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                                    DETROIT ROCK CITY

                                        Written by

                                       Carl V Dupre


               FADE IN:


               Decorated in Carol Brady chic. When it's not gaudy, tacky, 
               and loud, it's blander than toast. Colors like lime green 
               and sunshine orange should be reserved for popsicles only.

               MRS. BRUCE, late 30's, enters looking exhausted. She carries 
               a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, Erma 
               Bombeck's The Grass Is Always Greener Over The Septic Tank.

               HUMMING "We've Only Just Begun," Mrs. Bruce crouches next to 
               her wildly-ancient entertainment center complete with 8-track.  
               She flips the first record forward on her Ronco Record Mate. 
               Album after album flaps forward. Olivia Newton-John, Neil 
               Diamond, the Osmond Brothers. She stops on the Carpenters 
               and sighs at the serene cover art. Just what the doctor 

               Placing the vinyl on the turntable, she CLICKS the dustcover 
               closed and FLICKS "Play." Reclining in her Lazyboy, she sips 
               her wine, opens the book and awaits the mellow tones of Karen 

               Suddenly, her eardrums are hammered by machine gun GUITAR.  
               Caustic ROCK 'N' ROLL assaults her senses. She jumps, spilling 
               her wine all over herself. This isn't the Carpenters...

               IT'S KISS!

               Racing to the entertainment center, she turns the volume 
               control knob so violently, it comes off in her hand. The 
               music is even louder now.

               Flustered by the awful noise, she tries lifting the dustcover.  
               It's stuck. She screams and covers her ears. This is Hell. 
               Running to the rear of the huge console, she stretches to 
               reach the plug, but can't. Fingertips millimeters away.

               As the cacophony POUNDS she shakes the entire stereo with 
               all her frantic might.

               SCREEEEEECH! The needle scrapes across the vinyl with a 
               shrill, finally coming to a stop. Whew, silence!

               Then, POP, the dustcover opens unceremoniously. Shaken, she 
               grabs the record with trembling hands and reads the label...

                                KISS - LOVE GUN, SIDE TWO

               Mrs. Bruce's blood boils.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         KISS! The devil's music!

               EXT. LEX'S HOUSE - NIGHT

               A small, two-story house amid a suburban neighborhood of 
               other two-story houses. Uninspired architecture. Spindly 

               Two-car garage.

               A faint yellow glow emanates from a cellar window across 
               which shadows frantically dart. Over the CRICKETS, we hear 

               CAMERA MOVES to the cellar window. Inside we see four TEENAGE 
               BOYS who are to blame for the racket. Band practice.


               An inner-sanctum of KISS devotion. Faux-wood paneling is 
               plastered with countless KISS posters, pictures, fold-outs.  
               The ceiling is wallpapered with more KISS posters. KISS dolls, 
               magazines, records, comic books clutter the shag-carpeted 
               floor. Fast food wrappers heap over the KISS garbage pail.

               The four high schoolers rock their hearts out as they blast 
               a familiar tune offensively off-key.

                                     BOYS SINGING
                         "I wanna rock 'n' roll all night and 
                         party every day!"

               They stink, but they sure are trying hard. Meet the band 
               "Mystery." Concert tee-shirts, holey jeans, total burn-outs.

               HAWK, a scraggily-haired, disenchanted youth, strains his 
               vocal chords on the microphone as he SCRATCHES at his rhythm 
               guitar. Hawk is sort of the brains of this operation, but 
               knowing the others, that doesn't say much.

               LEX POUNDS a bass with earnest determination. Lanky with bad 
               posture, Lex is already sporting worry lines. He takes 
               everything way-too-seriously.

               TRIP STRUMS lead guitar like he's hammering nails. All id, 
               Trip is slightly out of his mind. But, is it the chemicals 
               or just his chemistry. He always wears a knit cap.

               JAM, a sensitive kid (but no wuss), BASHES on his drums like 
               a madman making the bass drum pulsate like a spastic heart. 
               The big drum bears the word "Mystery" painted on its skin 
               with a lightning "S" just like the KISS logo.

               They bring the classic tune to a shrieking conclusion and 
               thrust their hands over their heads in the KISS symbol.  
               Hawk screams into the mike at their imaginary audience.

                         Thank you, Cleveland! You're a great 
                         crowd. But after three and a half 
                         hours of kick-ass rock and seven 
                         encores on top of that, I'm sorry to 
                         say that this time we really gotta 
                         get back to our hotel rooms and fuck 
                         some groupies.

               Behind him, Trip grabs Lex's bass and swings it by the neck 
               at an amp pretending to bash it over and over again. Lex 
               quickly yanks it away from him.

                         What the fuck, Trip? That's my bass!

               Jam emerges from behind the pile of drums smiling.

                         That was curly!

                         Just one more day of school to get 
                         through, girls, before tomorrow 
                         night... Live!
                              (getting excited)
                         COBO Hall! Detroit, Michigan!
                              (like an announcer)
                         You wanted the best!

                                     ALL FOUR BOYS
                         You got the best! The hottest band 
                         in the world... KISS!!

               They all make that BREATH SOUND that mimics a screaming crowd.  
               Suddenly, headlights swing by in the window above them like 
               a spotlight. Lex hops onto the unmade bed and looks out the 
               cellar window.

               LEX'S POV

               A baby-shit green, Ford station wagon with fake wood sides 
               SCREECHES into the driveway. Mrs. Bruce gets out and STOMPS 
               toward the house. Lex gasps at the sight.

                         Shit! It's Jam's mom!

               Jam GULPS as if he's just shat out an whole can of Lincoln 

                         My mom? Oh, no! What's she doing 

               Lex quickly throws a KISS towel over a TV tray hiding a bong, 
               cigarettes, overloaded ashtray. Trip kicks half-empty beer 
               bottles under the bed. Hawk sprays Lysol frantically around 
               the room as Jam shovels gum into his mouth.

               KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! Mrs. Bruce pounds on the cellar window 
               crouching to see in. She looks like a crazed, underlit psycho.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                              (muffled through glass)
                         Jeremiah! Jeremiah Bruce! You get 
                         out here this instant!

               The boys looks up like innocent, wide-eyed angels. Jam waves.

                         Oh, hi, mom.

                                     MRS. BRUCE

               Jam quickly pockets his drumsticks and grabs his worn, denim 
               jacket off the pile of jackets on the floor, then runs 
               upstairs. The others follow.


