steve to follow him. They approach a scantily clad prostitute working the street. Her name is BLOSSOM.
Apex pulls pulls out a wad of money from his pocket and displays it.
APEX
Hey, honey. This is for two o’ clock tonight. If this guy right here doesn’t get lucky, he’s your date. If not, you and me get busy. Deal?
BLOSSOM
Nothing weird. I don’t do weird.
She grabs for the cash, but Apex withholds it.
APEX
Two o’ clock.
Apex grabs Steve by the arm and steers towards the nightclub.
STEVE
You’re teaching me to pick up prostitutes?
APEX
No, it’s a derivative. You don’t score, you get laid anyway.
STEVE
That’s a derivitive?
APEX
Yeah, sort of. Better if you score, obviously, but either way you don’t go home alone. Come on.
They walk up to the doors of the nightclub.
May 6th, 2008 at 12:34 pm
A dank cellar dimly lit by rusted fluorescent light fixtures. To one corner GABIR, an Arab soldier in his mid 30s, sterilizes medical equipment.
GABIR
Did you know that I studied finance before the war? In many ways it is a far more cutthroat profession.
Gabir holds a small medical handsaw up to a fluorescent light and examines the sharpness of the teeth…
Behind the blade we see RAHEEM, a beaten, bloodied yet determined man gagged and bound to a metal chair.
GABIR
But my Father always taught me that a man who does not understand the complicated world of finance, is a man who shall never be able to truly provide for his family.
Gabir places the handsaw on the bench and paces across the room…
GABIR
For instance, derivatives. It can be confusing to the average person. But essentially it is an asset, one that derives its value from another initial asset.
Gabir wrestles open a massive steel door revealing –
A terrified TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL strapped to a wooden chair.
Raheem thrashes in his chair.
GABIR
Now if that initial asset pays off, the derivative becomes valueless and can be… released. However, if the initial asset should falter, well then I could at least take comfort in knowing that I have a security, which while may pay off less, shall still yield benefits.
Gabir smiles charmingly at Raheem, who hangs his head in defeat sobbing.
He slides the steel door closed, steps back to the bench and picks up a pair of pliers, which he examines in the light…
GABIR
Shall we begin?
May 6th, 2008 at 12:58 pm
INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
In the huge king sized bed. Emily straddles John below her. They are naked and covered in sweat. She moves her body up just a few inches and holds that position…
EMILY
Tell me about your job again.
JOHN
My job?
Emily slides back down.
EMILY
Yes. Your job.
Back up again.
JOHN
Derivatives?
Down. This time faster and harder.
EMILY
Yes.
JOHN
Now?
Emily rolls her eyes and rolls off of John.
JOHN
First one places an order.
Emily is back on top of john in a heartbeat.
EMILY
(Sultry)
An order for what?
She slowly slides down again.
JOHN
Could be a lot of different things. Could be a Stock.
She arches her back and begins moving faster.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Uh, could be a foreign currency. You, uh, place the order with a sort of deadline.
Emily grabs the hair on John’s chest in her fist like Lady Godiva grabbing the mane of her galloping horse. She intensifies her thrusts.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Ow! Then you… you…
Emily slaps him.
EMILY
Concentrate!
JOHN
You place the order and specify the amount and the time table with whom you conducting the transaction.
EMILY
Details!
Emily pins Johns wrists to the bed and turns it up to 11.
JOHN
If it is a future and not an option you have to take delivery if you cannot execute the order. Oh, god!
EMILY
And?!?! Tell me!
John and Emily are both close to the event horizon.
JOHN
At the predetermined time, you execute the trade! Jesus!
Emily screams out in ecstasy and collapses next to John on the bed. John is breathing hard. Emily just smiles and looks unfazed.
JOHN (CONT’D)
Why did you want to know all that right then?
EMILY
I have some wall street guys I have to meet tomorrow. Plus, you lasted more than a minute that time.
She winks at john, climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom.
JOHN
(after Emily)
Wall Street guys? Emily?
May 6th, 2008 at 1:22 pm
INT. FBI OFFICES, FINANCIAL DIVISION - 7AM
KINGSWELL is an FBI Division Head. JACKS is a mid-thirties field agent with a hangover — think Bruce Willis in Die Hard.
On DISPLAY SCREENS we see photographs of 7 MURDER VICTIMS. All distinguished men in their 50s and in their beds.
KINGSWELL
These seven men all woke up to a bullet in the head exactly eighty-two minutes ago.
JACKS
And I thought I was having a bad morning.
