EPISODE 5: LONGSHOT

 

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INT. NADIA'S BEDROOM - DAWN

Outside, a curious noise can be heard. SOFIA, sleeping over at NADIA's, is the first to stir.

SOFIA
Did you hear that?

NADIA
Sounds like a little blue penguin.

SOFIA
We're not in Wellington.

NADIA
Definitely sounds blue.

They rise and walk over to the window.

There are about twenty people groaning, slowly getting into giant bathtubs.

SOFIA
Some new people on the island, but they don't seem too happy.

A woman outside has a loudspeaker. She appears to be the leader of the group. And she's loud. She'll be called LOUDER. Coz if one shouts LOUDER what's goods (incriminating information; luxury goods) she'll no doubt join you in a chorus of praise for consumerism and utter disregard for human suffering fuelled by the dissemination of propaganda used to vilify those desiring euthanasia.

LOUDER uses her loudspeaker and speaks so that the wailing of the people in pain cannot be heard.

LOUDER
Shhhh. Quieten down now people. You may all have terminal lung cancer or gastro-intestinal cancer. But think of this island as a terminal, from where you can figuratively take off. You can pretend to be birds as you lie in these bathtubs full of caviar, avocados, and oils. It's the best solution money can buy, at just $7000 for half an hour. But y'all don't need to worry about that thanks to your wealthy relatives.

A woman in a bath puts up her hand. She's not a patient one. She'll be called PATIENT ONE.

PATIENT ONE
I really just would rather die. Sorry.

LOUDER
La la la la la. I didn't hear that. La la la la la. Sorry but I have the loudspeaker. You don't. You have bathtime now. So you enjoy your bath. Do you want a rubber ducky?

PATIENT ONE
Large one, please. No holes. Space to put head in. You can squeeze it.

LOUDER
Oh no. No no no. I know what you're up to. No duck for you.

Another patient - PATIENT TWO - is using the oils in her bathwater to paint a picture of her predicament. She has painted herself in agony on the ground: a melting head.

LOUDER walks over the painting, ruining it.

PATIENT TWO
You ruined my paiting.

LOUDER
No. I returned your will to live to you.

Back to NADIA and SOFIA.

NADIA
This is a little disturbing. I think these people are in real pain, except for the woman with the loudspeaker.   

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DAY

We see CERA PALIN handing out joints to the patient people.

NADIA, SOFIA, and JULIA approach her.

NADIA
What are you doing Cera?

CERA looks up.

CERA
Oh. Some research.

She takes a notepad out of her pocket.

PATIENT ONE
Thank you. Joints actually help. Now they're mine, and my joints are so good: less stiff, you know.

PATIENT ONE points at several joints now in the oily avocaviar liquid.

CERA nods.

CERA
Good.

She jots down some notes, as she speaks.

CERA (cont'd)
Patients appear to like 'the joints', and to enjoy being high.

PATIENT TWO
Death would be good too.

CERA nods, and keeps writing.

CERA
They would also like to die.

SOFIA kneels down next to PATIENT TWO.

SOFIA
You're really in that much pain?

PATIENT TWO nods, just barely.

PATIENT TWO
Muscle pain, fever, digital clubbing . . .

SOFIA
A virtual party? That can't be too bad.

PATIENT TWO
No!

PATIENT TWO slaps SOFIA with a massive fingernail shaped like a club.

SOFIA
Owww!

CERA
Yes. A nail like the head of a buffalo, and a head like a nail, since Sofia has a Jewish nose. Both this patient and Sofia appear to have hit the nail on the head. Parties should indeed be more than virtual. I'm painting a picture here.

PATIENT TWO
Actually, you're ruining MY picture. My portrait. You're walking all over it. You people keep destroying my oil paintings. I want people to take them, not destroy them.

CERA
Ahhh. I see.

CERA jots down more notes.

CERA (cont'd)
Patients want their pictures taken.

NADIA
Cera, seriously, what are you up to?

CERA
Research, my dear friend. Research. Some laws are not quite up to scratch, you see. These people are suffering needlessly.

NADIA
Well, that's oddly compassionate of you, Cera, to be trying to help these people. I would like to help too.

SOFIA
Me too.

JULIA
Mweeee weeeee.

CERA
Hmmmm. Okay. Gather as many joints as you can find. Maybe some vaporizing chambers, actually, and heaps of cannabis.

NADIA
Okay. That actually sounds pretty smart. Wow. Sure. We'll gather as much as we can.

CERA
You may need this.

CERA picks a bodyboard bag up off the ground.

SOFIA
Why have you got a bodyboard bag? No one surfs or uses a bodyboard here.

CERA
It's not a bodyboard bag. It's just a normal bag. Don't be so suspicious. It's a totally normal bag. And this plan of mine is also totally normal. Now please fill the bag with cannabis to help these suffering people.    

SOFIA, NADIA, and JULIA shrug all at once, like they're in a bag.

NADIA takes the bag, and they're off.

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DAY

There's a guy moaning, and rhyming too. It's a slow rap he spits out after figuratively chewing it like miners might do.