               The front door opens. Jam steps out to greet his mom with a 
               nervous smile. Hawk, Lex, and Trip stand at a safe distance 
               in the foyer behind him.

                         What's up?

               Mrs. Bruce grabs her son by the ear and holds up the KISS 
               LOVE GUN record waving it in his face.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         The devil's body count, that's what's 
                         up! Don't you know what KISS stands 
                         for? "Knights in Satan's Service!"

               She hauls Jam across the lawn. Hawk, Lex, and Trip step onto 
               the porch looking on in sympathetic embarrassment. Mrs. Bruce 
               stuffs the record in the trash can then throws Jam in the 
               front seat. SCREECH, the station wagon pulls away.

                         Jam has yet to do an overnight with 

                         I had a nightmare once that something 
                         like this might happen. I hope he 
                         doesn't get grounded again. If he 
                         misses Peter Criss's drum solo, I 
                         don't know if he'll be able to handle 

                         Lex, quit trying to always jinx 
                         things. Don't worry, dudes. Nobody's 
                         missing that concert tomorrow night.

               MAIN TITLES


               The LOVE GUN album sitting in the trash can. CAMERA MOVES IN 
               on the round label till it FILLS THE FRAME. The record begins 
               to spin like on a turntable as CAMERA DESCENDS INTO the little 
               hole ENGULFING THE FRAME IN BLACK. This LEADS us INTO...


               "ROCK 'N' ROLL ALL NITE" BLASTS the way it's supposed to 
               sound. The jammin' KISS classic is accompanied by a barrage 
               of QUICK CUTS depicting KISS mania. TV appearances. Concert 
               footage. Magazine covers. Comic Books. Posters. Art work. 
               KISS merchandise, dolls, lunch boxes, clothes, etc.

               We see the BAND do their thing in authentic CLIPS FROM REAL 

               The MONTAGE is a colorful, kick-ass kaleidoscope of the entire 
               KISS phenomena. CUT TO the BEAT of this seminal anthem.

               The FINAL IMAGE is the KISS "DESTROYER" POSTER.

               END CREDITS

                                       TICKET CHECK

               INT. JAM'S BEDROOM - DAY

               The sun's early morning rays beam through the KISS "Destroyer" 
               poster taped onto a window shade. The phone RINGS. Jam bolts 
               upright, his profile blocking the poster. He has just awakened 
               under the only other decoration in his room: a crucifix.

               Still dressed in last night's clothes, a plain black tee-
               shirt and blue jeans, Jam leaps out of bed unwittingly 
               planting a foot in the handle of a Bullworker (a piece of 
               exercise equipment comprised of a powerful spring with two 
               handles on either end) whose other handle is stuck under one 
               of the bed's legs.

               Jam runs to a phone on his dresser, drawing the Bullworker's 
               powerful springs out to maximum tension. No sooner does he 
               pick up, when he is yanked to the floor and dragged across 
               it as if tied to the bumper of a speeding car. Despite the 
               Bullworker pulling him back toward his bed, Jam does manage 
               to get the phone to his ear.


               The phone's cord stretches taut causing its cradle to leap 
               from the dresser and WHACK Jam on the head.


               Hawk is on the phone as Lex and Trip scour every inch of the 
               cluttered room on their hands and knees searching frantically 
               for something.

                         Jam, listen up.

                                     JAM (O.S.)

                         Just listen up, man, cause we are in 
                         a quandary.

               INT. JAM'S BEDROOM - DAY

               Jam clutches the phone with his shoulder GRUNTING as he does 
               battle with the Bullworker for possession of his foot.

                                     HAWK (O.S.)
                         Are you on the crapper with one of 
                         those antenna phones? Sounds like 
                         you're taking a dump the size of 
                         Butte, Montana.

                         It's my Bullworker.

                                     HAWK (O.S.)
                         Anyway, listen up. They're gone!

                         What's gone?

                                     HAWK (O.S.)
                         The KISS tickets, you nimrod! They're 
                         just fuckin' gone! Please tell me 
                         you have'm!

                         Gone!? Why would I have the KISS 

                                     HAWK (O.S.)
                         Just check whatever you were wearing 
                         last night. Now!

               Jam briefly scans his surroundings double-taking at the denim 
               jacket lying on the floor. He checks the pockets and sees 
               four tickets labelled KISS - JUNE 7, 1978 - COBO HALL, 

                         Whew! Oh, God, Hawk... I got'm!  
                         Somehow I musta taken Trip's jacket 
                         by mistake!


               Hawk SIGHS like a deathrow convict pardoned at the last 

                              (to others)
                         He's got'm!

               Lex and Trip collapse with relief.

                         Trip, he took your jacket by mistake.  
                         You must be wearing Jam's.

               Trip reaches in a breast pocket and pulls out Rosary beads.  
               Spooked, he drops them like they were a bug.

                              (into phone)

                                     JAM (O.S.)
                         I'm really sorry about that, man.

                         Don't be a fembot. So, are you like 
                         grounded because of last night, or 

               INT. JAM'S ROOM - DAY

                         Of course, but has that ever stopped 
                         me before? Besides, my mom's going 
                         to some church meeting and won't be 
                         back till late. No sweat... See you 
                         guys in school.

               CLICK. DIAL TONE. Jam hangs up.


               Lex buckles his belt with its huge KISS belt buckle.

                         Poor, Jam, man. Imagine having to 
                         stash your KISS records inside Carly 
                         Simon album covers. No question, 
                         Mrs. Bruce is a psycho-bitch from 

                         You're one to talk, Lex. Your mom's 
                         a fuckin' dyke.

               Trip pockets his wallet which is affixed to a long chain 
               attached to a side belt loop.

                         Trip, a female gynecologist does not 
                         a lesbian make. And even if it did, 
                         at least my mom didn't give birth to 
                         me while she was on LSD.

                         Shrooms! And even if it was LSD, I 
                         can still give my mom a kiss without 
                         smelling the catch of the day.

                         Both you assholes, SHADDAP!

               Lex and Trip shaddap.

                         Enough of the mom-bashing, all right?  
                         Lex's mom is cool about us crashing 
                         over here while she's out of town. 
                         And if it weren't for Trip's mom, we 
                         wouldn'ta smoked that fine Panama 
                         Red last night. So leave the women 
                         who gave you life out of it. They're 
                         both cool.

               Trip and Lex cease and desist the mom-bashing and continue 
               getting ready for school. Suddenly, Lex pushes Trip angrily.

