Monday, July 27, 2015

Arby 'n' the Chief Premiere Delay, 48 Hour Film Competition

News I'm sure will be a disappointment to some, I'm sorry -- I need to push the release of Arby 'n' the Chief's eighth season premiere episode about a week or so.

There is some good news at the end of this, though.

I was a bit behind schedule with the development of the premiere's screenplay as well as a detailed scene-by-scene outline of the entire season as I had twatted on Tweeter earlier, but I thought I could still possibly release the episode on August 1st at that point until one of my roommates who had recently caught wind of a locally organized and funded forty-eight hour film competition got myself and the other guys in the house together and pitched the idea of us all competing as a team.

"Forty-eight hour film competition", to my personal horror, pretty much means what it reads -- a five minute live action film has to be developed, written, produced, cast, designed, shot, edited, color corrected, sound designed, rendered and delivered within a rigid forty-eight hour window of time.

Might not sound too bad unless you've ever actually made a movie -- one that could be considered seriously among others in a film competition -- and are familiar with the amount of work involved across all departments and phases of filmmaking.

Myself and the others in the house make a great team and are all either film school educated or graduates and we haven't gotten together to make a flick since we had to in order to satisfy our school curriculum.

They've been enthused about the idea of helping out with Arby 'n' the Chief in some way, but writing the story is taking me so much time to do and as I'm consequently barely ever out of my room or in the house nowadays, not only does everybody on the Internet keep believing I died some horrible accident, but probably my roommates as well.

All the guys were excited by the idea of entering the competition, and as I'm one of the few among my peers dedicated almost exclusively to screenwriting and considered to be almost good at it, they wanted my help to make something funny.

Anyway, the competition's already over.

We paid the entry fee, and on the starting hour of the competition, our director (Mattisse -- a good friend of mine, he was the guy sitting next to me in my first Twitch stream) was given by the competition organizer three surprise elements that had to be incorporated in our film's story somehow (this prevented some anus from submitting content created in the past).

At 7:00 PM, as soon as we heard what the elements were over the phone, myself and a couple of guys had a little "writer's room" ready to immediately start brainstorming -- a mess of white and cork boards, sticky notes, markers and dildos.

The dildos were mine.

For about eight hours we paced around the room breaking a fast-paced, gag-riddled story about two Police Detectives in search of the world's most heinous offender of online piracy in a house full of drug dealers, assassins and kidnappers.

Sounds fun, right?

It was -- very -- but it's soured by the back of your head constantly reminding you there's no time to fuck around, and a crew full of people are devoting their time and effort to your story with the hope that it's worthwhile producing, and inspiration can be a hard thing to muster on command -- particularly if you're a moody fuck like me.

Luckily we were all in good spirits, kicked around plenty of good jokes and constructed a fairly solid five-minute plot.

After that, at about 4:00 AM, while the rest of the crew got some shut-eye, I walked alone for a half-hour to my local twenty-four hour Denny's and, for another six hours, wrote as much as I could of the screenplay based on the story the other editors and I had broken.

11:00 AM -- the director, cast and crew were on set almost ready to start shooting, and I was panicking, still not having finished the script entirely.

Though I had a full five pages written out, some of it was point-form and had blocks of action missing, and I had still yet to get the director's approval -- although most of the dialogue was there which was priority as the director had most of the film's action already blocked out in his head and, comedically, him and I are almost always on the same wavelength, so the matter of approval wasn't too much of a concern.

The script ultimately required a massive amount of re-working, however.

Not because the jokes were weak -- the team were actually consistenly praising me for keeping the dialogue funny, logical and concise -- mostly the fact was due to time constraints.

For a five-minute film, we had a lot of plot to cover, and a lot of the jokes we came up with we felt were too good to cut out.

Keeping a scene concise as well as its characters' dialogue sounding natural is a valuable skill, certainly one I haven't mastered.

As soon as the script for our film's first scene was locked, it was printed and handed off to the director and cast.