JOE MOAN
I was thinkin' of a trip, tripped,
and now this wrist of mine looks like a tripwire/
If my nails are like bullets then let's call this a misfire/
On my wrist's a map to where I wanna die that isn't on fire/
Censors can't censor it coz censorship by letting it get lit means they're hypocrites/
I'm only fit to mime my state of mind now coz shit's getting higher like a bit of it's alight/
Peeps walk on me like I'm a wire. Why not get off and get a life?/
Hand glide to the edge of a movie set and then get hired to play me right/
Instead I'm by the doorman. I'm a mat in my full attire/
They think I need a match but I just wanna retire from life/
Before shit hits the fan I just wanna retire for life,
and know my job's done and I've legalized our right to die/
Why is it a crime to shrink the length of time I'm left legally dying?/
Don't try this at home. I'll go to Bali. I'm legally trying to die trying to die, and this weed on me'll spread like weeds into the sleeves of the peeps standing by me/
Call us a garden, a grapevine, but you're hearing us right/
Conservative Balinese are gonna hate us for life. We're framin' 'em for genocide but homicide's what they do all the time/
So in sync we say, like *NSYNC would say: "it ain't no lie, baby bye bye bye"/

PATIENT ONE
That's ol' Joe Moan with his rap moanAlogue.

CERA nods.

CERA
Nice. I think I can help him out.

A BMW speeds past (keep in mind, we're on a tiny island in between the United States and Russia).

Everyone looks up.

NADIA
That's a little unexpected.

CERA
Not really. It's a promo for that movie with Paul Walker. Americans couldn't contain it, it seems. The promotional pieces raced out of the States. 

NADIA
No. What's odd is that Justin Timberlake is hopping out of the car and presently walking toward us.

CERA
Not really. He's doing a new version of "Bye Bye Bye" with Wiz Khalifa to commemorate Paul Walker, coz Wiz made so much money from the first. Plus it was one of these cancer patients' wish that he come visit.

NADIA
Oh. Fair enough.

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DAY

PATIENT ONE
Our evil leader's returning. Save us Cera!

Sure enough, LOUDER is returning. Her footsteps are getting louder (and that doesn't mean she's being swallowed by a collection of ditches she's hollowed out in the sand, like she's creating a nest, like she's fucking off home and finally leaving the patients alone).

CERA looks around.

CERA
I can only lift one person.

CERA puts her arms under JOE MOAN's and lifts him out of his bathtub.

She carries him away as he moans:

JOE MOAN
The death penalty's like a penalty kick:
if you think you're gonna miss it then you better rethink shit/
I wanna know the net works, so network/
If you got balls, show me they're net worth/
Coz right now no one has the nerve to as much as just get hurt,
let alone get murdered for a header that ensures the attention of the world's on the letters of those sentenced to death, on death row, in Bali whom hardly ever get heard/
Things ain't so black and white. On soccer balls are red words, and hopefully readily read words:
'freeze frame the film and play back on your camcorder the act of shots taken so the ref can observe whom of the shooters went first'/
Red cards are handed to them first/
Yeah, this ain't proper soccer. The whole lot 'av got blood on their hands from their work/
But now it's our game played on their turf/
Send stuff from the staff of the NSA on the very next plane to Bali, to help catch corrupt police as they dare to plant what's from a cannabis plant in pants of travellers whom will get searched/
And I'm sick of officers getting first dibs on what's in the pockets of passengers. I wanna take the lot of pot off of them and then go through customs dead first/
Guess who'll be dead first?/
Since euthanasia's not legal I'll bet that this is better than traditionally getting hurt in a way that's worse/
We'll waste away the way we want and we'll get what we deserve. How absurd!/

CERA
Where should I take you?

JOE MOAN
Bali. Have you got the pot?

CERA
My friends will have it soon.

JOE MOAN
I need the right treatment. I can only get it in Bali.

CERA
Yes. Of course. You like 'the joints' and you want to get high and party. Beautiful beaches in Bali.

JOE MOAN
Yes. And I want to watch Dallas Buyers Club too. And so do my friends. I'll need a hundred copies of that DVD. Just burn them, and let me take them with me. Tell everyone that I have them. I'll wear them like Lady Gaga wears meat, and everyone will pay attention to me. I'll sparkle.

CERA jots these points down on her notepad.

CERA
Okay.

JOE MOAN
You can book a flight for all of us. We'll go together. As soon as you have the pot and discs. We have lots of money for you if you get us these things. That's how American politics works, am I right Ms Palin?

CERA nods.

CERA
Oh yes. Right you are. And I will certainly get these things for you. You're gonna have such a lovely time in Bali.

JOE MOAN
I'll give it my best shot. I refuse for it to not be point-blank. Ha ha. And their shot better be spot on.

INT. LITTLE DIOMEDE POT-STOP (FOR IF ONE'S OPENING DOORS: IT'S LIKE A DOOR-STOP) - DAY

CERA is guided into a room by NADIA. Around them are pot plants being grown hydroponically.

CERA
This is excellent. How long have you been growing these? Sometimes I wanna sit on water, like these . . .

CERA touches a leaf.

CERA (cont'd)
Feel it flow into me, fast. Do you have a hose?

NADIA
We didn't wanna show you all this because we thought you'd dob us in to your mother.

CERA gets angry.

CERA
Every. Time. I. Mention. Masturbation. Somebody. Brings. Up. My. Mother. Stop that!

SOFIA
Well, you are now saying you want to be a plant. So how do we know you're not a spy? For your mother?

CERA
Arrrrgh! Look, I just want to help these patients whom need relief from their pain. Do we have enough pot to fill seven bodyboard bags?

NADIA
Yeah. Easy. But the bags will be heavy.

JULIA
Immmmmph aaaahhh mmmmph.

SOFIA
Oh, you can carry them Julia? That's excellent.

CERA
Yeah. The patients won't be able to carry too much themselves. They'll need a Sherpa of sorts. They'll feel higher then too. And I won't have to hire them too, for when they're flying.