                         Trip, you fuckin' asshole.


               Lex points to a wet mess on the pillow.

                         You spilled my Sea Monkeys all over 
                         the bed.

                                       DRESSING UP

               INT. JAM'S BEDROOM - DAY

               Jam gives the Bullworker one final yank. This time it comes 
               loose... not from his foot, but from under the bed. Its handle 
               lashes up SLAPPING him across the face. Ouch.

               Fully awake now, Jam throws on Trip's denim jacket. He stuffs 
               a drumstick into his left sock. We see "Mystery" written on 
               it. Just as he's about to stick the other one in his right 

               Without a second of warning, or even a knock, Mrs. Bruce 
               suddenly ENTERS. Immediately Jam stands.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Jeremiah, what are you doing?

                         Uhh... nothing.

               She turns to his closet, the door blocking her view of the 
               KISS poster. Jam leaps to the window and yanks the "Destroyer" 
               shade. It shoots up, FLAPPING around its rod. He's done this 

               Mrs. Bruce peeks at Jam from around his closet door. He 
               stretches in front of the window.

                         Ahh, sunshine.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         You're going to be late if you don't 
                         hurry up and change soon.

                         Change? What's wrong with what I got 

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         It's dirty laundry for one thing and 
                         for another, you still haven't worn 
                         the clothes I bought you. You're 
                         skating on thin ice already, young 
                         man, so I wouldn't push my luck. Now 
                         get out of those rags.

                         But, mom!

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Besides, those jeans are so tight I 
                         can see your penis.

               Jam reluctantly takes off the denim jacket as Mrs. Bruce 
               grabs the single drumstick from his hand and shakes it at 

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Someday you'll see the futility in 
                         forging a musical career with those 

               She turns and rummages through the closet.

                              (to himself)
                         They're not idiots.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Now don't forget you're on the honor 
                         system tonight. I'll be home a little 
                         after one and if you've been partying 
                         or playing that satanic KISS music... 
                         well, need I remind you of the 

                         Grounded for the rest of the year?

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         You're a smart boy, Jeremiah. And so 

               She pulls two Sears department store boxes from the closet 
               and lays them on the bed. Jam is visibly horrified.

                          THIS IS YOUR MOTHER! / THE GIRL'S ROOM

               EXT. ROBERT F. KENNEDY HIGH - DAY

               The suburban high school is teeming with morning activity. 
               School buses pull up to the curb. KIDS arrive in droves and 
               immediately find their cliques. The JOCKS and PRIMADONNAS 
               make up the popular crowd. There's DISCO DUDES, FRESHMEN who 
               look like grade schoolers, and GEEKS.

               At the smoking section hang the BURNOUTS. Hawk, Trip, and 
               Lex stand amid the other long-hairs.

                         School. What a fuckin' waste of time.

               Two GIRLS with tons of make-up, hair so feathered it could 
               fly, and tight clothes, saunter by SNAPPING gum.

                         Will somebody please tell those chicks 
                         disco is dead.

                         Stellas. I hate stellas almost as 
                         much as I hate dogs.

                         Same species when you think about 

               Their words say one thing, but their eyes say another. They 
               can't stop gawking at the chicks' asses. Girl #1 sneers back.

                                     GIRL #1
                         Don't stare too long, you'll go blind.

               The boys quickly cover.

                         Yeah, right. She wishes. Look at 
                         that big ass.

                         You know what they say about a big 
                         ass... big shit.

               They chuckle. Just then, Jam steps off a school bus in an 
               unbelievably geeky outfit, white corduroy slacks, plaid shirt 
               buttoned to the top, argyle socks and brown deck shoes.

                         Hey, that dork looks just like Jam.

               Hawk and Lex look and laugh when they see him.

                         Shit, that dork is Jam.

                              (to Jam)
                         YO, DOOFUS!

               Jam gives them the finger.

               INT. SCHOOL LOCKER AREA - DAY

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam grab books from their lockers.  
               KISS stickers, photos, and rock magazine cut-outs line the 
               insides. Jam's locker door is covered with Peter Criss only.

                         So, Jam, who did your wardrobe, Tad 
                         the preppie sailboat captain?

                         Hey, my mom had me over a barrel, 
                         all right. After last night, I had 
                         to let her dress me today. It's a 
                         give and take relationship.

                         Yeah, she gives you shit and you 
                         take it.

                         Okay, enough. Enough. Gimme the 
                         tickets. I wanna hold onto them.

                         They're still at my house in Trip's 

                         They're what?

                         She was standing right over me when 
                         I was changing for fuck's sake.

                         That's some sick shit right there.  
                         Did she comb your ass hair for you 

                         If your mom so much as smells those 
                         tickets, they're history, and we get 
                         screwed outta seeing KISS for the 
                         third year in a row, the third year!

                         Don't worry about it. They're 
                         perfectly safe. We can pick them up 
                         after school. My mom won't be home. 
                         It's no problem.

                         All right. After school we double-
                         time it to your house for the tix 
                         before heading to the train station 
                         for the 2:45 to Detroit Rock City.


               The BELL RINGS.

                         As they say in the Tampon biz, see 
                         you next period.

               SLAM! They shut their lockers in unison.

               INT. STUDY HALL - DAY

               The STUDY HALL TEACHER grades papers. On the wall a picture 
               of President Carter hangs next to Old Glory. The words "Be 
               Quiet" are written on the blackboard.

               Students study, read, doodle, sleep. Jam is at his desk 
               touching up the word "Mystery" on his drumstick. Next to him 
               sits BETH. Quirky, but cute, she stares longingly at him 
               wanting to say something, but not having the guts.

               Pleased with his work, Jam puts the drumsticks on the desk 
               and opens a Peter Criss album cover notebook depicting 
               countless doodles of the KISS logo, the Mystery logo, and 
               renderings of Peter Criss.

               Beth SIGHS and opens her own notebook. Drawings of hearts 
               fill the pages. In them is written "Beth + Jeremiah" and "I 
               love Jeremiah."

               Then, one of Jam's drumsticks rolls off the desk and onto 
               the floor. Beth quickly reaches down to grab it for him just 
               as he bends to get it too. THUD, they bash heads.


               Rubbing her head, she smiles and hands him the drumstick.

                         No problem.


               He stuffs his drumsticks in his socks pulling his pantlegs 
               down. Jam and Beth stare at each other. There's a mutual 
               crush, but both are apprehensive about making the first move. 
               Both want to speak, neither does. They awkwardly go back to 
               their notebooks.

