THE CLOCK STRIKES THREE!!! by Bucky Knaebel

EXT. CAFE – NIGHT

We are outside looking in at what one might say is an exact replica of Hopper’s Nighthawks. Instead of Bogart-esque type characters, we see three superheroes at the counter.

INT. CAFE – NIGHT

Commander Alpha (34), a Superman look-a-like, is regaling his tale to two obviously bored superheroes: Pecos Pete (24) a fella in cowboy garb with a mask and Mauve Moth (21) a woman dressed like, well... a Mauve Moth. An incredibly OLD WAITER is refilling their coffee.

COMMANDER ALPHA

And of course everyone had lost hope and was ready to surrender. But not I. I alone defeated the Tyranny Twins. Single-handedly, I saved the entire East Coast.

PECOS PETE

You don’t say.

COMMANDER ALPHA

I do, and maybe, just maybe, you can either see me in action or aid me, not that I will need it, on one of my adventures.

MAUVE MOTH

Wouldn’t that be something.

COMMANDER ALPHA

It would be something you would never forget.

Just then, THE CLOCK (22) skinny white guy dressed like Flava Flav circa 1990 with a large CLOCK around his neck, springs from around the corner.

THE CLOCK

Sup’ bitches? It’s time for your beatdown!

PECOS PETE

Oh no, are you here to slow down time? You realize all that does is stretch out the span of us whooping on you.

THE CLOCK

Nah, yo. I got upgrades n’ shit. Brace yo’self fools!

With his hands, The Clock thrusts his clock from his chest as waves emanate from it. The Clock slowly dissipates into nothingness. A beat. Our trio of heroes burst out in laughter.

PECOS PETE

That. Is. Amazing. That just might be a first. I have never seen a villain defeat himself.

The heroes leave some money on the counter and walk out. As they are leaving an incredibly YOUNG WAITER takes the money from the countertop.

EXT. CAFE – NIGHT

Our heroes stumble out, still chuckling at what just went down.

MAUVE MOTH

Ummm guys. Look at each other.

They oblige. Both men now have full-on 1970’s porn star moustaches. Almost identically they tug at their new follicles.

COMMANDER ALPHA

Well, I’ll be... I bet I look handsome. I look handsome, don’t I?

PECOS PETE

The Clock gave us moustaches? That’s weird, right?

Mauve Moth looks around while the two guys continue twirling their new facial hair. She notices the cars, the trash on the ground, and then slowly walks over to a newspaper stand. She points to the newspaper in the newspaper stand. The two male heroes walk over and see that the year is 1978.

MAUVE MOTH

It’s 1978... and we are in trouble.

Title Card (in old Horror Movie Script): THE CLOCK STRIKES THREE!! Dun, Dun, Dunnnnnnnnnn!

MAUVE MOTH (CONT’D)

It’s 1978... and we are in trouble.

PECOS PETE

You just said that. Wow, that little turd wasn’t lying. I don’t suppose any of you have any time travel devices on you do you?

Commander Alpha actually checks his pockets while Pecos Pete shakes his head in annoyance. Mauve Moth walks in the cafe and then walks back out again.

MAUVE MOTH

He is long gone. No sign of him in there.

COMMANDER ALPHA

I got it. I can fly around the earth as fast as possible and make the rotation speed up, thus hurtling me forward in time.

MAUVE MOTH

One, that does nothing for the two of us left here. Two, you really have no basic understanding of physics or science do you?

COMMANDER ALPHA

Well Sergeant Smarty-pants, what are your bright ideas?

MAUVE MOTH

Give me a second. I’m thinking.

PECOS PETE

Anyone know how to make a time travel device?

Now its the Mauve Moth’s turn to be irritated.

MAUVE MOTH

You guys remember any heroes or villains from the 70’s? Anyone that can help us?

COMMANDER ALPHA

There were heroes in the 70’s?