KINGSWELL
Spread across the country. Single shot sniper bullets. All within three minutes of each other. This was a coordinated attack. These men were assassinated.
JACKS
So what do they have in common? Besides being dead.
KINGSWELL
(pointing at pics)
CEO of Walmart. CEO of Coca-Cola. CEO of IBM. You’ve heard of the Fortune 500. These were seven of the Fortune 10.
JACKS
I guess Biggie was right, mo’ money, mo’ problems.
KINGSWELL
You realize what this means for the financial markets.
JACS
Stocks are going to fall?
KINGSWELL
No, stocks are going to crash, burn and never walk again. We’re about to see a bloodbath that’s going to make this (points to photos) look like The Hannah Montana Show.
JACKS
Who the hell is Hannah Montana?
KINGSWELL
It’s a kid thing. Like The Cheetah Girls.
JACKS
Who the hell are The Cheetah Girls?
KINGSWELL
Field teams are working the scenes. What we need you for… we need you to do what you did on the Kleinhardt case.
JACKS
I got lucky on the Kleinhardt case.
KINGSWELL
Okay… then we need you to get lucky.
Jacks stares at the photographs for a long moment. Thinks.
JACKS
We start with a list of people who are going to gain from this. What’s that thing you can do where you make money when the company doesn’t? An opposite stock.
ALEXIS
It’s not called an opposite stock.
The men turn to see ALEXIS MCGRATH enter the room. Mid-twenties, smart and beautiful… emphasis on beautiful.
KINGSWELL
Alexis works fraud. She’s your partner on this.
JACKS
Beautiful.
Awkward pause. Alex blushes. Jacks realizes how that sounded.
JACKS
I mean beautiful… to have a partner. Not that you’re not– okay, you know what, I know it’s not called an opposite stock.
ALEXIS
You’re thinking of a put option. It’s a financial derivative — which means it’s not the stock, but its price is tied to the value of the stock. In the case of a put, inversely tied.
JACKS
The stock crashes, the put goes up?
ALEXIS
Way up. Like “buy an island” up.
JACKS
So we just need a list of everyone who has bought put options recently.
ALEXIS
So far ahead of you.
Assistants wheels in THREE CARTS stacked to capacity with PRINTOUTS. There must be a hundred-thousand pages on these carts.
ALEXIS
Start with the A’s, shall we?
May 6th, 2008 at 1:42 pm
INT. EMPTY ROOM - DAY
Nerdy THEO cowers against the back wall as the horde of WHITE COLLAR ZOMBIES converge on him. A CCTV camera is perched on the ceiling, watching.
ZOMBIES
(moaning)
BRAAAAIIINNNSSSS!!!
THEO
No, you want derivatives!
The zombies stop, a glint of recognition in their eyes.
ZOMBIES
DEERRIIVATIIIVES?!
THEO
Yeah, you know, the financial instrument? Its value changes according to changes in its correlating variable.
The zombies all tilt their heads in unison, confused.
THEO
For example, a gas derivative would change in value depending on the changing price of oil.
ZOMBIES
OOOOOHHHHHHHH!
THEO
Yeah! It’s sort of like a hedge, if you will. A derivatives contract can minimize the risk for both parties. If you and I enter a futures contract, we both minimize risk by avoiding the future uncertainty of price and supply since we’ve agreed to a deal before the price or supply changes!
ZOMBIES
EXCHAAANGE CAASH FLLLOOOWW?
THEO
Yes, excellent! That’s a swap derivative, exchanging cash flow. There are also optional derivatives where I can buy the right to buy or sell an asset at some time, and future derivatives where we agree to buy or sell an asset at a given time.
ZOMBIES
FINAANCIAL WIN-WIN SITUATIIOONN!
THEO
Exactly! See, you guys don’t need brains, you’ve already got plenty!
The zombies perk up simultaneously.
ZOMBIES
BRAAIINNSS!!!!!!
INT. MONITORING ROOM - DAY
JOHN AUGUST watches the monitors as the zombies chomp into Theo’s juicy head. He shakes his head, scribbling in a notebook.
JOHN
Dammit! (sigh) I am going to train this army of zombie stock traders if it’s the last thing I do.
He slams his fist down on a large red button in front of him.
JOHN
NEXT!!
INT. EMPTY ROOM - DAY
A grate in the ceiling opens. Nerdy JERRY falls from the ceiling and lands on the floor. He clutches his briefcase and peers down his glasses. The zombies turn towards him.
JERRY
Uh, do you guys know what a derivative is?