               Mustering the nerve, Jam breaks the ice and whispers...


               Beth spins too quickly. Her pen flies out of her hand.


               BOINK! The pen hits Jam in the eye.


               Feeling awful, Beth moves in to help. The teacher looks up 

                                     STUDY HALL TEACHER
                         Mr. Bruce, Miss Bumsteen, is there a 

                         No. No problem.

               Jam points to his eye.

                         Just a little pink eye. No reason to 

               Unamused, the teacher goes back to grading.


                              (handing back pen)
                         It's okay.

               Beth resumes doodling feeling like an idiot. Jam does too. 
               Ah, teenage awkwardness. Finally, Beth musters up some 



               She hems and haw, then...

                         I wanted to tell you something... 

               Suddenly, Beth is rudely interrupted by HIGH-PITCHED FEEDBACK 
               coming from the P.A. The PRINCIPAL'S VOICE ECHOES over it.

                                     PRINCIPAL'S VOICE
                         Jeremiah Bruce, come to the office 

               Jam throws a startled glance to the speaker as the class 
               sings in unison.

                                     WHOLE CLASS
                         Oooo, you're in troubaaaallll.

                                     PRINCIPAL'S VOICE
                         Your mother's here and would like to 
                         see you right away...

               More FEEDBACK as the mike on the other end changes hands.

                                     MRS. BRUCE'S VOICE
                         Give me that microphone... Jeremiah, 
                         you get your sorry self down to this 
                         office, mister!

               All the kids except for Beth burst into hysterical laughter.

               Mrs. Bruce's tirade continues over QUICK SHOTS of...

               INT. HAWK'S SCIENCE CLASS - DAY

               Hawk sits at his lab table burning an eraser with his Bunsen 
               burner. His eyes widen with horror behind his goggles as the 
               other STUDENTS laugh till they hurt.

                                     MRS. BRUCE'S VOICE
                         I found some things in the pockets 
                         of your jacket while I was picking 
                         up your disgusting laundry today...

               INT. LEX'S GYM CLASS - DAY

               Lex's eyes bug with terror. The basketball game is at a 
               standstill as everyone is crippled with laughter.

                                     MRS. BRUCE'S VOICE
                         Cigarettes! Marijuana! Prophylactics!

               INT. TRIP'S HEALTH CLASS - DAY

               Trip dozes at his desk as an out-of-date film about VD 
               sputters on. The room is deafening with laughter. Then, as 
               if hit by a ton of bricks, Trip wakes up alarmed by the 
               familiar, shrilly voice.

                                     MRS. BRUCE'S VOICE
                         And something much, much worse!

                         Holy shit, my jacket!

               4-WAY SPLIT SCREEN

               We see Jam, Hawk, Lex, and Trip agog in dread.

                                     MRS. BRUCE'S VOICE
                         If you know what's good for you, 
                         you'll get down here... NOW!

               INT. JAM'S STUDY HALL - DAY

               Jam slowly sinks in his chair under the profoundly humiliating 
               weight of an ENTIRE SCHOOL'S ECHOED LAUGHTER.

               INT. WAITING AREA - DAY

               Mrs. Bruce sits next to a stand-up ashtray in the high 
               school's waiting area. Scowling, she fans the KISS tickets 
               out with one hand. Jam sits across from her, one leg jittering 

               They sit for an uncomfortably long time until... Mrs. Bruce 
               pulls a cigarette and lighter out of her purse.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         I made an appointment with Father 
                         Phillip McNulty at St. Bernard's.  
                         We're to see him directly where he 
                         will register you on the spot.

                         You mean, you're sending me to... b-
                         b-boarding school?

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         What else can I do? Oh, records and 
                         magazines and comic books are one 
                         thing, but tickets? TICKETS? Jeremiah, 
                         do you realize what this means? That 
                         you're no longer content merely 
                         hearing their awful songs or looking 
                         at photos of their horrific faces! 
                         Now you want to see the devil in the 
                         flesh. You want to reach out and 
                         touch pure evil... and in Detroit no 

               She flicks the lighter, not yet lighting the cigarette.

                         Mom, three of those tickets don't 
                         even belong to me. They're for the 

               Mrs. Bruce holds the tickets over the lighter's flame.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         And if the "guys" have parents who 
                         truly love them, they will elevate 
                         me to sainthood for getting rid of 
                         these blasted things.

               Mrs. Bruce lights her smoke with the flaming tickets, then 
               drops them in the ashtray where they burn for a cruel 
               eternity. Jam stares semi-catatonic through his mom's sour 

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         It's been a long time coming, son, 
                         but you're finally going to get the 
                         kind of discipline you deserve.

               She stands and pulls him out the front entrance by his arm.


               Hawk, Trip, and Lex peek around it, their heads forming a 
               totem pole. One-by-one they pull back.

               AROUND THE CORNER

               They slump against the wall devastated.

                         I knew it! I knew this was gonna 
                         happen! I had a bad feeling since 
                         last night. Remember? We are so 
                         totally fucked!

                         Waitaminit, dudes! I got it! Maybe 
                         we can glue the tickets back together!

                         What are you, high?


                         For once Lex is right. It's over. 
                         Things can't get any worse from here.

               Suddenly, a caustic voice BLURTS from down the hall.

                         I hope you rodents have hall passes!

               The boys whip their heads around to see a potbellied, yellow-
               toothed, security officer with long sideburns and slicked 
               back hair at the far end of the hall, fists on his hips.  
               Meet ELVIS.

                         Wanna bet.

                         Could that be three detentions I 

               Elvis laughs and breaks into a run barreling down on them 
               like a maniac. Keys JANGLING furiously.

                         Second floor girls' john! Two minutes! 
                         He'll never look there!


               They take off in three different directions. Still laughing, 
               Elvis stops where the boys just were. Which one to follow? 
               He bolts after Hawk who has taken the nearest staircase.

               INT./EXT. JAM'S STUDY HALL - DAY

               Beth looks sadly out the window watching Mrs. Bruce push Jam 
               in the car. Beth puts her hand on the pane wanting to touch 

               INT. STAIRWAY - DAY

               Meanwhile, Elvis HUFFS and PUFFS up a flight of stairs 
               arriving at a set of swinging doors. He goes to push one in, 
               but it swings out at him with a vengeance knocking him 

               From behind it pops Hawk wielding a fire extinguisher. BLAST! 
               A hail of foam covers Elvis's face. Hawk shoves the 
               extinguisher into the man's arms and pushes Elvis backwards 
               down the stairs. He topples ass-over-head till he hits the 

                         You're way out of your league, Elvis.