While everybody else was shooting the movie and laughing together on set, like a troll I was sitting alone in my room in the dark with slight nausea and diarrhea -- the consequence of eating solely pizza and Denny's breakfasts for days -- for hours at a time, desperately trying to get the next scene that was to be shot written in time as well as whittle down the script's full length to something that wouldn't make the eventual video editor (which ended up being our director) rip his hair out trying to keep the run-time within five minutes.

And of course that's what ended up happening, as it always does.

Writing's one thing, and it sucks.

Writing when a crew of actors, equipment operators and a director are all sitting on their hands in the next room, the sounds of their restless conversation audible, waiting on you to finish writing a scene and print it off as quickly as possible and finally make the day they've forfeited to be on set worthwhile, buying the eventual post-production team precious seconds in the final hours approaching the deadline is something else.

Staring at the monitor in vacant desperation, the pressure of the production launching missiles into your head and blowing up any bridges that lead you towards humor or creativity, trying to jump the gaps and just fucking write something.

I also hate writing short films.

Some people wonder how they could possibly fill five pages with content.

Thanks to Arby 'n' the Chief, I'm so acustomed to writing entire seasons' worth of episodic content that five minutes seems like an impossibly tiny amount of time to tell a memorable story that's properly paced with great characters from beginning to end.

I didn't get any sleep until the script and shooting of the film were completed, having been awake for about thirty-five hours altogether.

After I managed to get a half-decent amount of rest, I assisted the editor with cutting and sound designing the film.

About twenty minutes after I had taken control of our workstation to design the film's sound, to my horror I found that somebody -- most likely me -- had somehow unknowingly butchered the entire cut with duplicate, improperly placed shots and unsynchronized dialogue all over the place due to some unwise key presses.

In hindsight, I'm pretty sure it was me -- when I was tapping the Q and E keys reflexively to zoom in and out of Adobe Premiere's video timeline, as that's how I have my keys mapped on my own computer -- I wasn't working on my own station at the time -- wondering why the zoom function wasn't working and in all likelihood obliviously deleting frames or something in actuality like a dumb cunt.

Anyway, it all worked out for the most part.

The sound design is iffy, which is probably my bad for wasting time having to revert to a previous project file auto-save and lose a precious half-hour of work.

However, myself and the crew who have seen the final cut all think it's hilarious and are pleased with it given our constraints.

Nobody entirely loves filmmaking.

It sucks massive dick in the sense that it's almost always exhausting and stressful, but it's so creatively rewarding when a cool product comes together in the end that it usually makes the strain worthwhile.

That's why I do it -- if you can call my films "films" and throw a show about toys with robot voices made by a lazy writer in the same bucket as Chinatown.

Our film's been submitted, our entire house is currently a cringe-worthy mess of props, lights, camera gear and other equipment, my room's a disaster, and I'm exhausted.

The film's going to be screened at a local theater and judged before a panel of industry veterans on August 8th, after which we're allowed to release it publicly on the web, so I can share it with you as soon as that happens.

I'm still, of course, excited about and fully dedicated to making Arby 'n' the Chief's eighth season as bad-ass as possible, but I know at this point I'm not gonna be able to make my previously announced deadline for the airing of the premiere episode.

I need a more time, and I hope nobody's sore.

I'm tremendously grateful for all the support I'm receiving and continue to receive, your contributions are not without appreciation.

On the bright side, based on what I've heard from my backers, they're all enthusiastic to be able to support me in no matter what I do; I did really bust ass on this short film, and I really think it's quite funny and that you'll enjoy it when you see it.

Again, sorry about the delay -- I know I've always been notorious for delays and I'm embarrassed to fulfill the prophecy once again, and assuming I have your patience, I love you for it.

If you have any questions or conerns, please e-mail me at jcjgraham@gmail.com and I'll try to get back to you.

Cheers!
Jon

Saturday, May 23, 2015

QUICK GUIDE: Arby 'n' the Chief

Who are you?

My name's Jon Graham. I'm a screenwriter, joke writer, director, video editor and composer. I've been writing for ten years. I created terrible movies with video games as a kid. I'm now a film school graduate.

What's Arby 'n' the Chief?

A web series I created for Machinima in 2008. It ran for seven seasons, ending in 2013.


What's it about?