PECOS PETE

The Awesome Afro and the Furious Fists, Space Junkie, Captain Funkadelic, Rhino-Man, Bugboy, The Goofballs, Captain Cloud, The Finger, The Foot, The Fist, Roundhouse, Town Jester,

Kimchi Rhinestone by Michelle Burleson

SUPER: “It wasn’t God who made honky tonk angels – Kitty Wells.”

INCHON, SOUTH KOREA. 1996

EXT. BUPYEONG STREET – 2:00 A.M.

A YOUNG KOREAN WOMAN (early 20’s) kneels at a weathered guitar case. Chokes down sobs. Shoulders quake.

Steady now.

She’s popping each latch slowly, patiently, shhh. Lifts out a beat up ACOUSTIC GUITAR. Lays it gently on the sidewalk, but even still:

TWANG! Out-of-tune strings snap the silence. UMPH. She muffles them instantly, eyes darting. Coast still clear.

She unties a traditional Korean papoose strapped to her back. In it:

A sleeping INFANT.

She tenderly nestles her newborn into the guitar case. Quivering lips press to the tiny forehead. Please forgive me.

Tucked into the swaddling: a JADE TURTLE NECKLACE.

FIVE FEET UP

A rusty sign on a rustier gate. In Korean and English it reads: “ST. ALOUICIOUS’ HOME FOR AMERASIAN ORPHANS. INCHON, KOREA.”

BLAAAAAAAG! A grating, shrill gate buzzer. The baby wakes, wails. Kid’s got some pipes.

The Young Korean Woman’s rapid footstrikes fade as she sprints away. The infant won’t be alone for long as...

...windows -- some broken and covered with The Korea Herald -- light up inside the orphanage. First one, then many.

EXT. NAMDAEMUN MARKET – SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA – (PRESENT) DAY

Manic urban chaos. Hectic haggling over food cart fare, designer knockoffs, pirated movies and music. Cases of blackmarket booze.

In the midst, the AMERASIAN ORPHAN GIRL (now a scrappy 18) shreds a twelve bar blues intro.

EXT. NAMDAEMUN MARKET – STREET CORNER – CONTINUOUS

Her filthy fingers work the fretboard of a tinderbox guitar. She belts righteous, oh-my-soul delta boogie.

Her voice? Grade A brass-n-sass.

THE ORPHAN

(crooning)

“How my mama met my daddy I don’t know/ She was a Korean girl, he was a G.I. Joe...”

The Orphan’s exquisite jade turtle necklace clashes against her ratty t-shirt. Too much tomboy to be a beauty. Too hungry to care. She plays to an audience of none, until:

An off-duty U.S. ARMY SERGEANT (30’s) struts by. Whoa. What the...?

THE ORPHAN (CONT’D)

“...Nine months later and full of disgrace/ I was dumped at the orphanage in his guitar case...”

His head bobs along. Groovin. Whips out an iPhone:

YOUTUBE APP. Click.

RECORD:

THE ORPHAN (CONT’D)

“...half-breed blues, nobody wants you around/ even though you’re taller, people always look down/ Half-breed blues, every door is shut/ to a symbol of shame, yankee- gook mutt.”

UPLOAD VIDEO. Click.

In the “Title” field he types:

“Kimchi Rhinestone – A Seoul Miner’s Daughter”

SHARE.

The Sergeant drops a five into her guitar case -- the same one she was abandoned in years ago.

SERGEANT

(in clunky Korean)

Kam-sa-hab-ni-da.

THE ORPHAN

(bowing)

Thanks, man. You, too.

He winks with a playful two-finger salute.

SERGEANT

“Half Breed Blues,” huh? That’s a honky tonk hit if I ever heard one.

EMCEE (O.S. PRELAP)

By a vote of nearly One! Hundred! Million! America’s new Honky Tonk Angel is...

INT. AMERICA’S HONKY TONK ANGEL STAGE – NASHVILLE, TN – NIGHT

A center stage spotlight shines on two barely legal BLONDE SOUTHERN BELLES. They cross fingers. Hold hands. Fidget. Left foot. Right foot. Please God, please.

EMCEE

..going...

Every mini rip into the envelope an eternity.

EMCEE (CONT’D)

...to...