NADIA
Flying? Who's flying?

CERA
Oh, you know. You've seen Fifty Shades of Grey. Everyone loves flying now. The patients want to get in a plane and fly somewhere. That's all. Nothing sus.

NADIA
Um . . . okay.

CERA
They want to get away from their evil leader: the woman who won't let them die. That act of escape could almost be called 'little death', or 'le petite mort', an idiom for orgasm.

NADIA
So, they'll be flying to Alaska? What if your mother spots them?

CERA screams and storms out of the room.

EXT. SENAYAN SHOOTING RANGE (LAPANGAN TEMBAK SENAYAN), JAKARTA - DAY

Australian-British jounalist JOHN PILGER approaches the camera.

JOHN PILGER
As usual, I have made my way into a restricted area. I'm in the Senayan Shooting Range in Jakarta. This is now a restricted area as the Indonesian government has decided to carry out executions here after members of the government began smoking pot, realized how great this makes them feel, and resolved to execute any commoner who is doing the same. This is legal here, as possession of narcotics is punishable by death (law number 22 slash nineteen ninety seven). It should be noted that misuse of firearms is also punishable by death (law number 12 slash nineteen fifty one), which means that the people who come here to shoot prisoners for sport should - ironically - actually be shooting themselves. Gross violations of human rights are also punishable by death (law number 26 slash two thousand) which means Joko Widodo should also be shot. Right now, behind me, a man is about to be shot for the brutal rape of Joko Widodo's three younger sisters - Iit Sriyantini, Ida Yati, and Titik Relawati, and wife Iriana Widodo. This execution is one which for once seems justifiable, but rape is (ironically) not usually an offence punishable by death. The reason given for this execution, by Joko Widodo is, however, that he has been rendered unfit to govern due to his grief (in the Indonesian Criminal Code). Ironically, he was still fit enough to order the execution. Meaning that he is still fit enough to govern. But, nonetheless, as least a truly evil rapist has been removed from the streets of Jakarta. He has also raped at least a hundred other women, so many are relieved that he is to be shot. We won't get this on film, but you will hear the gunshot.

EXECUTIONER ONE
Pot! A commoner has got pot!

We see a commoner with a large - rather ludicrously conspicuous - bong.

EXECUTIONER TWO
Oh, he must die!

The commoner is shot immediately.

EXECUTIONER ONE
There's another hippie!

Sure enough, there is another commoner with a bong, perhaps unaware he is sitting in the middle of a shooting range.

EXECUTIONER TWO
Get him!

Meanwhile, the terrible rapist is slowly creeping away. No one is paying attention to him anymore. He's escaping.

JOHN PILGER
Now, this isn't right. Hippies all around me are being shot, while the rapist is getting away. You may like to note the similarities between this and imperialism, when powerful people rape native inhabitants, commit genocide and then get off scot-free. Incidently, the rapist's name is Scott. 'Scott-Free' may well be the headline in tomorrow's underground paper: not a heading a government fond of their reputation of being hard on crime would be proud of.

EXECUTIONER ONE
Oi Pilger, what you say about shooting Joko Widodo?

JOHN PILGER
Me? Oh, I just said that he should be shot for having violated human rights.

EXECUTIONER TWO
Oh no! Article 111. You are inciting another state to attack Indonesia! This is punishable by death.

JOHN PILGER
Now really, this is unfair. You are letting an evil rapist escape while you are aiming your guns at me.

JOHN PILGER is shot.    

INT. AUDITORIUM IN JAKARTA - NIGHT

SPEAKER
We have two guests here to speak to you tonight at this conference for human rights and feminism. First, I am pleased to introduce to you a man who is only known as Scott. He has just escaped a shooting range in Senayan, where he was about to be executed. Not sure what for, but we're all glad he's alive, am I right?

Everyone cheers as SCOTT steps onto the stage. He stands behind the podium.

SCOTT
Ahh, thank you. Thank you all. And I would like to thank Edward Snowden, the second guest, for his brilliant work in removing surveillance cameras in the area. We do not want to be spied on. Am I right?

There are more cheers.

SCOTT (cont'd)
Yes. I am very happy to be here. Very happy. You all look so very beautiful. So very beautiful, young ladies.

More cheers.

SCOTT (cont'd)
Um . . . I would like to say that it is just wrong - plain wrong - that politicians think women do not have the right to walk alone at night. Utterly disgusting. You are free women, and have every right to walk anywhere you like without being accompanied by men.

Now the audience is ecstatic.

SCOTT (cont'd)
Yeah.

SCOTT starts salivating.

The SPEAKER takes his place.

SPEAKER
Okay. Let's hear it for Scott.

Everyone claps.

Now EDWARD SNOWDEN takes his place behind the podium.

EDWARD
Um . . . something's not quite right here. I think we do need to watch where we're going sometimes, and maybe sometimes other people need to watch where we're going: people we can trust.

Everyone boos and hisses.

EDWARD (cont'd)
No, look, please hear me out! No one ever gives me a chance to speak. In certain circumstances . . .

People begin to throw things at EDWARD and he has to flee.

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DAY

MACKLEMORE steps onto Little Diomede and plants one of his "The Heist" flags in the shore's sand. It sure is standing there.

NADIA and SOFIA approach the man, perplexed.

NADIA
What are you doing?

MACKLEMORE looks around.

MACKLEMORE
Who? Me?

NADIA
Well, yeah. You just planted a flag on our land.

MACKLEMORE
Oh. That's just what I do. I'm a pseudo-explorer. I'm Macklemore.