In my house, two Halo action figures -- Master Chief and the Arbiter -- inexplicably come to life. In my absence they play video games, frequently online, and clash with the community's abundance of haters, trolls, hackers and psychopaths.

Where can I watch it?

All the old episodes are currently available on Machinima's YouTube channel. The links are below.

So -- it's not over?

No. Through the magic of crowd-funding, I'm attempting one last run -- even though I've said that twice already throughout the series.

Where can I watch new episodes?

They'll be uploaded to my YouTube Channel.

How can I support the show?

Become a Patron.

* * *

The 'Master Chief Sucks at Halo' videos are the seeds of the show. I made them when I was young and not under any contract, just as a hobby, not expecting to be developing a series afterwards:

Master Chief Sucks at Halo


This is when Machinima hired me as a director; I chose to develop Master Chief Sucks at Halo into a larger series and created the first season of Arby 'n' the Chief.

Some links are accompanied by a separate "Com." link to the right -- these lead you to episodes with an overlayed commentary track from me, all of them cringe-inducing. Seriously, some of them are from when I was much younger, and I was a shithead:

Season 01


Here's the third, which is a bit hit-and-miss and suffers from jarring shifts in tone, but has a couple of gems, namely "Wedding":

Season 03


I quit the show after the third season, burned out.

To keep the audience, Machinima produced a spin-off series in-house that was poorly received.

I later returned as showrunner, taking the writing more seriously with season four and reaching a distinct plateau in my storytelling abilities during the production of "Digital Fruitcakes":

Season 04


Season five marks a drastic shift in the show's format and tone while I attempted to balance them with its classic comedy. Episodes are no longer self-contained, now serialized, open-ended.

The story-telling is non-linear; the first scene of the first episode is a flash-forward to a scene from the last of the season:

Season 05

Act I


Act II


Act III


Season six maintains the non-linear storytelling and my attempted balance between comedy and plot, featuring stronger antagonists and overall story structure:

Season 06


Act II





Act III


Whereas season five and six were relatively upbeat, the show took a dark turn in the seventh season, with stronger emphasis on theme, story structure, character development and cinematography:

Season 07




Act III


The episodes of seasons one through seven listed above are what I call 'Story' episodes. Alongside its universe, another universe runs parallel, containing seasons of episodes called 'Bytes'.

These 'Bytes' are shorter, mostly self-contained episodes with a reduction in plot and drama and a focus on comedy, usually featuring just the toys. Here's the first season:

Bytes: Season 01


Here's the second:

Bytes: Season 02


Birthed from a plot point half-way through the fifth season's storyline involving the toys creating their own web series, the links to the Hypermail episodes below are the episodes of that series -- a show within a show featuring the toys answering fan mail. There's only one season:

Hypermail: Season 01


Throughout the series' run, occasionally I'd create a short video featuring the toys for promotional reasons:

Shorts

Short #1

Lastly, I'd also periodically produce various one-off specials, available below:

DOWNLOAD: Arby 'n' the Chief S07E25: "Ignition" Production Screenplay

Hey guys,

To give you an idea of what to expect from the screenplays in my Patreon campaign's backer reward packs, here's a freebie -- the script for season seven's last episode and, at the time of its production, finale of the entire series, 'Ignition':

Arby 'n' the Chief S07E25: "Ignition" Production Screenplay

The title page is incorrectly labeled "Game Over" (the episode before it), but the body is of the finale.

Cheers,
Jon

Friday, May 22, 2015

Patreon Details

Note to backers: Based on e-mails, tweets and my blog polls, my payment model has now been switched from per-video to per-month. This means that the amount you've pledged will be cashed out at the beginning of each month via whatever online transfer method you selected.

Should this cause you to reconsider your pledge amount, please adjust it as you see fit before you're charged.

A couple of people have suggested I go into a little more detail about my funding campaign for those who aren't sure what Patreon is exactly and how it works.

What is Patreon?

- Online crowd-funding platform.
- People support artists producing content regularly.
- Not donating towards single project.
- Anybody can pledge any amount.
- Pledge amount cashed out at each month's end.
- Pledges wired through one of numerous online banking services (Paypal, etc.)
- Pledges can be adjusted, cancelled any time.
- Rewards for backers.
- More rewards for greater pledges.

