FADE IN TO:
BLACK BACKGROUND/WHITE TYPE DISCLAIMER, READ BY:
The events depicted in this film occur on a daily basis within the United States. However, any similarity to actual individuals and events is purely coincidental.
BLACK BACKGROUND/WHITE TYPE DISCLAIMER, READ BY:
Well, maybe not “purely” coincidental. Because no one ever comes up with anything truly original or imaginative any more. But they do reflect a gross exaggeration of certain familiar archetypes who might seem like someone you know, for comedic purposes. And the events herein are aspirational rather than something that actually happened…
EXT./FRONT YARD OF SUBURBAN HOUSE – DAY
UNCLE JOE, a 50+ year old man wearing sunglasses with salt-and-pepper hair who is still passably “young-looking” but losing the battle to age noticeably enough, silently walks around a reasonably well tended yard picking up dog waste. He walks to the front of the yard and carefully deposits the waste along a slightly trampled and yellowed grass path where a sidewalk might otherwise be. He sets his collection tools aside, walks up to his porch, sits in a chair, pops open a bottle of beer, takes a sip and opens a magazine to read.
An adoloscent NEIGHBORHOOD BOY, wearing “the latest” basketball shoes, comes running down the street through the nearby front yards, and proceeds to slip on the dog waste in the front yard.
UNCLE JOE pushes his sunglasses down his nose slightly, peers over them to observe the boy, smiles quietly, returns the sunglasses to their regular placement, takes a sip of beer, and resumes reading, all while the NEIGHBORHOOD BOY gets up and returns back down the street, muttering.
Ewww! Gross! Aw man! My new shoes!
And that, my friends, is the beauty of Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars.
UNCLE JOE turns a page and looks up to see a LETTER CARRIER approaching up the walkway to the house. UNCLE JOE stands and approaches the LETTER CARRIER, who pulls a thick stack of what is obviously mostly catalogs from his bag. UNCLE JOE frowns.
Good morning.
Here you go.
Thank you. Have a good one.
UNCLE JOE turns back to the house, thumbing through the stack, annoyed at the quantity of junk mail and catalogues. Near the bottom of the stack of mail, he comes across, and knowingly pauses at, an envelope whose shape and appearance obviously suggest an invitation. He peers off into the distance, shakes his head, and enters the house.
BLACK BACKGROUND/WHITE TYPE DISCLAIMER, READ BY:
“FRONTLINE VOICE-STYLE” NARRATOR (seriously)
The events depicted in this film occur on a daily basis within the United States. However, any similarity to actual individuals and events is purely coincidental.
DISSOLVE TO:
BLACK BACKGROUND/WHITE TYPE DISCLAIMER, READ BY:
“FRONTLINE VOICE-STYLE” NARRATOR (less seriously)
Well, maybe not “purely” coincidental. Because no one ever comes up with anything truly original or imaginative any more. But they do reflect a gross exaggeration of certain familiar archetypes who might seem like someone you know, for comedic purposes. And the events herein are aspirational rather than something that actually happened…
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT./FRONT YARD OF SUBURBAN HOUSE – DAY
UNCLE JOE, a 50+ year old man wearing sunglasses with salt-and-pepper hair who is still passably “young-looking” but losing the battle to age noticeably enough, silently walks around a reasonably well tended yard picking up dog waste. He walks to the front of the yard and carefully deposits the waste along a slightly trampled and yellowed grass path where a sidewalk might otherwise be. He sets his collection tools aside, walks up to his porch, sits in a chair, pops open a bottle of beer, takes a sip and opens a magazine to read.
An adoloscent NEIGHBORHOOD BOY, wearing “the latest” basketball shoes, comes running down the street through the nearby front yards, and proceeds to slip on the dog waste in the front yard.
UNCLE JOE pushes his sunglasses down his nose slightly, peers over them to observe the boy, smiles quietly, returns the sunglasses to their regular placement, takes a sip of beer, and resumes reading, all while the NEIGHBORHOOD BOY gets up and returns back down the street, muttering.
NEIGHBORHOOD BOY (O.S.)
Ewww! Gross! Aw man! My new shoes!
UNCLE JOE (to himself, without looking up)
And that, my friends, is the beauty of Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars.
UNCLE JOE turns a page and looks up to see a LETTER CARRIER approaching up the walkway to the house. UNCLE JOE stands and approaches the LETTER CARRIER, who pulls a thick stack of what is obviously mostly catalogs from his bag. UNCLE JOE frowns.
UNCLE JOE (insincerely but politely)
Good morning.
LETTER CARRIER (handing mail over and turning to depart)
Here you go.
UNCLE JOE
Thank you. Have a good one.
UNCLE JOE turns back to the house, thumbing through the stack, annoyed at the quantity of junk mail and catalogues. Near the bottom of the stack of mail, he comes across, and knowingly pauses at, an envelope whose shape and appearance obviously suggest an invitation. He peers off into the distance, shakes his head, and enters the house.
DISSOLVE TO:
