"Grin and Bear It" excerpt

The following selection is from my original comedy screenplay, “Grin and Bear It,” homage to the madcap comedies of Hollywood’s slapstick era.

EXT. COLLEGE STADIUM - DAY

Brightly colored pennants atop the walls snap in the breeze beneath a clear blue sky. On the green gridiron, lanky football players run plays as pert cheerleaders leap and yell the team cheers.

A pug-faced COACH in raccoon coat and porkpie hat shouts through a megaphone at four huge linemen doing wind sprints from the 20-yard line.

COACH: Give it that old college try, men! A brolla brolla soo-it!

The linemen churn up a shower of dirt as they pound their way into the endzone.

Across the field at the 50-yard line, gorgeous, blonde-haired CHARLOTTE GUDGEON, the coy captain of the cheerleaders, leaps into a frightening spreadeagle, throwing her pom poms wide apart as she yells menacingly.

CHARLOTTE: Go, Badgers!

HARRY HAPLESS, whining four-eyed geology major in plaid knickers and lab coat, cringes timidly nearby. He is desperately in love with Charlotte and can’t accept the fact that she has never thought romantically of anyone but a football player.

Charlotte struts like a Prussian field marshal, backing Harry up with pointy-toed kicks and taunting jabs of her furry pom poms.

CHARLOTTE: Sis! Sis! Sis boom bah!

The nerdy science student staggers awkwardly, tripping over his shoelaces.

HARRY: Gosh, Charlotte, that’s swell! But you haven’t answered me yet. I said, will you marry me?

Suddenly, Charlotte spins around and leaps high in the air. Harry flies backwards over a bench.

He smashes headfirst into a bucket of water with a loud splash.

CHARLOTTE: Rah! Rah! Rah!

Harry wobbles to his feet, soaked and with the bucket crammed down over his head.

Struggling mightily, he unscrews the dented bucket with a cork popping sound. His hair is a mess and his eyeglasses are upside down.

HARRY: Charlotte, this is the most important day of my whole life! Won’t you at least -

Charlotte throws her poms poms apart violently, forcing Harry sideways onto the field and straight into the path of a pair of galloping 300-pound linebackers.

They crash through him with a thud, flattening him right into the ground.

Charlotte spreadeagles again.

CHARLOTTE: Yea, Badgers!

Harry peels himself out of the dirt and teeters to his feet. The body shaped outline in the turf is at least six inches deep. He nearly collapses while trying to dust off his lab coat.

HARRY: Help!

He clutches frantically at Charlotte. She halts in mid-leap and irritably holds him upright.

CHARLOTTE: You spend too much time in that darn geology lab, Harry! I think by now you must have rocks in your head!

HARRY (crosseyed): Well, I sure am bonkers about you!

Charlotte poses charmingly with her pom poms on her hips, then sighs hopelessly.

CHARLOTTE: My folks would be very disappointed if they couldn’t invite all their friends to my wedding. Over a thousand guests, Harry! Any idea how expensive that would be?

Harry’s eyes water and his voice goes up a couple of octaves.

HARRY: Ulp, no!

CHARLOTTE: Think your Dad could help pay for it?

HARRY (miserably): Gee, uh uh. He’s still riding the rails somewhere between Kansas City and Saint Joe. We haven’t seen him since the sheriff ran all the tramps out of this county.

Charlotte smiles prettily as she taunts him with a pom pom under the nose.

CHARLOTTE: So marriage is out, Harry-kins! You can’t expect a girl like me to live like a pauper after getting all the way through college.

HARRY (trembling): There’s just got to be a way.

Charlotte regards Harry pityingly for an instant.

She daintily picks a photograph out of her letter sweater’s pocket and gently hands it to him.

CHARLOTTE: Something to remember me by.

Harry’s eyes turn misty as he peers at the cheesecake shot of Charlotte fetchingly clad in a knee-length bathing suit with her arm thrown around the brawny shoulder of a hunky male bather.

HARRY (squeaking): A beautiful portrait. (tragically) Say, who’s the good looking fellow? He looks familiar.

CHARLOTTE (musically): Oh, that’s Biff. His father’s very big in Texas oil.

She waves downfield flirtatiously, where BIFF, the Badgers’ playboy placekicker, is carefully setting up a ball on the tee.

Harry stares angrily at Biff, then turns to plead with Charlotte.

HARRY: You can’t be serious about a guy like that! He’s promised to marry every pretty girl on campus!

CHARLOTTE: He’s already made reservations for our honeymoon at the best hotel in Rio de Janeiro!

Biff prances around the ball like a ballet dancer.

He winds up and kicks it mightily, sending the ball flying like a rocket straight at Harry and Charlotte.

The ball swats Harry in the back of the head with a soup pot clang, knocking him flat.

Charlotte tugs at Harry’s arm, seesawing him back and forth onto his feet.

CHARLOTTE: You see how it is, honey.

Not really – Charlotte’s luscious lips are just a blur.

As Harry gingerly rubs the goose egg on his noggin and searches for his glasses, he squints back sorely at Biff.

HARRY: Don’t count me out yet!

Charlotte slinks away toward the stands.

INT. SODA SHOP - DAY

A typical college hangout of the 1910’s, with marble-topped lunch counter, chrome spigots and an art deco sandwich board that features a rosy cheeked girl eating ice cream under a frilly parasol.

Dressed for work in matching striped tees and paper caps, Harry and a pint-sized SODA JERK prepare to close for the day by wiping the counter and rinsing out tumblers.

Two wise guy SOPHOMORES in cardigans and frat beanies slouch at a table noisily slurping root beer through straws.

They ogle a plump bottomed CO-ED as she wolfs down a triple raspberry cone at the counter.