               Elvis rises and shakes the CO2 off like a wet dog. Looking 
               up, he sees the door gently swinging in and out. No sign of 

               INT. GIRLS' BATHROOM - DAY

               Trip kicks a bathroom stall violently.

                         Fuck! Shit!

               Lex sits on the toilet in the stall.

                         Hey, take it easy, man. This is the 
                         girls' crapper, remember?

                         Wake up, Lex! We just watched Jam's 
                         mom torch our fuckin' KISS tickets! 
                         Not REO Speedwagon! Not Journey! Not 
                         the Bay City Rollers! KISS! If you 
                         can think of a better reason to trash 
                         a bathroom, I'd sure like to hear 

                         Trip, it's not the end of the world, 
                         okay? Quit acting all squeezed out.

               Trip grabs Lex by the collar, yanks him off the toilet and 
               shoves him against the wall.

                         Oh, everything's hunky-dory now that 
                         the shit hit the fan just like you 
                         said it would, you snug sonofabitch! 
                         You fuckin' jinxed us!

                         Smug, Trip! Not snug, smug.

               Hawk bursts into the bathroom.

                         We're clear, dudes.

               They run to exit. Hawk first. Suddenly, Hawk backs up again 
               into Trip and Lex as if a swarm of killer bees was out there.

                         A skirt just came around the corner.

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex run back and pile into the last stall.  
               All three stand on the toilet bracing their arms against the 
               walls for balance.

               A FOXY GIRL hurries into the stall next to theirs. We see 
               the top halves of three heads peek over the stall's partition.  
               The three boys don't make a sound as they watch her sit down.

               As she glances up, they recoil fast. They whisper super-quiet.

                         That's Sherry VanHafton.

                         I've been in love with her since the 
                         second grade.

               Then, a SOUND OF TINKLING. They all throw their hands over 
               their mouths to stifle the giggles. Suddenly, POOT! She lets 
               out an ECHOED FART. The boys are awestruck.

                         Whoa... she just farted.

                         I have never heard a girl squeeze 
                         cheese in my entire life.



                         Peeeyeewww! That stinks!

               Just then, the SOUND OF CRACKING PORCELAIN, as the toilet 
               they're standing on breaks into pieces with a SMASH. They 
               topple over pulling the stall walls down with them exposing 
               the foxy chick sitting on the can. Water GUSHES everywhere 
               as she screams bloody murder, getting doused ruining her 

               They bolt out the door slipping and sliding across the torrent 
               of toilet water. Lex turns and shrugs to the traumatized 

                         Heh-heh, sorry.

               He's gone.

                                CALLER 106 / ELVIS ATTACKS

               INT. MRS. BRUCE'S CAR - DAY

               Mrs. Bruce uses a finished cigarette to light another.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Someday you'll have a son just like 
                         you, Jeremiah. A boy who lies through 
                         his teeth, buys demonic records, and 
                         smokes the dope just like you.

                         If I'm anything like you, I'll deserve 

                                     MRS. BRUCE

                         I said, I'm sorry!

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         If you truly are sorry, son, then 
                         you better pray like you've never 
                         prayed before. God willed me to find 
                         those tickets because He wanted to 
                         hear from you.  He knows you need 
                         help and He wants you to ask Him for 

               EXT. ST. BERNARD'S - DAY

               Mrs. Bruce's car turns off the road and drives through an 
               imposing set of wrought iron gates. The sign reads: St. 
               Bernard's Veil of Tears. A School for Catholic Boys.

               INT. MRS. BRUCE'S CAR - DAY

               Jam looks at what lies ahead. His face becomes a mask of 
               pure terror. We hear a THUNDER CLAP as Jam puts his hands 
               together and closes his eyes humbling himself. He whispers.

                         Please, God, help.

               EXT. ST. BERNARD'S - DAY

               The car winds up the path leading to a dark, Gothic edifice 
               over which tumultuous storm clouds continuously hover. THUNDER 
               BELCHES and bolts of lightning shoot at the blackened 
               crucifixes along the structure. We hear a SCARY ORGAN theme.

               INT. VOC/TECH DEPT. - DAY

               Except for the tinkering NOISES that are heard as the STUDENTS 
               work on their projects, there is silence in Electronics Class.

               The teacher, MR. JOHANSEN, sips from a coffee cup and reads 
               a newspaper, his feet on the desk. The headline says: "Mass 
               Suicide in Jonestown. Cyanide in the Kool-Aid." Above him is 
               a long banner reading: "Sorry, Absolutely no bathroom breaks".

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex sit before a half-built radio on a work 
               bench, sheer desperation etched on their faces.

               Lex solders two copper wires together. Hawk attaches a dial. 
               Trip absently plays with a squeeze pump attached to a long 
               plastic tube. He blows air into his face repeatedly with it.

                              (re:squeeze pump/tube)
                         Wonder if you could smoke shit out 
                         of this?

                         Maybe some tunage'll chase those 
                         blues away.

               Hawk turns the radio on and a HIGH FREQUENCY WHINE pours 
               from its speaker. He adjusts the volume, then the tuner, 
               until a DJ's VOICE comes through crisp and clear.

                                     DJ'S VOICE
                         ...and this is Simple Simon on the 
                         rock of Detroit, W.A.R.P., home of 
                         the biggest KISS giveaway in the 
                         history of the universe!

               Detroit? DETROIT? Hawk, Trip, and Lex react like they've 
               just been hit by phasers on stun. God is intervening.

                                     DJ'S VOICE
                         I got four, count 'em, four front 
                         row tickets along with four backstage 
                         passes to the concert tonight at 
                         Cobo Hall and I'm giving them to the 
                         106th caller who can tell me the 
                         real names of each KISS band member!

               HIGH FREQUENCY NOISES again, then the radio loses reception.  
               Hawk exchanges an anxious glance with Trip and Lex.

                         Too bad we're stuck in electronics 

                         Never mind with the too bad shit. I 
                         got a crazy plan, but only the 
                         craziest among us can pull it off.

                                                 DISSOLVE TO: MOMENTS LATER

               Mr. Johansen still sits with his feet up, reading. The next 
               page's headline reads: First Test Tube Baby Born.