The zombies stop and tilt their heads in unison.
THE END.
May 6th, 2008 at 2:00 pm
INT. GARAGE. DAY.
Two men, IZZO and RICARDO, stand near an old beater Buick. The garage is abandoned and in disrepair. Izzo holds Ricardo at gunpoint, a .9 millimeter chrome plated revolver at Ricardo’s temple.
IZZO
You know why we’re here, don’t you?
RICARDO
I could take a guess.
IZZO
You ain’t got time for a guess. We’re here to talk about derivatives.
RICARDO
Jesus, can you just do this?
IZZO
I’m gonna to put something into that brain of yours before I blow it out.
RICARDO
Look, I know this is what you do — you torture people with mundane bullshit before you ice them because you’re a sick fuck. But let’s just skip ahead to the part where you–
IZZO
Shut the fuck up and listen.
Izzo pulls two matchbox cars out of his pants pocket. One is painted red and the other green. He dusts off a spot on a nearby work table and sets the cars at right angles to each other.
IZZO
(Continues)
These are two cars. Call them commodities.
RICARDO
Jesus, can you just pull the trigger?
IZZO
In a minute. Say this car here (points to the green one) is mine and that one there (nods at the red one) is yours. You fuck my wife.
RICARDO
I never fucked your wife!
IZZO
I’m makin’ an example here!
Izzo pistol whips Ricardo into silence. Blood purls around his eye socket.
IZZO
PRETEND you fucked my wife. I know you been fantasizin’ about it for years so it shouldn’t be hard. Now I got something on you, right? You gone against the code we live by. If I want, I could kill you and Don Rudy wouldn’t have nothin’ to say about it. But no. I do this. I say, “Someday I will call upon you to do a job for me, a favor, and you must do as I say.”
RICARDO
Ain’t that from ‘The Godfather’?
Izzo makes like he’s going to give Ricardo a mouthful of chrome, and Ricardo shuts up.
IZZO
As I was sayin’, you got to do me a favor. If circumstances change, if, say, I don’t know, I’m involved in a heist and my car wheels get blown out and I got to hoof it across Bensonhurst to Flatbush, then I might call you up halfway there and tell you to come give me your fucking Maserati. See, my circumstances changed and the underlying asset, your guinea rocket I know you palmed off that Turkish cargo ship last week, becomes mine in the swap. My wife’s honor, your silence, and I get the car. We’re square. See? That’s called a derivative. Now let’s talk about types of derivatives. First, there’s futures. Futures are–
Ricardo lunges for the gun, there’s a struggle, and Ricardo points the gun at his head and pulls the trigger, ending the torture. He falls to the ground.
IZZO
Class dismissed.
May 6th, 2008 at 2:03 pm
INT. LARGE AUDITORIUM STYLE CLASSROOM
A Ben-Stein-type professor is rattling on about derivatives with varying degrees of volume.
PROF. STEIN
Wikipedia defines derivatives as…
Seated in the upper row is TERRI, a pretty red head. HARRY, a scruffy classmate makes eye contact, gets a smile, and sits next to her.
TERRI
Hi.
HARRY
Hi.
Terri scribbles on her paper and breaks her pencil.
TERRI
I’m such an idiot. Can I borrow your–
Prof. Stein has a temporary increase in volume.
PROF. STEIN
… financial instrument…
HARRY (beat)
Sure, but its–
PROF. STEIN
…value changes in response to underlying variables…
TERRI (nervous laugh)
We could just–
PROF. STEIN
… take the opposite position…
Harry’s cheeks are noticeably red as the professor dips continues inaudibly.
HARRY
Would you like to borrow my pencil?
With a blush of her own, Terri takes the pencil and begins writing. Very, VERY gently.
TERRI
Thanks. I always snap mine in half.
PROF. STEIN
This technique is commonly used when speculating….
Terri buries her face in her hands, as Harry shakes his head in disbelief. With a light bulb moment, Harry scribbles something on a piece of paper and holds it up for Terri.
ANGLE: ON THE PAPER. IT READS:
Coffee house? Noon?
WIDEN TO SEE: SCRIBBLINGS ON THE CHALKBOARD RIGHT NEXT TO HARRY’S PAPER. THEY READ:
er. Where the two parties agree to exchange flows and exotic options.
END
*NOTE: Prof. Stein’s dialogue comes entirely (slightly edited) from the wiki entry on derivatives.
May 6th, 2008 at 2:06 pm
Intercut: DAN on one of the last 7-11 pay phones, with
ERNIE, desk-bound stockbroker, but with blond dreads and rainbow hemp T-shirt.