How do I support you?

Here's my campaign page:

Jon's Patreon Campaign Page

Becoming a Patron is simple:

- Click above link.
- Enter pledge amount in 'Give $X per month' field.
- Click large, orange 'Become a Patron' button.
- Select your reward.
- Enter payment info (via Patreon or Paypal).

The various rewards can be seen by clicking the link leading to my Patreon page and scrolling down.

The rewards have recently been updated, along with the campaign description.

As I said before, I encourage you to only donate what you feel my content is worth to you.

Thank you all so much for your support thus far, I'm thrilled. Please stay tuned.

Cheers,
Jon

Thursday, May 21, 2015

REQUEST: Logo Designer

Would anybody be willing to design a logo, perhaps an animated one for my studio, 'Imaginative Logo Productions'? Retarded, I know.

I have a vivid visual concept in mind if anyone's interested, and I welcome to contribute your own style. Willing to pay If desired.

Nothing fancy, no lighting, explosions, jets, just a minimalist drawing of a boy being poked with a stick over and over and then scowling. The kid doesn't even need to have hair or a nose, simplicity is good, but I'm flexible. The kid can be unisex, in fact. No gender-identifying features. I'd like that. Something that looks cool, but a bit crude as well, roughly drawn. I drew the current logo in MS paint, after all.
Concept Art

If you have concept art or a finished product you'd like to show me, please e-mail me at jcjgraham@hotmail.com with the subject line 'Logo'. Seen some really great work from you guys so far, so I'm stoked if anybody comes up with anything. If not, no big deal.

Again, don't be afraid to let your imagination run wild, I understand the importance of collaboration and don't believe I'm a problem to work with. I love seeing other people's work. I'll only really object to something if I feel it's detrimental to what the logo's about. "Who cares about the logo, here's the movie", that's what I'm after. At the same time -- "Don't push me, motherfucker."

Cheers.  I'd be willing to pay more for some site banners and thumbnails too. Site's shite.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

There's Actually a Line in Comedy.

You can joke about anything -- anything. Except the Scots. I'm Scottish. Those jokes are objectively not okay. Thanks for understanding. :)

I lost my Scottish accent when I accidentally slashed my vocal cords with my broadsword while I was drunkenly beheading the English.

In full Braveheart make-up while I was doing it, shouting "You what, mate?" and "Square-go, like!" over and over, calling them all cunts.

I'm joking. My face was caked in so much blood you couldn't even see the make-up. And when the next wave of English soldiers thundered atop their steeds towards me, I stood on a hill, lifted my kilt and waved my bare ass. Cock and balls sweeping left and right, slapping my thighs.

Luckily I managed to keep the wave at bay with a lively Scottish bagpipe tune. Horses reared in agony. The heads of those leading the assault exploded. Soldiers fell off their saddles, clutching their ears.

"FREEDOM" I shouted defiantly at the retreating horde of English scum.

And collapsed, dead, a life-time of daily hard alcohol and drug abuse and scalding hatred for other races having finally taken its toll.

It's alright, I'm performing a highland dance with my bonnie lass in heaven now, after the English raped and killed her. Every soldier.

It's always the fucking English.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Old Joke Articles

Hey.

Here's a bunch of joke articles I wrote in the past I dug up, thought you might get a chuckle.

* * *

Writer

WRITER WANTED

Are you a lover of literature and film? Are you creative? Do you have a flair for the written word? Well, we have an open position among our creative team that might be just right for you!

Responsibilities:

- Cleaning the office. We will supply lemon Pledge. Its cost will be deducted from your earnings.

- Scrubbing the toilets. Overtime will be guaranteed following the staff's Mexican dinner nights. You are to supply your own respirator, boots and umbrella.

- Getting rid of that weird squeak in Dave's office door. Seriously, it's really annoying.

- Cleaning the office windows from the outside. The ones on the five hundredth floor and upwards could use a decent wipe in particular. Washing platforms are unavailable. If you are unable to supply your own safety harness, fishing line can be supplied for a small fee. Consider tying your clothing together for a rope.

