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Screenplay  writing  sample

B r i t t a

Apologies for the delays in posting, I sustained a serious inner ear injury a few months ago, and it’s been a difficult recovery. I’m investigating surgery now that hopefully, fingers crossed, can help me heal. A stressful, painful past 2 months.

I’ve started advertising my screenplay on the side of my car. Even though the screenplay has charm and endearing characters, I really don’t expect it to sell. I’d estimate my odds of success at 2%. However, it does show my writing style and ability, so there’s a slight chance somebody might like my goofy sense of humor and it could help me land some writing work. I put the odds of that happening at 9%.

How do I calculate these odds? Don’t ask.

Seriously, hope you enjoy the writing sample. It’s goofy, exagerrated humor, with a lot of sight gags, satire, flashbacks and parody scenes. Some of my favorite scenes, such as tap dancing helping Britta obtain the flat feet she desires or when boyfriend Benn sings about his newfound macho lifestyle, are not included in the writing samples I posted. There’s singing and dancing, ahhhh, goofy singing and dancing, so even if the actor or actress isn’t a great singer that’s okay because lousy singing might be funnier. Also, several scenes are set to some of the greatest and most famous classical music pieces ever written, usually for comedic effect.

I think parody is protected in copyright law, however if anybody has any complaints please e-mail me and tell me the issue.

Brief synopsis. Yes, brief. Quick.

Basically we have two lonely women, both flush with material goods, but lacking happiness because neither has a man or a strong family structure in their life. Benn’s gone back back to the land of corporate, as the living dolls in Britta World call our world. And Real World Britta, who lives in a massive LA mansion alone, has lost her boyfriend to an accident.

A therapist, who is a descendent of the family that owns and runs the Zatall Toy Corporation, and who has severed all ties with the company, is trying to help Real Britta find some purpose in her life besides spending money at boutiques and zooming around LA in fancy cars. Being a descendent, the therapist – also named Britta – knows there’s trouble in Britta World, a mystical place that only magic can take anybody to. As a descendent, she finds a way for Real Britta to go to Britta World and bring Doll Britta back to LA so they can locate Benn, who is hiding out and working crappy jobs.

Of course, as is common, things don’t go exactly as planned. Once in our world, Doll Britta discovers “doll power” and begins to accomplish things that leave Real Britta and the therapist “in the dust” and unable to stop the processes they have set forth.

Once Doll Britta realizes the full abilities of a strong, beautiful and intelligent woman, it is time for her to go to bat for all the Brittas and Benns back in Britta World. But will she succeed? And will she find her love Benn in our world? And will Real Britta find a purpose in life?

That’s just a very quick synopsis. There’s a lot more to the screenplay than that plot above. Quirky characters. Humorous flashbacks. Feet in trouble! I tried to add a certain charm, charisma and vulnerability to every main character.  

It’s satire, so I make fun of a lot of things. Life in Los Angeles. Steep driveways. The rich. Snobs. Dolls. Fantasy worlds. Macho society norms. Benns who surf. Lousy jobs. Hollywood. Movies. And lots more.  

I hope a producer or studio or production company will request to read the entire screenplay. But I’m not holding my breath. Screenplay is registered with the writing guild and this is fiction (parody/satire) and no AI was used in writing this, again no A I was used. This is my creation.


This screenplay formatting is best read on a desktop or a laptop. And remember V.O. stands for “voice over” and O.S. stands for “out of sight” This is not the final script, but it is an edited screenplay okay as a reading sample.    


Length of movie would be 90 minutes to 2 hours. My screenplays go long on pages (usually over 120 pages) because I am used to writing novels so I go into a lot of description. There are very few camera directions in the screenplay, as I like to let a director decide how they wish to film. Screenplay is written in Courier New style. It is a work of fiction. Writing sample is better (formatted better) when reading on a desktop or laptop computer. On paper, the formatting is better than when I transferred onto the website.    

Writing sample below. Hope you laugh. Hope you like it!





Brice Patrick Gorman

January 27, 2024

WG #2258562
This is a work of fiction.
No A I was used.











A lively, happy go lucky place in the yesteryear of late 1950’s Italy after the war.

From a distance we see a family of three (father, wife, young daughter) finishing lunch, ITALIAN WAITER walking away with some plates. The father is mostly blocked from view by a dessert cart with a comical amount of Tiramisu.

Closer-up, we see his feet, lower legs. A 1950’s bandage across a knee. He wears shorts and goofy looking socks. Tacky USA tourist type.  

Closer --

We see a 1950’s style handwritten in Italian restaurant check on the table, name and room number cleanly printed. Room 99 BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL.

The last name stands out, especially the TALL part.

Quick pan from menu to man --

Now we see BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL close up. He’s a SHORT petite man, late 40’s, average looks. Almost looks like a child in a big chair. Has a HUGE EXPENSIVE gold wristwatch. Tacky, flashy gold necklace. 

He sits at a LUXURY oceanside café with his pretty, raven-haired Italian born wife MARIA (35) and daughter BRITTA (7). They are finished with lunch, and the STIFF ocean breeze is almost knocking over 3 empty martini glasses in front of Bradford, the sight of which causes Maria disgust. Bradford’s drunk, sloven and relaxed back in his chair while trying to flag down a waitress for yet another martini.

Words flash across the screen: ITALIAN COAST 1958

Daughter Britta holds in her lap a STUFFED ANIMAL, a tiger with an eye patch and a One-Eyed Jack pirate flag draped across its belly. It’s a pirate themed stuffed tiger with a


small label hanging from the tail with the words ZATALL TOYS AND WAGONS FOUNDED 1920.

A gust of wind picks up a small piece of GARLIC BREAD heavy
with parsley and slaps gently the toy tiger’s nose. Maria brushes off parsley from the toy’s back. Britta’s not happy and makes a GROWLING NOISE as she holds the stuffed toy inches from the remaining plate of bread. The toy tiger STARES DOWN the garlic bread.  

Maria and Bradford laugh.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              My darling, Britta, you have the roar down
              pat. But let’s not forget it’s a pirate tiger.
              You need to combine the sound of a tiger
              and a pirate. Words that roar!

When Maria speaks her English isn’t the best, and she’s ANIMATED with her hands and expressions.    

              Bradford...she’s only sette! Ah, seven.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              Britta, first you roar. Rarrrrrrrrrrrr. And
              then you toss on that pirate imitation.
              Aaaarrrrgggggg there ya beeeee slimy mate
              now clean thy hold there it beeeeeee.

Maria is BAFFLED by this slang pirate vernacular.   


Maria and Bradford laugh together as Britta grins.   

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              Britta. I kind of like that. Say it

              Ahhhh . . . it’s too close to . . .
                   (struggling for words)
              to . . .

Maria thinks up words in English. FRUSTRATED, RACKING BRAIN.

                        MARIA (continuous)
              To how you say . . . in Italian . . .
              idrofobia. But in English it’s what you
              get . . . when a wild sick animal bites.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL

Britta GASPS. Nearby, a teen WATER BOY refilling gasps.

                         BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL (continuous)
              Great job, Britta.

Bradford playfully taps Britta on the TIP of her nose.

Maria shrugs and sips her iced tea.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              I just wish other children would like
              our company’s only stuffed toy. I know
              girls want a doll different from the same
              old baby with puffy red cheeks. Sales are
              awful. We’re discontinuing the line next
              month. The doll factory will be empty. Idle. 
              Grandpa would be so ashamed. He never built
              a toy wagon that flopped.
                   (overly miserable)
              I shouldn’t have tried to differentiate our
              product line. Thought I was invincible.  

Britta GROWLS again.

              Raaarrbeeeeee. Raaarrbeeeeeeee.

Maria shrugs.

Over Bradford’s left shoulder we hear --

The sound of TWO PRETTY BLONDE LADIES 20’s. Giggling is heard. Bradford livens up and looks in that direction. The


two ladies are walking nearby along the sand, dressed in one piece VERY PINK strapless bathing suits of a style popular in the 50’s.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
               Maria, I’m going to stretch my legs.

Bradford GLANCES LOVINGLY towards the two beauties.


The two beauties NOTICE and begin to quickly move away.

Maria shows a look of accepted disgust and rubs one hand across the EXPENSIVE JEWELRY on her other hand. That’s her comfort.   

                         BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              Britta, in a little while we will go
              for ice cream. Okay, Britta?

              Yes, father.

Bradford drunkenly stands, marches crookedly towards the sand.

Maria looks to daughter and runs her hand through Britta's hair.

               Perdona tuo padre, figlio mio carissimo.
               È guidato dal testosterone. Un giorno
               capirai le mie parole e la mia filosofia.

As Maria speaks, SUBTITLE English words flash across screen: Forgive your father, my dearest child. He's steered by testosterone. Someday you will understand my words and philosophy.  



Bradford, holding yet another full martini with a BOBBING OLIVE, staggers drunkenly behind the Two Italian Women,

who appear irritated and increasing speed to get away. 
Bradford's Italian is lousy, slow and strained. Subtitles appear.

                         BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
                   (hollering above the stiff breeze)
              Signore, mie . . . bellezze. Goditi un
              drink e . . . e . . . e . . .
                    (louder, more forceful)  
              conversazione. Ho . . . fascino.

English subtitles: Ladies, my beauties. Enjoy a drink and conversation. I do have charm.

                         ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER ONE
                   (disgusted, seething)
               Ci lasci in pace, signore. Vai a cadere
               in un pozzo

English subtitles: Leave us alone, sir. Go fall in a well.

                        ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER TWO
                   (also disgusted)
              Sciocco pazzo. Cerchi di sedurre con
              i tuoi soldi e fascino pietoso e non hai
              nemmeno il buon senso di farlo rimuovi
              l'anello nuziale.

English subtitles: Silly fool. You try to seduce us with your money and pitiful charm, and you don't even have the good sense to remove your wedding ring.

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
              La tua bellezza è incantevole.

English subtitles: Your beauty is enchanting.

Bradford STUMBLES sideways and FALLS HARD on to the sand. The olive FLIES through the air, like an errant SOCCER BALL.

Pop! Crack! We hear the sound of PLASTIC BREAKING hard and an audible gasp from an unseen child. 



Bradford gasps.


Close up of a YOUNG ITALIAN GIRL, about age 6, screaming and crying.

The Two Italian Women stop and turn back to see what the commotion is about. 


Bradford GASPS again. The Young Italian Girl’s doll’s head is KNOCKED OFF. A SMIRK on its baby face, it has rolled nearby.

The Young Girl was building an UGLY lopsided sandcastle with her plastic baby doll close by. And now the doll's head has been separated from the body after Bradford's fall.


The Two Italian Women rush to the Italian Girl's side and scold Bradford.

                         ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER ONE

               Una ghigliottina alla bambola.


English subtitles: A guillotine to the doll. Monster.


                          BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL
               The . . . what . . . I don't
               understand . . . nessuna comprensione.

Italian Woman Number One searches for the word in English.

                        ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER ONE
               Ah, in American . . . gullotan . . .
               or gaellotin . . . la lama che cade.

English subtitles: The falling blade. 

                        BRADFORD LIVINGSTON ZATALL



                       ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER ONE
              Mostro idiota con un orologio da polso

English subtitles: Idiot monster with expensive wristwatch.

Both Italian Women KNEEL to console the screaming Girl.

                         ITALIAN WOMAN NUMBER ONE
              Dolce ragazza, smetti di piangere. Saremo

              le tue bambole viventi oggi e aiutarti a
              finire il castello di sabbia.

SUBTITLES: Sweet girl, stop crying. We will be your living dolls today and help you finish the sandcastle.


The Girl smiles boldly.

                        YOUNG ITALIAN GIRL
              Voi due sareste delle bellissime

English subtitles: You two would make beautiful dolls.

One of Bradford's eyebrows LIFTS upward as he stares down the Two Italian Women. He understood most of the Italian. 

A lightbulb of an idea goes off in his head, eyes wide, smile. 

Insert sound of Bradford hearing in his head the sound of a 1950's era CASH REGISTER making a sale. Chaaaa-ching!





A late 1950’s department store in anywhere America. Rows of everyday goods and some gentle music playing from speakers in the ceiling. An occasional DING of bells or a CHIME paging for an employee occasionally sound.


Quickly take a fast forward stroll down AISLE AFTER AISLE past 50’s furniture, lamps, baby strollers until – SCREECH


– the toy section is front and foremost.

And there we see the doll aisle, with about 10 YOUNG GIRLS aged 5 to 9 walking slowly sideways eyeing each doll, some boxed and some not. Row after row of the same thing: Chubby, red faced baby dolls.

The girls look bored and merely SNEAR or FROWN or, occasionally, a slight grin as they walk past doll after baby doll. None hold their interest.

CAMERA PAN – Close up one chubby, red cheeks baby face doll after another after another after another passing by the screen. BORING.

Suddenly --

Screech! The stale ELEVATOR STYLE MUSIC gently emptying from speakers about the store snaps off! Screech!


Every girl FLINCHES.


Suddenly --

The music from the speakers switches. Louder. More forceful.
Dramatic music plays. Sprach Zarathustra Op. 30 (Sunrise section) by Strauss. It’s a jolt to children and adults as well.

Music slightly muted as an unseen PRIME ENGLISH FEMALE SPEAKS slow, proper and steady in voice over which doesn’t erupt from the speakers.

                        ENGLISH SPEAKER (O.S.)(V.O.)
              Ever since the dawn of homo sapiens
              when cavemen celebrated the invention
              of fire and the wheel while dreaming of
              a way to invent something that could shave
              their armpits so they wouldn’t smell from
              five hundred yards away, little girls had
              only little baby dolls to choose from.   


Music from store ceiling speakers grows more powerful, shaking the baby dolls on the shelves until they fall over.

The Little Girls look about, baffled.


                         ENGLISH SPEAKER (O.S.)(V.O.)(continuous)

              Until one day in nineteen fifty-eight when
              a man’s creativity fueled up on one too
              many martinis during an Italian vacation
              realized such didn’t have to be the only
              path forward.


DRUMS grow louder. Music echoes throughout the store. CASHIERS stand bewildered. PARENTS shopping in distant parts of the store stand in awe.


Suddenly, at the deadend of the aisle selling dolls, in a slightly darkened back section, a spotlight magically appears from ceiling to floor, illuminating an eight-foot-tall box, cardboard on three sides and clear plastic in the front. Due to a slight shadow effect, we can’t yet see what is inside the large box.


All the Little Girls gasp and seem mesmerized.

Now we see what is inside the box.


The Little Girls, almost in a trance, move towards the end of the aisle, like a magnet to steel, we don’t see  their feet, but it is as if they are rolling along not walking. Almost like a magical force is beckoning.

Parents and WORKERS in other parts of the store notice the spotlight, causing them to wonder, or wince, or run towards the area. A customer throws on sunglasses for sale.


Inside the box is a life size, alive, human Britta doll. She’s flawless, only one woman in a thousand could match her. Long blonde hair in a ponytail, purple lipstick, pink makeup, she wears a 50’s style one piece bathing suit that is purple with pink spots. She wears long EARRINGS that are shaped like a Britta doll in ballerina outfit. She wears TALL PINK HIGH HEELS and butterfly shaped sunglasses. A


PRICE TAG hangs from one wrist. It says MADE IN AMERICA $1.00.


The Little Girls continue to seemingly magically move towards the box, again as if rolling not walking.

Nervous Parents peek around the aisle’s edges to see what is going on.

Spotlight from the ceiling grows in intensity still more.

Britta smiles and daintily waves at the Little Girls who are now also illuminated as they crowd around the box, totally speechless at what they are seeing.


OTHER GIRLS from other parts of the store run down the aisle, wide eyed and astonished. A crowd builds.

Britta is loving the attention, and GIGGLING and WAVING to all as the Little Girls press their hands against the clear plastic, almost trying to break into the box.

Britta laughingly removes her butterfly shaped sunglasses to reveal completely ROUND tan lines around her eyes, causing some Little Girls to gasp, or laugh, or step back with a “what the heck?” look. 


Parents start down the aisle as the Little Girls call out they want the doll. More parents arrive. Soon Parents are pushing other Parents and Little Girls are pushing other Little Girls. Everybody wants a Britta doll. NOW.

More Parents arrive. More pushing and shoving. One Little Girl throws chewed taffy at another Little Girl. A TEENAGE BOY CASHIER with heavy acne tries to break up a fight. An ANGRY GIRL WITH PIGTAILS calls the Cashier a jerk and kicks him in a shin. Ouch! The Cashier hobbles away on one leg as one parent karate chops another parent.  

Inside the box, Britta replaces her sunglasses and just giggles and laughs. She likes the attention.


Suddenly, everybody freezes in place. Heads turn back towards the other, open end of the isle. Parents gasp.


A huge 500 LB MALE SUMO WRESTLER dressed in traditional fighting style is marching down the aisle holding hands with his two daughters. The Wrestler’s walk is so wide, high-stepping and sturdy with feet pointed outwards, that the vibration knocks some baby dolls on the floor. THUMP THUMP THUMP.

When the Wrestler speaks, he points his huge thumb at himself, and it is in Japanese with subtitles.

                        SUMO WRESTLER
              Musume-tachi wa ningyō ga hoshī
              to omotte imasu. Watashi wa ningyō o


English subtitles:  Daughters want doll. I take doll. 


Every Parent and Little Girl is shocked as the Sumo Wrestler’s immense size becomes more apparent the closer he gets. The Wrestler releases his Two Daughters’ hands, and he keeps marching forward. Every Parent and Little Girl steps back and presses against the aisle’s shelves, getting the heck out of the way.


Britta, too busy liking the attention of people fighting over her, just now notices the Sumo Wrestler closing in. Upon seeing this, she silently, slowly mouths “ohhhh my freakin’ gooosssshhhh” and freezes in place, mouth open slightly.

The Sumo Wrestler walks to the box, sizes it up, trades glances with a nearby shopping cart that is three sizes TOO SMALL to fit the box. More glances back and forth while SCRATCHING his head. Without further thought, the Sumo Wrestler grabs hold of the box and tilts it sideways on to the floor.

Inside, Britta’s sunglasses fall off and her ponytail flops to the side as she lays on her right side with a “what the heck?” look upon her face.


Music switch.


INSERT: Japanese Ancient Ninja battle music drums. Powerful music with a lot of drums that a Samurai would like.




The Sumo Wrestler starts pushing the box sideways down the toy aisle, leaving Parents and Little Girls to give each other the “what did we just see?” astonished stare. Even after his large backside turns the aisle’s corner and is out of sight as is  the box, the scratching sound of the dragging box against the floor is heard.

The Sumo Wrestler starts to quickly push the box along the tile flooring quicker, with his daughters running beside. Store Employees stare in disbelief and SURPRISED SHOPPERS run and push their carts out of the way.

Inside the box, Britta cringes as the store’s aisles pass by so quickly everything is a sideways blur, and the Ninja Music continues to blare.


Minutes later --


At the front of the store, the Sumo Wrestler tries to push the sideways box and Britta out a front door, but the box is too big. The box bumps against the side jambs, jostling Britta inside.


Thump. Thump. Thump.

Employees, SHELL-SHOCKED CUSTOMERS and the Wrestler’s Two Daughters stare with a mixture of cringe, apprehension and curiosity.


Again, and again, the Sumo Wrestler tries to fit the box through various front doors without success.  Thump! Bang!


Finally, scratching his head, the Sumo Wrestler gives up, SHRUGS and walks out with two daughters in tow. He leaves the crumpled box sitting alone on its side. Inside, Britta shakes her head back and forth and mouths “what an idiot” as her sideways vantage point of view sees his backside walking away. She mouths “whew!” in relief.


Camera passes by a sign CLEARANCE RACK NO RETURNS and


classical music softly plays. The music:  In the Hall of the Mountain King by Grieg plays.

The camera pans sideways slowly by a lot of 1950’s cheap, junk items that are dented or ugly or out of date. Toasters. Jackets. Ugly shoes. Chair leaking stuffing. Cracked dishes. A dented table. A dented box of crackers. Ect, ect.   


Slowly . . . slowly . . . camera passes by until . . . .

There she is. Britta standing upright in her very dented, twice torn box, looking sad. Her sunglasses are broken and half off, her ponytail is bent upwards against gravity and the price tag is torn in two. Only one BALLERINA BRITTA earring is still seen. The other’s gone. Even her makeup is smeared. Without blinking, she just stares wide-eyed as if she can’t believe she has been marked down. 


Price on the box is marked down to 25 cents. The area is barren of customers, there are no takers.


Classical music cuts off with a SCREECH of a broken record and scene cuts to black.



A COLOR CARTOON fills the screen. Everything is in cartoon form as opening credits roll across bottom of screen while GOOFY MUSIC only a doll in a fantasy world could like plays. Movie credits alternate screen time with headlines twirling before camera.  

We see the evolution of Britta, from her dawn to her superstar status. One doll in 1960, exhibited at a TOY TRADESHOW.

NEXT --  

A fast-running assembly line in 1960 cranking out Britta dolls.



Benn introduced in 1964. He holds a surfboard.



Accessories (boats, homes, cars, clothing) introduced in the late 1960’s. Everything is PINK or PURPLE.


Cartoon newspaper 1968 headline twirls before camera: TEN MILLIONTH BRITTA DOLL SOLD

A store’s Christmas shelves are empty with a 1970 sign saying SORRY, SANTA CLAIMED ALL OF OUR BRITTA DOLLS. 

In the late 1970’s Benns and Brittas of different hairstyles, races, nations appear. They dress culturally correct, such as Lederhosen on the GERMAN BRITTA.  

Cartoon newspaper 1978 headline twirls before camera: OVER 100 MILLION BRITTA DOLLS SOLD



Politically correct Britta dolls introduced in the late 1990’s. A Britta on Crutches. A Britta in a wheelchair. A Britta with acne. A Britta with an extra pinkie. 


Britta books and VHS tapes appear late 1990’s. A big seller is the book BRITTA RENTS A COW.  

*Cartoon newspaper headlines from the early to mid-2000’s twirl before the camera. We get only a quick glimpse of each headline before the next one twirls into view.*




































A huge black theatre screen. We can’t see anything.

Suddenly --

We hear REAL BRITTA, 100% human, her voice echoing in the blackness. Age 27, petite female, more VERY CUTE than sexy. But still hot. Short raven hair, hazel eyes. Has the accent of someone who grew up in the country, Southern Ohio just a stone’s throw from Kentucky. She doesn’t hide it.     


                          REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)

                     (laughs menacingly, foolishly also)
                     (talking pinching nose, nasally)


             Take me to your leader!
                     (more laughing)
             I always wanted to say that.

Black screen lights a little, but still darkness. 


                        REAL BRITTA
              I’m Britta T(beeped out)y R(beeped out)l


When Real Britta says her two middle names they are mostly (90%) BLEEPED OUT, we can’t make out what they are. We only hear the T and y and R and l. Later in movie her lengthy entire name is revealed in a sight gag.   


                         REAL BRITTA(V.O.)(O.S.)(continuous)
              The only way anyone is going to know
              my middle names are when they are on my
              tombstone. And, yes, I was named after
              the infamous Britta doll. Okay, insert laugh
              here. My parents, they ah, smoked a lot

              of s(beeped out)it and downed some
              moonshine to boot. 


When she says the word shit it is partially (25%) BLEEPED OUT, so audience can make out what she was saying.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              I’m twenty-seven years old and these
              are my nine cars.

Let there be light --

Nine boxes POP UP one by one on the screen, in no order. Inside each box, we see from the hood’s view looking through the windshield from a moderate distance Real Britta behind the wheel. Each box has a different car, but they are all fancy cars and one SUV. Some are imports, roadsters, while others are stately sedans. One is a convertible. Most are BLACK, but one is YELLOW and one is FUSHA. 

Some boxes show her driving in daylight, others at night.


The boxes all share several aspects. Real Britta is bored, traveling fast but not speeding, taking corners fast but safely, she’s an expert at handling these wheels, but having no enjoyment at all driving. Comically, she DOESN’T BLINK, and her head DOESN’T MOVE as she veers around sharp curves. Nor does she smile at all. Just a hum-drum scene, the exact opposite of what would expect from a person driving such fancy wheels.  


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              Oh, why the sharp curves and steep hills?
              Well, this is LA. Yep, Los Angeles, and even
              though San Fran is infamous for the steep
              streets and gnarly hills, LA in my opinion is
              top on the charts for steep, winding drives.
              There are exceptions, but generally speaking
              when it comes to the greater Los Angeles area,
              the hillier the more expensive.


A serene but old and run down 2 story 1940’s farmhouse with an UGLY SMOKE FLUME bursting from a haggard chimney comes into view pitched on top of A STEEP HILL. Slight fog. Junk in the muddy yard. And old car UP ON BLOCKS with a spider web across the dashboard. This is poverty. This is where she grew up.

                        REAL BRITTA (O.S.)(V.O.)
              That’s a far switch from my origins back in
              Southern Ohio, a place I sarcastically refer
              to as swamp muck!


Shot of the same old farmhouse from another angle, and we see nearby a decrepit, wooden OUTHOUSE on its last legs. Atop the Outhouse’s pitched, peeling wood roof sits a very dastardly looking turkey vulture, eyeing the surroundings.




Back to 9 screens of Real Britta driving, night/day. View


from the hood, looking into windshield. 

                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              My home cost twenty-three million and
              change. Hey, don't laugh I got a deal
              eleven of the twelve bathrooms have a
              heated towel rack. You can guess how

              steep my driveway is. I’ll never forget
              when I moved in a few
              years ago and I had to hire a Nepalese
              Sherpa guide to help me navigate my
              driveway for the first time. Talk about
              a memory I’d like to chuck into a
              combine harvester.





On the back of an EXPENSIVE import, we see a bumper sticker: MAKE FUN OF ME AFTER I DIE AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR HEATED TOWEL RACK. 


Inside Real Britta’s car as she drives up her driveway for the first time ever.  Over her shoulder through a side window
we can see a real estate sign SOLD and the outline of a big security gate and a driveway as steep as a roller coaster’s incline.  Comically steep, to say the least.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              He was hardly the pleasant sort with a
              personality Rasputin would dig. And with a
              side of male chauvinist pig on steroids
              thrown in for good measure.

Real Britta is behind the wheel of a fancy import, GRIPPING STEERING WHEEL with all her mite, LIPS TIGHT, nervous gaze.

In the passenger seat, a NEPALESE SHERPA GUIDE, mid 40’s, face reddened, huge beard still with ICE CRYSTALS from Mount Everest. Rotted teeth, horrible breath, and Real Britta cringes each time he speaks. Wears  huge, battle-worn overbearing winter clothing, with exposed padding. When he raises his voice, SPITS SALIVA when animated.


Around his neck are large sunglasses and a well-worn oxygen mask.

Subtitles appear in English.

                        SHERPA GUIDE
              Nārī, yasalā'ī kēhī gyāsa dinuhōs.
              Ḍarapōka mahilā garchin pahāḍalē
              timīlā'ī ḍarā'um̐cha? Tapā'īnlē
              garnuhunē chaina yasalā'ī bhatkā'unu
              aghi ādhāra śivira aghi banā'unuhōs

English subtitles: Loose translation from Nepali. Woman, give it some gas. Timid woman does the mountain frighten you? You wouldn’t make it past base camp before collapsing into a fit of wet tears. Everest would send your timid bones running when you exit the transport van at the base. 


Real Britta glances over, EYES SQUINTING, giving that infamous GET LOST PAL look.

We see a close-up of Real Britta’s right foot, nervously gently pressing the accelerator as exhaust hums. She wears GOOFY SANDALS with exposed toes, and every toe has nail polish and the toe that went to market has a stick-on decorative PINK PIG carrying a shopping bag design.

Slowly the car begins ascending the steep driveway, INCHING FORWARD, and in a few seconds, it almost looks like the car is  on a launch pad, the car is almost going straight up. This is a STEEP DRIVEWAY, comically / ridiculously so. A sight gag. 


When Real Britta nervously glances in her rearview mirror,
it almost looks like they are scaling a 20-story building the end of the STEEP driveway is so far down.  

Real Britta STRUGGLES to keep her head off the headrest.

                         SHERPA GUIDE
              Mahilā cālaka. Pahāḍalā'ī harā'unuhōs
              ra garnuhōs pachi haṭnē chaina ra jastai
              ām̐su runcha tapā'īṁ āphūlā'ī bha'ēkō
              dēkhā'unuhuncha. Nārī!

English subtitles: Woman drivers. Defeat the mountain and do not retreat and cry tears like the wimp you show yourself to be. Woman! I do not take anyone who wears a skirt up Everest and this is why. Women are weak and no fortitude. It is so sad I feel like crying in my lentil soup.

Real Britta looks over, an angry glance. The Sherpa Guide is angrily pointing a big, calloused, frostbit discolored finger in her face, INCHES from her nose.


Real Britta, seething in anger, STOMPS on the accelerator so hard the PIG DECORATION FLIES OFF her toenail and the car – SCREECH! -- lurches forward VERY QUICKLY, causing the Sherpa Guide to bump his head on the head rest. Thump!

The car zips up the driveway and she slams to a stop on the level part near the 10-car enclosed garage attached to a massive two-story mansion with statues in the front yard next to the driveway and a huge fountain.   


Real Britta tries not to laugh but can’t stop grinning a little. The Sherpa Guide starts cursing LOUDLY a mile a minute, spit FLYING out of his mouth,  but no subtitles show the curse words. Judging by the tone, they are obviously caustic, vicious, four-letter words. We don’t need to know what he says. 


Now see CLOSE UPS inside each vehicle, again same 9 boxes as before on the screen. But now we have a view inside each. Cups of coffee or hot cocoa spill, doughnuts and half eaten cookies and pretzels fall on to the floor as she races around corners. Real Britta is a slob and could care less.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Babes, don’t worry about the mess.
              I have a maid.


Recent flashback, weeks or months.


We see her maid, FIJOLA, a lanky, fit blonde mid 20’s, dressed in a jogging outfit.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

                She’s from Iceland. Would you have

                freakin guessed?

Fijola is bringing Real Britta lunch, and a can of soda and an unfilled glass way OVERFILLED with ice cubes. The kitchen is large and lavish. When she places the glass down on the breakfast nook a bunch of cubes POP OUT, skate across the table, land in Real Britta’s lap and cause her to go cross-eyed and gasp.  


Fijola also gasps as she claps her hands over her cheeks in an exaggerated manner. 



Back to the hood’s view of Britta behind the wheel, 9 boxes again on view.


                          REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              You know, I miss that old mountain man
              on nights like this. Oh, not that I
              would encounter any scary situations
              here. I get a flat here, I just pull
              over and yell hot, single woman having
              car trouble and six tv producers and one
              executive assistant are running towards me
              with a lug wrench. See all the lights?
              See all the two-million-dollar homes with
              backyard hammocks strung between trees?

              I’m cool here. But there are secluded roads
              north of Malibu where I sometimes go to
              star gaze and . . . oooooo . . . the things
              I have seen there while collecting my
              thoughts. Roll tape, please.




Four quick montages / flashbacks of the things Real Britta has seen while out alone in the past year. In each scene she is in a different car and dressed differently, indicating at different days.

1) From her viewpoint behind the wheel of her moving car at night we see BIGFOOT wearing a big Derby hat driving a moped, zooming across a dirt road in front of her car, flashing a hairy peace sign with two hairy fingers under the illumination of the headlights.

2) A MAN WEARING LEDERHOSEN sitting on a rock while playing the BANJO is seen as she passes by at MIDNIGHT, just a glimpse in her headlights. The man is yodeling in a nauseating pitch, like a sick dog.

3) From her view behind the steering wheel, at night, we see a UFO with TWO THREE EYED ALIENS eating corn on the cob seen through the alien craft’s front windshield. The craft zooms towards her car as she is driving down a bumpy dirt road, causing her to swerve out of the way as the craft almost crashes before doing a goofy spin and then zooming almost straight up into the sky with a NAUSEATING SCREECH.

Real Britta looks dumbfounded.


                         REAL BRITTA
                  (speaking to camera, audience)
                  (almost a whisper)
              That was a close one. I just had
              this beauty waxed.   


4) In a clearing surrounded by a wooded area, we see Real Britta is sitting in her turned-off car, windows down, skygazing and admiring the stars. It’s a dark night, no moon, and she’s eating a roast beef sandwich dripping with mustard.

Swan Lake plays on her car’s stereo.

And then – zip – it cuts off. She gives it a what the heck look? Now the sound of crickets and other night insects invades her space, and her eyes dart side to side as her

heartbeat increases. A nearby bush bristles. A breeze picks up. Where did that come from? Clouds move in, obscuring the stars.

Real Britta’s heartbeat increases, echoing about the car. Real Britta freezes and focuses. She thinks. Hard. An eyebrow flutters and she stops chewing as mustard drips on to her shirt.


DEEP THOUGHT. A SLIGHT ECHO of a mischievous group of middle school students echoes in her brain as she sits motionless not even blinking.


Flashback scene / Real Britta’s memory circa year 2010.

A WALL CALENDER verifies the year.

We see AGE 13 REAL BRITTA in homeroom English. THIRTY STUDENTS sit about her, including one BOY PICKING HIS NOSE.

A female TEACHER WITH FUNNY LOOKING BUTTERFLY EYEGLASSES stands before the room holding a book by Poe.

              Today class we’ll be reading the
              Tall Tale Heart by Edgar Alan Poe.



Back to mustard dripping Real Britta, still motionless listening to her ever increasing, ever louder heart thumping.
Now the beating heart is so powerful it is causing the sunshade to vibrate a little. Real Britta is in deep thought.
Her homeroom teacher’s voice reverberates inside her skull, an echo present

                        TEACHER (O.S.)(V.O.)

              The Tall Tale Heart by Edgar Alan
                   (echoing louder)



              Tale heart.
                   (echo increasing)



Back to eighth grade homeroom English, but we don’t see anything except for a SHAKING bookcase in the corner with dozens of Poe books, all toppling out of the bookcase in SLOW MOTION onto the floor. Thump. Thump. Thump. Almost sounds like a deafening heart beating.




Back to Real Britta in her dark car in the field’s clearing. Suddenly all the crickets stop chirping. AN ERRIE SILENCE that causes Real Britta to swallow hard, as if a lump in the throat.

Close up – Real Britta’s eyes dart side to side.


Her heart still grows louder, echoing across the car’s interior. Her eyes dart from a tree to a bush to the distant darkness to the dirt road ahead and behind. Everything is suspect she is scared.

Real Britta starts the car. Throws the half-eaten sandwich out the window and guns it. Wheel’s spinning, dirt flying halfway to the moon. We see her RED TAILLIGHTS disappear into the night as the sound of her beating heart quiets down.

                        REAL BRITTA (O.S.)(V.O.)
              I guess despite my gruff exterior and
              demeanor, deep down I’m just a scared kid
              reaching into grandma’s cookie jar.  
              Just a fraidy cat! A Siamese. I doubt
              I’m the only scaredy-cat out there.




We see Doll Britta, in human form, living, breathing, existing in the magical Britta World. Everything except the human dolls is in various shades of pink or purple.  


Doll Britta, homeless, is sleeping under a pink park bench. She’s homeless and dressed in a robe with a name tag ORIGINAL BRITTA.


Close up we only see her laying sideways, eyes open and in the far background we see the world’s pink moon, it resembles a round soda cracker against a pink backlight.


Doll Britta is scared, and from the left side of screen we see why. A toy figure pterodactyl that is alive circles overhead, and now we see she uses the park bench for protection.


Camera pulls back, and we begin to see Britta World after dark, after lights out. Its landscape of exaggerated low buildings and cupboard windows and, further beyond, carnival rides and a replica of the St Louis Arch seem almost as a mixture between an artist’s pink and purple infatuation and a cartoon world come alive. Everything’s exaggerated. And in various shades of pink and purple. 


And then –-

Suddenly all across Britta World, cottage lights go on, and gentle pinkish whispers of light emerge from inside. Seconds later across the world, dozens of eyes and then faces of living breathing Brittas appear in windows and doors that have creaked open to look out.


Whispers start, whispers of other Brittas – and a few Bens – from house to house the whispers grow like a flock of bees ever increasing. Gossip on steroids.

“Original Britta is awake, Original Britta is awake” arrives a symphony of hundreds of whispers.

Original Britta, still beneath the park bench, hears this and smiles. They do still care about her.



And then like something from a magical cartoon world, dozens upon dozens of Brittas start to sing a sweet lullaby, to sooth Original Britta. As the song below progresses, camera flies over the pink and purple world and zips through homes and past obviously plastic trees and then over the bay, whose fake water resembles  aluminum foil. And then it flies by a boarded-up home, with a lot of signage. Signs read: Foreclosed home of Original Benn boyfriend of Original Britta, For Sale Owner Now Living In An Alternate World, Motivated To Sell the Owner Will Not Be Coming Back.


                         CHORUS OF BRITTA DOLLS AND BENNS
                   (singing in lullaby style)

              Original Britta dream of sheep
              may you have such blissful sleep
              we’ll watch over you, we’re your keep
              if a dinosaur nears, we’ll make a peep
              please do snore from the core!
              We’re here for you, so sleep you’ll reap.
              Original Britta think of lofty flight
              on a magic carpet through the night
              imagine riding on a guilded silver horse
              through shiny magical flowers in Norse
              Please do snore from the core!
              Slumber and dream of being MahJong champ
              in a perfect Britta world without a vamp
              may your thoughts be without a seam
              dream of shooting stars, let them beam
              Please do snore from the core!
              Original Britta snore til it starts to pour
              We have your back, oh yes we so do
              so just slumber don’t lay and stew!
              Snore if you wish, it’s a okaaaayyyyy
              even if it causes waves in our cay.

And then with the song’s conclusion, Original Britta grinning and relaxed, closes her eyes and falls alseep. And instantly she starts to SNORE like an angry bull, hardly feminine, and the loudness echos across Britta world all the way to the cay and even reaching to the far distance of the world’s only volcano, which resembles an upside


down custard creme spewing pea soup. 


Real Britta sits bored behind the wheel at an LA redlight. It’s night, and the road’s busy. She notices an interactive elevated billboard, changing signage from advertising socks with an anti-smell technology to a simple message of black letters across a white screen. 


A COMMERCIAL blares on her radio by an unseen RADIO ANNOUNCER. 


                       RADIO ANNOUNCER (O.S.)
              And in other news, scientists
              are attributing the rapid increase
              of STD’s in the under thirty age
              bracket to the proliferation of
              dating apps and sites. One doctor
              interviewed claimed if things don’t
              slow down, we could see a penicillin
              shortage very soon. Dating sites have --

Real Britta, curiously irritated, or over-irritated, JAMS her middle finger against the radio’s off button and SIGHS.


Her eyes roll up as she glances towards the heavens above and CLENCHES BOTH FISTS.

                        REAL BRITTA
             Hey, not my fault. I’m just a
             business woman. It was a business


Real Britta makes the sign of the cross.

A new message flashes on the billboard, lighting up area.

Real Britta reads it, slow and careful.

The message says:
We always think the person walking on the pathway on the other side of the park has it easier and better than us


when in fact they are probably dodging the same zigzagging, feet-tripping sidewalk cracks as us.  


Real Britta sighs.

                        REAL BRITTA

                    (resigned, glum)
              Likely true. We all have our woes.

              The only perfect world is Britta
                    (heavy sigh)
              Britta’s never sad in her
              utopia where the colors of the
              rainbow never dull. I wish they
              had a vacancy! I’d check in


Zoom in for a close up of Real Britta’s unblinking eyes. She’s dreaming of what life must be like in Britta World.

Slow disolve:



Dream sequence.  


We see Real Britta’s view of the so called utopia, that of Britta World. Since most of flashback is Real Britta’s thoughts, the Brittas and Benns do not wear name tags. 


An unseen GIRLS AND BOYS CHORUS (about 20-30 voices) sings as we take a tour of Doll Britta’s utopia through Real Britta’s eyes.

Everything is colorful, especially the yellows and greens. The world is not various shades of pink and purple as seen previously. Colors of the rainbow and more. Furnishings are smaller than usual, ceilings too. It’s like a magical part cartoon world and part human existence and part life in a full-sized dollhouse. Everything is exagerrated and colors are mystically vibrant.     


It’s a world that exists in a dream and only a dream.
And in Real Britta’s imagination, it’s set to music.


                   (chipper singing)
              Britta’s life is so very blessed

              it’s impossible for this doll to
              leave things messed

Scene: Doll Britta emerges from her bed in the morning wearing a white bed robe imprinted with her likeness. She is flawless even when waking up. She floats out of bed, playfully yawning and standing in a very yellow sun cast through a bedroom window. She sleeps with her tall heels on. She throws the crumpled sheet back onto the bed in a messy ball and it magically unfolds itself and makes its own bed.


                        CHORUS (continuous)
              Each surreal perfect day’s the very same
              One hundred percent happiness with a game
              In Britta’s world there’s no loaded dice
              goodness that would be so not very nice


Scene: Doll Britta and OTHER BRITTAS at her home in the living room rolling dice and playing the BRITTA SHOPS AT THE FARMER’S MARKET board game. Everybody laughs when Doll Britta’s dice land on the backside of a horse.

                       CHORUS (continuous)
              Twice a week dances on shiny floors begin
              Swaying beauties and many Benns with a grin


Scene: Dozens of Brittas and Benns dancing in a shiny disco like nightclub in Britta World. Dressed up, everybody is smiling so much their cheeks look taunt and uncomfortable. Overdone smiles. Britta wears tall heels.

                       CHORUS (continuous)
              Doll damsels and gents twist, they twirl
              Benns with six pack abs dance with a girl


Scene: Benns in flashy wear and mostly unbuttoned shirts showing abs reach out to the Brittas to join them in




                       CHORUS (continuous) 
              Britta’s pink car operates on mind control
              other drivers in this world have no vitriol

Scene: Britta drives down the road in a plastic pink convertible with purple bumpers and a license plate that reads HEELS ARE HEAVEN. A back bumper sticker reads HONK FOR HEELS.

She giggles and waves with both hands as she passes by plastic trucks and other cars filled with Brittas, all from a variety of places and ethnicities and hair colors. She honks the horn playfully and it sounds like a duck quacking or sometimes a banjo.


                         CHORUS (continuous)

              Everyone on the street waves with big cheer
              it's rare to see someone in this world sneer


Scene: Pedestrian Benns and Brittas wave and holler hello.
Everybody knows who Original Britta is and she loves attention. She even passes by a plastic statue resembling granite that is of her likeness, ten feet tall and arm out as if waving. Of course the statue has tall high heels.


Original Britta’s quote is at the base. It reads: “I’m the original Britta doll and honored to be such.”


                         CHORUS (continuous)
               Squirrels with bushy tails run, they dance
               the animals greet Britta with a prance


Scene: Plastic toy squirrels line the road as she drives by, Britta holds out a palm and – poof! – like magic plastic nuts appear in her hand that she tosses to the happy squirrels who cheer.


                         CHORUS (continuous)
              Everyone laughs, an everyone is grand
              Watch Britta make castles in fake sand


Scene: Doll Britta is making a castle not yet visible to audience from very fake looking sand that more resembles a mixture of flour and sawdust. Her hands move with precision, but we don’t see what the castle looks like until a few seconds later.

Now we see what she is building, and it is a castle with her face’s beautiful profile on the side below the turrets. The drawbridges are shaped like high heels.


                         CHORUS (continuous)
              In this magical world happiness rules
              Britta doesn’t need ever have the blues
              proud she is to never be the color blue
              Oh so true true trrruuuuuuuueee


Scene: Doll Britta staring at herself in a mirror in her home, smiling broadly while tilting head back and forth like a carnival animatronic malfunctioning. Her ponytail jogs back and forth. 


                         CHORUS (continuous)
              Britta is never a tinge blue
              such predicted by psychics that knew

Scene: Close-up of a crystal ball of Original Britta dancing ballet in a circle inside the ball. Music plays softly Waltz of the Flowers by Tchaikovsky for about 15 seconds as Doll Britta image dances happily spinning around on her high heels. 


Music fades out slowly.

When Chorus begins singing again, it is very slow, almost fast talking.


                        CHORUS (continuous)
                   (singing very slow)
              Britta’s always one hundred percent a glow
              Britta’s never sad oh no no no
              Ohhhhh no no no no nooooooo --

Screech. Music cuts off like a needle jolting off a long play record.


Now we are inside Doll Britta’s master bathroom. Big change in colors. Now everything is in shades of pink or purple, all the other colors are gone. We again see Britta World as before, no longer Real Britta’s vision.

Silence – except for the echoing sound of somebody dropping a bar of soap. CLUNK.

We see pink bathroom’s purple shower curtain wiggling.
Someone is taking a shower but there’s no water flowing.

Shower curtain jerks open really quickly. We see only
two hands with pink nails gripping the curtain and further back against the wall we see pink soap and a pink hairnet and a pink scrub brush.

But where’s Doll Britta?

Her head pops into view from below, showing through the shower curtains opening as her pretty eyes dart side to side. We don’t see below her upper shoulders, and we can see the top of a pink towel wrapped around her. It has a name tag. The name tag is in this quick scene. ORIGINAL BRITTA.  

Doll Britta playfully gasps.

                       DOLL BRITTA
              Oooooo, yes I do, I truly do. Oh yes
              I really, really I do get very blue.


Unseen choir gasps.

Doll Britta transitions to a quick frown.

Suddenly, to the left of screen, we see the outline shadow of a giant toy pterodactyl moving towards her. It’s alive.

Britta screams bloody hell, almost comically so, we can almost see tonsils. She freezes with mouth ajar and eyes not blinking. 

The Unseen Choir gasps again.

Screen cuts to black.

The Unseen Choir gasps for the last time as in the darkness we hear the haunting screech of this distant relative of the dinosaur as the bird cries out. It’s worse than nails on a blackboard. Yikes



The Brittas and the Benns are all at the Britta World’s cay’s beach, which is illuminated by a purple sun that resembles a growbulb on steroids. The cay’s water is aluminum foil and painted purple, the rocks styofoam and pink, and every Benn has a purple surfboard and wears a name tag on their bodysuit or swim trunks that reads BENN but the female Brittas all have different name tags attached to their bathing suits. For example, Doctor Britta, Spy Britta, Bodybuilder Britta, Electrician Britta, Bus Driver Britta, Senator Britta, ect, ect.

Here the woman work and succeed and the male Benns just surf and look good. Both the Benns and Brittas have different hair styles / shades, nationalities, skin colors and different ethnic backgrounds.


On a fake rock, Original Britta sits and yawns while everybody else parties. She’s in a 50’s style one piece swimsuit and wearing high heels. Some of the Benns try to


play around with her by pretending to splash non-existent water. But she just frowns and ignores them.


PLUMBER BRITTA walks over and sits next to her. She’s a redhead with a BEEHIVE STYLE haircut from the 60’s.

                        PLUMBER BRITTA
             Come on, Britta. We know you’re
             tired but get in on the action.
             Come on. I’ll race you to the plastic
             seaweed patch.


                         DOLL BRITTA
             Plumber Britta, it’s been months.
             Do you think Original Benn still thinks
             of me . . . whereever he is now?


                         PLUMBER BRITTA

             Oh, heck ya gal. And you’ll see him
             again. He’ll be back. He’ll get back
             here and you two will be arm in arm


                         DOLL BRITTA

                    (overly cheerful)
             You really think?

                        PLUMBER BRITTA
             If I know Benn, he’s probably
             singing your praises right now.

Original Britta smiles.

                        DOLL BRITTA


Original Britta thinks about this, shifting eyes towards sky.



Words flash on screen: Meanwhile, across town . . . another dimension

. . . in the real world where rent is due and the landlord has chewed gum on the bottom of his shiny shoes. 


Benn is working at a library in Los Angeles. His job is shelving books. And the unshelved books are OVERFLOWING.


Walking into the shelving area while pushing an overloaded cart of books, Doll Britta’s beautiful face flashes before his eyes in misty form, then disappears, and Benn starts into song, singing to himself as he sets to work rolling down tall aisles of hardcover books. Dreamy eyed look.


Benn’s dressed as if going to a disco, with suede pants and a front button down shirt opened way too much displaying his taunt abs.

Several WOMEN READING ROMANCE BOOKS take a double glance at his abs.   

              I'm not perfect zen, I'm just poor Benn
              who truly loves waddling ducks and Zen

CLOSE UP through opening in book aisle at a seat in the reading room a DIRTY BUM reads THE GREAT GADSBY

                        BENN (continuous)
              But how I miss my glorious Britta
              without her mythical beauty I'm nit na

CLOSE UP through the opening in book aisle we see a seated WOMAN WITH BUTTERFLY EYEGLASSES reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelly.

                         BENN (continuous)


               My chiseled looks and abs might be fine
               to what use walking up a literary line?

Cart he is pushing KNOCKS into the shelving, causing a book to topple into his catching arms, the book’s title is Catcher In The Rye. He CARELESSLY reshelves it in the wrong place and keeps moving.


                        BENN (continuous)

               I'm stuck alone in a world of high rent

               oh, almighty, so why was I sent?


A NUN IN FULL UNIFORM passes by holding the book Valley of the Dolls. She nods hello.


                         BENN (continuous)

               Britta, whereever you are, hear my call
               for you I'd gladly take an immense fall

Ben glances down at the cart he is pushing, the book Wuthering Heights gets his attention.

                        BENN (continuous)
              Classics stacked, up to eight feet tall

              without my Britta reading’s my all

Through an opening in the bookcase we see a seated very tall woman reading Little Women by Alcott at a table. 

                         BENN (continuous)
              Her eyes of ocean blue, her height of wow

              my burning love screams to the planet zow! 

A CONSERVATIVELY DRESSED female librarian with a 1920’s style haircut walks by holding a copy of the book Fahrenheit 451. She notices his muscular abs.