               Trip runs up to Mr. J's desk, one hand behind his back, the 
               other on his crotch. His face is drawn in an expression of 
               sheer agony. Hawk and Lex watch anxiously in the background.

                         Mr. Verudi, get back to your bench.

               Trip puts one leg over the other always keeping a hand behind 
               his back.

                         But I gotta take a piss like you 
                         would not believe, Mr. Johansen!

                         Put a clothespin on it till the end 
                         of class, Verudi. You know my rule.

                         But ever since my doctor put me on 
                         salt pills, it's been like Niagara 
                         Falls every half hour! Please, Mr. 
                         J! Have mercy!

               Suddenly, a wet stain grows across the crotch of Trip's pants.

                         Salt pills? Don't insult my 
                         intelligence, Verudi...

               Mr. J. stops when he sees the stain starting to spread.

                         Jeezis, I'm taking a leak in my pants!

               We now see Trip is squeezing the pump from before. He holds 
               it behind him feeding water into the tube running down the 
               back of his pants.

               The stain travels fast, hitting Trip's knee in a nanosecond.  
               In a state of shock, Mr. J. slowly opens a long forgotten 
               drawer on his desk, finding a cobweb and dust-covered pad of 
               bathroom passes. He tears one off and dust flies everywhere.

               He holds the pass out to Trip like it was a cross he was 
               holding before an advancing vampire.

                         Get the hell out of here, Verudi! 
                         You disgust me!

               Hawk and Lex observe that Trip has been successful, then do 
               a Three Stooges-style handshake, whispering "Curly!"

               INT. FRONT OFFICE - DAY

               The SECRETARY sits at her desk in the reception area filing 
               paperwork. She pauses when she hears RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. Trip 
               charges past, a big, wet stain on his crotch.

               The secretary notices the pump and tube flopping from the 
               back of his pants as Trip turns a corner.

               INT. MAIN CORRIDOR - DAY

               Trip runs up to a pay phone on the wall, pumps every nickel 
               he has into it, puts the phone to his ear and dials.

                         I need to be connected to the W.A.R.P. 
                         contest hotline... Now... lady!... 
                         Hello, is this me? I'm Trip.


               A cubby-of-an-office. Cluttered beyond belief. Elvis leans 
               back on his chair against the wall reading a PLOP Magazine. 
               A transistor radio plays W.A.R.P. He bolts at the sound of 
               Trip's name causing his chair to slide out from under him. 

                                     TRIP ON RADIO
                         Am I on the air?... Yeah... Gene 
                         Klein, Stanley Eisen, Paul Frehley, 
                         and Peter, uh, Criscoula... yeah, 
                         that's it!

               INT. FRONT OFFICE - DAY

               The secretary hears an ecstatic "YEEEHAAWW" and turns to see 
               Trip wheeling back around the corner, leaping in the air as 
               he runs, YOWLING like a rodeo cowboy. He bounds past her. 
               She watches him and shakes her head.

                              (to herself)

               INT. SECURITY OFFICE - DAY

               Still on the floor, Elvis grabs the little radio with rage, 
               flips it off and screams at it.

                         Why you little...! Over my dead body!

               The bell RINGS.


               Students pour into the hall. Hawk and Lex exit the class 
               just as Trip comes zigzagging down the corridor dodging the 
               hordes. All three converge as Trip can't contain his 

                         I did it! I did it! We won!

                         We won?!

                         Fuckin' A! Woooooo!

               The three burnouts jump, scream, HOOT, and play air 
               instruments like loons as if they're the only ones in the 
               hall. They can't stop. The rest of the student body are not 

               INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex hold their trays over the counter as the 
               LUNCH LADIES fill them with Salisbury steak, hard dinner 
               rolls and scoops of bluish pudding. Ah, public school 

                         This is the best thing that ever 
                         happened to me at school! Not only 
                         are we on again for KISS in Detroit, 
                         but we're actually sitting right at 
                         the fifty yard line! I dare you dudes 
                         to find a curlier scenario.

                              (double stoked)
                         Stan Lee couldn't think of a better 

                         The Chinese have a proverb: "That 
                         which appears too good to be true, 
                         usually is." There's gotta be a catch.

                         Yeah? I have a saying too, Lex. It 
                         goes, "Catch my jizz in your mouth 
                         and stop jinxing us, asshole." We're 
                         going this time and that's all there 
                         is to it.

                         I'm afraid our constipated little 
                         friend is right this time, Trip. 
                         There is a catch.

               Hawk's really got their attention now.


                         Our band "Mystery" is a quartet and 
                         we can't go on the road without our 
                         drummer. Jam's mom said something 
                         about sending him to St. Bernard's, 
                         right? We gotta bust him out before 
                         we go anywhere.

                         But... but, St. Bernard's is way the 
                         hell over in the next county!

                         So? Your mom's car has a CB, radar 
                         detector and cruise control, check?

                         We are not stealing my mom's car.

                         Damn straight we are.

                         Hawk, all I need is one ding on the 
                         Volvo and presto! There are my balls 
                         hanging from the rearview mirror 
                         after she gets back from Cincinnati.

                         And when is she due back from that 
                         groinecologist's convention anyway?

                         Sunday, but...

                         Then lighten up. She'll never know 
                         we touched it. Alright, here's the 
                         plan. We bus it to chez Lex, grab 
                         the Volvo, bail Jam the hell outta 
                         St. Bernard's and arrive at the train 
                         station precisely on time for the 
                         2:45 to Detroit.

                         Simplicity, Hawk.

                         Simple-icity is more like it. And 
                         you guys thought Jam was in trouble 
                         before. Wait till Mrs. Bruce finds 
                         out he went to that concert with us.

                         There's only so much trouble an 
                         individual can get into till it just 
                         doesn't matter anymore, Lex. You 
                         familiar with a condition known as 
                         Absolute Zero?

                         The hypothetical temperature 
                         characterized by the absence of heat 
                         and even the slightest amount of 
                         molecular activity? Yeah, I'm vaguely 

                         Well, Jam is in absolute trouble. He 
                         couldn't get any deeper into shit if 
                         he was a fly sitting in a horse's 
                         ass. You know as well as me he'd 
                         give his right arm just to see Peter 
                         Criss's drum solo, never mind a whole 
                         KISS concert, check?

               Lex nods.

                         Well, the least we, his only buds in 
                         the world, can do is take him along 
                         with us tonight and give him one 
                         last curl before he starts serving 
                         his sentence.