Dan forgets to look over his shoulder as he hears Ernie’s news.
Dan:
You did what?
Ernie:
I put it all into derivatives.
Dan:
The money I stole?
Ernie:
On the phone, Jesus!
Dan:
Derivatives of what?
Ernie:
You’ll like this. Microware.
Long strangled beat.
Dan:
You put my money into derivatives of Microware.
Ernie:
(grinning) Yeah.
Dan:
Microware. The company I’m going to drive into bankruptcy for stealing my patent.
Ernie:
I know. It’s beautiful.
Dan:
Microware isn’t going to exist in six months. How the hell am I going to –
Ernie:
Credit derivatives, dude. They pay you when the company goes under.
Longer beat. Digesting.
Dan:
How illegal is that?
Ernie:
Nah, man, totally legit. Even if – Even if… You’ll get ten years for the original fraud, out in six. You hafta give back everything you stole there though. This way – if they even twig to it – you still come out with… three or four billion.
Dan:
Six years for … four billion dollars.
Ernie:
Insurance industry, man. The mafia wishes they had a racket like this.
(Ernie thinks of something else… just now)
You just better hope the government doesn’t bail Microware out.
Dan:
We are so screwed.
Ernie:
Who’s ‘we’, dude? I took my commission already.
May 6th, 2008 at 2:54 pm
Int. FORTUNE TELLER’S PARLOUR – NIGHT
PERKINS, 30 and slick, enters the dark room.
KITTIE, 25, dressed gypsy-chic, indicates a chair across the felt-covered table opposite her.
Perkins sits, surveys the room.
KITTIE: Momentarily, I shall fall into a trance. If the worst happens, press here (indicates an intercom button) and my assistant will rush in to pull me back from the Beyond. How did you hear about my work, Mr?
PERKINS: Perkins. I got a coupon on my car. I’m a curious guy, a curious thinker. It seemed like a hot deal. I’ve got a smart nose for a hot deal.
KITTIE: Yes. My gift has been newly given. I’m just starting my business and coupons seemed the right step. After consultation with the Beyond.
PERKINS: So what do I do? Ask you questions?
KITTIE: We wait. I will be overcome with the wisdom of the Other Realm. The spirits will reveal their Truths through me.
Kittie shudders and slips into trance.
KITTIE: The amulet!
Her gaze is glazed. She produces an amulet from a felt bag, places it on the table.
PERKINS: Listen, is my wife cheating on me? Ask them.
KITTE (in a possessed voice): No. You’ve just had a wonderful vacation…Aruba. Aruba!
PERKINS: Not bad, that’s right. I thought she was flirting with the chef.
KITTIE: No. You. It’s always been you. Ever since Br…Brow…
Perkins hangs on her every word now.
KITTIE: Brown!
PERKINS: Shit. Yes, Brown. She was a TriDelt. The future? What about the future?
KITTIE: Another child…a boy-child. Another boy-child.
PERKINS: Yeah, yeah…(suddenly) What about soy?
KITTIE: Soy? The spirits! Confused…soy?
PERKINS: Will soybeans go up or down? Soy beans, dammit!
Kittie sways in her chair.
KITTIE: Fading…
Kittie blinks and looks at Perkins.
KITTIE: What happened? The spirits screamed of soy. Why? What did you ask?
PERKINS: I’m a derivatives trader. For soy beans.
KITTIE: My incorporeal contacts were confused. They fled. Next time bring a palm frond to make amends. What’s a derivatives trader?
PERKINS: I lock in a price now for an option to buy soy beans in the future. If soy goes up, I trade the locked low price. I want to know where soy prices will go.
Kittie throws her head back and grunts. Her eyes glaze again.
KITTIE: The market will…will…will…soy!
She collapses on the table.
KITTIE: It’s gone. So close to revealing something…something big.
PERKINS: Listen. I want a weekly consult. You’re good.
KITTIE: The spirits tell me what they will. I’m just a vessel.
PERKINS: Well, whatever. I want a standing weekly appointment.
Kittie produces a contract.
KITTIE: Every Tuesday at ten. Sign here. $75 a session.
Perkins signs.
Smiles glibly.
PERKINS: See what I did there is a derivative deal. I’m buying the right to access your information at a set price speculating that the value of the information is going to increase as word gets out how able you are to access the spirits.
KITTIE: You possess a keen business mind, Mr. Perkins.
PERKINS: Yes. Yes, I do. Very keen.