                         BENN (continuous)
               Britta I’d fly to you, I’d run until blue

               find you even if swallowed up, it’s true

Benn passes by a copy of Moby Dick on a shelf.  

                         BENN (continuous)

               Maybe if I wear a cool suit, a Zoot 


              then when I sing of my love for thee
              people wouldn't shush if I make a hoot!

Emerges outside the aisle, facing a room where 9 IRRITATED  LIBRARY PATRONS all reading All Quiet on the Western Front stare him down before placing a finger over their lips and going Shusssshhh!


Benn does a double take.




                         DOLL BRITTA
              Plumber Britta do you really
              think he’s singing my praises?

                       PLUMBER BRITTA
              Heck ya, gal. Don’t you sing his?

Doll Britta sort of blushes and shies away.

                        DOLL BRITTA
              Keep it a secret, but ya in my dreams
              I sing to him.


Plumber Britta giggles.

Close up as Doll Britta thinks with a comically exaggerated dreamy-eyed fixed stare.


We see Doll Britta in her dream state, singing for her lost love Benn.

                        DOLL BRITTA

               In Britta world there’s no scary bear

Britta standing on a wooded street lined with tin foil like purple trees with a pink TRIANGLE WARNING sign containing a drawing of a PINK GROWLING BEAR with a big X through it.


                        DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
              Oh how I love it here, despite the fear!


Doll Britta CRINGING standing on a different street again with tin foil like purple trees with a pink TRIANGLE WARNING sign containing a PURPLE PTERODACTYL with no X through it.

                        DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
              Sadly, my dearest Benn is nowhere near


We see Benn’s house in Britta World, a purple two-story cottage with big FORECLOSED FOR SALE signs nailed up and an overgrown fake lawn. Benn’s surfboard is out front next to the curb with a sign reading FREE TO A GOOD HOME and his MANY swim trunks swing from a clothesline at the home’s side. Ab exercise machines are near the curb for trash pickup. 

                        DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
              I'm Britta, and so are they. . . and they 
              and they . . . and they . . . but heeeyyy! 


Walks down a road waving hello to all the other Britta dolls, many of whom are working (delivering fake mail, policewomen, street electricians, ect, ect) while others are just out for a walk. Everybody wears a name tag. 

                        DOLL BRITTA (continuous)

              It's still really terribly great

              even if too many to fit in a crate!

Drives by a human traffic jam of Brittas waiting to walk across a intersection. Everybody wears high heels and a few stumble and sway when stepping off the curb.


Everybody waves to Doll Britta. She is popular.

                         DOLL BRITTA (continuous)

              See the Brittas they slumber and sway
              on a sunny day even swim in the cay!

Original Britta at the fake Britta World beach, stands waving to the other Brittas suntanning and swimming. Some SURFER BENNS also wave.

                         DOLL BRITTA (continuous)

               I wish to have flat feet that can stop.
               It's okay I don't plan to be a cop! 


We see a POLICE OFFICER BRITTA directing traffic with a stylish swagger, pink baton and quite the beauty. Her uniform is PINK and her BADGE is purple.

                         DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
               Now I walk as if on stately stilts
               full throttle, maybe occasional tilts


Doll Britta walks by a half dozen PODIATRY DOCTOR OFFICES. Also a few MEDICAL SHOE STORES. She wears massive high heels.


                          DOLL BRITTA (continuous)

               But statuesque shoes and super looks
               doesn't equate to happiness that cooks


Doll Britta is BORED, staring at the distant volcano in Britta World. It looks like an upside-down custard flambe spewing out pea soup. Disgusting!


                         DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
              It's less than super groovy
              without my Benn to go to a movie

A sad Doll Britta stands outside a lit-up theatre marquee below a flashing sign for the movie’s double feature ORIGINAL BRITTA BATTLES THE SNEAKY SQUID and the second movie is ORIGINAL BRITTA ON ICE WHERE EVERYBODY’S NICE.


                         DOLL BRITTA (continuous)

              Benn, I love you one hundred percent

              So please, I beg you Benn, present! 


Doll Britta imagines Benn emerging from a cloud of fog on the sidewalk outside the theatre below the marquee, walking towards her in slo-mo with a smile and a wrapped present with a bow shaped like Britta.

And then he and the fog vanishes. Poof!


Doll Britta’s innocent grin instantly snaps to a frown.





Back to the real Britta World. Doll Britta is staring at nothing in particular, just relishing in her memories of Benn. Her stare is comically dreamy-eyed, and frozen in place.


                         PLUMBER BRITTA
              Earth to Original Britta. Earth to
              Original Britta.

Doll Britta snaps out of it. But a sly grin remains.

                        DOLL BRITTA
              Ooooppppps. Sorry. Got caught up in --

Doll Britta is interrupted as a HIDEOUS female scream breaks the air and relaxed mood. Everyone at the beach and nearby turns and gasps.

The scream emerged from behind a thicket of fake trees that resemble upright broccoli stalks.


Suddenly, the sound of HORSE HOOFS riding away quickly, the echo disappearing in mere seconds.  


Pandemonium at the beach, everybody looking at everyone else for an explanation. Nobody has one.


Suddenly, Chimney Sweep Britta, in bathing suit with a name tag, runs on to the beach, breathless.

                        CHIMNEY SWEEP BRITTA
              I got a glimpse. A big pink horse. A
              pink pumpkin. A rider. No head.
Dozens gasp and shriek in horror. Several Bens drop their surfboards and run to the gals’ side.

                         DOLL BRITTA
                They introduced the headless horseman
                toy accessory. But that wasn’t supposed to be
                released to the public for another six

SECRET SPY BRITTA steps forward.


                         SECRET SPY BRITTA
               They jumped the calendar.


Other Brittas step up, offering their opinions.

                        COPIER MACHINE REPAIR BRITTA
               No, the correct saying is they jumped
               the moon.

                        TAXI DRIVER BRITTA
               No, it’s they jumped the barrel.

                        FUNERAL DIRECTOR BRITTA
               No, the correct expression is they
               jumped the canyon.


Original Britta rolls her eyes.

                        DOLL BRITTA
             Guys, the saying is they jumped the
             gun. And they did. Who’s missing?


Everybody looks around. Suddenly, BRICK LAYER BRITTA runs out from the fake thicket of bushes and trees holding a damaged name tag with soil on it.   


                         BRICK LAYER BRITTA
                   (panic screaming)
              They got Feng sui consultant Britta!


CLOSE UP of damaged badge only thing that can be seen is FEN SU and Consu.

Original Britta’s eyes squint and she is furious and forms fists with both hands.




Stoic-looking FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE walks up to Benn, who is sorting books to go on the cart for shelving. Benn is having trouble holding one book, a pop up children’s book. When he fumbles it, the book flips open and one of the pop-ups slaps him in the lips.


The Female Library Employee gives him a “what an idiot” type of glance as Benn fumbles to place it back on to the cart. 


                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              Ben, may I have a word with you?


The Female Library Employee glances around, making sure they are alone. Yes they are.

                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE

                    (almost a whisper)
              Your fake work documents look, well,
              too fake.

              Isn’t that normal? They are fake.


                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              Shhhhh. Don’t worry your job’s safe for
              the next month. People aren’t exactly
              breaking down the door to shelve heavy
              books forty hours a week. But we need
              fake documents that look more real.
              Take a ride down to Skid Row, I think
              you’ll find someone who can get you
              something better quality for cheap.


              Oh, okkkkkkaaaayyyyyyyy.

                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              Where are you from again?

              Ahhhh, Lictenstein. Yep.

                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              I thought your application said


              That was a spelling error.

                        FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              Strange, you don’t have any accent.
              I’ll see what I can do about the, ah,
              documents. Okay?

                         FEMALE LIBRARY EMPLOYEE
              Just curious. Did your previous
              employers complain? Remind me again
              what were your former jobs?

              Oh, ahhhhhhhhh
                   (hesitating, in deep thought)
              Well, I held a few before here.
              Ahhhhhh –

Close up of Benn’s blue eyes as he thinks back.




We see Benn’s previous jobs, EACH quick 4 to 6 seconds flashback montages with musical overlay. Benn’s previous jobs suck.

MONTAGE SCENE #1 – Daylight, close up of a COFFIN sliding into the back of a hearse, shot from inside looking back, the coffin rolls towards the camera, which then pans up and we see beyond standing by the open rear door Benn stands with a disgusted look on his face and he silently mouths YUCK. He wears a nice suit that someone working in a mortuary would wear. Music: Beginning of Toccata in Fugue D Minor plays. Creepy music!

MONTAGE SCENE #2 – Daylight, Benn stands by the side of a road, doing clean up duty, frusteratinly chasing down small pieces of YELLOW PAPER trash that is flipping and dancing in the air from the wake of a passing semi. Music: Flight of the Bumblebee by Korsekoff plays.

MONTAGE SCENE #3 – Day, Benn has a job stocking shelves at a department store, but his cart full of tv’s in boxes waiting to be stocked waits nearby while he ignores his work and stands in the toy aisle ADMIRING the Benn dolls for sale next to the Britta dolls. An ANGRY MANAGER stands nearby, hands on hips, steaming mad. Music plays, a classical tune, Luigi Boccherini’s Minuetto

MONTAGE SCENE #4 – Daylight, Benn has a job cleaning pools at luxury mansions in the Hollywood Hills. He doesn’t wear a shirt and his abs shine in the sunlight from the suntan lotion. VERTICALLY SPLIT SCREEN 3 screens each showing him cleaning pools while nearby older, wealthy, GRINNING WOMEN in low-cut tops sipping cocktails are eyeing him, seemingly trying to seduce him. A romantic HARP music plays



A fast-food burger joint somewhere in LA. A lot of cars. A lot of revving bikes. A backed-up drive thru lane with a CASHIER’S voice so muffled it sounds like she is talking through 5 tin cans.  A busy street out front. Overheard, but not seen, above the passing cars, a hooker and her pimp argue about money while closer-up an ANGRY CUSTOMER in a backfiring sedan is complaining at the drive thru speaker last time he got a small fry instead of large onion rings.

And a reflection of the flashy, colorful, storefront neon sign of Captain Sprague holding a cheeseburger with a pickle hanging partially out reflecting against Real Britta’s front windshield as she sits in a fancy import slowly chewing a burger. She parked next to the building, in a well-lit area and is wearing designer, mirrored sunglasses. She’s alone and looks bored, sad. 


Inside car, with tinted windows up, it’s a quieter world, the radio ever so slightly plays a famous segment of classical music  Night on Bald Mountain by Mussorgsky. Real Britta’s chewing matches the rhythm. Fast beat / segment, she chews fast. Powerful music beat, she chews hard, almost chomping.

A MAN WITH A MOHAWK walking in front of her car almost spills his milkshake, and she almost giggles but just as quickly back to sour face, tight lips, upper lip has some mustard on it. She doesn’t care.


Suddenly, out of the corner of her left eye, she sees a TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT waving at her, almost doing jumping jacks. Behind him is a GROUP OF 5 TEENAGE BOYS egging him on.

Real Britta  ignores him until . . . she can’t ignore him anymore because he has moved closer to her side window and is waving his hands more quickly.


Real Britta punches the off button on the radio and lowers her side window.


                        REAL BRITTA
              What ya want? You’re interrupting
              my feast.

Real Britta enticingly holds out the half-eaten sandwich and quickly pulls it back.

                        REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              Ya can’t have none.


                         TEENAGE BOY WITH CREW CUT
                   (with admiration)
              This is a half million dollar
              auto. These wheels cost almost what
              my house does. Geesh, the rims alone --

                        REAL BRITTA
              Yep, and I have the insurance
              premiums to back it up. So, what
              of it sport?

                        TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
              I put two and two together.

                        REAL BRITTA
              And ya arrived at five? Isn’t the new
              math c’est magnifique. Five, right?

                        TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
              Solid four. North Hollywood. Pretty
              as can be. Wearing sunglasses. Tinted
              windows. In a half mil car. What have
              I seen you in?

                        REAL BRITTA
                   (sort of irritated)
              Ahhh, probably the grocery store deli
              department buying a pound of
              prosciutto. Dude are you even out of

                        TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
              Graduated six months ago. Me and my buds
              visiting from Iowa. You our first celeb.


                         REAL BRITTA
                   (not so irritated anymore)
             I seeeeeeeeee. Well, let me fill you in.
             Not every rich bitch in this town is in
             the, ah, industry, as it’s called. For the
             record I’ve never recited a word of
             Shakespeare. Never dabbled in drama.


The Teenager with a Crew Cut looks bummed, and his friends lagging behind are laughing and snickering.


Real Britta has some sympathy for him.

                        REAL BRITTA
                   (a little more chipper)
              So today I’m the pretty girl that 
              high school buds prompt their friend to
              chat up a storm with, huh? You ain’t
              getting my number. But I suppose I
              can pontificate for a few minutes right
              here and now.

                        TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
              And pontificate means in English?

                        REAL BRITTA
               Nobody’s that illiterate, bud. You want
               my life story in five minutes? I
               think I can rattle it off in less than

                          TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT


Real Britta grins and removes her sunglasses. The Teenager with a Crew Cut notices something.


                         TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
              Whoa. Have you been crying?


Real Britta seems surprised that he noticed.


                        REAL BRITTA
              It's just a little drive thru dust.


Real Britta’s upper lip curls back a bit as she tosses the sunglasses on the passenger seat. They land next to a spilled French fry.  


                         REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              So you want my life story in

              lightning speed, huh? Fasten
              your seatbelts in coach and
              secure the caviar cart in first
              class. Wild ride ahead. There will
              be turbulence.    




Various quick montages with Real Britta reminiscing and speaking in voice over. Flashbacks.


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Eighteen I graduated high. Somewhat of
              a miracle I skipped fifty percent. But
              never missed a midterm or final. 


Scene: Real Britta late teen years, pigtails, standing and looking stoned while wearing her mortarboard and holding a Apollo Fernsby Sallow High School diploma stained with mustard somewhere in Ohio.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
               Screwed up situation at home.
               Arguments between Mom and Dad usually
               began before the hash browns were cold.

Scene: REAL BRITTA AGE 13 sitting at breakfast table as Mom and Dad toss pieces of burnt toast at each other. Real Britta’s head moves back and forth as if at a tennis match as her eyes follow each piece of flying toast. She’s sitting in the middle of the table.


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
               Pop drank too much.

Scene: Crumpled up beer cans and old pizza crusts overloading kitchen trash can.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
               Mum gossiped too much.

Scene: Close up a woman with too much lipstick chatting a mile a minute on her landline phone. We only see her lips.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Oh, yeah, my pre-teen years were not
              optimum. I had my anger issues and
              my Britta dolls bore the brunt. Ask
              me why I’ll just shrug. 

Scene: Real Britta age 13, in her bedroom, her body slightly blurred but the various Britta dolls on her dresser are not blurred and we see her one by one grab each and in slo-mo smash them against the dresser’s edge. CRACK! CRACK! POP! Plastic heads and arms and legs go flying as a muffled MANIACAL LAUGHER echoes. No age 13 girl should have such a nasty, almost evil laugh.  Yet, she does.  

                         REAL BRITTA (V.0.)
              One week after I turned magic 18 and
              could be an adult who left home and
              not a runaway juvenile, I hit the road
              with my squeeze. In his old convertible
              with loud muffler and pink fuzzy dice
              hanging from the rearview.

Scene: Real Britta and her BOYFRIEND in a dented convertible racing by a highway sign WELCOME TO TEXAS. They are both eating tacos and the scene has no sound except for the crunch from the tacos, which is EXGERRATED for comic effect. Almost sounds like lightning cracking the sky. The pink dice blow in the wind.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Quite the drive. A lot of deserts.

Scene: Real Britta and her Boyfriend eating canned peaches while driving down a highway past a WELCOME TO ARIZONA sign pitched beside a cactus that looks like it is giving the middle finger.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              We finally made it to LA. 


SCENE: Their car passing by the Hollywood sign. Both are smiling and eating popsicles that are dripping all over.

The convertible is backfiring and SMOKING UP THE ENTIRE BLOCK from exhaust, as if the long drive overwhelmed it. IRRITATED TOURISTS LINING THE BLOCK seem upset by the smoke as they run into various stores to escape the cloud which bellows like an angry monster.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              We shacked up in a shack.


Scene: Britta and her Boyfriend sleeping on inflatable, cheap pool rafts in a unfurnished apartment somewhere in Hollywood.

                         REAL BRITTA (V.0.)(O.S.)

              He surfed. He streamed.


Scene: Boyfriend in water wiping out on a wave.
Scene: Boyfriend sitting on floor of apartment looking at his phone streaming videos of heavy men bellyflopping into pools.

                       REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I waited.


