FADE IN:                                        "SURF JIMMY"

EXT.       SPECTACULAR COASTAL VIEW -- DAY

Shimmering medium-sized urban city on the edge of white sandy beach. 
Flock of sea birds make a "v" over paradise.

Stark contrast to --

EXT.      VENDORíS ROW -- CONTINUOUS

Tropical scenery marred by hucksters, who hawk everything from plastic 
shell lamps to fried dough.

In the middle of the fray, a 6-ft. turquoise blue Styrofoam wave with a 
surf board installed inside.

SIGN READS: "SURF JIMMYíS, EVERYONE CATCHES A WAVE. $10"

Beside this monstrosity, SURF JIMMY, over-the-hill surfer tries to lure in 
the passersby. He weaves in and out of the crowd. Decked in hip surf gear 
20 years too young.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Surfís up, folks. Catch a wave?
                        Címon. Donít tell me any of you
                        actually got in the water today.

Group of LADIES in team t-shirts and a KID stop to look.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                                (suggestive)
                        The longboard. The money shot.
                        Itís erotic. Itís exotic.
                        Ride the big tube, Ladies?              
                                (to Kid)
                        How about you, buddy? Surfís up.

                                        KID
                        How old are you?

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Under 50, okay? I made nothing of
                        myself and Iím proud of it. I was
                        a dude before dude was cool. Now
                        get up on the wave. Ten bucks, Iíll
                        get a great shot. Hurry up.

                                        KID
                        It looks kind of fake-y.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        It is kind of fake, Mr. Brain.
                        You stand there. Pay ten bucks.
                        Lie and say you rode the big one.

                                        KID
                        I donít want to look like a poser.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Do it for me, kid. 

                                        KID
                        I donít want to.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Why not?

                                        KID
                        Itís not real.

Jimmy loses it, wrestles the kid to the ground. 

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Of course itís not real! Itís Styrofoam.  
                        Nothing is real. The best things
                        in life are fake. We all grow up
                        and live a lie anyway. Go ask your
                        parents for ten bucks. Címon. For me. 
                        Pretty please?

                                        KID
                        Mister, you need an intervention.

Lets kid go. But kid lingers.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        An intervention. Get out of here.
                        Last call, folks. Surfís up!

                                        KID
                        Take the ten bucks. Here. I donít
                        want a picture. Just take it.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                                (snatches bill)                                 
                        All right. You win. Now get out
                        of here. A freak tornado just
                        hit Miami. Weíre next.

EXT.                    SKY OVERHEAD

Roiling clouds whip up suddenly. A fast-moving front.

Flock of sea birds thrown out of formation, violent gusts.

EXT.                    VENDORíS ROW

Tourists run by. Sandy wind starts to blow.
 
                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Hurricane Special. Five bucks.
                        Hurry up, folks. Five bucks buys
                        an adventure. Donít miss out.

Crowd disappears. Vendors break down their stalls. CONCESSION OWNER stops by.

                                        CONCESSION OWNER
                        Everybodyís evacuating, Jimmy. You
                        better go home.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Nah. Keeping a low profile.
                        I didnít make my Ďnutí this month.
                        Missed the rent.

                                        CONCESSION OWNER
                        Hey, we all get tired of being
                        Peter Pan someday.
                        
                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Yeah. Guess I got to grow up
                        before I get too old, huh?

                                        CONCESSION OWNER
                        You might have to get a regular job

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Blaspheme! I live to surf.

                                        CONCESSION OWNER
                        Take cover. Take care of yourself.

Concession Owner exits.

EXT.            PUBLIC BEACH AREA

Nobody in sight. Punishing rain.

Jimmy shoves the fake wave, just a huge wooden crate on wheels from the 
rear view, across the pavement.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                                (to himself)
                        Everybody Catches a Wave
                        everybody except Surf Jimmy.
                        Man, itís weird weather.

Wind howls now. He pushes wave over the sand to the dunes.

EXT.     INTERSTATE FREEWAY

SUPER -- EXIT TO POMPANO BEACH, FLORIDA

Crush of escaping stragglers. Various vehicles speed along the north-
bound lanes out of town.

                                ANNOUNCERíS VOICE
                        We know that Hurricane Candace
                        touched down six minutes ago. Again
                        this is an electrical storm, folks.
                        Stay away from anything metal...
                                (crackling static)
                        Small craft warning. Coast Guard alert.
                        This is the frequency of the Emergency
                        Broadcast Service. Pompano Beach,
                        Florida --

EXT.        POMPANO BEACHFRONT

Gale force winds pound the down-at-the-heels homes that dot the 
coastline. Shingles fly in the wind.

Whole porches come loose. A refrigerator does end-overs.

EXT.   VENDORíS ROW

Skeletal stalls flap in the breeze, poles come loose.

Total loss, everything blown to kingdom come.

EXT.     OUT ON THE HORIZON

Sky darkens as coastal town is blown to bits.

Eerie blue web of lightning flashes overhead.

CRACK of lightning on the surface.

Spider veins of light touch down on the ocean far off. 

Bright flash.

Magical. Flash of something out there.

FADE TO BLACK

EXT.       DESERTED RESORT AREA

Mother Nature has quite a hangover. Household appliances litter the 
shore.

A chewed-up couch glides in and out of the surf.

The place been taken apart and pieces of somebodyís life are everywhere.

EXT.      ACCESS ROAD

A REMOTE TV VAN rumbles up beside the ruined bungalows.

Side READS: "WJNX! Floridaís Finest" Reporter RON DANIELS hops out of 
the van. His down-to-earth assistant LISA LAWLER hops out after him, 
with camera man MARK.