NADIA
Who?

MACKLEMORE
Macklemore.

SOFIA
Who?

MACKLEMORE sighs.

MACKLEMORE
From 'Macklemore and Ryan Lewis'.

SOFIA
Oh. I know you. You're 'Macklemore and Ryan Lewis'!

MACKLEMORE
It's just Macklemore. But you can call me 'Macklemore and Ryan Lewis'.

SOFIA
Long name. You should shorten it.

MACKLEMORE sighs again.

MACKLEMORE
Look, I'm here coz I was researching thrift shop occupants and I read a letter from some guy who's really lonely and just looking for a MHLF, but can't find one so now he's pretending he has cancer so that he can be granted the right to die.

SOFIA looks around.

SOFIA
The cancer patients were all here yesterday. I don't know where they went.

NADIA
We have to find this guy.

MACKLEMORE
How about I waste valuable time reading his letter? I can probably claim the price of my man hours back on tax since this is a charitable act. Then I can raise the price of women hours by funding some. The main point is that time is of the essence that both sexes should value. It's more than merely vanilla.

SOFIA
Time isn't edible!

MACKLEMORE
Ahh, but if it were then think about how much would go into a landfill.

NADIA
But then it's free.

MACKLEMORE
I know. And being practically free means you may be picked up at a thrift shop. The weight of change is bearable. Don't lose it.

SOFIA
So, you're gonna read the letter in order to waste time which women will be able to pick up for free at thrift stores to have free time on their hands?

MACKLEMORE
Precisely. And hopefully we'll find MHLFs this way, for the suicidal guy pretending to have cancer. The letter is as follows:

MACKLEMORE unfolds a piece of paper and reads from it to those present, like reading is a movement.

MACKLEMORE (cont'd)
'When she left the thrift shop, feathery ceramic angels in her arms, my morale hit the floor like an atom bomb deprived of flight. I couldn't see nor hear a single person: they were suddenly all married and distant, as merry as I was distant and shy and lost. I couldn't race after her coz my shift at the thrift shop was not a gear I could shift among others (maybe sexually) on a whim. I had no speed, and wasn't high enough to try to tell her that I'd love to touch her lips, just once, then once again, as though the motion's an earworm and we're pop culture. She had to be at least twenty years my senior, but if she's Mrs. Robinson then I'm sure we enjoy watching the same situations unfold like (though surely far more epic than) a roster graduated with marks to indicate the time and place of imprisonment like blood on a wrist indicates the place of pain. I realized at that point that her absence in this dreary thrift shop never once spotted by Macklemore was making me as dizzy as a seasick explorer, sans great expectations. I was and would be forever lost in the cesspool of soiled garments I was ordered to sort. And, no, they were not as strong as the hair of Rapunzel and therefore I would not be saved. There was no woman in sight. Only a lone noose.'

CERA approaches.

NADIA sees CERA.

NADIA
Hey Cera, what happened to the cancer patients?

CERA
Oh. They've gone to Bali with the weed you gave me. Julia's carrying most of it in her large jacket that looks like a bodyboard bag.

NADIA
What? They're going to Bali with weed?! Cera, do you know what's going to happen to them?

CERA
They'll get high on the beach. Nice times.

NADIA
No. They'll all be shot by a firing squad for possesion of narcotics!

CERA
Oh. Maybe that's what they want.

MACKLEMORE waves the letter like a flag.

MACKLEMORE
This guy just wants a caring MHLF.

CERA
What's a caring MHLF?

MACKLEMORE
A caring mother he'd like to fuck. Don't you have a caring mother you'd like to fuck?

CERA screams.

CERA
Stop. Mentioning. My. Mother. In. The. Context. Of. Sexual. Relations.

MACKLEMORE
Whoa! I didn't mean your own mother. That's disgusting.

INT. ETIHAD AIRLINES FLIGHT EY 471, ABU DHABI TO JAKARTA - DAWN

JOE MOAN is peaking out the window, and rapping and moaning about inequality, uprising, hopelessness and what not.

JOE MOAN
All the peeps preach that it's each to their own,
and repeat they're unique like a beach for a home/
(Who[se/'s] s[ho/u]re?/)
But the sheep go each to their own car, they believe they each gotta own,
like a teacher owns a class that the sheep all gotta pass,
never passing up the chance to dance to the demands of each powerful man/
If you put your hands together for a powerful stand
all the stars should get behind you like you're Martian sands/
It's like you're Lunar sands, though, coz your movement's not full-blown/
You're never anybody if you're never on news shows, unless you have the money for new shows/
If you try to speak the truth then you're not shown, at least not on Fox or in spots on the pop shows
that be like chicken-pox we think we gotta watch to stop change/
Stop, change, and roll/
Coz the world's alight if the rich and poor don't sort of change roles/
Change shouldn't roll from the poor to the rich like a soccer ball, to make FIFA pricks rich/
Be sure to ditch consumerism. Live off the grid/
Make Mars exploration a model for a new way to exist/
Models are in new ways the spokeswomen for this/
Sex sells space exploration like feminists sell vacuums to men in it/
Clean up your shit, pricks, coz the earth's gonna sink and space trash is gonna crash into it/
Anyway, I'm into, one day, missing it when I'm finished living on it and it's gotten better coz the rehabilitation of the world's a problem and the world's on it/
But so far the popstars are only on pricks/
Inequality, poverty, corruption, and misogyny better be addressed like progeny: by name, again and again, coz mother's gotta take charge of the world stage like a sage/
Crave it like you would a wave of water after a day running on it like a fit Jesus oughta/
I was born to be God's daughter/
When you place your finger on it -
corrup-tion leading to eruptions of profit -,
a door's on it pretty fast. You're now in fiftieth class,
your fingers black as the hearts of those who make sure you're forever in the dark/
They'll rip you off by ripping your VIP pass off you,
and shift attention off you so you're not adopted by the mainstream often/
The mainstream may often be doctored to be completely innocuous/
When will the populace press the press for something less obnoxious?/

The passenger by JOE MOAN's side is curious like a cat. Incidentally she's a fan of Pussy Riot: her shirt says 'Pussy Riot - Spread awareness like legs and rise UP like hair'. Incidentally, she's also DEMI LOVATO, since she's UP here and all.