He pays and exits.
Kittie presses the intercom button.
KITTIE (into intercom) Put Mr. Perkins down at $75 weekly, Tuesdays at ten. And make a note in the file to keep reading his blog.
May 6th, 2008 at 3:47 pm
WOMAN AT BAR
You got fired for trading derivatives at work?
MAN AT BAR
No, I got fired for demonstrating how they work.
WOMAN
That doesn’t sound like something you’d get canned for.
MAN
Actually, I was trading grades for blowjobs.
(beat)
WOMAN
How’d you get caught?
MAN
At the end of the semester, I forgot to change a student’s grade from a D to an A. And she told the dean.
WOMAN
Would you like to come back to my place and look over my portfolio?
May 6th, 2008 at 5:17 pm
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
BUDDY sits at the kitchen table, hunched over his calculus homework. He scrawls integration symbols, graphs, and sine waves all over his notepad.
He doesn’t notice his DAD walk in behind him. Buddy SIGHS, exasperated, and tosses his pencil down.
DAD
What’s the matter, Buddy?
BUDDY
This stupid math homework. I don’t understand it at all. What’s the point to derivatives, anyway?
DAD
Derivatives are very important. They’re a way of managing risk in an uncertain economy. Instead of investing in a company directly, you hedge your bets against future losses.
Buddy stares at his math book.
BUDDY (baffled)
That doesn’t sound like what the teacher explained at all.
Dad ruffles his kid’s hair.
DAD
Well, son, your teacher doesn’t work in the real world.
He walks off, satisfied with a fathering job well-done. Buddy drops his head in his hands, more confused than ever.
May 6th, 2008 at 5:18 pm
INT. BRANT BUILDING LOBBY - DAY
Eckes and Rosenfeld are walk-and-talking to Rosenfeld’s office.
ECKES
Stop, you lost me. What was Laszlo dabbling in?
ROSENFELD
Weather derivatives. Let’s say you’re Gruber Foods. Your bottom line depends on a good wheat harvest, there are any number of things that can mess that up, and you want to hedge your bets. So you buy up some weather futures.
ECKES
Okay. Wait, what?
ROSENFELD
Weather futures. They’re like an insurance policy on the weather, only no insurer would be crazy enough to put money on the weather. So you go to an options exchange and find someone who’ll sell you a contract that guarantees you a payout if certain things that aren’t likely to happen do happen.
ECKES
Like a snowstorm in the middle of Kansas in July?
ROSENFELD
Well…I’m sure they were thinking more along the lines of a few days of extra rainfall over a 60-day period. But yeah, pretty much. It’s all about variations from the norm. The seller’s taking a calculated risk that their forecasts will be close enough to accurate that they’ll get to keep all the money from the sale.
ECKES
So Laszlo was buying insurance policies which paid out if the weather did something unexpected?
ROSENFELD
Precisely. It’s a great investment opportunity if you just happen to be able to control the weather.
ECKES
Yeah, well, something tells me the folks in the derivatives market don’t know about super powers yet.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:32 pm
INT. OFFICE CUBE
MATT, 35, confused and sloppy-looking, stops surfing the internet and picks up his phone.
MATT
Hey, dad?
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. OFFICE
FATHER, 60, who looks like he could own the Harvard Business School, puts down the latest issue of Vanity Fair.
FATHER
Are you at work?
MATT
I’m taking a break.
FATHER
I swear if Mr. Cramer fires you, I’m kicking you out.
MATT
I need to know what a derivative is.
FATHER
What the fuck for? I’m busy.
MATT
There’s this screenwriter, John August, and he’s having a contest.
FATHER
John August? Who the fuck is that? You know son, if you put as much time into getting a girlfriend as you did into your failed dreams, you’d be dating Miley Cirus right now.
MATT
If I were dating Miley Cirus, I’m be in Fed Pen right now. Actually, I need to know because I want to sell my soul and join the family business.
FATHER
Listen carefully cause I’m not repeating this. Stocks and bonds are real things. A derivative is a secondary transaction on that real thing. For example, if I were to buy stock in you moving out of the house in the next ten years - that’d be a futures contract. That’s a derivative. And if I did buy that stock, I’d go broke.
MATT
Fuck you. I’m moving out.
FATHER
Yeah. Yeah. Mom’s making meatloaf. Be home by seven.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:34 pm
MAN:
What’s a deriative?
WOMAN:
What’s it to you?
MAN:
I’d like to know.
WOMAN:
You are a curious man.
