Sunday, July 1, 2012
I'm Gonna Punch Sam Mackey in the Face
Interior, gym, day...
Mike hitting the speed bag.
Smash cut to credits
Mike jumping rope.
Smash cut to credits.
Mike curling.
Credits.
Mike hitting gloves with Fight Night Mike.
Credits.
Mike Bench pressing.
Mike hitting heavy bag. He impersonates Apollo in Rocky III - “He’s hooking, he’s hooking, he’s hooking... Damn Rock what’s a matter with you?”
TITLE -- I’m Gonna Punch Sam Mackey in the Face.
TITLE -- New Orleans 2011
A Bar, late afternoon. Turk is behind it. He's drinking and fucking off on his phone. Mike is sitting at the bar. In front of him, standing on a bevi nap, is a Myoplex protein drink. This scene will mostly be improv beginning with Turk talking about broads and stalking broads on facebook and destroying someone like Sam Mendes or Kubrick.
MIKE: Whatcha got there?
TURK: This broad that was at the bar last night.
MIKE: You get her name or look at the credit card slip.
TURK: The slip. The broad's profile is open.
MIKE: Bikini shots.
TURK: Yeah. This broad and her friends in Destin.
MIKE: What’s wrong with these broads? Do they want to get raped (confused)?
TURK: They’re broads.
MIKE: Yeah.
Beat.
Turk puts his phone down to serve a customer.
TURK: (Handing out a menu) Here ya go sir.
He grabs his phone again and starts doing some bullshit on it.
TURK: (sipping from his collins glass full of something green) What’s up with that fucking Myoplex?
MIKE: I’m in training.
TURK: Yeah. What the fuck you in training for (texting... facebooking).
MIKE: Sam Mackey. I’m going to punch him in the face.
TURK: Sam Mackey! I hate that fucking guy! That guy is the worst thing that’s showed up on Planet Earth since Dane Cook. What a snarky, smug, squinty eyed fuck!
MIKE: Yup.
TURK: And that lean in thing he does. He fucking attacks you with those squinty fucking eyes fucking laughing at every fucking thing that comes out of his fucking mouth. What is that? What the hell is he laughing at? He never says anything funny. No jokes at all.
MIKE: Exactly.
TURK: It’s fucking amazing how much of a fraud this guy is. Somebody should punch this mutherfucker in the face.
MIKE: That’s what I intend to do.
TURK: It'd be fucking beautiful.
MIKE: I mean I’m really gonna punch this guy in the face. In fact I’m certain of it.
TURK: You’re serious (takes a sip from his Collins glass) What the fuck did he do? Try to bang your broad?
MIKE: No. Nothing. I just can’t stop thinking about him. I really haven’t thought about anything else for a week now. This is just something I have to do... Is that Chartreuse?
TURK: It is Indeed.
Exterior shot of Whole Foods.
Interior, Whole Foods, 5pm...
A woman attends to a register. Mike approaches and unloads a variety of supplements and protein powder... eggs, milk, quad mocha.
Exterior Shot of 1108 Antonine.
Interior, 1108, 10:30 pm...
Mike is lying in bed. He is looking at picture of Sam Mackey on his cellphone. He sets his phone down and looks up at the ceiling (drifting off). His girlfriend comes up for breath from under the covers.
GIRLFRIEND: What the fuck?
MIKE: What?
GIRLFRIEND: Your dick.
MIKE: Yeah Sorry about that.
GIRLFRIEND: Well what the fuck is going on?
MIKE: I dunno. I’m just not into it tonight.
GIRLFRIEND: What do you mean not into it? You’re always into it. I’m supposed to be the one who’s not into it!
MIKE (sighs): Yeah I know. It’s just that I’m having trouble focusing.
GIRLFRIEND (frustrated): What is it? Are you fucking someone else?
MIKE: No. That has nothing to do with it.
GIRLFRIEND: That has nothing to do with it? So you are bangin someone else.
MIKE: No. No. I’m not. That’s not what I meant.
GIRLFRIEND: Well what the fuck is wrong? Are you Gambling? Is some wop going to show up here again asking for you?
MIKE: No. No. Relax. And once again sorry about that (takes deep breath). The thing is there’s this guy and ahh he is just... just the biggest fucking douche... just a snarky... weasely... slimy fuck of a man and I just can’t get him out of my head and I've a... I’ve decided that I’m going to punch him in the face.
GIRLFRIEND: Fuck off.
MIKE: Babe I’m serious. Have you looked in the cupboard? Did you not notice the industrial blender sitting on the countertop? I’m going to punch this guy in the face, and goddamnit I’m going to be fucking ready for it.
GIRLFRIEND: You’re serious?
MIKE: Yes.
GIRLFRIEND: Shit...Well can you at least take a Viagra then and just lay there?
MIKE: I’m going for a run.
Mike gets up and walks out of the bedroom.
GIRLFRIEND: Fuck. You better punch this guy soon (falls back on the bed and reaches in the bed side table drawer).
Exterior, St. Charles, 11:15.
Mike is jogging on the street car line.
Interior, 1108 Antonine, Soon after.
Mike is taking a shower.
Mike is sitting at his desk drinking a protein shake and watching the Gatti-Ward trilogy on his Mac. He grabs the remote and turns on the television. He turns the channel to TVG (the horse racing channel). He closed the Gatti-Ward trilogy and logs into an online poker room while at the same time logging into a sports betting site. He grabs a prescription bottle, opens it, and pops a pill in his mouth.
Interior, Dr. Well’s office, Shortly after...
Mike sits in a chair opposite Dr. Well’s. Dr. Well’s is an older, distinguished looking man in his early 50’s.
WELLS: So the medication doesn’t seem to be working.
MIKE: No... I wouldn’t say that. I mean I do feel a difference. When I used to lose at the track... or poker... or the games I mean... I would get very depressed. I would hate myself for days. But now, after I get crushed, I just take a moment to process, then essentially move on. No guilt. No shame. No self-loathing. I’ll get ‘em next time I say to myself.
WELLS: Well that’s interesting.
MIKE: Ya think.
WELLS: What about the drinking?
MIKE: Heavy... until I started training.
WELLS: So you seem to keep denying that you have an alcohol problem and that you are most likely an alcoholic. Have you changed your position on this subject at all?
MIKE: Well I’ll say this. I don’t think I’m an alcoholic--But I'm an alcoholic. How’s that?
WELLS: Well I guess that’s progress then. So back to the gambling. Are you feeling somewhat detached just when you’re gambling, or in other areas of your life as well?
MIKE: Well, I have been a bit withdrawn at work, and with my girlfriend. But I’m not sure if it’s the medication or not. I’ve been really obsessed with punching this guy in the face lately, and I think that could be the reason for my detachment. Actually the only time I’m not thinking about punching this guy in the face is when I have money on something.
WELLS: Interesting. So you want to punch a guy in the face. What reason do you have for wanting to do this?
MIKE: Well, I just really hate this guy. Everything about him makes me very upset with mankind. The guy is just wrong in every way.
WELLS: So you know this guy well?
MIKE: Not at all. I've talked him him a couple time but.
WELLS: Interesting. Let me ask you this. Do you perhaps feel threatened by this guy at all? Do you think maybe that all this spite you have for this man could merely be projection on your part?
MIKE: Fuck projection.
WELLS: Right... so I’m going to take you off the Adderral. It seems you’re experiencing quite a few side effects. I recommend that you begin psychotherapy as well. You seem to have... well I think it wouldn’t hurt. So I’d like you to come back in a few weeks, I assume after you’ve punched this guy in the face, and see how you’re doing then. Like I’ve said before--I think you can actually be a reasonably functional human being if you can just find the will to cut out all this bullshit.
MIKE: Alright. Yeah I should have this guy punched by then. See ya in a few man.
Mike gets up and exits the Shrink room.
Exterior, Boxing Gym, Late Afternoon...
Mike pulls out a bottle of Adderral from his bag. He pops two in his mouth. He gets out his cell phone and pulls up the same photo of Sam Mackey. He looks at it briefly, then puts the phone back in his pocket and walks into the gym.
Interior, Gym, Day...
Shots of:
Mike hitting speed bag.