Scene: Real Britta waiting tables at a busy diner, wiping SWEAT off her forehead. The tray is HEAVY, and an ANGRY MALE CUSTOMER is screaming his Reuben is ninety-seven percent fat and a WOMAN WITH A HIDEOUS WIG is accusing her of lying about the orange juice being fresh squeezed.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              Yeah, I know not fair. I toiled.

              He tubed. But whatever. The sex was
              c’est magnifique.

Scene: Black screen. Nothing. Words at the bottom: Sound and video muted because of passionate, fake, exaggerated lovemaking noises that could have required an X rating. You’ll just have to use your imagination, folks. Please don’t sue us.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              One day, I wanted a new jacket. He wanted
              a new board. In high – and when high --
              I took some coding classes and a few marketing
              courses. Same with him. So, we created an app
              and dating site just to bring in some extra a
              cash. Figured we could pull in five grand and
              change. More hobby than a true business concept.   

Scene: Real Britta and Boyfriend sitting in their darkened apartment around a computer screen engulfing them in blue light comically so. The light casts shadows of both against the wallpaper peeling wall behind them, but the shadows are cryptic and misaligned and disjointed. Sort of cartoonish. Neither notice this creepiness that the two shadows do not match their movements at all. Almost like the place is haunted.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              Maybe you’ve seen it? Heard of it?
              Zaaammbooor. Got that catchy marketing
              slang. Swipe to the right to find that
              cute guy with charm that shines at
              first light. If you swipe left, you’ll
              never know if she had a chin cleft.


                         TEENAGER WITH CREW CUT (V.O.)(O.S.)
              Wow, I’ve met chicks on that site.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              Women slutted themselves out at ten
              thousand times the predicted rate.

              Who could have known?



Scene: Still photos of woman dressed tacky and sleezy drop on to the screen. Short skirts. Low cut tops. Flirty poses. Blowing kisses to the camera. Gaudy makeup. Tacky jewelry.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              Next thing we know, our little project to
              buy a jacket and surfboard went viral.
              Millions swiped each month.
              Soon it was valued over one billion. We
              sold out to a conglomerate. My personal
              take was eighty-seven million plus a few
              quarters after taxes. I was in a sort of
              financial sugar high.

Scene: Non-descript bank vault with gold bullions piled high and on top a comically exaggerated, huge volleyball sized scoop of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              I bought a few exotic cars. Eyed a few a

              diamonds. Hit some big time Hollywood
              parties in the hills. I saw it all. Still
              have a creak in my neck that acts up
              every time I watch a tv game show from that
              limbo contest at (*name beeped out*)

              hotter than hades celebrity July Fourth bash.

Scene: Real Britta in a lavish Hollywood mansion at an out-of-control celebrity party with a lot of booze she looks drunk as she tries to limbo under a broom stick while holding a small potted fern, no shoes and non-matching gaudy socks of different colors.  DRUNK PARTYGOERS wearing silly paper hats egg her on. Some party goers’ faces are blurred indicating they are VIP’s who don’t want to be identified.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S)
              But after a while the sugar high of a
              packed purse ran dry.

Scene: Same non-descript bank vault with a comically huge, volleyball-sized scoop of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Now, the ice cream is mostly


melted and dripping messily across the gold bricks and the cherry is drooping.  A sad sight.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              And then my bestie, my BF, he left
              me. Permanently. One way ticket deal.
                   (catching herself)
              Ohhh, relax bud, I didn’t do it with a
              soldering iron in the library.
              Oh no, he left me in the arms of
              another woman. 
              And he probably met the bitch on the
              dating site we co-founded. Figures.

Scene: Night, a make-out pull off area along Mullholland Drive in LA, a really nice sportscar and inside we see the dark outline (silhouette) of Boyfriend and ANONYMOUS WOMAN with a tattoo of a BLACK WIDOW SPIDER on her exposed shoulder kissing and whispering seductively.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.) (continuous)
              He knew how to put on a condom
              but not the emergency brake.

Scene: Night, same make-out pull off area, now we see the taillights of the nice sportscar starting down a hill and one sharp GASP of boyfriend and a distant SCREAM from the anonymous woman.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(continuous)
              I was nine miles away applying makeup
              but I swear I could hear the sound
              when the car crumpled up.

                    (heavy sigh)
              That was almost four years ago. He was a
              jerk like a lot of jerks but I still miss
              him. It was tough afterwards and I had the
              cliched nervous breakdown. I was alone in
              my mansion doing puzzles wearing oven
              mitts and a blindfold.


Scene: Real Britta at home, yes doing a puzzle while



wearing oven mitts and a blindfold. She is struggling to
fit them in the correct places as she hums When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again. 

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Strangest thing was I actually solved

Scene: Real Britta removing the mitts and blindfold and WOW the puzzle is solved. She does a double take and stares admiringly at the goofy finished puzzle, which is of a 1700’s knight in shining armor drinking a pint of beer atop a mechanical horse wearing a tuxedo.  


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
               But instead of calling Ripley’s, I
               started eating dessert before the
               main course. Even stroopwafel. 

Scene: Real Britta in her mansion alone dining on a tv dinner. Turkey. She is eating the apple compote USING A KNIFE before the main course. And she looks alone and miserable.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I started having dreams I was being
              kidnapped at a public library by
              female librarians in nightclub style
              black stiletto heels.

Scene: Cloudy four corners indicating a dream, close-up Real Britta is reading A Farewell to Arms at a library table in a quiet library corner when from her left and right PINK WATERPISTOLS simultaneously close in on her temples slow and steady. The hands holding the toy weapons have PERFECT RED NAILS and flawless skin. 


Real Britta doesn’t move except her eyes move comically quickly left to right, left to right, left to right.


Camera retreats a bit, and we see two VERY SEXY librarians wearing nerdy eyeglasses dressed risqué like high class escorts are the two holding the “weapons” Both have lanyards around the neck with badges reading: YES, I KNOW WHERE THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO IS SHELVED.


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              They hold me ransom until their shelves
              are restocked with the classics. The people
              come through, donations soar, and I am
              released unharmed but the victim of one
              last hoax.

Scene: Real Britta is being let out in daylight of the library still with blindfold on. The Two Sexy Librarians snicker and point as she crookedly walks away on a sidewalk and on her shirt’s back side,  we see a small SCRIBBLED note is attached. It reads: Kick Me I Am 2 Weeks Overdue.

One Librarian even shoots water on the sign using the pink water pistol. The other Librarian belly laughs.      


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              Stressed, I went shopping. And I spent so
              much the commission-compensated salesclerks
              knew both my middle names. But even that
              created problems in my life, especially
              after my mansion’s ten by fifteen purse
              closet over-flowed and an earthquake hit.

              I guess you could call it a perfect purse
              storm of events.

Scene:  Real Britta in her flashy, tacky, well-illuminated mansion’s purse closet, every shelf is overcrowded with purses of every make and style and color and size. At least six hundred purses. One purse stands out, it is yellow and shaped like a blue whale with eyes made from diamonds.

Suddenly, the room shakes, lights flicker but stay on, her eyes dart side to side at superhuman speed as more shaking and her knees knock nervously, and then a big shake and she gasps as purses fall off the shelves onto her, burying her beneath a mound.

Seconds later her arm and hand pop up above the pile, and she holds a small, Halloween prop style grave headstone. This is the first time the audience knows her full, silly name.




                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

              That kicked my butt into gear and
              I realized maybe my wealth was not
              only illuminating but corrupting
              as well. So, I took a sojourn, if
              you will, to Nepal to escape the
              trappings of wealth. I wanted to
              reintroduce the old me back to the
              basics of life. I wanted to live off
              the land away from material society.  


Scene: Real Britta on a 747 sitting in the first-class section dining on caviar while sitting in a comically large, luxurious    seat.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)

                     (slightly embarrassed)
              Well, okay, the pilgrimage started
              after I landed. I can’t stand cramped

              coach on an eleven-hour Pacific long haul.
              I always end up seated by some guy
              with postnasal drip that’s on steroids. 

Insert sound effects: A unseen man’s labored breathing thru nose. Obnoxious. Sounds like a rhino grunting.


                          REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I flagged down a ride fresh
              from the airport.

Scene: Real Britta, in designer clothing and holding an expensive purse with a suitcase by her side, looks out of place in Nepal’s poverty as she hollers for a cab on a street corner while impoverished locals stare at her and poor children run to beg for money. A goat tries to eat her luggage tag and she looks horrified as a local food vendor tries to sell her fried spiders in oil. 


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Hey, I changed a flat tire for the
              first time in my life. Sheer
              necessity! I had the strength, for
              in that moment I ceased to be a
              human being and became a monster.
              Monsters are strong enough to get
              the lug nuts off. At least they are
              in the movies. 


Scene: The “taxi” with ONE FLAT TIRE is a run-down 70’s sedan, dented and rusted, stopped by the side of the road next to a goat and OLD WOMAN IN A PITH HELMET selling bananas. 


Real Britta is helping to hand a jack to the TAXI DRIVER and urging him to hurry as a GROUP OF NINE skinny hungry children beg her for money and food. DOZENS MORE POOR and hungry children are running in her direction, hands out. Stampede. A malnourished OLD MAN WITH A LIMP and homemade crutch begs as well. She urges the Taxi Driver to hurry removing the lug nuts.

                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              The transformation from human to
              monster was quite quick. Just a
              realization that maybe my priorities
              were more misplaced that I first
              realized. I became aware that not
              everybody on this spinning planet
              knows that blini is often served
              with caviar. Where was my head?
              I grew up dirt, dirt poor. 


Scene: Real Britta, cornered by the starving Nine Children, starts tossing dollar bills and pieces of hard candy she had in her purse while reflecting.

We see what she is reflecting upon: Flashback scene / her thoughts to her on ride overseas on the 747 eating caviar, same scene as before except now she is wearing a cheap, dime-store style monster Halloween mask kids might buy.

Reflection doesn’t end there we see a few quick flashbacks of her in her various domains of wealth wearing the same


Halloween mask: Standing in her purse closet in her mansion, swimming in her mansion’s huge swimming pool, driving down an LA road in a $150,000 exotic auto while a MUSCULAR MOTORCYCLE COP gives her a strange look and with mask on buying a $5,400 designer purse in an elegant Beverly Hills boutique while nearby SHOPPERS and a SNOOTY CASHIER don’t even notice what’s obscuring her face.     


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I found a big tent with electricity
              and a hot plate made in nineteen
              seventy-eight. But where do you buy a
              stainless-steel stew pot in the jungle?


Scene: Standing in a modest, dusty 8 X 8 tent in a jungle in Nepal, with a single line for electricity and a hammock for a bed. Real Britta’s nose twitches, as if the odor of the tent isn’t the greatest.  She waves dust off an old table, sneezes.

As she glances about the hideous, filthy tent, in her mind she hears Fur Elise by Beethoven. The music lowers as she speaks in V.O. 

                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              And a map to the bathroom, which was

              just a pit in the jungle with a lot
              of privacy. Even in Nepal X marks the

Scene: Real Britta staring at a hand-drawn map that was a wavy pen line past drawings of rock formations, spiders in trees, snakes in holes until there’s a river drawn with a strong current and a skull and bones as a warning. Nearby is a big X.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Well, I didn’t travel here to
              check into a hotel with twenty-four
              hour room service or a piano in
              the gilded lobby.

Scene: Real Britta stares at the map with a “what did I get myself into” look upon her face, her eyes zeroing in on the fact the X was drawn near a tree with dangling spiders.


Fur Elise music cuts off. 


New style music plays. Monks Gregorian chant singing in Latin from the 15th century plays softly below her voice in V.O. 

                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              It wasn’t bad. I got in touch with

              nature, meditated and burned an extra
              one hundred and sixty calories a day
              chasing away spiders.

Scene: Real Britta snapping her bra held in her hands like a slingshot to knock a big spider off the wall and then uses the bra to chase it out of her tent.


Gregorian Chant music fades off. 


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
               I taught school. English. Hey, at
               the end of the day those kids knew
               the difference between a bat and a

Scene: Real Britta in a poor Nepal classroom, drawing on a chalkboard a flying bat and cat with two hunches. But the chalk breaks in two causing her to sneeze and elementary STUDENTS laugh at her and point.


Evil Real Britta INTENSE STARE deliberately scratches her nails against the blackboard causing every student to sit straight and freeze and cringe.  A hideous noise that causes DISTANT DOGS TO BARK, books on tables to flip open and the room’s electricity to falter.   

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Volunteered at a local medical clinic.
              Mostly cuts and scrapes but the
              occasional what the heck showed up.


Scene: Real Britta wearing traditional Nepalese clothing
casual flinches as a TEN YEAR OLD BOY using a pogo stick holds up his arm showing a big, puffy red mark IN THE SHAPE OF CALIFORNIA and his WORRIED NEPALESE MOM holds a squashed spider in a clear bag, pointing to it and then the mark on


the boy’s arm. Real Britta is wide-eyed and speechless, as she calls for an unseen doctor in the next room with exaggerated urgency.


                          REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
               I saw tacky tourists and lots of stray
               dogs without flea collars or manners.

Scene: Walking down a Nepalese street, ugly skinny dog RAISING A LEG to pee on a pole.

                          REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(continuous)

              And some really scary looking lentil
              soup at street markets.


Scene:  TACKY EUROPEAN TOURISTS winding around homeless dogs roaming the partly mud streets while Real Britta glances into a boiling pot of soup at a street market stall. We don’t see what’s in the soup, but Real Britta backs away and waves no after getting a smell. Then she runs away real fast, almost tripping on her own ankles.


                           REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
               Mostly, I meditated and did yoga and
               got in touch with my inner self. And
               you know what? Revelation. I am a
               bitter bitch! Now that I know what’s
               at the bottom of the well, I wish I
               knew the cure.

Scene: Real Britta in her tent sitting in the lotus position sweating and frowning and concentrating while incense burns and, in the background, blurry yet distinct, a BIG SPIDER climbs a tent wall. She gets a glance at it, and ignores it, shrugs as if she’s used to them by now.    


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              And then one day the rhesus monkeys

              arrived. Not bearing gifts I should
              add. Actually, one threw instant coffee
              grounds at me! How very uncouth.

Scene: Real Britta half asleep awakens around noon to the sight of nine monkeys tearing apart her belongings and even


knocking the hot plate to the floor. Atop her blanket is the book  Julie Mantuso-Newton Everheart Explains How to Play Cribbage.

One monkey starts tossing coffee grounds all over the place as the tent starts to collapse. Another monkey is trying on one of her baseball hats. Another monkey tosses an orange at her. 

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I said feet get moving and they
              did! Sometimes the tendons and
              ligaments are listening I gather.


Scene: Real Britta running through a jungle on a skinny rock and mud path with multiple LOUD monkey’s running behind. One monkey throws an empty coffee container at her and the other throws the cribbage book at her ankles. The monkeys are LOUD and she is SCREAMING.


Faint background music starts to play. The Blue Danube Waltz by Strauss. At this point, go to slo-mo exchanging views of Real Britta’s open almost to seeing tonsils mouth screaming while also a close up of the monkeys charging and their eyes.  


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              And that’s when heeeeee appeared.


Back to regular speed.


Scene: Real Britta exits the jungle onto a dirt vehicle pathway clearing. She is sweating, hot, mud on lower legs, shoeless, out of breath, glancing back to make sure the monkeys are gone. They are. Whew! She is parched.

                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              There he was. Moving at the speed
              of lightning. And all at a fair price.
              And in the jungle that isn’t as
              common as you think. Last week you
              should have seen what a local man
              wanted when he tried to sell me
              powder to cast a magic spell.


Scene: Real Britta, gasping for air and wiping mud off legs, notices the large Nepalese sign over a roadside popup stand serving an energy drink. She seems to understand some of the language by now, reading each word and smiling. A little.


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Mister Sudip Jha. Master of his

              brand, which in this case was a
              homemade energy drink. Hey, it
              worked for him.

Scene: Closeup as MISTER SUDIP JHA, an old, poor, wrinkled  Nepalese man mid 70’s wearing a robe and slippers, moves in fast forward speed serving drinks to a steady line of Nepalese customers in traditional garb as Real Britta gulps down a paper cup, ending with a steady grin and an UNEXPECTED BURP.  

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              And it worked for me as well.

              This was beyond caffeine delirium. 

Scene: Now we see Real Britta moving fast down the same pathway she arrived on, chasing the monkeys. She is super energized and growling like a tiger! The monkeys run away terrified!


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I saw potential to make a
              few bucks and help get an old
              street vendor out of the broiling
              sun and onto a shuffleboard court
              where he belonged.

              We met for dinner at a restaurant
              so nice the food was served on banana
              leaves which is haute cuisine for
              this part of the world.