DEMI LOVATO taps the rapping JOE MOAN on the shoulder.

DEMI LOVATO
Are you okay?

JOE MOAN
Oh. Yeah, I'm good. I was hoping you may be surrepticiously filming a music video and you'd pick up my rap . . . or me, maybe.

DEMI LOVATO
It's pretty nice. I wouldn't mind playing God's daughter in some music video. Ha ha. So what are you heading to Jakarta for?

JOE MOAN
The death penalty. Euthanasia's not legal in Alaska so I boarded this plane with a bodyboard bag full of marijuana.

DEMI LOVATO
You what?!!!

JOE MOAN
What? You've never done something like that before? Thought I might gain some female fans too.

DEMI LOVATO
But . . . you'll be dead.

JOE MOAN
Have you ever wondered whether this whole life is an illusion? I mean, physical matter has to be theoretically harder for some God or Goddess to create than mental imagery. Maybe all we have ever known and seen is a product of our imagination and the intricate neurosurgery performed by a God or Goddess, and we're simply floating forever in a white vacuum, surrounded by MILFs, beautiful and peaceful MILFs with halos as large as space itself, and forever leaking pure milk and all the sustenance we require. Are you a mother?

DEMI LOVATO
Um . . . no. I can't say I am. But could I offer you some motherly advice?

JOE MOAN
Of course.

DEMI LOVATO
I think you need to find a woman. You know, before you get shot.

JOE MOAN
I was thinking 'after'.

DEMI LOVATO
But . . . you'll be dead.

JOE MOAN
Oh shit! You're right.

DEMI LOVATO
If you'd like you can milk me for what I'm worth, but then this sequence of events may appear ironically misogynistic despite the overarching theme of the importance of pleasant matriachies.  

JOE MOAN
We could dock two abreast, and you could keep me abreast of the latest developments in the music industry as I stare at your angelic face and become intoxicated from the heavenly scent of your sweet breath fogging up the figurative glass walls between us until they've all but disappeared.

DEMI LOVATO
I'm down with that.

JOE MOAN
You mean you're UP for it?

DEMI smiles. Bits of her lips shift UPward.

INT. ETIHAD AIRLINES FLIGHT EY 471, ABU DHABI TO JAKARTA - DAYBREAK

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
We welcome you all to Jakarta. We ask that all cancer patients here to receive the death penalty exit via the right side of the plane. You will be shot outside, first by photographers then by military men.

The PILOT emerges from the cabin.

PILOT
That's left to me.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
You're a shooter?

PILOT
No. A cancer patient. The exit is to MY left. I think I have a good shot at getting off here and getting shot. I filled the cabin with marijuana and shot it and now it's on fire.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
I thought you weren't a shooter.

PILOT
Not a good one. I was aiming for my skull. But missed. Then I thought that maybe I should join all the other cancer patients and die in a way that will raise awareness of dying. People need to give talks on that. And open doors.

Smoke is seeping out of the cabin.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
And on one's right to.

PILOT
Again, the door's on my left. That's not my right. Not when I'm leaving the cabin mid-flight. You need to think about what you're saying.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
I'm talking about the issue of your right to die. You're position on the matter is irrelevant.

PILOT
How can it be? I'm presently standing on a bag of hash brownies. Clearly I am responsible for smuggling them into Indonesia.

Smoke now fills the plane.

PASSENGER
Getting a little foggy. I think we should talk about the weather.

The PILOT points at the passenger.

PILOT
See? No one wants to talk about the real issues here in Indonesia: the demonisation of marijuana smoke, labelling it as fog that's only disruptive and never therapeutic. Also, we insist that law enforcement leans to the right, when they really lean to the left. They smoke pot themselves but pretend they don't. They're corrupt.

PASSENGER
We need to know the weather. Is it nice and sunny?

PILOT
It's raining bullets.

PASSENGER
Do we need an umbrella? Where's Rihanna?

DEMI LOVATO stands.

DEMI LOVATO
I'm essentially under Rihanna's moral umbrella. So, you can be too, should you raise the issue of inequality, corruption, poverty, or misogyny.

JOE MOAN
Hear this.

JOE MOAN raps.