MAN:
I am indeed.
WOMAN:
Well I wish I had an answer for you.
MAN:
But you do not.
WOMAN:
I wish I did.
MAN:
You said that already.
WOMAN:
I love you.
MAN:
I love you too, derivative.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:46 pm
INT. HOME OFFICE – NIGHT
Neat yet tiny – maybe six feet across – with the glow of a computer screen providing the room’s only light.
JOHN
And…begin.
Eyes bloodshot and face unshaven, JOHN grudgingly taps ‘return’ on his aging MacBook, submitting his post and cementing the notion that he’s officially lost the plot.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Hold up there, Johnny Boy. They’re aspiring screenwriters, not CFA’s.
Startled, John spins around, only to find his den as empty as the overturned bottle of Jack nestled snugly between a carton of Zantac and a six-pack of PBR.
JOHN
Who’s there!?!
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Easy John. Your house isn’t haunted in real life.
In a poorly executed bit of stealth, John eases his left arm across the desk, reaching for his letter opener.
JOHN
Then where are you?
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
You can lose the dagger, man. I’m up here.
John looks up to see a RAVEN, dark and brooding, perched atop his marble bust of Terrence Malick.
JOHN
(sotto voce)
Mike was right. I do need some time off.
His sotto needs work. The Raven chuckles, amused. John… not so much. He curls up in the fetal position and begins tugging at his bare scalp as if pulling out imaginary tufts of hair.
RAVEN (MALE VOICE)
Alright, John-John. We’re gonna need to calm down and work through this. Can we do that?
John nods reluctantly.
RAVEN
Okay. So what’s with this challenge?
Hesitating…
JOHN
Well, Alex Young wanted this on his desk last Monday. And I’m fresh out of ideas.
RAVEN
Honestly John, who writes their ‘first-dollar gross’ spec about financial analysts?
JOHN
I thought they were due. Come on Raven, you gotta help me.
RAVEN
Haven’t you asked any of your friends in the biz? You know, the professionals?
JOHN
Think I didn’t try that already? Ted and Terry lectured me about how the world of finance isn’t ‘high concept’ enough, the Wibberley’s teased me that they’d fix it in the rewrite, and Craig just kept ranting about how all writer’s block can somehow be traced back to Patric Verrone.
RAVEN
Wow, tough crowd.
JOHN
So what am I gonna do, man?
RAVEN
Okay, John. Just use this.
The Raven flutters down, landing on John’s shoulder. He pokes his beak into John’s ear and begins whispering.
RAVEN
(inaudible)
Psst, psst, psst.
This continues for some thirty seconds, before the Raven inches backwards from John’s ear and returns to his perch.
JOHN
Wow, did you just think of that now? How’d you come up with that so quick?
RAVEN
Well, I am a talking Raven, after all.
JOHN
Hmmmmm. A hedge, eh? So that huge holding deal from FOX that she turned down? They were hedging against her becoming a gi-normous star, which would have cost them a fortune per picture?
RAVEN
You got it.
JOHN
Ha! I bet Tara Reid is kicking herself now.
RAVEN
You’re assuming she’s in a state where she can stand…
JOHN
Oh, Raven. Well, that’s pretty good. Thanks.
But then John pauses. A worried look creeps across his face.
JOHN
Wait, you’re not thinking of becoming a screenwriter, are you?
RAVEN
Well, the thought had crossed my mind.
Then, a sparkle forms in John’s eye.
JOHN
Oh?
(into the hallway)
Puggies. Attack!
From out of nowhere,
A PAIR OF VICIOUS PUGS
leap into the air, catching the Raven by surprise. The larger of the two snatches him off of his perch and drags him down to the hardwood.
To John’s delight, the dogs proceed to eviscerate the poor bird, leaving nothing but a pile of bloody entrails for Monday’s visit by Molly Maid.
JOHN
Quoth the Raven?
(* evil laugh *)
Nevermore!
FADE OUT.
May 6th, 2008 at 6:54 pm
[Dowder is a middle-aged suit, he has a cockney accent which coincidently accents his suit very nicely, and a slight shadow of a beard. He holds a cup of whiskey in his hand, half full, 3 ice cubes. Pip is a noticeably meeker than Dowder, but by no means sheepish in his intent. Arrogance fuels Dowder, confidence in his abilities fuels Pip. A third man stands by the lamp in the room, he wears a mediocre suit elegantly and seems nervous, he too holds a cup of whiskey, his hand shakes. All are seated in a office.]