Scene: Real Britta and Mister Sudip Jha are sitting on rugs in an open-air bazaar type restaurant, dining on tea and chicken kabobs. When he eats, with the few teeth he has, he digs into the chicken like an angry wolf who hasn’t eaten in weeks.


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              I told him I was impressed by his
              homemade beverage and I could help
              market and bring his creation to a
              mass market in affluent nations. We’d
              partner fifty-fifty all the way down
              the line. He liked my idea but he really
              liked the dessert of a chocolate souffle
              served on banana leaves and topped with

                   (slight giggle)

              Cornflakes? Insert laugh here!


Scene: Real Britta stares at chocolate souffle “delicacy” overloaded with cornflakes as Mister Sudip Jha digs in like a hungry hyena. Flakes are flying six feet in the air as he feasts like a slob. 

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
             While you were hiding marijuana in your
             sock drawer in ninth grade, I was
             putting in eighty hours a week scaling
             an energy drink in the ultra-competitive
             beverage industry.

Scene: Cans of Mister Sudip Jha energy drink rolling down an Asian assembly line. A caricature drawing of Jha grinning with a full mouth of teeth is stamped upon each can along with the slogan “Get energized with a creation from Mister Jha oh heck yaaa.”


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              Soon we were in nine nations and
              had five flavors. I was nominated as
              entrepreneur of the year by Nepal West
              Mountain Business Review.

Scene: Real Britta is on the cover of the magazine in a female business suit holding a can of energy drink and smirking like a cat who ate a canary.

At the bottom of the cover is an article tagline:


The Financial Pros and Cons of Breeding Reticulated Pythons. 

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              We sold out to a conglomerate. My take
              was over four million. And I decided
              I’d seen enough spiders in Nepal so it
              was time to catch a fast flight back.
              But I did use my money for good, I built
              nineteen schools for impoverished kids
              each one with a mock truant officer’s
                   (slight laugh)
              You know as sort of a running joke about
              how I used to skip.


Scene: One small Nepalese school recently completed with a comically small, empty guardhouse with a sign hung over the doorknob: “Truant officer’s gone fishin’ for Chilean sea bass.”


                         REAL BRITTA (V.O.)(O.S.)
              Once back in the states, I received
              my one and only postcard from Mister
              Sudip Jha. Post stamped Saint Tropez.

              Hey, the dude was moving up in the
              world! Touche! 

Scene: Postcard of a photo of Mister Sudip Jha dressed like a sheep herder in swank Southern France. He looks totally out of place but smiles with a full mouth of new teeth.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.) (O.S.)
              That's the last time I heard
              from him. He’s gone now.
                   (slight sigh)
              Relax, I didn’t do it with a grim
              reaper style scythe in the conservatory.
              No Mister Sudip Jha decided to try the
              infamous Nepalese three goat stare-down
              challenge near a mountain cliff. Noottt
              sooo bright! If he’d done it in a flat
              valley, his heart would still flutter.  



Scene: Mister Sudip Jha staring down three goats near a cliff in Nepal,  when one goat shakes his head and charges. We hear an off-camera thump! Next thing we see is the man is no longer standing there but the three goats are, bobbing heads up and down as if laughing.

As he falls through the air out of sight, we hear him call out in broken English, a strong echo present.

                        MISTER SUDIP JHA (O.S.)
              Do over! Do over! Do over
                   (growing more faint)
              Do ovvvveeeeerrrrrrrer!






The mountain scenery dissolves into a close-up of Real Britta’s eyes, no tears now. Pan around and we see the five further back Teenagers have now moved up to stand next to the Teenager with a Crew Cut, who stands with mouth ajar as if shocked by all he heard.


                         REAL BRITTA
               So now I’m back in LA because LA is

               a nice place to bed down if you got


                    (at a loss for words)
               Soooo, that’s my story. End of story.

               Ah, director, cut! It’s a wrap!

                        TEENAGER WITH A CREW CUT
               Whoa! So, you’re not like famous to
               give an autograph you’re just kind of
               a very rich nobody.


A few of his male friends giggle.

Real Britta, insulted, flinches and puts her sunglasses back on.


                        REAL BRITTA
              Why don’t you go take a jump into
              Lake Idiot and feel at home.

Real Britta sighs and puts her driver’s side window up until the Teenager with a Crew Cut stares dumbfounded at his own facial reflection in the tinted glass.



Real Britta is revving engine at a stoplight, still sort of tense about what the Teenager with a Crew Cut said.

                        REAL BRITTA (V.0.)
              You know I lied to that juvenile
              lug head! When I said I never repeated
              a word of Shakespeare. I have.
                   (hesitating, regretful)
              I’ve said it. To be or not to be.

                   (heavy sigh)

              I’ve thought it. To be or not to be.



Real Britta’s in a swank robe, and drinking tea as she solemnly stands on her mansion backyard’s overlook beyond the large pool, leaning against the concrete railing. A gentle breeze bats her hair. Below the lights of the LA valley shine for miles and miles, a city alive, but she stands in dimness, alone, quiet. 


In the background, her home is massive, and most interior lights blaze, strong enough to be seen from 4 miles away by those in the lower valley. It’s double-story, 8 bedrooms, 12 bathrooms, huge common rooms and a lot of windows, most with curtains open. The pool is huge and lit up, and in the further background there is a tennis court.


                        REAL BRITTA (V.O.)
              To be or not to be. I don’t know.
              I have everything I could need.
              Why I’m thinking Shakespearean slang?
              Instead of buying in the hills maybe
              I should have plunked down eleven million
              for a shack on the ocean in Malibu. Then
              I could stand and look out at darkness
              and nothingness instead of seeing all the
              action I haven’t been invited to. Maybe I
              could hook up with a hot pirate living life
              at the wind‘s discretion? If I’m lucky he’ll
              be named Gunthar.   




Real Britta stands in the same robe, still with tea in hand, looking out at a dark sky and listening to the RUMBLE OF WAVES against the rocky shore. The ocean is pure darkness not a ship in sight until --

Transition scene to become a color cartoon –


Music starts: Classical music Sorcerer’s Apprentice by Dukas.


Real Britta, now in cartoon, glances at the sea lovingly.  

In cartoon form, Charon. The Riverboat Pilot of River Styx from Greek Mythology , goes passing by sideways yards away, wearing a heavy gray cape with hood and steering with a paddle topped with a skull. Standing, he paddles what looks like a big, dugout, thick canoe.


Real Britta, in cartoon form, waves to the riverboat pilot, and for the first time we see The Pilot from the front as he turns. He’s a skeleton with hollow eyes, and he grins and waves back. Due to the grin, we see he is wearing


metallic braces on his teeth. The braces reflect the city’s lights back into Real Britta’s cartoon face.

                        REAL BRITTA
              Whoa, I always thought Charon was
              hot! That bad dude persona taken to
              the max! 


Charon magically hears and we hear his heart thump happily. And then the full moon magically appears, casting the dark ocean under a gentle, inviting glow.

There’s even some fog moving in, and we see on the side of Charon’s boat is a sticker saying I BRAKE FOR DUCKS WITH BEAKS AND OTTERS WITH GUSTO.




Real Britta’s bedroom is massive and finely decorated.


Real Britta lays in bed on her back, her mouth open as she snores LOUDLY. The luxurious sheets atop her are pulled up to her shoulders and atop the sheets half open is a corny pirate romance novel with a color cover drawing showing a devastatingly handsome pirate holding a fair maiden seductively in his muscular arms. It’s a cheap, sleezy read that a lonely woman would read.        

She lets loose a huge snore and the book topples off the sheet, and slides onto the floor with a thump.


Real Britta doesn’t awaken but does grunt a bit.


Below are a few more writing samples from the screenplay. They are not in any order, just scenes selected at random. The scene
immediately below is a comical rant about America's "macho driven society"


A public square style park fronts the ice cream store, and its big windows overlook the park, which is busy and has pathways overrun with SNOOTY PEOPLE walking FANCY POODLES. 

Real Britta enters licking her lips in an exaggerated way. Doll Britta enters behind, amazed by the quantity of flavors. Equally SHOCKED by the prices.

SIGN: $11.29 for 2 scoops on a sugar cone. 

Real Britta approaches the cooler’s glass, and PEERS, scanning each flavor, LICKING HER LIPS in a foolish way.

                         REAL BRITTA

Reaction shot --

Another customer, EARLY 20’S LADY DRESSED FRUMPY AVERAGE LOOKING, takes notice of Doll Britta after Real Britta says the name.

                         REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              I just play a little game where I
              look at the colors and pick a flavor
              based on the color. I don’t even look
              at the sign.

Real Britta’s Pupils’ View --

Real Britta’s point of view is a case with about 26 flavors and all COLORFUL varieties of flavors.  

                        REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              Just be careful cause once I picked
              red thinking it was cherry but it
              turned out to be rhubarb. Every lick
              was a triple yuck until I traded it in
              for some rocky road. Now that was

Doll Britta seems PUZZLED.

                        DOLL BRITTA

REACTION SHOT – The Frumpy Dressed Woman flinches realizing both women are name Britta.

                        DOLL BRITTA (continuous)
              Where’s the red one?

Insert Doll Britta’s Pupils’ View --

Shock! Doll Britta is COLORBLIND. Everything is black and white.

                        REAL BRITTA
                  (confused, baffled)
             Huh? What do you mean red?

Real Britta gives a HUH? look.

Doll Britta shifts a little to point at a flavor, and accidentally nudges the Frumpy Dressed Woman.

                        DOLL BRITTA
              Oh, I’m so sorry.
              I do apologize.

Doll Britta gives off the type of BOLD OVERSTATED smile that a beauty pageant contestant might put on. Exaggeration!   

The Frumpy Dressed Woman stares down Doll Britta, a SCOWL across her face. The Frumpy woman HUFFS. PUFFS. SIGHS.

                         FRUMPY DRESSED WOMAN
              Geesh, babe, I haven’t played with
              a Britta doll since I was like six.
                  (real nasty face)
              So I have no intention of talking to a
              Britta wanna-be now. Get a clue and a
              real name! Grow up u showoff spaz!

Frumpy Dressed Woman moves further away, leaving Doll Britta SPEECHLESS, very sad and near crying.



Real Britta and Doll Britta stand outside the ice cream shop at the edge of the park’s greenery. Both hold single scoop cones of YELLOW COLORED lemon ice cream.

As both start walking down a park path, a ROLLER BLADER almost knocks the ice cream cone out of Real Britta’s outstretched hand.

                        REAL BRITTA
              Hey, why don’t you go skate on
              Pluto. Pest to the world.

Roller Blader doesn’t look back; he flips her the MIDDLE FINGER. 

                        DOLL BRITTA
             Why did he lift his finger like
             that? What’s that mean?

Real Britta ignores the question, and motions for them to start walking.

                         DOLL BRITTA
              Why did that lady in the store look
              at me like that?
                   (sheepish, confused, defensive)
              Did I do something to insult her?
              I’m super bummed.

                        REAL BRITTA
              No, you didn’t bend her library card.
              No, you didn’t snag her mascara.

Doll Britta doesn’t get the joke.

                         REAL BRITTA
              Okay, let’s walk, eat and talk.
              And I will help you see the light.
              You’ll see the world in a new
              parameter. Can’t be avoided. I’m
              going to reveal to you right here
              and now what it’s like to be a woman
              in my world.
                    (overly dramatic)


For the second time, we see Doll Britta’s pupils’ vision.

The entire bustling LA suburban park is awash with people and activity, 99% in black and white. Except Doll Britta can see YELLOW RUNNING SHOES on a man jogging by. She’s surprised and giggles. She can see the YELLOW.

                        REAL BRITTA
              Okay, are you ready for this gal’s lessons
              about the world you have just magically
              entered thanks to a mystical ear loop?

An OLD LADY IN A BONNET walking by glances at both. A strange look. A What did I just hear look? Suspicious.

Real Britta catches on, regrets she was heard, gets defensive.

                        REAL BRITTA
              A figure of speech.
                   (to the old lady)
              Taking some poetic license. You know?

The Old Lady in the Bonnet huffs, puffs, continues along.

                        REAL BRITTA
              It's a little different in this world.
              In your world the woman is king. In my
              world – well, gosh, at least temporarily
              your world too -- women are not the king.
              It’s sad because, to quote Mel Brooks,
              it’s good to be the King!

Real Britta and Doll Britta both take BIG MESSY BITES of YELLOW lemon ice cream.


Doll Britta sees the bright yellow in the ice cream scoop, stares. Everything else is still in black and white. Giggles like a child at seeing the color in the scoop.

                        REAL BRITTA
              That woman back there in the ice cream
              shop acted like a miserable moose with
              hemorrhoids for absolutely no reason
              except she’s a member of the sisterhood
              but the sisterhood sometimes veers to
              the other side of the fork in the road.


                        REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              . . . see we gals are here for each other.
              We’re the weaker sex, although performance
              enhancing drugs are changing that to a degree.


Across the park a PONYTAILED BEAUTIFUL BLONDE in athletic wear with 100% HUGE muscles juggles kettlebell weights with ease.

                        REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              . . . we’re at the whim of flat tires,
              lug nuts we can’t remove and boyfriends
              who don’t know how to unhook a back bra strap
              to get down and do the dirty. It’s just
              the law of nature. So, we sisters are there
              for each other . . . until
              one of the sisters, through no fault of her
              own that she’s blessed . . .


Both take a big, messy bite of ice cream that has magically changed color to BROWN and is rocky road flavored. *A slight comic gag on the audience*

                        REAL BRITTA (continuous)
              . . . with the looks of a Greek Goddess and
              unwillingly falls into an abyss in
                   (makes quotation marks with fingers)
              ah, what we call in my world, a man stealer
              or a home wrecker or, as Shakespeare might so
              eloquently and sadly pine, a temptress. With
              skirts that green-eyed monster can rear its
              head anywhere at any time, even in a malt shop.
                   (almost seething)
              Get used to the skirts transforming to green!


Doll Britta grins upon seeing a WOMAN IN A BRIGHT RED skirt blowing in the wind as she walks nearby. Everything else is still in black and white. Her pupils focus on the blowing fabric, which almost dances in slow motion, the red calling to her, captivating. She also sees the YELLOW in a flower planted near a PASSED-OUT BUM. 

                         DOLL BRITTA
              Am I good enough?
                   (almost crying)
              That woman hated me. It’s not
              like that in Britta World!

Real Britta and Doll Britta stop next to a dog on a leash SCRATCHING FLEAS.

                         REAL BRITTA
              You know how sad it makes me feel to
              hear you belittle yourself?
                   (forms a fist with one hand)
              I’m so tired of this world I live in
              where women like us must constantly
              straddle to a T the center gravity of a
              teeter totter that balances on a
              tightrope above a male dominated society
              where we have to work three times as
              hard to get half the distance and no
              matter how perfect we seem to get things
              we’re always in some way wrong or blamed.
A SEXY WOMAN IN A JOGGING OUTFIT nearby stretches, takes NOTICE Real Britta’s words, gives a RIGHT ON type smile.

                       REAL BRITTA
             Britta, can you bake a cake, say a
             Black Forest, while backing up Napolean on
             the battlefield using a Charleville
             Revolutionnaire musket and
             at the same time stop a five-year-old
             child’s bloody nose?

Doll Britta shakes her head back and forth FAST. Her ponytail SWINGS so wildly it almost slaps a MAN JOGGING by. Wow is he PISSED OFF. Grouch!
                         REAL BRITTA
              Ahhh, shucks because that would be easier
              than being a, quote unquote,
                   (makes quotation marks with fingers)
              combination wife, mom and career gal
              in today’s society. We’re expected to
              follow rules and etiquette, but nothing’s
              in print. The manual is just hearsay,
              tradition, expectations, and limitations
              and within it are the unspoken rules.

*Sight gag* Now the ice cream both are eating has become a DARK RED cherry flavored on a WAFFLE CONE.

                         Doll Britta
              There are unspoken rules in a manual
              that isn’t in print?

                         REAL BRITTA
              Convoluted. I know. And every rule has
              a subset – one two three – and every
              subset has a subcategory – the A and B
              and C – and even if you get your one two
              and three correct and lined up with the
              A and B and C, you’re still in some way
              off the mark and get the blame because
              there’s always a lowercase article
              stipulation with a roman numeral and
              within is always an asterisk bigger than
              a cowboy’s boot spur in an old John Wayne
              movie. You can’t ace the manual because
              of that asterisk.


                          DOLL BRITTA
              Do men have a manual?

Real Britta laughs.

                         REAL BRITTA
              Britta, men don’t have a manual they
              have macho!
                   (thumb points at herself)
              Can’t you see it in this feminist
              bitch’s eyes?

Real Britta holds her cell phone RUDELY DIRECTLY in front of Doll Britta’s eyes while a video starts playing. Doll Britta can’t look away, she almost magically captivated. She’s drawn into the video’s world, almost mystically.