                         Just for the record, I understood 
                         the last part of what you said, but 
                         for a while there you guys were making 
                         no fucking sense whatsoever.

                         I was just explaining to Lex here 
                         what you and I already know. Just 
                         had to make it a little more 
                         complicated so he'd understand.

                         Very funny, Hawk. Okay, I'm in on 
                         this hare-brained scheme, but if 
                         anything happens to my mom's car, 
                         I'm blaming you. I'll say you drugged 
                         me or something.


               Hawk scopes out the cafeteria to make sure the coast is clear.

                         Ok, dudes, follow my lead.

                         Wait a minute. We ditching the rest 
                         of school?

                         About fuckin' time if you ask me. 
                         I'm just going through the motions 
                         till I drop out anyway.

                         Hello summer detention.

                         As I was saying, follow my lead. And 
                         maintain. Elvis just showed up.

               Hawk points across the cafeteria and sure enough Elvis has 
               just entered. Luckily, he hasn't noticed the boys yet.

               Elvis swaggers to a table of CHEERLEADERS, puts his leg on a 
               chair and starts a one-sided conversation with them. They 
               promptly push their trays away, having lost their appetites.

               Meanwhile, back at the condiment tray, Hawk and Trip each 
               grab a big handful of ketchup packets and head to a table. 
               Lex reluctantly follows suit grabbing a big handful of ketchup 
               packets too. All three of them put their trays down and sit.

                              (eyeing Elvis)
                         Five second rule, boys. See you on 
                         the other side.

               Hawk approaches the exit door, glances either way, then 

               Trip and Lex look at their watches for five seconds. Then 
               Trip heads for the exit door also.

               Lex still stares at his watch. After five, he looks at Elvis, 
               who stops talking to the cheerleaders. As if possessing some 
               sixth sense, Elvis turns quickly and looks STRAIGHT INTO 

               ELVIS'S POV -- He spots the swinging exit door and an empty 
               table with three full lunch trays sitting on it.

                         Excuse me, ladies.

               Relieved he's gone, the cheerleaders start eating again.

               Elvis moves through the cafeteria in SLOW MOTION toward the 
               exit door. The hunter in action.

               INT. HALLWAY - DAY

               Elvis pushes through the door and into a hall, dead-eye stare 
               focused up ahead where the hallway turns sharply. He catches 
               a glimpse of Lex. Smiling like the devil, Elvis bolts.

               INT. OTHER HALLWAY - DAY

               Lex catches up with Hawk and Trip just as Elvis swings around 
               the corner and marauds after them CACKLING maniacally. A mad 
               chase ensues. Down hallways. Around corners. Upstairs. Down 

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex scramble as fast as they can to escape 
               the clutches of their sideburn-clad nemesis.

               As the boys pass a classroom, a NERD comes out pushing a 
               projector on an AV cart. Thinking fast, Hawk grabs it out of 
               the nerd's hands and pushes it down the hall at Elvis.

                         Hey, I'm responsible for that!

               CRASH! Elvis bashes face-first into the rolling cart. He and 
               the projector go tumbling. Not wasting a second, Elvis is 
               back on his feet and after them again. The nerd grabs his 
               hair in horror at the sight of the smashed projector.

               AROUND A CORNER

               Elvis SKIDS around the corner and trips on a fire hose 
               stretched across the floor from its glass box to a water 
               fountain pipe. He slides on his belly along the polished 
               floor unable to stop.

               INT. ENGLISH CLASS - DAY

               Old MISS HIBBS is lecturing on MOBY DICK. The kids are dozing.

                                     MISS HIBBS
                         Then a cry from the crow's nest... 
                         "Thar she blows!"

               Suddenly, a screaming Elvis slides into the open door on his 
               stomach and bowls Miss Hibbs over like a Brunswick. He clamors 
               to his feet and shoots out the room leaving everyone stunned.

               INT. HALLWAY - DAY

               Pausing at the corner, Elvis takes a breath and leaps around 
               it. He smiles at what he sees.

               Up ahead, Hawk, Lex, and Trip stand on a 3-stair stoop, 
               desperately pulling at a locked door. Elvis smiles. They 

                         KISS concert? Kiss my ass morelike. 
                         A nice, fat detention oughta put a 
                         crimp in this evening's plans.

               Elvis takes his key ring off his belt and begins twirling 
               it. The boys turn and face him. He savors the moment.

                         Looking for something, rodents?

                         Yeah, Elvis...

               Hawk's brow furrows as he pulls about fifty ketchup packets 
               out of his pocket. Trip and Lex do the same.

                         ..Your ass on a lunch tray.

               Elvis laughs and lurches forward -- the boys' cue to drop 
               the ketchup packets at their feet and...

                         On your marks and...

               Trip and Lex ready themselves, then...


               They start stomping on the packets, squirting Elvis's face 
               and torso with tomato-based condiment causing him to let out 
               a scream that lasts the rest of the scene. Ketchup spatters 
               across his body in SUPER SLOW MOTION. A shot hits him in the 
               mouth and he COUGHS it back out in mid-scream.

               The boys stomp relentlessly, mercilessly, blasting their 
               nemesis with hideous cafeteria red as Elvis throws his arms 
               back, body quaking at every splat. It's kind of like the 
               scene in "The Godfather" where Sonny gets it.

               Beaten and spent, his scream now dried up to a hoarse GASPING, 
               Elvis slips on some ketchup at his feet. He hits the floor 
               with a THUD right in the goop. He lays there letting out DRY 
               SOBS looking like a bunless wiener.

               Hawk jumps off the stoop. Taking Elvis's key chain away, he 
               hops back up and unlocks the door letting Trip and Lex out. 
               Hawk whips the keys back at Elvis, hitting him in the head, 
               then flashes a pearly Error Flynn smile.

                         Elvis, you ain't nothin' but a hot 

               Hawk bolts out the door. Elvis tries to get up only to slip 
               in the muck again and fall back down twice as hard.




               C/U on the grill of a moving car, Ohio vanity plate reading: 

               PULL BACK to reveal it's on a brand spanking-new, brown Volvo 
               242 DL hauling ass. Hawk drives, Lex rides shotgun, and Trip 
               sits in the back, arms draped over the front seat.

               EXT. ST. BERNARD'S - DAY

               The Volvo turns and barrels up St. Bernard's gated entrance.

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

                         Well, here we are back at fucking 
                         school again.

                         Huh. St. Bernard's. Figures it's 
                         named after a canine.