JOE MOAN (cont'd)
Most money doesn't interest me/
Only those who give the most to charity from what their interest breeds/
I got an interest in a week of the deed of breeding though, interestingly, sans the creation of babies/
I got plans to create a national craze, a dream:
make the notion of 'national' irrational, and take the international stage with me/
(I'm Santa Claus and my bag's the MCG/
If you're one present be open like you see me be/
Sing like a cricket. Pitch a new scene that'll trump the spin the rich put on shit and stump the rich pricks whom run like sheep)/
Without an actual mention of all my names Sam Smith even said "Stay with me"/
Will Smith said "Switch". But are you still with me?/
Will Sam Smith will Will Smith to spit on a new The Smith's CD?/
See, Morrissey's Melancholy's obviously like an oil to grease the heartstrings of the obnoxious so they comprehend atrocities through eyes of those they're not seeing/
I'm not seeing the point of not being annoyed by not seeing leaders not being greedy/
Greed is the reason that you're seething if your CV isn't seen by CEOs whom you seem to think are prodigies, but probably are hoarding fiends with no moral abilities or affinity with sensing what the extent or figurative strength of their wealth should be/
Kings figuratively king-hit the needy freely/

PASSENGER
That's all very complicated. I just wanted to know whether it's raining or not, so I'd know whether or not I need an umbrella.

DEMI LOVATO
But you can stand under umbrellas in the sun also, especially moral ones, when the grass you see by your side is greener than usual.

PASSENGER
It appears that some line is very bright.

DEMI LOVATO
A blade of grass?

JOE MOAN
The saying?

PASSENGER
No. The plane's on fire!

DEMI writes the line down on a slip of paper and hands it to the PASSENGER.

DEMI LOVATO
But now your attention's on the line, right? And when these trees in the northern hemisphere - planes - are on fire, we need to realize how this is contributing to global warming and the destruction of habitats.

PASSENGER
We need to leave the area where the plane is!

JOE MOAN
But if all trees are destroyed then we'll eventually need to leave the planet. We can't just keep destroying planes and then leaving the areas they're in.

PASSENGER
I agree with you on that. Now can we please get out of this plane before we are all engulfed by flames!

JOE and DEMI notice the flames.

DEMI LOVATO
American oxygen?

She starts to cough.

JOE MOAN
An umbrella? Protection. I may be able to escape the death penalty if I can escape the airport under the cover of this comical smoke. 

DEMI LOVATO
I prefer American oxygen.

JOE MOAN
You're on fire.

DEMI LOVATO
I know. I'm so excited right now. Rihanna and I should do a song together and call it 'Fire . . .

DEMI looks at her arms.

DEMI LOVATO (cont'd)
My arms are on fire!

JOE MOAN
Catchy title. Is it about destroying weapons? 

EXT. JAKARTA AIRPORT - DAY

The show is about to begin. The smoke is clearing. The smoke's ostensibly a clearing wherein growth is not possible.

The many cancer patients emerge from the plane and pose in ways to be remembered, paying homage to various artists, activists, and journalists promoting freedom of speech.

PATIENT TWO plays Banksy. He sprays paint over a stencil attached to the plane. 'Mind freed' the tag reads. The image is of a brain away from a head: maybe that's a relief painting (an extra painting for the sake of entertainment in an emergency), maybe it's a brain (a complex series of thoughts) away from being in the lead (a-head) . . . the lead of a bullet used for art rather than to accompany artillery.

PATIENT TWO is shot.

PATIENT ONE poses as Edward Snowden, donning glasses and holding up a USB stick like he's the Statue of Liberty holding up a torch with a flame. It's dead. Now the USB stick looks like a pistol and PATIENT ONE looks black. Since black lives don't matter he's immediately shot.

JOE MOAN spits.

JOE MOAN
As I step off the plane
you could offer me a private plane but I'd decline the offer of aid/
I'm rather inclined to run up public inclined planes (make me a fun run-way) to persuade the public to donate to great causes rather than engage in insider trading/
Call me a reporter. Part of me'll be inside her as we're trading stories, naked, having taken glory from Tories by making their engagements naked, so known, and naming and shaming the blokes, the jokes (displaying for you figurative rings they've raked in: these look like leaves leaving trees, and turning brown as gold so they look like the rings seen when trees are cut, like bees having to leave their localities)/
I gotta take my leave now. It's time to "run Forest run!" without taking leaves down. Leave the trees not down/
Instead take a leaf from my book and let leaders down so we can rise like trees now!/
Palms matter. Plant them together. Hand in hand withstand what we can understand to be bad weather: the cold indifference of the rich who've never had it better and never regret having neglected those who aren't accepted ever/

The smoke clears and JOE MOAN is standing there, before the executioners, with his arms outstretched like Jesus.

DEMI LOVATO sighs.

DEMI
You're not performing right now, Joe. You were meant to exit stage left. Now they're gonna shoot you.

JOE MOAN
Not in the balls! I wanna donate my penis to Sigurður Hjartarson's Phallological Museum in Iceland!

Suddenly CURTIS JACKSON, a.k.a. 50 CENT, walks in front of JOE MOAN. He's shot. Ten times. He counts the bullet holes.

CURTIS
Ten! Ten! New record.

He looks at the executioners.

CURTIS (cont'd)
That makes you guys worse than gangsters. And even the Bloods and Crips would unite as soon as a black person is shot. So, in theory, y'all oughtta stop this shit now, ten times over.

CHEIF EXEC ONE approaches CURTIS.

CHIEF EXEC ONE
Yo. You gotta tell yo' lil' Aussie buddies to stop killin' asylum seekers. That's why we be poppin' off all night, all day. We gotta compete. You sell records that are hardware, we kill Aussie drug smugglers to show peeps we're hard, and the Aussie PM wears his fuckin' budgie smugglers unless what's where they're covering is hard.

CURTIS
Could you smuggle some sense into your sentences?

CHIEF EXEC ONE
You don't understand me?

CURTIS
No. I don't understand the sentences in this country, like 'death'.

CHIEF EXEC ONE
Is it a language barrier perchance?