Third Man:
Nothing now is what I got — nothing. Wheres the money she’ll say, where’d it all go man? She’ll ask — thats exactly what she’ll ask (takes long sip from the cup and gags a little) that bitch, she knows, I’m sweating bullets, everyone’ll know!
Pip:
Man lets take a step back, we can bounce back, no problem at all. This is the reason we set-up derivatives, instances like these (opens a folder). Take a look at the Zemmer Account, will you —
Dowder:
Pip. Man. I think we’re making a large ordeal out of very little.
Third man:
A big deal!? A big deal out of nothing he says (another long sip). We got nothing to make a big deal out of, cause thats what we got Dowder, nothing!
Dowder:
Thats what we have? What you have.
Pip:
Dowder?
Dowder:
Look here man, take a seat. Pour yourself another drink. Better yet stand up — stay standing. Leave the drink alone and listen, listen for a goddamn second. You need to calm down a second, you ready? Good, now —
Third Man:
What (mumbles, shrugs)
Dowder:
Man! You like jokes? On second thought take the seat, your knees are wobbling. You look like tree in the wind, jesus.
Third Man:
Alright then, alright. (shakes less)
Dowder:
Did I say joke? I meant stories. Everyone likes stories, allegories. Three guys walk into a bar, normal guys y’know. Its a hole in the wall place, shady, musky, dank — criminal, and you can smell it. The first of the three walks to the bar and the bartender asks “what’ll I be gettin’ ya?” putting a cup on the counter, and the guy says “a beer.” Bartender reaches under the counter and in a flash (opens a closed fist to a five finger display) plugs this guy one in the chest. Second guy sits on a stool and the bartender repeats “what’ll I be gettin’ ya?” gruff as hell, y–
Pip:
What the hell is this Dowder, you know what this is, this is a joke. And we don’t have time for jokes Dowder, we don’t have a minute. The Zemmer–
Dowder:
You’re ruining my rhythm Pip. Mans gotta finish a story — gruff as hell I said, raspy voice “what’ll I be gettin’ ya?” Same cup. Second guy says, “a beer.” Wouldn’t you know it though, bartender puts one right between this ones eyes. Third man — thats you — walks up to the bar, same routine as the last three, only this time the bartender takes a cup from him and fills it up, laughs a little even.
(beat)
Dowder:
What’d he do different, what’d the third man do different?
(beat) (everyone looks un-enthused and mislead)
Dowder:
He handed the bastard his cup upside down! Ha, how’s that for a kicker. Little humor saves your life. No way you could’ve known that though, not one bit. Point being, is the — (waves hand in the air in ciruclar motion)
Pip:
The Zemmer Account —
Dowder:
The Zemmer Account, is our upside down man. You don’t have to worry. The upside down is our derivative. Our back up plan. Its a retirement fund with a party hat, you know?
Third Man:
You really need to tell that whole story?
Dowder:
Little humor saves your life.
Third Man:
(Small laugh) Alright Dowder, alright (third man exits, noticeably more calm, sets down cup on desk before leaving)
Pip:
I’m actually glad you pulled that shit, I didn’t even think about going into derivatives (rubs eyes). For such a bastard you’re quick on your feet.
Dowder:
Derivatives? The guy needs to calm down is all, the stock’ll bounce back.
Pip:
You didn’t know the Zemmer account was back up?
Dowder:
I’m not even sure what a derivative is. Thats why I work for shaky assholes like this guy (cocks head). Little humor saves your life.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:17 pm
INT. OUTER OFFICE - DAY
Quietly understated furnishing and a view from full length, high rise window speak of money, lots of money.
The door to the inner office is open. There is a hub-hub from the inner office and an occasional FLASH. A broken COFFEE CUP sits in a BROWN STAIN at the threshold.
Not quite model beautiful and obviously upset, JANE HELPFUL sits at a desk, not really seeing the COMPUTER MONITOR in front of her.
DAN GUMSHOE, a police detective in a rumpled suit, enters from the inner office, stepping neatly to avoid the spilled coffee. He pulls out a NOTEPAD and addresses Jane.
DAN GUMSHOE
Can you answer a few questions?
JANE HELPFUL
I…I don’t know…it’s a real shock.
DAN GUMSHOE
You’ll have to talk eventually, better to get it over now.
JANE HELPFUL
Yeah…I guess so…
DAN GUMSHOE
You found the body when you came in this morning?
JANE HELPFUL
Yes. He usually gets in before me, but I always get his coffee the first thing.
Dan looks over at the BROWN STAIN and nods his head.