We see FULL THEATRE SCREEN what video is showing on Real Britta’s phone. Quick montages, mere flashes before the eyes, 2 – 3 second each, scenes of the macho undertone of modern and, more ancient, American society.

Set to an invigorating (to say the least) style of music, loud, forceful, powerful, riveting. MACHO OVERLOAD ON THE DRUMS, TUBA, GONG! The famous section of the classical music O Fortuna would work great.

Use of stock footage, old and new, would work great.

Britta sees everything in black and white except she can see the YELLOWS and REDS.

FLASH SCENE #1 – Modern kitchen in a non-descript American home, a MUSCULAR MAN in blue-collar work clothes opens a STUCK JAR LID while his PETITE WIFE watches with admiration.

FLASH SCENE #2 – An old television screen circa 1960’s, a black and white western showing a COWBOY ON A DUSTY PLAIN rushing before a trampling horse saving a COWERING FAIR MAIDEN. 

FLASH SCENE #3 – Close up of a MAN IN A GYM with huge biceps wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt, sweaty arms huge muscles.

FLASH SCENE #4 – Cartoon of a MALE KNIGHT in shining armor saving a BLONDE PRINCESS from a castle attack.

FLASH SCENE #5 – Old 1950’s black and white style footage of TWO MALE BOXERS punching each other silly, RED blood visible. 

FLASH SCENE #6 – A Civil War MALE SOLDIER firing a canon. BOOM. Smoke everywhere as the soldier stands brave. 

FLASH SCENE #7 – A baseball game with a MAN SLIDING INTO HOMEBASE.

FLASH SCENE #8 – A MAN ON A SIDEWALK carrying a TIMID WOMAN in a dainty skirt over a small puddle next to a sidewalk.

FLASH SCENE #9 – Three TOUGH LOOKING MALE POLICE OFFICERS walking street patrol in a dilapidated alleyway.  

FLASH SCENE #9 – A MALE RODEO CLOWN challenging a bull.

FLASH SCENE #10 – A TOUGH LOOKING GUY barbequing at a tailgate, next to a POWERFUL GRILL FIRE while feminine SKIRT WEARING WIFE in the background sets out the condiments. 

FLASH SCENE #11 – A SWEATY MAN circa 1800’s chops wood with a HUGE AXE as REDHAIRED PIGTAILS WIFE stands by with a towel and cold lemonade. 

FLASH SCENE #12 – At a fancy restaurant, THE MAN IN TUXEDO gets the menu WITH PRICES while the SEXY ELEGANT LADY’S menu has none.

FLASH SCENE #13 – Close up of a MALE PILOT’S MUSCULAR HAIRY ARM pushing the throttle as a jumbo passenger jet races down a runway faster, engines ROARING.

*After this, MUSIC PACE picks up. And the Flash Scenes get shorter and more intense, more action, more movement.*


FLASH SCENE #15 – MALE RACE CAR DRIVER pushes the pedal, outguns the competition.

FLASH SCENE #16 – Cartoon of a MALE CAVEMAN throwing rocks to repel an advancing woolly mammoth who is charging towards his cowering cartoon family.  

FLASH SCENE #16 – A BURLY FARMER with a massive beard driving a big tractor through a field of corn while being SLIGHTLY SPOOKED by a scary looking scarecrow.

FLASH SCENE #17 – A MAN WITH A MACHETE chases a snake out of a wooded cabin while THREE WOMEN cower in fear atop the bed.

FLASH SCENE #18 – MEN GRUNTING at a gym while doing bicep curls

FLASH SCENE #19 – A BRAVE MAN replacing a lightbulb atop a very tall radio tower.

FLASH SCENE #20 – A MALE MECHANIC talking down to an embarrassed female customer who is POUTING. He points at over-heating engine, as if SCOLDING HER.

FLASH SCENE #21 – Waiter hands the WINE MENU to the MALE DATE while FEMALE DINER who requested it holds her hand out. She is ignored and angry.

FLASH SCENE #22 – VARIOUS BEAUTIFUL FEMALE MOVIE STARS playing roles of secretaries, middle aged cougars on the chase, maids, teachers, beauty contestants, housewives with a grudge, while VARIOUS MUSCULAR HANDSOME MALE MOVIE STARS play roles such as superheroes saving the day, cowboy ropers corralling steer, attorneys, race car drivers, pilots, stuntmen, architects, champion athletes, soldiers, doctors, ship captains, senators, world leaders.    

FLASH SCENE #23 – MUSCULAR LONG-HAIRED MALE HIPPIE racing down the road on a LOUD motorcycle.

FLASH SCENE #24 – A MALE MOVIE DIRECTOR works on a film set while in the background we see several FEMALE MAKEUP ARTISTS.

FLASH SCENE #25 – A POLITE MAN winning a carnival prize for his SMILING LADY by dunking a CLOWN IN THE WATER BOOTH by throwing a baseball. Shy timid, weak lady adores him!

FLASH SCENE #26 – Close up A MAN SHAVING with huge, strong hands.

FLASH SCENE #27 – Close up MALE ATHLETE flexing a bicep.

FLASH SCENE #28 – A TIMID WOMAN flagging down a MUSCULAR MAN IN A FANCY IMPORT to help change her flat tire.

FLASH SCENE #29 – A COWBOY IN HUGE BOOTS lassoing a steer.

FLASH SCENE #30 – Close up as a baseball bat HELD BY STURDY TANNED MALE HANDS striking a baseball into oblivion. Crack!

FLASH SCENE #31 – Cartoon drawing showing a grumpy MALE IN A SCOTTISH KILT and a t-shirt with the words I WEAR THE PANTS.


MONTAGE FLASH SCENES -- Very quick almost split second blink-of-the-eye clips of all things masculine, muscular, testosterone inducing: Men sword fighting, men reeling in huge fish, biceps flexing, leg muscles twitching, old muscle man cartoon ad from the 1940’s explaining how to be strong to avoid sand being flung in your face, husky male lumberjacks 1940’s working, tired wife scrubs dishes while husband nearby relaxes in a recliner watching tv, a school chalkboard with a drawing of a man’s bicep, male beards, huge belt buckles, close up sweaty male armpits, college guys high fiving each other, pick-up truck driving down a dusty lane, a man belly-flopping into a pool on spring break, man in a junkyard crushing cars, old money type men smoking cigars (one coughing terribly) in a stuffy ‘man’s club’ with hunting trophies on walls, Revolutionary War era soldier firing a musket that goes boom, angry husband tough goon type berating his wife for burning his tv dinner, a huge man effortlessly casting a bowling ball down a lane, drawing of the all-male Roman Senate circa 500 BC, close up two huge male muscular veiny arms in a arm wrestling competition, men in a tug of war contest, male circus lion tamer, male wearing an expensive wristwatch, side profile caricature-style drawing of an old tug boat captain with a big smoking pipe, granite statue of a very muscular roman gladiator in a park, man holding the door for women, an angry husband at a breakfast nook scolding his wife for burning his waffle, a male circus ringmaster, male construction workers on a steel beam high in the air, man devouring a huge steak while wife eats a salad, man bull-riding, male rugby players crashing into each other crunch, male hockey players slamming into a wall, muscular man complaining to his wife her coffee stinks, cartoon drawing of a cavemen holding up his fists to block a dinosaur from eating his wife, first class business check-in counter at airport all men in suits no women visible except the beautiful female airline employee, male riveters at work, male welders at work, very fancy restaurant all waiters are men, men truck drivers, men dock workers lifting crates, tv commercial showing masculine man with a face full of shaving cream while sexy girlfriend caresses his shoulders, close up of a huge belt buckle with the name BUTCH, man riding a mechanical bull in a bar, men stacking hay, two men fists up in a street fight, male mayor at a press conference, male police chief at a podium at a press conference, man in a $10,000 monogram custom suit, close up veiny male hand holding an expensive briefcase, men at a toga  party grunting like bears and lions, man opening the door of a sportscar for a sexy woman, rich male preppies types at a secret society type college meeting, close up plastic toy male soldiers, close up boxing gloves on a shelf, close up male trophies for sporting accomplishments, close up photos of famous movie directors (all males) at a acting studio, men with tattoos playing poker in a man cave, muscular man tearing off his t-shirt ripping it off to shreds, muscular male farmer tossing wheat with a pitchfork, 1930’s footage of cowboys on horses and cowboys roping horses, businessmen in expensive suits and gold-trimmed briefcases walking down a sidewalk, male jockey on a horse crossing finish line, male referees in football, grunting male wrestlers on a mat, butch male bikers on loud motorcycles, close up of a huge muscular arm and hand carving a roast beef with a big knife, hero men firefighters bravely battling a blaze, a male engineer designing a new jumbo jet, men hurdling at a track meet, male football players grunting in a huddle and when they all CLAP together at huddle break next flash scene begins.

FLASH SCENE #33 – 20 TOP MALE EXECUTIVES in stuffy suits at the Zatall Toy Corporation at a meeting, all in the 30th floor, lots-of-windows boardroom are men except for TWO BEAUTIFUL SECRETARIES with long blonde hair taking shorthand.



And a LOUD GONG goes off and Doll Britta’s view stops. The cell phone’s video goes black. Doll Britta blinks, almost spellbound. Totally enlightened, BLINKING FAST as she adjusts her view away from the cell phone’s small screen and stands straight on the park walkway.


*Sight gag: Now both are holding ORANGE COLORED orange flavored ice cream cone, dripping.*    

                        REAL BRITTA
                   (emotionless, almost apologetic)
              Almost makes you want to hop a
              bus back to Britta World, huh?

                         DOLL BRITTA
              I had no idea.

Nearby on a park bench, an OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH sits and knits a sweater with THREE LONG SLEEVES. She glances at the two. The Old Lady wears a t-shirt with the words DON’T TELL ME I AM BEAUTIFUL CAUSE I ALREADY KNOW IT.

Real Britta stares at the Old Lady and a cartoon dialogue bubble appears above Real Britta’s head.

Inside the bubble are the words: Didn’t Confucius Once Say Those with Gray Hair Speak the Truth Better Than a Mountain of Knowledge?

Real Britta shrugs and the cartoon bubble pops and disappears.

Real Britta walks over to the Old Lady.

                        REAL BRITTA
             I’m teaching her about being a woman
             in today’s male dominated society.

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
             Ohhh. Does she need an antacid?


Real Britta shrugs.

                         REAL BRITTA
              You’ve seen it all through the years.
              Help enlighten my friend to the
              perils of being a lady. 

The Old Lady on Park Bench smiles and perks up.  

*Below can be fast spoken words that move along well, or scene could be sung.*

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              I’ll give you the details even
              if shady!

                        REAL BRITTA
              Broken real nails!

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              Often from lifting heavy pails.

                        REAL BRITTA
              Having to shave armpits.

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              Irritating teenage zits!
                   (forming a fist)
              Long hair in our face on very
              windy days!

                        REAL BRITTA
              Makes it hard to gaze!
                   (points at nothing in particular)
              Monthly visitor cramps galore!

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              Yep, so intense no rest and no
                   (points back)
              When shaving calves darned razor burn!
                        REAL BRITTA
              If facing forward don’t turn.
              And let’s not forget last minute
              pantyhose tears!

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
                   (rubbing eyes as if crying)
              One of my biggest fears! Often
              happening on that big night!

                        REAL BRITTA
              The tears last into daylight!
              And mustn’t leave out lower pay than
              male counterparts!

                        OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              Even if the jerk shirks his job duties
              and goes and plays darts!

Doll Britta listens intently. OTHER WOMAN IN THE PARK also take note and grin and listen in.

                         REAL BRITTA
              Most men don’t have to deal with
              cellulite on the sly!

                         OLD LADY ON PARK BENCH
              Cottage cheese-like thighs won’t
              attract a guy! 

                         REAL BRITTA
              Old men can have more wrinkles than a
              Shar Pei and they’re called dignified,
              statesmen, to be respected.

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              But women over sixty with crow’s feet
              and a little gray are called hags or
              over-the-hill and totally rejected!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Men can proudly belch as loud as
              sawing wood.

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              Women would be looked down upon even
              if they could.

                         REAL BRITTA
              Women get the blues from lower pay!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              That’s what I say!

                         REAL BRITTA
              When it comes to canned vegetables
              I don’t need a man!

This time a GROUP OF 5 WOMEN walking through the park after a yoga class decide to join in, yelling in unison, cutting off the old lady on the bench.

                        GROUP OF 5 WOMEN
                    (while applauding)
              We can open our own can!  


The Old Lady on the Park Bench nods.

                        REAL BRITTA
              We’re always expected to be flawless
              but if we over do the makeup and eyeliner
              we’re gaudy!

                        OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              And oh that’s so naughty!

                        REAL BRITTA
              We must have plenty of self-esteem.

                        OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              But cross that invisible line too
              much and you become a conceited queen.

                        REAL BRITTA
              If we don’t speak up, we’re a wallflower.

                        OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              But if we speak up, we’re called bossy.
              They’ll tell us to get lost in an hour!

                         REAL BRITTA
              When a woman sweats to climb the corporate
              ladder she’s a selfish mom.

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              When pop does the same, he’s a good provider!
              I say oh come on!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Men who complain your purse is
              too gigantic!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              And they’re the first ones to ask
              us to carry enough of their junk
              that it would fill the Titanic!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Hey guys panic, too, over little things.
              But they do it on the sly!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              Yep, on game day just run out of mayo
              and bread, flavor Rye.

                         REAL BRITTA
              Oh, yeah, they’ll holler to the wind
              in a world of panic, if my woman can’t
              feed my face I will say bye! 

SEVERAL ANGRY LOOKING WOMEN in a gathered around crowd, seen for the first time, hoot, cheer and SILENTLY holler WORDS OF RIGHT ON GIRL! 

Real Britta takes a quick BOW and continues. 

                         REAL BRITTA
               Let’s not forget summers and nagging
               underboob sweat!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
               If men suffered such indignity, they’d
               go and hide in a big net!

                         REAL BRITTA
               Last month a burly plumber visiting my
               home talked down to me, said lady
               you’re a woman as far as your rusted
               pipes you don’t understand thee!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
               I’d tell him to go climb a tree!

                         REAL BRITTA
              With my net worth I could buy
              twenty stately mansions, yet men
              still talk down to me because they
              wear the pantsions!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              And that bro style in the work culture

                         REAL BRITTA
              Might be why there aren’t more women
              surgeons on duty to suture!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              Not being treated as a complete equal!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Over and over, to use a math term,
              it’s an infinity sequel!

Crowd cheers.

                         REAL BRITTA
              If a woman’s pretty, they think she’s not

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              Even if she worked her ass off to get the

                         REAL BRITTA
              I find as a woman, I have to constantly
              prove myself, basically to exhaustion!

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              And how often do you wonder who is that
              fleabag dude to question!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Oh, yeah, men will shed a tear
              if there is a present pertinent fear

                         OLD LADY ON A PARK BENCH
              But when a woman begins to cry not on
              the sly, they say she wouldn’t do that
              if she was a guy!

Crowd cheers!

                        REAL BRITTA
                   (turning to Doll Britta O.S.)
              Now you understand what it’s like to
              be a woman?

Below are a few additional writing samples from the screenplay, not in any order.


Doll Britta’s flashback, memories.

Doll Britta’s pink convertible paces down a country road next to a railroad track that is life size but resembles a boy’s hobby set. On the other side of the road, in the distance pink smokestacks that resemble high heel shoes can be seen puffing out smoke that resembles female lips.    

A pink and purple freight train with 5 cars and a pink caboose stained with lipstick kisses rolls down the track at the same speed as Britta’s car. The boxcars advertise Britta dolls on the exterior. The locomotive puffs out purple clouds of smiling Britta faces that quickly dissipate.

Inside the locomotive, TRAIN ENGINEER BRITTA one hand on the speed throttle which resembles a candy cane and one hand out the window waving at Doll Britta. The locomotive’s engine hums a cute song without words, a nice tune.

Far ahead, at a train crossing, a group of EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU BRITTAS wearing grass skirts, no shoes, leis around their necks and balancing luau type dishes filled with plastic food, including a small, plastic roasted pig with an apple in its mouth, are about to cross the tracks at the crossing. The lights are flashing but the gates are not down yet.

The Eight Luau dancers are moving in a Conga line, in rhythm, singing happily and sort of doing a goofy dance, in rhythm, while stepping forward. They knee step high, move arms back and forth as if play boxing hitting opponent’s gut, and shrug shoulders at certain words.

It's a goofy but catchy theme, set to a backdrop of Hawaiian instruments strumming along.

In the far distance, they are heading for palm trees and the only volcano, which continues to spurt / erupt what looks like pea soup.