HARRY (to the sophomores): Sorry, folks, we’re closing up
early today.

As Harry nervously lifts an overfilled tray of shaking tumblers onto a shelf, one sophomore snickers evilly to the other.

SOPHOMORE NO. 1: Hey, watch this! (to Harry) Psst, twinkletoes! Could you come over here for a minute?

Harry shuffles over doubtfully and stops by a big tray of empty soda bottles on a nearby table.

HARRY: I hope you don’t expect waiter service at this hour?

SOPHOMORE NO. 1: Nah. (points at the next table) You forgot to put away those bottles of burp water.

The other sophomore cackles meanly.

HARRY: What’s so funny about that?

Harry stiffly picks up the tray, causing the half gallon jugs to wiggle about dangerously.

Sophomore no. 1 slyly reaches under the table. He grabs an ice bucket and spills it all over the floor.

SOPHOMORE NO. 1 (loudly): Look up, chump!

Harry looks up, and his toes touch the ice puddle.

Suddenly, his feet slip out from under him and he pedals madly trying to regain his balance.

Harry zigzags wildly all around the room with the tray of bottles threatening to smash down on his head.

Sophomore no. 2 sticks out a foot which catches him by the ankle.

Harry balances crazily on one heel with his other leg spinning spastically around him.

The tray of bottles flies up out of his grasp; his elbows flap like wings and his knees knock together like chattering teeth.

The tray falls into his arms and he nearly collapses, but miraculously holds on without dropping a single bottle.

The co-ed is wonderstruck. The sophomores snort maliciously.

Harry tiptoes on eggshells the rest of the way to the counter and perches the bottles on top without further mishap.

The other soda jerk angrily marches up to the sophomore pranksters and wags an accusing finger in their faces.

SODA JERK: If he cracked just one of those bottles, you’ll have to pay for all of them!

The pair of bullies stand menacingly.

Sophomore no. 1 playfully pinches the jerk’s nose.

SOPHOMORE NO.1: Oh yeah?

The tiny counterman’s legs buckle and he bounces up and down like a yo-yo till the bully lets go.

Unashamed, the jerk proudly pulls himself up to all five of his puny feet and jabs a warning fist at the door.

SODA JERK: Out, unless you want me to get rough with you!

The silly sophomores giggle, then creep over to Harry at the counter.

No. 1 scoops a finger full of raspberry ice cream off the co-ed’s cone and flicks it right into Harry’s eye.

Harry winces as he squeezes his eyelid shut.

Sophomore no. 2 cluck-clucks with phony sympathy.

He grabs a soda bottle and sprays soda water all over Harry’s face, causing the ice cream to dribble down his cheek and off his chin.

The bullies grin foolishly and exit to the melodic tinkle of the closing shop door’s chimes.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. SODA SHOP - DAY

Harry locks the door while his tiny partner and the plump co-ed stroll away arm-in-arm. They make a rather charming couple, in spite of the contrast in size and shape. Harry sighs wistfully, then sets his jaw.

EXT. COLLEGE STADIUM - DAY

Biff stands on the 20-yard line facing the goalposts with three footballs set up on tees.

One after another, he slams the balls through the goalposts and high into the stands.

Harry boldly marches onto the field, stopping tensely in front of him.

He holds Charlotte’s snapshot up close to the star placekicker’s nose.

HARRY: What is the meaning of this?

Biff snatches the photo out of Harry’s hand. He makes a sham of seeming perplexed.

BIFF: Is that one of our cheerleaders with little old me?

HARRY: Don’t you know?

BIFF: Could be any one of a dozen girls I date.

Biff lets the picture fall.

When Harry leans over to retrieve it, Biff suddenly bends over and butts heads with him, raising a nasty red bruise on Harry’s nose.

Smiling haughtily, Biff hands Harry the photo while Harry tenderly squeezes his proboscis.

HARRY (sniffing painfully): It’s Charlotte Gudgeon, the girl who will one day become my wife! I demand that you tell me whether your intentions towards her are honorable.

BIFF: Gosh, I wonder what she told you? (knitting his brows) Say, Murray, maybe I could help with your problem, in return for one eensy weensy favor. Could you tee the ball for me?

HARRY (proudly): The name is J. Harry Hapless.

BIFF: The ball?

Harry raises a suspicious eyebrow, but runs and fetches back a football from the sidelines.

He kneels next to the tee holding a twitching finger on top of the pigskin.

BIFF: Good, only face more towards the goalposts.

Harry obligingly turns around, raising his posterior. He stares at the Badgers cartoon team banner which hangs from the crossbar between the goalposts.

Biff prances back a step, winds up mightily, springs forward and slams his foot squarely onto Harry’s bottom.

Harry’s heels fly past his head and he somersaults end over end down the field all the way smack into a goalpost.

The team banner flutters down on top of him.

Across the field, winsome Charlotte appears from an entryway under the bleachers.

She’s painted on a heavy layer of rouge and lipstick and seems flush with anticipation. She beckons Biff with a quiver of a pom pom, tantalizingly held above her shapely rear.

CHARLOTTE: Yoo hoo, Bi-iff!

Biff jogs to her side. They embrace warmly and kiss cheeks.

Meanwhile, Harry wrestles with the banner which has gotten tangled around his feet.

He tries to leap out of the mess, but catches a toe and falls face first onto his bruised nose. He yelps with pain.

Raising his head, he sees Charlotte skipping off with Biff and calls pathetically after her.

HARRY: Lottie! Lottie! Come back!

The couple disappear in the shadows under the bleachers.

* * * *

After he’s left holding the bag in a botched bank robbery, Harry has further misadventures disguised as a bear, nearly losing World War I for the allies before he is able to steal Charlotte back from Biff.

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