DAN GUMSHOE
That was about eight fifty?
JANE HELPFUL
Yes, I called the police right away.
DAN GUMSHOE
What did he do exactly?
JANE HELPFUL
He was a stock derivative trader.
DAN GUMSHOE
Some kind of stock broker?
JANE HELPFUL
Not exactly.
(beat)
How do you make money on Wall Street?
DAN GUMSHOE
Ah…buy low and sell high.
JANE HELPFUL
Suppose you thought the stock price would go down. How would you make money then?
DAN GUMSHOE
Ah…I don’t know.
JANE HELPFUL
What if you could bet on the price?
DAN GUMSHOE
Huh?
JANE HELPFUL
Let’s say you could buy the right to sell the stock later at a set price.
(beat)
Well, if the price went down you could buy at the market and sell for a profit.
DAN GUMSHOE
Why would anyone agree to buy the stock later at a fixed price?
JANE HELPFUL
What is it that makes a horse race?
DAN GUMSHOE
Huh.
(beat)
Oh, wait…a difference of opinion. Ah, they would if they didn’t think the price would go down.
JANE HELPFUL
Right. Someone’s always willing to take the other side of a bet…for the right price, like setting the odds in Vegas.
DAN GUMSHOE
Yeah, but how do you make money at that?
JANE HELPFUL
By winning more bets than you lose.
May 6th, 2008 at 7:20 pm
INT. OFFICE — NIGHT
Amid a vast, dimly lit labyrinth cluttered cubicles, two haggard figures sip coffee from styrofoam cups and stare intently into the glow of computer screen.
JOE
Stocks, junk bonds. Wow. This guy has his fingers in a lot of pies.
TRAVIS
(frustrated)
There’s gotta be something we’re missing.
JOE
Yeah… Look… Derivative contracts… Jesus… Look at this. This guy made a killing.
Joe perks up, starts flipping through the screens with increasing interest.
For Travis, the remaining traces of youthful confidence and intensity on his tired face finally droop to a confused gaze at the numbers flashing by on the screen.
TRAVIS
Derivative what?
JOE
Contracts. C’mon Elliot Ness, didn’t they teach you that in college?
TRAVIS
Elliot who? I was an English major.
JOE
(laughing a bit)
Your car, kid.
TRAVIS
What?
JOE
Your car. You buy it or lease it?
TRAVIS
Lease.
JOE
Imagine at the end of your lease contract the car was actually worth a lot more than the residual value of the car stated in the contract.
TRAVIS
That’s how they work?
JOE
Close enough… That’s how they worked for this guy anyway.
(a beat)
A little too often I’d say.
May 6th, 2008 at 9:16 pm
Mark and Simon are at the kitchen table. Simon is playing with his GI Joe. Mark is flicking through a collectors magazine.
Mark
(putting down the magazine)
I’ll buy that GI Joe off you.
Simon
With what? You don’t have any money.
Mark
Okay. In ten years I’ll give you 20 bucks for it.
Simon
You’re crazy, in ten years it will be worthless.
Mark
(getting up and walking away)
Or it might be worth 1000
Dissolve to : Int. Trading floor
Mark
(shouting)
I’ll buy a 1000 barrels of 2020 oil at 150 spot 75
May 6th, 2008 at 9:26 pm
INT. MANSION - DAY
JOHN AUGUST relaxes in his bubble bath jacuzzi, surrounded by adoring STARLETS who massage him and feed him grapes. John’s ACCOUNTANT sits next to him in the jacuzzi, wearing a 3-piece suit, soaking wet.
JOHN
Diversify my portfolio! I’m making zillions off “The Nines” and I can only buy so many mansions.
ACCOUNTANT
Very good, sir. We’ll purchase some derivatives.
JOHN
Derivatives? Is that some sort of Hebrew delicacy? Clarify.
ACCOUNTANT
Why don’t you just ask your blog readers to explain it for you?
JOHN
I’ve already tried that. You should have seen the dreck they wrote back. Besides, what do I pay you for?
ACCOUNTANT
(sighing)
When a studio wants to buy your script, but doesn’t want to risk all their money, what do they do?
JOHN
They option the script, so they can buy it at a future date. Crafty devils.
ACCOUNTANT
Your perspicuity is matched only by your beauty, sir. I’m wiring millions from your Swiss bank account as we speak.
JOHN
Top dollar! Then let’s away to my hydrofoil. The Peter Stark Alumni Coalition is having a meeting in our secret fortress. Soon, all Hollywood will cower at our feet!