JOE MOAN
Hardly. We're all asylum seekers. They're the only words we need to know. There's no need to use any other words. Those seeking euthanasia are seeking asylum in an afterlife. So any barriers are manmade, like China's peculiar wall - not on Facebook. Though if it were, in China, it would ironically be taken down like names of subversives.

CHIEF EXEC ONE
You're right. Facebook is the problem. It leads to people using Twitter and getting followers and being competitive.

JOE MOAN
No. The problem is still the language barrier. Not all asylum seekers wanna die. Not all are the same.

CURTIS
But aren't we all speaking English?

CHIEF EXEC ONE holds up his phone.

CHIEF EXEC ONE
Only because of Google Translate on Facebook. I told you Facebook was the problem.

CURTIS
We should just go back to not understanding one another? Okay. I thought y'all were gangstas. But y'all nothing.

CURTIS sings a sentence. He also dances provocatively before the executioners, taunting them.

CURTIS (cont'd)
"You say you a gangsta, but you never popped nuttin'". You don't got no street cred no more.

DEMI
Not helping the situation. Wrong song for the moment.

CHIEF EXEC ONE
Oh! We gotta try harder.

JOE MOAN
You still don't understand that not all asylum seekers wanna die. I think that's an important point to be made.

JOE MOAN is shot and killed by CHIEF EXEC ONE.

DEMI
Point taken.

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DUSK

MACKLEMORE
I realise that it's highly unconventional for me to be walking around with a "The Heist" flag attached to a pole that's stuck up my arse. But I feel as though someone needs to take me over and use me for more than merely paying lip service to change. Notes are more important. Note that.

He spits.

MACKLEMORE
I'd say it's too late to save your mate/
It's as if a date passed away/
This specific issue's overrated/
The cancer patients died last night and now it's in the paper, but the issue's overrated/
Let's make tissues from the paper
and distribute them to those who'll see a movie 'bout this later/
We can move around like caterers, like food for thought's not flavorless,
and move like Michael Ware to where the people never paid for us to just stare/
We'll stare while there, and share with the west what they display to us with little flair/
If the death row's underwear, it's what keen cross-dressers can wear so we stare, if put on this and not put off and wanting full-on and free peeps to watch/
Some careful but careless directors raise awareness of respect shared less, but they almost couldn't care less/
But at least we see the bare breasts of the figurative heiress of development-arrested, and get mesmerized by ineffectiveness accepted,
so hopefully we'll soon accept that less/

NADIA
Huh?

MACKLEMORE
Sorry. There's a flag up my arse. So it seems that wrap is shit. But my point is that your friends are dead. It's like . . .

MACKLEMORE lies on his stomach and the flagpole forms into a cross.

CERA
His face is as grave as his arse is like a grave.

EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE SHORE - DAWN

LOUDER - that obnoxious leader and alleged carer of the cancer patients - approaches DAVID and CHARLES COCK.

LOUDER
My gods! You're here. I thought you two were eaten by elephant seals.

DAVID
It was cold. We're cocks. We shrunk. The presence of the seals meant that it was hard for us to come apart, so we had to come together for a while. That was a little perverted.

CHARLES
But you'll see by our low profile . . .

CHARLES points at an outline of their conjoined faces in the sand.

CHARLES (cont'd)
that we look like one nice elephant trunk no one noticed emerging from the rough waters.

DAVID
There was certainly some spare room for us. No one saw us. We've been squatting on the island ever since.

LOUDER points at a large mass of human excrement.

LOUDER
I know. You've been in deep brown shit.

CHARLES
We made it. It became like a room after a while. We dried up (stopped talking) so much we made the whole climate dry. So suddenly the shit was dry and became walls and a ceiling. But last night this rapper named Macklemore with a flagpole up his arse fell through the roof. Our dwelling collapsed. So we paid him for his "The Heist" flag so that we can take over this island.

LOUDER
You've been in a room? And you look like an elephant? That's suspicious. How did you get the money?

DAVID
We have offshore accounts. Elephantoid seals surround them, of course, but we knew how to get to the cash. We're cocks and it was cold. We told you.

CHARLES
We have the drugs you need by the way: the ones that make people think they have cancer. Your dealer usually gets them from us. He said we should contact you directly since we're here and all.

LOUDER
Wait! You don't sound like the Cock Brothers. How come you're speaking so well?

CHARLES
Coz we're being dealers at the moment, and they're like card dealers. We now speak fluently and frequently. We're well trained in the art of selling drugs. Though usually we just throw money around to get what we want. We need to play dumb sometimes or people will realize we're acutely aware of the damage we're responsible for.      

LOUDER
Why are you selling me these drugs anyway? You already have so much cash.

DAVID
Ahhhh. But so do you. And making people think they have cancer is a profitable business that we want to be involved in. But if we're involved directly then people simply end up pointing the finger at us and blaming our destruction of the environment for their cancer, when it's really our drugs that are to blame. 

LOUDER
Oh. Like how people blame fossil fuels you help extract for global warming?

CHARLES
Yeah. When it's really because we're cold. We're just plain cold. And many people are. We lack affection. We dry up when people start crying. That's why we need global warming. So the tears disappear and everyone looks happy. 

DAVID looks around.

DAVID
Say, where are your pseudo-patients?

LOUDER scans the shoreline.

LOUDER
I don't know. They were here last time I checked. They were all in bathtubs. I had them all under my control. I don't know where they could have gone. They couldn't have gotten better, could they?

DAVID
Not if they were taking the drugs. They should be in intense pain but not dead, not for as long as possible.

LOUDER
And euthanasia's illegal here. They don't have the right to die.