Sweet torture.

EMCEE (CONT’D)

...be...

The Emcee flashes a salesman smile.

EMCEE (CONT’D)

...announced after this message from Honky Tonk Angel creator, J. Randall Hays!

Zombie With a Gun by Paul Yoshida

EXT. ROYAL HAWAIIAN MOTEL – HOLLYWOOD, CA – NIGHT

A pair of NEON PALM TREES flickers in the sky. Below, a red- neck PICKUP is parked in front of one of the rooms.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

The owner of the truck, a scum-bag with “WHITE POWER” tattooed on his neck, INHALES a line of coke off a hand-mirror. This is LOU (30s).

An ASIAN HOOKER emerges from the bathroom.

ASIAN HOOKER

You save me some?

LOU

This is comin’ out of your pay, you know...

He hands her the mirror, walks over to the mini-fridge, and grabs a beer.

ASIAN HOOKER

(to herself)

...Prick.

She snorts a line. Lou shotguns his beer and throws the can across the room.

LOU

Alright, let’s fuck.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and kicks off his cowboy boots. The hooker climbs onto his lap and opens her blouse.

EXT. PARKING LOT – NIGHT

A BLACK 1978 PONTIAC TRANS-AM pulls into the lot and parks next to the pickup. The driver, a HOODED MAN, steps out and stuffs a GLOCK PISTOL into the back of his jeans.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

Lou and the hooker are now grinding away on the bed, the hooker on top. Suddenly, there’s a LOUD POUNDING at the door.

ASIAN HOOKER

(freaked)

Who’s that?

LOU

Fuckin’ christ...

Lou tosses the hooker aside, grabs his REVOLVER from the dresser, and goes to the door.

He looks through the PEEPHOLE and sees the Hooded Man standing in front of the door, his face hidden in shadow.

ASIAN HOOKER

Is it the cops?

LOU

(through the door)

Wrong room, asshole!

Lou watches through the peephole as the Hooded Man turns and walks away. Satisfied, he tosses his gun onto the dresser and climbs back into bed.

LOU

Now, where were we?

EXT. PARKING LOT – NIGHT

Outside, the Trans-Am reverses into the middle of the parking lot. It’s pointed directly at the motel room.

The Hooded Man puts it into neutral and REVS the engine. The car RUMBLES with power.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

Lou and the hooker are at it again, this time doggy-style.

ASIAN HOOKER

Yeah! Yeah! Right there!

EXT. PARKING LOT – NIGHT

The Hooded Man put the car into gear and STOMPS ON THE GAS. The Trans-Am PEELS OUT, laying rubber. It flies straight towards the motel room.

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

Inside, Lou and the hooker are totally oblivious to what’s coming.

ASIAN HOOKER

Don’t stop! Don’t--!

BOOM! The Trans-Am comes CRASHING through the wall. Broken glass and debris fly everywhere.

Lou and the hooker dive behind the bed for cover as the car comes to rest halfway inside the room.

As the dust settles, Lou and the hooker poke their heads up from behind the bed.

The car door opens. The Hooded Man steps out. He walks towards them, gun in hand, his face still hidden in shadow.

ASIAN HOOKER

P-please, don’t hurt me!

The Hooded Man raises his gun and points it at Lou.

HOODED MAN

(to the hooker)

Leave.

She scrambles to her feet, collects her clothes, and tiptoes past the car and exits through the giant hole in the wall.

Meanwhile, Lou looks down and spots his revolver lying close by underneath the bed.

Still pointing his gun, the Hooded Man takes a PHOTOGRAPH out of his pocket and tosses it at Lou.

It’s of a YOUNG COUPLE with a BABY GIRL in their arms.

LOU

What the fuck is this?

HOODED MAN

You pigs murdered them. Shot ‘em dead in their home.

LOU

Bullshit. I didn’t murder nobody.

HOODED MAN

Yeah, you did, Lou...

He pulls back his hood, revealing the GREY AND ROTTING FACE OF SEAN WALKER (30s), the young man in the photo.

Lou can’t believe his eyes.