                                        DANIELS
                        Itís Emmy time. Find me a birdís nest.
                        We pan up from broken shells in a
                        battered nest to homes destroyed.
                        Dreams ruined. That kind of thing.
                        Break the eggs if you have to --

                                        LISA
                        Ron. Donít be a pig.

                                        DANIELS
                        Lisa. Genius at play, remember?
                        Radio Arty. Just tell him weíve
                        got a real find. Iíll ad lib.

                                        LISA
                        Heíll ad lib. Wonderful.
                
She enters the van.

EXT.      DUNES NEAR THE BUNGALOWS
          
Ominous BOOT PRINTS on the dunes. Mark sets up the camera as Daniels 
stakes a claim.

EXT.        NEAR REMOTE VAN

Lisa talks into TV-vanís CB.

                                        LISA
                                (into mouthpiece)
                        Heís taken the high ground.
                        Made Mark set up on a hill...

                                ARTY (VOICE ONLY)
                        Donít let him go theatrical.
                        Promise me, Lisa?

EXT.       LEEWARD SIDE OF DUNES

Mark fiddles with the tripod.

                                        DANIELS
                        Is the light good here?

O.S. BANGING heard.

                                        MARK
                        Did you hear that?

                                        DANIELS
                        What?

                                        MARK
                        Maybe somebodyís in trouble.

                                        DANIELS
                        Weíre not here to help. Period.
                        We got the news to report. I
                        have to find some good light.

Daniels wanders off a ways.

CLOSE ON MARK: he adjusts a leg on the tripod.

Then looks down to see shadows of THREE FIGURES on the sand.

Instead of words, his jaw drops open.

Mark tries to speak, but canít.

Off his reaction, Daniels turns to see a bizarre swarthy trio: curly haired 
BLAHA, 40s, in a leather vest; weather-beaten old man YARBOROUGH, and a 
disgruntled third younger man, MARLIN.

                                        BLAHA
                        Speak your name.

                                        DANIELS
                                        (to Mark)
                        Disasters. You get the Red Cross.
                        Perverts. Recluses. Nuts out of
                        the driftwood.
                                        (to Blaha)
                        Recognize me? The Ron Daniels.
                        Eye-witness news. WJNX.
                        Want my autograph? 
                
                                        BLAHA
                        Is this America?

                                        DANIELS
                        Last time I checked.

                                        MARK
                        Ron. Letís boogie. I mean it, man.

                                        DANIELS
                        Are you kidding? The lightís great.
                        Roll the tape. Theyíre harmless.

A stand-off. Mark now has his hands up in the air. More BANGING in the 
background, which makes the newcomers edgy.

                                        BLAHA
                        We are nomads. Feared by man
                        and country alike --
                
                                        DANIELS
                        Bet it beats a day job. Weíre
                        on deadline, buddy. Camera. Now.
                        
Daniels faces the camera. Mark gets behind the eyepiece.

                                        DANIELS
                                (to camera)
                        Ron Daniels, reporting live.
                        Weíre here, in the path of the
                        biggest natural disaster to hit
                        South Florida in five hundred years.
                        We see first-hand that, as man must
                        fear other men, so must we live
                        in Natureís shadow --

Yarborough and Marlin bushwhack him.

                                        MARLIN
                        How about we slit ye from your
                        gullet to your zatch?

WHAM, black eye for Daniels. They rough him up easily.

Mark hangs onto his equipment for dear life, still filming... until 
Yarborough comes over to inspect his camera. Big FACE in the lens, a 
curious glare.

                                        YARBOROUGH
                        I can see myself...

                                        MARK
                        START THE VAN, LISE!

Blaha pulls his men off Daniels.

Ron scurries on all fours. Gets up, rushes after Mark.

They hop in the van, which HONKS loudly. Sand flies.

                                        YARBOROUGH
                        Never seen the likes of them.

                                        MARLIN
                        Nor I.

                                        BLAHA
                        Aye. Weíve hit land, all right.
                        What manner of place is it?

EXT.            FARTHER DOWN BATTERED BEACH

VW Camper parked on the beach. Sand-blasted.

CLOSE ON: VW CAMPER

Temporary home of Surf Jimmy.

He bangs on the fogged windows. Tries window levers, which are stuck. 
The van rocks as he yanks on door handle, also stuck.

                                        SURF JIMMY (VOICE)
                        Open the door. Somebody! Open up --

                                        BLAHA
                        Who hails there?

The throwbacks circle the van. 

                                        SURF JIMMY (VOICE)
                        HEY. Yoo-hoo. Try the handle.
                        The handle, moron.                      

                                        YARBOROUGH
                        Itís a man. Trapped inside!

                                        BLAHA
                        To whom does he hold allegiance?

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Hey. Iím talking to you, MaGoo.
                        Is it safe to come out yet?

Suddenly the door gives way, Jimmy spills out.

Razor sharp, an ornate sword blade comes to rest on his neck.
                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Pardon me, do you have any Grey
                        Poupon?

                                        BLAHA
                                (to Jimmy)
                        I saved your stinking hide.
                        Now you are mine.
                                (beat)
                        Díye pledge yer loyalty?

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Under these conditions? Yes.

They rifle his clothes.
                        
                                        YARBOROUGH
                        He has all his teeth, Blaha.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Thanks. I floss. You are?

                                        BLAHA
                        Deadly. Feared from Hispanola
                        to the Tortugas Islands.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Thatís quite a pronouncement.
And such remarkable diction
for a maniac. You are a 
maniac, arenít you?

                                        BLAHA
                        On your feet, yeoman.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        Yeoman?

                                        BLAHA
                        On your feet or die.

                                        SURF JIMMY
                        ĎOn your feet or die.í Sounds like
English. With an unfamiliar twang.
Do I have any other options?