                         EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU DANCERS
               Sun and pigs, fire from twigs
               grass skirts, Hawaiian shirts
               aloha towards the island luau
               lots of fun, food and stewaua

Close up of a bowl of fake stew meat on one woman’s head.

                       EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU DANCERS (continuous)
               We’ll dance, we’ll twist
               we’ll speak French if you insist
               We make sound, we go hoot!
               We dance merry, feet like soot

In unison, they wiggle their big toes, barefoot the feet are muddy.

Close up, the gates are not yet down, but the childish looking locative and train still barrels along. Train Engineer Britta is not looking forward, she is applying lipstick and looking sideways and waving at Doll Britta whose ponytail flutters in the wind as the convertible speeds along.   

Now a few of the Luau Dancers notice the train approaching, and the entire line starts walking faster. They also increase the speed of the words in the song.

                        EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU DANCERS (continuous)
               Pass the fake salt, sail that gravy
               a lot of lakes, so call the Navy
               We talk Hawaiian, it adds flavor
               Mix with some French tooooo savor

Now Doll Britta notices the line crossing the tracks, and signals to Train Engineer Britta to look forward. She doesn’t and keeps giggling while applying makeup.

                        EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU DANCERS (continuous)
                   (singing very fast)
              Oui volcanique! Alohaaa!
              In English we’ll say it no foopaaah
              Yes, volcanic! Hawaiian for hello
              that’s a translation we bellow

The track gates begin to go down, and every Luau Dancer gasps and quickly high steps it across the tracks while singing really fast.

                        EIGHT HAWAIIAN LUAU DANCERS (continuous)
                    (singing much much faster)
              We must speed up, we mustn’t lurk
              female engineer’s acting quite quirk!

The Eight Hawaiian Luau Dancers clear the tracks, and for the first time Train Engineer Britta notices, panics, and then relaxes seeing the group safely on the other side. Doll Britta also notices, and both playfully pretend to wipe sweat off their foreheads.

No hard feelings. As the train passes by, all the Eight  Hawaiian Luau Dancers jump and cheer and wave to Train Engineer Britta. Waving to the train gives the Eight Luau Dancers a comical amount of happiness, and atop their heads the foods including the plastic pig with an apple in its mouth bop up and down.




A happy, busy fair / carnival somewhere in LA. Everybody’s joyous, laughing, eating, joking except Benn who walks like a zombie eating cotton candy really slow. He’s sad, wearing LARGE MIRRORED SUNGLASSES and when a fair CLOWN in overdone facial makeup tries to cheer him up by making some funny faces, Benn playfully tries to karate chop the Clown out of the way.

The angry, irritated clown pops a balloon shaped like a rabbit in Ben’s face, before walking away to calm down a crying baby in a stroller.


Benn steps forward and sees a booth with a CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY WOMAN wearing awful green pantsuits and a overstated flower and bow hat like what someone would wear to a derby race. Tacky!

Benn stops and wants to turn and leave, but an eerie gust of wind out of nowhere pushes him in the booth’s direction.

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY WOMAN
               Hooooodeeee, young man.

Benn glances at a poster board sign stapled to the flimsy booth. The homemade, hand written in cursive sign reads: ADVICE 50 CENTS. GREAT ADVICE $1.00

              So you just sit here and collect
              coinage by giving advice.

Benn’s eyebrows lift.

                        BENN (continuous)
               You know what I been looking for a
               less strenuous line of work.



Flashback scene.

Benn is struggling to push a cart of heavy books up a ramp, and suddenly the cart starts rolling back, chasing him away.


Sight gag alert: One the end of the cart zooming towards Benn, there’s an oversized book about sharks, with a GREAT WHITE SHARK with mouth ajar on the cover zeroing in on Benn as he runs while DRAMATIC shark after man type music plays.


EXT. COUNTY FAIR – DAY (continuous)

               What kind of qualifications do you need? 

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
               Well, I served for fifty years as a
               spiritual and overall advisor to
               wayward and emotionally lost dolls
               and occasionally others who had taken
               the wrong fork in the
               road and just needed a little help
               merging back on to the highway de
               la vie.

Benn lifts his chin, unsure of what she said. SUSPICIOUS

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              That’s French for of life.
              De la vie.

              You like rum, don’t you?

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              Bourbon, to be frank. It was a
              great gig. Pension, too. But then
              artificial intelligence entered
              the scene.
              A I my eye!

Curly Haired Elderly Woman sits back in her folding chair and folds arms over chest, an ANGRY scowl acrose her face. Her NOSTRILS FLARE.



Flashback. Months earlier. We see Curly Haired Elderly Woman’s recollection of her last day at work in a non-descript, somewhat sterile tiled corporate office.

She’s sitting in a chair doing a crossword puzzle filling in a three letter word for a crawling insect – ANT – when all the sudden THREE BALDING OVERWEIGHT MEN smoking antique pipes and wearing 70’s style denin pants with a checkered design and button down shirts with thier chest hairs sticking out through the shirt’s opening and well worn 30’s style bowler hats walk into the room. None of the men are smiling and they don’t say a word as two pick up her chair while humming in unison When the Saints Go Marching In. The Third Man reaches in a large brown paper bag. 

The Two Men carry her out of the room as her head darts in all directions with a classic “what the heck?” look on her face and the Third Man removes a shoebox with a lid that has attached to the end a dime-store type mask with round spectacles and a fuzzy nose and fuzzy eyebrows glued on. The funny looking shoebox with comical face is left on a table and the room vacated and the light is turned off. CLICK!


Hours later, CLICK door opens and lights turn on CLICK. A YOUNG BLONDE MAN and a YOUNG BLONDE WOMEN (each about age 14 or 15) enter the room, nervously glancing around. Both are dressed in German folk style from the 1800’s.

Both nervously step forth and address the silly mask on the box. From inside the box, a COMPUTER GENERATED voice bellows, kind of monotone, high pitched, some static heard.  

              What is your dilemma? Speak clearly
              into the mustache.  

                        YOUNG BLONDE MAN
              My name’s Hansel and this is my
              sister Gretel. And we need advice.

              Of course, why else would I be waiting
              here? You think I am waiting to catch a
              bus? Just don’t slur your words.


The computer voice slightly shakes the shoebox and the caricature style mask attached as if giggling.

                        YOUNG BLONDE MAN
              My sister and I have just escaped
              from a wicked forest. We encountered a
              cottage made of candy and gingerbread.
              As we began eating the house, this
              wicked witch talking Latin and flying
              on a broom with the price tag still
              attached began chasing us and we
              escaped to this world. We are cold,
              lost, hungry and dreaming of streudel.
              What is your advice?

                  (emotionless computer voice)
              Duuuuhhhh. Stop using drugs!

Both wide-eyed just stare at each other, mouths ajar. 


EXT. COUNTY FAIR – DAY (continious)


The Curly Haired Elderly Woman has stopped recalling what happened and is back to facing Benn.

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              Benn, how can I help you?

              Whoa, how you know my name?

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              Oh, Benn, you think I don’t
              recognize you? I know everybody from
              Britta World.
              They’re looking for you. Be careful.

              I know. I’ve been laying low.
              Sunglasses. You know?

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              Original Benn, how is Original Britta?

              Uhhhhhh . . . .

                         CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              She’s here. Right here. In this
              town. Right now. Didn’t you – aren’t
              you aware? It’s been in social media. It’s
              been on the news. You haven’t even texted

              I do need some advice.
              I’ll give a buck. I need great advice.


                          CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY LADY
              What’s wrong, son?

Benn breaks into song, always pointing a thumb at himself when he says “thee”  

              Britta’s now so famous, I’m still anonymous
              She’ll skate through life without ice
              velvet ropes will drop, her life’s nice!
              So what would she need with little old thee?

Benn dances in front of a scale where a SIDESHOW BARKER in a funny hat is guessing a STOUT WOMAN’S weight. Both drop their smiles as Ben dances away.

                         BENN (continuous)
              Autograph seekers will follow her to nirvana
              I’ll be unseen like a jungle cat in the savanna
              paparazzi’s flashbulbs will go until early dawn
              she’ll seek a hot movie star to create her spawn
              So what would she need with little old thee?

Benn dances through a line waiting to enter a mirrored funhouse.
Most people in the line frown as he exits the area.

                        BENN (continious)
              Compared to Britta, I’m just a simple zit  
              she’s a flawless glove, catching every hit
              a ten bedroom mansion in the Hollywood Hills
              heck, she’ll be able to pay her own bills
              So what would she need with little old thee?

Benn dances through a crowd of people laughing and eating caramel apples and popcorn. After he leaves the area, nobody is smiling.

                         BENN (continuous) 
              She’s mythical, able to fly over a hollywood sign
              I’d be a grounded sparrow, able only to whine
              Oh, yes, I’ll sulk, oh, yes, I’ll seek
              Oh, I suppose I’m being just too meek
              she’s immortal, a name remembered for eternity
              little old me be lucky to afford electricity
              So what would she need with little old thee?

Benn dances by a group of people waiting to board a spinning thrill ride. After he leaves the area, everyone is silent, heads bowed and looking sad.

Curly Haired Elderly woman takes a glance at all the sad faces in Benn’s wake. She’s part bemused and equally irritated.

                       BENN (continuous)
              She’s set sail in a craft on prosperity lagoon
              while I paddle in an inflatible like a buffoon
              so, I must bid my Britta a tender au revoir
                   (makes a heart sign with fingers)
              in my heart she’ll always be my cute superstar

Benn stops singing and marches up to the booth. The Curly Haired Elderly Woman doesn’t look happy.

Around Benn, hundreds of amusement park attendees are frowning, crying and heads down heading for the exits. Everyone in the vinity is sad. Ben has bummed out everybody in the area.

              Any advice? I need it bad.

The Curly Haired Elderly Woman sits stoic, hands folded over her chest and head shaking back and forth slowly. 

                        CURLY HAIRED ELDERLY WOMAN
              I don’t care how famous the broad
              is now her heart’s still beating in the
              same spot. In the thoracic cavity
              between the lungs slightly to the left
              of sternum. Grow a pair and pick up
              the phone and send a text.

              Is that the great dollar advice
              or the fifty cent variety?

The Curly Haired Elderly Woman’s nostrils flare again, and she snaps her fingers and instantly she and the booth disappear as a mysterious winds wisps from every direction, almost knocking off his sunglasses.  

Benn looks shell-shocked and is speechless.



Quick shot of hundreds of people exiting the amusement park, heads low, sad looks, some crying as BAFFLED PARK EMPLOYEES look on befuddled.


Scene below makes fun of a famous scene from a famous 1970's gangster mob movie as well as the perils of being world famous.


Real Britta and Doll Britta are having dinner. Doll Britta is fascinated by the ingredient list on the side of the Italian salad dressing, holding the label so close to her eyes she is cross-eyed. She whispers to herself “what’s thyme?” as she exchanges glances with a clock on the wall back to the salad dressing.

                        REAL BRITTA
                   (still chewing a bit)

Doll Britta drops the bottle and stares.


                         DOLL BRITTA

                         REAL BRITTA
               Maybe we are approaching this wrong. I
               mean --

                         DOLL BRITTA
               No, you’re very nice!

                         REAL BRITTA
              Ah, no.
                   (almost laughing)
              What I mean is we are searching an area
              with nineteen million people for Benn.
              He’s mid-twenties. Blonde hair. Blue
              eyes. Abs that look like a present from
              the Greek Gods. This is Hollywood. There’s
              thirty thousand guys who fit that profile.
              Needle in a haystack.

                        DOLL BRITTA
               Who would do that?

                        REAL BRITTA

                        DOLL BRITTA
               Put a needle in a stack of hay.


                        REAL BRITTA
               Ahhhh, no. Listen, what I am saying is
               we need to get Ben to find us. You. And
               I think I know a way.

                        DOLL BRITTA

                        REAL BRITTA
               We make you a world-famous movie star.
               The publicity will be extreme and then
               he’ll know you’re here and look you up.

                        DOLL BRITTA
               I’d love that job. Can you do that?

                        REAL BRITTA
               The magazine Entrepreneurs with Red Long
               Nails named me the most creative and
               innovative marketing genius west of
               the Mississippi River. Listen, there’s
               a secret way a woman can become a movie star
               in this town in less than fifteen minutes.
               No other actress has ever thought of it.
               I did. The secret’s right in the heart of the
               valley a few miles north of here. We make
               you famous and get you in the news and
               Benn sees the story from wherever he might
               be in the continental USA. And he can
               contact you.

                        DOLL BRITTA
               A movie star! I’d like that job!


                        REAL BRITTA
               It’s not so much a job as it is a
               lifestyle when you make it to the
               top. And there’s a lot of stress and
               pressure. In fact, aside from being
               a world-famous actress, I can only think
               of one other, ahhhh, job that’s as stressful
               and filled with fraught. You can’t leave
               world fame and you can’t leave the mob.

Real Britta bites her lower lip and glances out a window, as if in deep thought.



We see what Real Britta is thinking about. Her thoughts.

Vertically SPLIT SCREEN. Mobster movie parody scene.

On the left, in color a modern-day lavish Beverly Hills style bedroom, huge bed made up by a maid, well lit. Dark window seen. It’s night. This is a silver screen star’s pad. There’s several acting AWARDS and STATUETTTES on a nearby dresser, and one of them has a male undershirt halfway draped over it.   

On the right, we see BLACK AND WHITE screen, a very small and run down LOWER EAST SIDE NEW YORK style bedroom, circa 1940’s, modest almost ugly, sparse furnishings, and an unmade bed indicating a bachelor pad. A dark cracked window, it’s night.

A sad, solemn ITALIAN MELODY PLAYS, the type of music a godfather would like. A lot of soft horns, French horn action and violins galore. 

On the left, a forlorn looking BEAUTIFUL REDHEADED ACTRESS mid 20’s with stylish eyeglasses, dressed stylishly but not so much as to not blend in with society, nothing extravagant. She is humming the old 1880’s song “while strolling through the park one day”  Her purse is in front of her, and we see her preparing to go out, taking precautions. CLOSE UP as she places in her purse a battery-operated tracking device in case she is kidnapped, a small-laminated card with phone numbers of security team, a list of “safe locations” to flee to in an emergency, she makes sure her cellphone is charged, she makes sure her tiny HANDGUN IS LOADED before stuffing it in her purse next to a yellow rubber duck keychain, a pepper spray canister is seen inside the purse. There’s also a laminated card to cheer her up, printed words: RELAX GAL, SOMEDAY YOUR LIFE WILL BE NORMAL AGAIN. She lifts-up her shirt to belly button level to double check that her BULLET PROOF VEST underneath is secure and properly fashioned. The way she moves indicates this is almost an everyday event for her.

Simultaneously, on the right, A LARGE BURLY PUFFED CHEEKS gangster type man with facial scars from knife fights stands stoic with no smile, no emotion as he places on a bulletproof vest over his undershirt and then double checks his handgun to see it’s loaded. Shoves it in his holster, uneven as if he doesn’t do this often. He dresses 1940’s style as he places on a jacket to hide the vest and gun. Takes a deep breath to compose himself.

Both the Redheaded Actress and the Puffed Cheeks Gangster take a few seconds of deep thought, a few deep breaths, both slightly nervous, apprehensive. And then both start towards the bedroom door to leave, he checks his fly to make sure he’s zipped up, and she tucks her purse under her left arm and NERVOUSLY BITES her lower lip as she glances in a fancy mirror to make sure her make-up is perfect. She bats her eyes while on other screen mobster picks a piece of food from between one front tooth in an old, cracked mirror. As Redheaded Actress starts to talk, the Puffed Cheeks Gangster takes a moment to grease his hair smooth and pluck a long nose hair out of his nostril using a pinched finger.  

                        REDHEADED ACTRESS
                   (a beautiful voice)
              Richard, I’ll be home in 20 minutes
              going to pick up some eggs and
              buttermilk. You need rolling papers?

We hear RICHARD reply from the next room.

                        RICHARD (O.S.)
               No, but I’d go hot diggity dog for
               gingerbread cookies with sweet icing. 

Redheaded Actress ROLLS HER EYES, walks, leaving an empty room.

Puffed Cheeks Gangster is Italian immigrant, speaks English with a broken English, gruff heavy accent, slight New York accent mixed in. An emotionless miserable man, no soul, no pleasant side.


                         PUFFED CHEEKS GANGSTER
                   (gruff, hoarse voice)
              Maria, keep the linguine warm, I’ll
              be back in an hour. Gonna have a little
              pow wow with Obitorio. If it turns into
              a rhubarb, I’m gonna bust his chops and
              he’ll be eating lunch belly up . . .
              with . . . le triste Mietitore.

Subtitle words in English flash across screen: THE GRIM REAPER.

Words leave screen.  

After Puffed Cheeks Gangster leaves the room, words flash simultaneously across both screens for a few seconds.



End  of  Britta  writing  sample.  

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