DAVID
Ahh, but one should always consider the person's relative. Like, the person may not be independent (and therefore is relative); and the person's relative may be rich. Therefore they can continue paying for the drugs after the person's death. Business one oh one my dear.

LOUDER
But what if they are independent? Like Bernie Sanders?

CHARLES
No! No! You must never mention his name. No more people can know about Bee. No more! He's so independent people think he's Destiny's Child. But that may also be because Beeyoncé's so white everyone's been blinded.

DAVID
Yeah. He's like three women. And even Caitlyn Jenner's only one . . . even though she's sixty five and not really one (but he's not actually her only one because he isn't even in a relationship with her. It's all about relativity. And Bee doesn't have Caitlyn's cash so Bee cannot become president). 

LOUDER
Wait! Who are we against? Women? Bees? Toddlers? Sixty five Caitlyns with sixty five pricks (deserving of contempt if they're threateningly large)?

DAVID
Anybody can get cancer. That's all good. But under no circumstances should Bee marry Bruce Jenner. That's why she must not be recognised as a woman, and gay marriage must be forbidden.

LOUDER
So she must remain independent. But shouldn't Bee have the right to be killed by someone should he so desire? The fewer independent people there are the better, no?

DAVID
But if he has the right to be killed, this will mean he's too independent. We can't allow that kind of independence. It will spread like a contagion. And he will probably surely marry Caitlyn Jenner. And I don't think anyone wants to see that.

CHARLES is now licking DAVID's cheek.

LOUDER
Ummm . . . you realize he's your relative, right Charles?
 
CHARLES
Forget relativity! We're independent. Now where do we put Macklemore's flag? You have a nice arse, you know.

EXT. BACK STREETS OF JAKARTA - NIGHT

CHARLES and DAVID COCK are dressed up like Santa Claus, each carrying a massive red sack with the word "Goldman" on it (Goldman's Sachs no doubt).

LOUDER is by their side, looking like a prick between the two sacks.

LOUDER stares at the sacks.

LOUDER
What's in them?

DAVID
The drugs that make a woman feel like she has cancer, of course.

LOUDER
But people are getting shot here for drug smuggling. How did you get through customs?

DAVID
We each looked like a prick when we entered the country, coz we each had two sacks: one full of drugs and one full of cash. The authorities didn't have any balls, so they took two of our ones.

CHARLES
Now we need to find innocent women to offer these drugs to before this rapist named Scott gets to them. You see, they are independent women, without obvious close relations. Therefore we cannot make money from them when they are dead. So we need to stop Scott.

DAVID
You will need to approach these women for us. They listen to members of your sex. Tell them that you're a doctor and that you think they may have breast cancer because they haven't been letting men touch their breasts for too long. Tell them that the large lumps on their chest are not normal and that they probably have chest cancer.

CHARLES
I have a cock. So maybe ask to try their milk to see if it's hard or not. It's hard, surely, being white. Tell them you have hundreds of hard, white pills that they can take to replace the poison milk in their breasts, that's probably poison because of black Jews poisoning the water source in the vicinity and whom now lurk in the shadows, trying to cast one down onto their precious breasts. Then they'll think every shadow is a black Jew being thrown at them, if not a tumor. They'll remember that Arnold Schwarzenegger said "It's not a tumor", but that he also had no breasts. So they'll realize that breasts are tumors and that they must take pills so that their milk will be safe to drink and their babies won't die, like rumours of their worthiness. And offer them a choice between pills so that there is the illusion of choice.

LOUDER
Ummm . . . okay.

LOUDER takes a sack and steps into the dark alleyway.

Suddenly SCOTT approaches her.

SCOTT
Hello. I notice you're here all alone. That's good. And wise. You have every right to be alone. Yay for feminism. Now, I'm going to rape you since no one is around to cockblock me.

LOUDER
Will I survive?

SCOTT
No. Sorry. Most women I rape don't. Will this be a problem?

LOUDER
Not so much for me. I'm just a pawn in another's game, and an insignificant character with a rather shallow mind that's ironically presently sharp enough for the delivery of a speech on a smooth stall. Words are worthy weapons. And if I fall down then we'll both fall into a stall made of brown shit, and both be in deep brown shit.

LOUDER and SCOTT look at the ground and see that they're standing on a smooth stall.

DAVID and CHARLES COCK emerge from the stall and sigh.

DAVID
Due to time constraints a resolution of any disputes in this episode is required immediately, so we have to play the fuckin' good guys.

CHARLES and DAVID start whacking SCOTT with their sacks.

LOUDER
I feel like I'm still the traditional damsel in distress, since I'm not standing up for myself. The theme of this episode is ambiguous.

CHARLES
If you stand up for yourself you'll look a lot like a prick, since you're between two sacks.

LOUDER
So the audience will just see a giant penis and two balls? Well, maybe they should examine every penis closely. Men may very well have penile cancer for all they know. So look into my eyes. Study them. Study them closely.

We do. 

LOUDER, staring at us, shrugs repeatedly. Her shoulders look like foreskin.

LOUDER (cont'd)
You're looking at what looks like a giant penis! And I'm flagging myself (becoming weak, and limp, and drooping; and putting flags all over myself).

Sure enough, many "The Heist" flags are now attached to LOUDER's hair.

LOUDER (cont'd)
I own myself. And you should do more than watch yourself, or what resembles yourself, seemingly shrugging. 

SCOTT's dead.

LOUDER (cont'd)
Or you'll end up like Scott.

FADE OUT.
FIN.

 

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