Heavy bag.
Pull ups.
Curls.
Mike hitting gloves with Fight Night Mike. FNM is him giving instructions to “Jab” and Mike keeps throwing straight rights.
FNM: Jab... Jab... Jab... Stop stop. What the fuck are you doing?
MIKE: I’m just going to throw one punch at this guy.
FNM: You think so. What if this guy works out at boxing gym downtown and knows how slip a straight right. What then?
MIKE: Impossible. This guy is going to crumble.
FNM: Alright we’re done (throws his bag gloves on the floor).
Exterior, Freret Smoothie, Shortly after...
Mike sits sipping on a smoothie, lost in thought. He makes contact with a little black kid on his bike across the street. The kid smiles and rides off. Mike smiles and takes another sip of his smoothie. Then a small crew of black kids walk by him, all a little bit older. The oldest is fifteen perhaps. He’s the talker.
BLACK KID: Fuckin Smoothie. Motherfucker be suckin on a fucking smoothie. Fuckin faggot.
The other kids laugh and taunt Mike as they continue down the street. Mike is silent the whole time and watches them walk down the street, sipping on his fucking smoothie.
Exterior, St. Charles, Shortly after...
Mike is sprinting down St. Charles.
Exterior, Antonine St, Early evening...
Mike is hitting a tree with a baseball bat.
Interior, Dixie Diva's, Afternoon...
Mike sits down at the bar aggressively. The bartender already has a greyhound ready for him. Mike scans the room and makes eye contact with a stripper that has her ass in a guy's face.
Mike walks out of the club with a to go cup in his hand filled with something pink.
Interior, Cat's Meow, Same...
Mike is on stage singing Karaoke--"Empire State of Mind" by JZ. He has a few girls singing background for him.
Interior, Antonine St., Evening...
Mike is firing up the industrial blender, throwing pretty much everything he can get his hands on in there.
Interior, Mike’s Apartment, Morning...
Mike hops up from a chair he’s been sleeping in, which is positioned to the right of the bed that his girlfriend is sleeping on. He is already dressed and ready to go.
Exterior, Antonine, Morning...
Mike steps out of his apartment into the morning air. He breaths it in, lifting is arms toward the sky. He stretches, then begins to jog in place. After a few moments he covers his head with his hoodie and starts jogging. While jogging:
A chicken runs by Mike and he dodges it.
A priest approaches him with a cross. Mike knocks him off his feet.
A guy holding a Philly Cheesesteak offers a bite to Mike and gets kicked in the balls.
Exterior, St. Charles St., Same...
We see the streetcar rolling down St. Charles. Mike comes into the left of the frame, jogging by the streetcar. Kids waive at Mike and he waves back, then accelerates towards...
Exterior, Magazine Street, Same...
Mike jogs past CC's coffee shop, hitting everyone sitting outside with high-fives. He goes inside and goes up to the counter for a coffee--jogging in place the whole time. All the customers from the coffee shop approach him. High fives all around.
Exterior, Audubon Park, Same...
Mike comes into frame jogging. He still has a coffee cup in his hand, which he finishes up and discards in the trash. Behind him a pack of people jog behind him.
Exterior, Whole Foods, Same...
Mike jogs into the front piazza with the pack still following. He stops in the middle and starts jumping up and down and fist pumping while he's crowded by his adoring fans.
Exterior, Somewhere in the French Quarter, Later that day...
Mike is walking around with a photo of Sam Mackey on his IPHONE 4. He's asking passerby’s, “Have you seen this man?” He’s having no luck. Just when things appear hopeless, he spots Sam Mackey out of the corner of his eye. He turns and cracks his knuckles. Mackey is walking with a couple people... talking, squinting, and smiling. He walks slightly hunched over as if he’s attacking you with his fucking face. Mike takes a deep breath and lets out a scream.
MIKE: Sam Mackey!
Mackey turns around somewhat startled. He recognizes Mike and his face returns to its classic squint, smile position.
MACKEY: Hey Mike man what’s happening?
Mike walks aggressively toward Mackey. We see Mike walking toward us. He pulls back and delivers a perfect, straight right.
Roll Credits.
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