- Picking toe-nail clippings out from the thick carpet while serving your back as a temporary foot stool. Dave collects them. Don't ask me why.

- Writing four award-winning screenplays per week, although five would be appreciated.

- Feeding the cat. Not that the fat cunt needs it.

Requirements:

- Master's degrees in physics, chemistry, astronomy, biology, computer science, mathematics, engineering, health science, behavioral science and social science from a minimum of ten institutions. Additional degrees are encouraged.

- 45+ years of experience writing award-winning material.

- Having read every book ever written.

Unfortunately, we won't be able to pay you for a period likely lasting several years due to some technical issues, but Dave regularly keeps the kitchen's refrigerator stocked with Mr. Freeze, and he says that you'll be able to take one per day for as long as you like. However, he includes that the ice cream sandwiches are his alone, and strictly off-limits.

To those unimpressed by the benefits of this exciting opportunity, I say, let's face it: writers are a bunch of faggots, really. They sit around on their asses, pretending that they're thinking really hard. The gig is typically just an excuse to slack off. They're hardly actual people, if you think about it. They're all introverted social disasters and idealistic pains in the ass. I'm not quite sure why they haven't all been rounded up and gutted like cattle for being so utterly useless.

Due to the volume of applications we expect, we may not be able to respond to them all. If interested, please don't hesitate to contact us.

E-mail: 0o_XxX_Pu$$y_$lAyEr_239067283907_XxX_o0@yahoo.com

Note: Serious applications only.

* * *

Pitch

I'm working on a feature film and have written a verbal pitch of the story to throw at executives in elevators that I'd love some feedback on.

"Hey, so, yeah. What's up? I've got a pitch for you. Story idea pitch. You ready? Okay, here it is. So, yeah. It's about this guy. And this guy, he's like -- he's, uh... hold on. He... oh, yeah. He's just a classic character, you know? Picture every great film character you've ever seen. He's like that, you know? And, uh... a bunch of shit happens to this guy, and eventually meets this other guy. And this other guy -- he's bad. I mean really bad. So bad that the audience will be jumping in their seats. And then the main guy is sent on this quest to do some crazy shit. I can't remember what exactly, sorry. But it's really important. I feel like I'm bogging you down with details already anyway. So, yeah. Eventually the guy does what he has to do, but then everything goes to shit. And I mean everything. His world is just turned upside down, you know what I mean? And then the bad guy that was in the prologue comes back, and you find out that he was behind all the shit. Oh yeah, the prologue. It's a flash forward. It's like Breaking Bad times a billion. There's like, an apocalypse or something. Serious shit is going down. There's like, aliens all over the place. Or werewolves. I dunno, whatever's cool right now. Zombies? Oh, yeah -- no. Vampires are still cool, right? There you go. Vampires fucking everywhere. And the head vampire is the bad dude that comes back at the end of act two. So, yeah. The main guy is in a pretty dark place, but he changes, you know? He's forced to change himself, and that's really the heart of the story. This decision is so pivotal that it's literally unbelievable. The audience will love it. And then the last thirty minutes are just a steep roller coaster ride to the finish. Car chases, naked women -- act three will have it all. Everything. And then the main guy and the bad guy have this sweet fight on the top of a space shuttle. Before you ask -- it has to be a space shuttle. The way it looks in my head is perfect, trust me. And then the planet is about to explode or something. Not quite sure how that happens yet, the story needs a few tweaks. And the main guy stops it somehow, and everyone loves him. The reason I'm in love with this story is that I really, genuinely feel that it's got something to say, you know?"

* * *

Suits

"You can remove the stitching from the pockets when you get home, but don't ever use the pockets. Except for the inside pockets, feel free to use those. Only ever fasten the top button, and make sure you unfasten it when you sit down. Make sure there's no space between the jacket's neck line and the collar of your shirt. Don't ever leave the suit crumpled. Always grab the pants by the seam, and keep it and the jacket stored in the protective bag and hanged. That comes to $670.11."

