“BOSCUTTI’S BILL HICKS” (SCREENPLAY) - OPENING SCENE

EXT. LOS ANGELES - GALAXY MOVIE THEATER - NIGHT

An American flag appears upside down, rippling in a slight breeze.

A black cowboy boot steps in splattering the reflection in a sidewalk puddle. Then steps forward. We hear BILL HICKS’ whiny voice as we move up his black pants, and long, black coat.

HICKS
I want a fucking refund!

Hicks slides two torn movie ticket stubs to the pimply TEENAGE TICKET SELLER behind the glass in the ticket booth under the marquee promoting the erotic thriller “BASIC INSTINCT”. It’s the early 90s and there’s a line of MOVIEGOERS behind Hicks, peering, growling, getting annoyed.

Bill at thirty-two seems to be slimming down after years on the road as a standup comedian. Maybe it’s the fact he’s tall and dressed all in black on this humid night. He looks about as funny as a death in the family. Pallid, limp-haired, sad-faced.

His driver and sober buddy (and sometimes security) BUBBA McGEE looms even larger next to him, frowning at the people in line. Bubba is twenty-eight and dressed like Lennie Small from John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men”. He looks a little antsy.

Teenage Ticket Seller looks confused.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
But we don’t give refunds, sir.

Bill is draped in humming neon light. He sweeps his brown hair back.

HICKS
Look, I paid for me and my buddy to see this piece of shit movie “Basic Instinct” and there were no lesbian sex scenes. No lapping, no grinding, no nothing. All the lesbian sex scenes were cut out. It’s fucking ridiculous.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
But you saw Sharon Stone’s pussy, right?

HICKS
Not the fucking point! I paid to see Sharon Stone eat another woman for an hour and a half. That’s what I paid for. I have consumer protection, you know.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
What?

Crowd behind him starts grumbling. Bubba is getting nervy. Hicks leans forward.

HICKS
I have consumer rights.

Teenage Ticket Seller has no idea what he’s talking about. Hicks turns serious.

HICKS
You need to get your manager.

Teenage Ticket Seller blinks.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
I am the manager.

HICKS
What? You’re a child. There are child labor laws in this country last time I checked.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
You’re holding up the line, sir.

Bubba shifts from one foot to the other. Hicks thumbs over his shoulder.

HICKS
They’re not getting their tickets until I get my refund.

Teenage Ticket Seller lowers his head, almost swallows his words.

TEENAGE TICKET SELLER
I’ll lose my job.

Hicks rolls his eyes. Bubba yanks on his shirt sleeve.

HICKS
What is it!?

BUBBA
I need to go pee, Bill.

HICKS
Just hold on a sec.

BUBBA
I need to go right now.

Hicks looks at the Teenage Ticket Seller, looks at the line of Moviegoers, looks at Bubba.

HICKS
Okay, okay. Go, go. I’ll meet you at the car.

He snatches back the two ticket stubs as Bubba rushes into the foyer to the bathroom. Bill calls out after him.

HICKS
Wash your hands.

Hicks lopes off, past the line of grumbling Moviegoers as they all start shuffling forward. Hisses under his breath

HICKS
Don’t blink, you might miss the fucking plot.