You care about suits, that's cute, and these rules are adorable -- but this one's mine now, and for this money I'll put my legs through the jacket, arms through the pants and tongue through the fucking fly while I walk on my hands if I want. Visa.

* * *

Courses

If you like Mathematics and Creative Arts, others who enrolled in this course also enjoyed:

SEO 100: Sneezing and Eye-Opening
SRHP 300: Stomach Rubbing and Head Patting
FCC 300: Feline and Canine Care
OWS 100: Oil and Water Studies
SGKS 400: Shot Geography and the Kama Sutra

* * *

Clifford

I spend more time on Netflix for Kids than regular Netflix because I'm a big child, and fuck you. I just finished watching the first episode of the animated children's series Clifford's Puppy Days. This show should stop existing as soon as possible. The whole point of Clifford has always been that he's a big dog. Clifford, the big, red dog. That's his full title. In Clifford's Puppy Days, he's just Clifford the dog. He has no unusual quirks. All he does is generic dog things. He's still red, but that's it. You can't just paint a character all one primary color and expect people to keep tuning in. Why don't you just call the show 'Clifford the Adequately Sized Dog'? Of course you wouldn't, because that's retarded.

And his size inexplicably fluctuates throughout the show. In one shot he's as big as his owner's palm, and in the next he's as small as a single grain of his dog food. What the fuck is that? I don't see any shrink rays. Is it a magic dog? If he is, why isn't he called Clifford the Magic Dog? Can he only shrink and grow back to his puppy height? What's stopping him from just growing himself back into a big dog again, rendering the concept of him being a puppy completely redundant? Clearly the people behind this show were smoking lots of marijuana, rendering this show another reminder that the highly dangerous drug should be eradicated before it kills everybody, and anybody who has ever smoked it should be locked in prison forever. Review copyright (c) Jon Graham, do not steal.

* * *

Feminism

"She's a bit of a feminist."

I've heard that phrase time and time again with so much varying emphasis and inflection, the definition of feminism has been lost from my grasp to the thundering, supermassive chasm of who-the-fuck-knows, and the difference in sound vibrations has given me a massive brain tumor that doctors say could make my organs explode any second. Cool, thanks. Hopefully I have time to finish writing this, let alone throw on a pair of fucking pants so I can go out with some dignity and the busty, scantily-clad emergency service technicians who find me don't point and giggle at my ugly penis.

'Feminism' has become a word like 'Jew' in the sense that one word referring to a group is both the appropriate title and the label of its offensive stereotypes.

What the fuck is taking Emma Watson so long to fix the world? Somebody's lazy. Hey Emma, some of us are trying to come up with creatively obnoxious ways to get people to subscribe to our hilarious gaming commentary channels on YouTube, and we don't appreciate all these distractions. Yes, you're an accomplished and beloved actress and, through your speech, pulled the term 'feminism' out of that aforementioned chasm and placed it neatly in the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of equality, as opposed to a thunder-struck, post-apocalyptic dystopia pelted by acid rain neon with radioactivity; a sea of three billion women in the foreboding, immaculate uniforms of the Nazi party's Schutzstaffel marching with unnerving synchronicity through the streets of cities throughout the globe, stripping nude the planet's remaining living males and dragging them along tarmac towards a massive industrial fortress to be milked for sperm before being locked in barbed-wire cages and submerged in pits of bubbling tar. Obviously your audience wasn't large enough, Emma. Get out there and do something else, for crying out loud.

On the flip-side, the confusion surrounding feminism doesn't surprise me all that much, given the one-sidedness of the movement suggested by its label. If I told somebody to get ready for me to assert my strong 'masculinist' views, he'd probably take his shirt off and start shadowboxing.

* * *

Resolution

War, disease, famine, oppression, slavery, terrorism; they were just a warm-up. It's time for us to band together and push the current consumer standard limit of 1080 progressive scanning video, the greatest threat we've ever faced.

Oh, 4K's being integrated? 8K's on the horizon, you say? Know who watches video at 8K resolution? Pussies. Put me in cryo and wake me up when I can watch 512K Netflix, then I'll be impressed. I wanna see the bacteria on the actors' faces having sex and getting into fights and car chases of their own. There's a whole other world full of stories going on there I'm missing out on. Fuck you, television and media engineers. What the hell are you guys doing, anyway? When you're finished playing Yahtzee or whatever the fuck else it is you shouldn't be doing, mind getting back to work?

* * *

Godzilla

Godzilla (2014)
Leaked Screenplay Excerpt (Alternate Ending)

EXT. STADIUM - DAY

Crowds of people having been evacuated from areas of the city fill the entire arena. We SLOWLY PUSH IN on a large television monitor mounted onto a wall displaying a critical news bulletin --

Under text reading the tag-line 'GODZILLA: PIMP OF THE UNIVERSE?', a shaky camera held from the interior of a news helicopter records live footage of the monstrous GODZILLA, wearing a black leather jacket and a sick wallet chain and throwing up gang signs as he sharply bobs his head to the pounding bass of 'SIMON SAYS' BY PHAROAHE MONCHE blaring from a Godzilla-sized boom box.

The song ends. Godzilla lets out a deafening, pant-wetting roar.

He pulls out an enormous cigarette from his inner jacket pocket, sticks it between his mighty jaws, kneels down and lights the end of it with the flames belching from a devastated children's hospital shrieking with the agonized screams of scalded youth.

He stands upright. Takes a deep drag of his smoke and exhales slowly, savoring it. He pulls out a giant pair of sunglasses hanging from his chest pocket, flicks them open and places them coolly over his eyes. He kneels again slightly to pick up his boom box.

GODZILLA
I guess my work here is done.

Godzilla slowly turns around, smashing his gargantuan tail against the side of a building, crushing dozens of people underneath falling debris in the process. He starts stomping away down the highway, crushing one family-filled car after another.

CRANE SHOT -- a man runs eagerly down the highway in pursuit of Godzilla, struggling to catch his breath; the young, fresh-faced soldier FORD. We PAN DOWN to meet him in a CLOSE-UP --

FORD
Godzilla -- wait!

ANGLE ON Godzilla as he stops in his tracks. He slowly turns his head and tilts it downwards to meet Ford's gaze suavely over the top of the lenses of his glasses.

GODZILLA
What's up, kid?

Ford struggles to find words --

FORD
You saved my ass back there.

Godzilla takes another puff of his cigarette.

GODZILLA
We got lucky.

The injustice of Godzilla's modesty causes Ford's face to clench in disapproval and his eyes to well with tears. He shakes his head.

FORD
Luck didn't have anything to do with it. It was your courage. And your laser beams.

Godzilla and Ford exchange prolonged stares --

Then Godzilla smirks.

GODZILLA
You know what, kid? You're alright.

FORD
You're alright too, Godzilla.

Godzilla sets himself down on one knee and holds his mighty fist out directly in front of Ford.

Ford beams as he curls his own hand into a fist and pounds Godzilla's.

Godzilla withdraws his hand and stands upright again. He turns away.

Ford wipes the tears from his face.

FORD
Where you gonna go?

Godzilla pauses. He tilts his head to one side.

GODZILLA
Wherever I'm needed.

Godzilla then continues stomping his way a little further down the highway and around a corner towards a sick Godzilla-sized motorcycle. He places his boom box on the chopper's rear. Climbs onto the seat. Starts the engine.

Ford, chasing after Godzilla again, turns the same corner --

FORD
Godzilla!

Godzilla pauses again. Looks towards Ford.

Ford gives Godzilla an awkwardly forced thumbs-up.

FORD
Thanks.

Godzilla says nothing for a moment -- then gives a slight nod.

GODZILLA
You know where I can get some pussy around here?

FORD
Wouldn't have a clue.

Godzilla scoffs.

GODZILLA
Queer.

Godzilla then grabs a hold of the handles of his chopper -- the engine roars to life and the bike obliterates thousands of buildings as Godzilla peels away into a couple of donuts and across the city towards the water. He grinds into the ocean and disappears under its surface with a thundering splash, the sound matched only by the storm of applause from the people of the city.

FADE TO BLACK.

END.