               Hawk and Trip roll their eyes.


               Mrs. Bruce and FATHER McNULTY stand outside his office. The 
               door is open a tad. Jam sits just beyond it, but all we see 
               are his corduroyed legs which shake. Jam is one nervous kid.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Again, many thanks and praise to you 
                         for seeing Jeremiah on such short 

               Father McNulty has a look of utter compassion on his face.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Anything for a potential tuition... 
                         to be given to charity of course.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         God bless you, Father McNulty.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         He already has.

               They hug. She exits. And the look of utter compassion on 
               Father McNulty's face disappears.


               The priest enters, SLAMS the door shut, startling Jam, and 
               sits in front of a painting of the Virgin Mary on his wall. 
               The name plate on his desk reads: FR. PHILIP McNULTY.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Before enrolling you, Jeremiah, let 
                         me just say it would be greatly 
                         appreciated if your career at St. 
                         Bernard's was an uneventful one. 
                         Some students believe they can get 
                         expelled through disobedience and 
                         recklessness. What they don't 
                         understand is even after God's 
                         vengeance is meted out, He forgives. 
                         That His devastating anger is followed 
                         by His nurturing compassion. In a 
                         nutshell, St. Bernard's may punish 
                         you even for the slightest digression, 
                         but will never cast you out, even 
                         for the largest. So here you are, 
                         Jeremiah... here to stay!

               Father McNulty sticks the pencil into an electric pencil 
               sharpener and it makes the same NOISE a DENTIST'S DRILL does 
               when burrowing into a molar. Jam shudders.

               The Father removes the pencil and blows the shavings away 
               from the needle-sharp tip.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Let's begin the enrollment, shall 

               EXT. ST. BERNARD'S - DAY

               Mrs. Bruce exits the building and approaches her car. She 
               stops when she sees the '78 brown Volvo parked behind her. 
               It's empty. She shrugs and gets into her car, driving off.

               Inside the Volvo Hawk, Trip, and Lex poke their heads up. 
               The coast is clear so they can sit straight again. They stare 
               up at a second story window where they see part of Jam's 

                         Now, how are we gonna do this?

                         Gimme a second, dudes. Lemme think.

               They hear an ENGINE and turn to see a delivery truck labelled 
               PIZZA PIG parking behind them. A DELIVERY BOY holding a pizza 
               box steps out. Trip's mouth waters.

                              (licking his chops)
                         Mmm, pizza...

               Seeing the boys, the delivery boy stops at the Volvo.

                                     DELIVERY BOY
                         Hey, you guys know where...
                              (looks at slip on box)
                         Philip McNutly's office is?

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex exchange an anxious glance, then Hawk 
               smiles. He is officially inspired as he turns to the boy.

                         Yeah, I'm Philip McNutly.


               The Father TAPS his pencil looking impatiently at Jam who 
               has totally withdrawn. He sits motionless staring into space.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Jeremiah, are you aware you need to 
                         answer these questions, not just 
                         listen to them? Jeremiah?

               Jam doesn't respond.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Please don't become difficult this 
                         early in your stay. I hate 
                         disciplining boys before I get to 
                         know them.

               A NUN enters KNOCKING.

                         Forgive me, Father. A young man here 
                         with a pizza for you?

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Ah, yes! Send him in Sister Conimaria.

               The nun exits and a second later Hawk enters wearing Lex's 
               baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Well, what's the damage, pizza fellow?

                         Ten even.

               The priest swivels his chair around and unlocks a box labelled 
               "Donations." While he looks for cash, Hawk gives Jam a 
               discreet kick in the shin. Jam looks up and recognizes Hawk. 
               He then looks out the window seeing Trip, Lex, and the Volvo 

               For the first time we see what Jam looks like with a big, 
               fat, shit-eating grin on his face.

                              (whispering to Jam)
                         If he offers you a slice, you're not 
                         the least bit hungry, check?


               Father McNulty swivels back around with a ten.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Here's ten and I'm donating your tip 
                         to the church. The Lord thanks you.

                         Tell the Big Guy not to mention it.

               Hawk takes the ten, tips the brim of the baseball cap and 
               leaves, giving Jam a cautious wink as he goes.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         And not a moment too soon. I'm 
                         famished. I hope you brought a lunch 
                         for yourself.

                         No, but I'm not hungry anyway.

               Father McNulty raises his eyebrows, then opens the pizza 

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Well! It finally speaks. There's one 
                         barrier we've broken through.

               Father McNulty smiles, taking a big bite. Jam smiles for an 
               entirely different reason. The priest mumbles with a mouthful.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         You know, your coming here reminds 
                         me of a gospel called The Prodigal 

               Jam grins a bit feigning interest.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         There was once a farmer who had two 
                         sons. Both grew up on the farm, 
                         helping their father until...
                              (suddenly alarmed)

               Father McNulty GAGS sticking his pizza-covered tongue out. 
               He pours himself a glass of wine and sucks it down looking 
               concerned for the moment. Finally, he BELCHES.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         That was a very stale mushroom.
                         Where was I?... Ah, yes, one day the 
                         elder son decided to leave the farm...

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex look up at Father McNulty's window.

                         Usually takes anywhere from ten 
                         minutes to half an hour.

               They look at their watches, then back at the window.

                         Shit! This is such a lousy view. How 
                         the hell are we gonna know when he's 

               Just then, INSANE LAUGHTER bellows from the window above.

                         He's lit.


               The Father has undergone a metamorphosis. He's redder than a 
               boiling lobster, his eyes bulge and he's laughing the deepest 
               laugh a man can without risking psychological evaluation.

               Jam watches fascinated as the priest tries to finish the 
               story. It's not every day you see a holy man tripping on 

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                              (in mid-guffaw)
                         So then, the younger one says, "But 
                         dad... I've been helping you on the 
                         farm my entire life!
                              (belly laugh)
                         You never once slaughtered the fatted 
                         calf for me!" And then...
                              (more belly laughter)
                         Forgive me, Jeremiah, it's just 
                         that... I've been telling this gospel 
                         for years and... I just now realized 
                         it's the work of some comedy 
                         mastermind! The Prodigal Son is a 
                         barrel of fucking monkeys!

               Father McNulty belly laughs so hard this time, he slides off 
               his chair hitting his chin on the edge of his desk. He is in 
               pain only momentarily, then laughs again, this time at his 
               own pratfall. He hoists himself back into his chair.

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex suddenly barge into the office, followed 
               by the outraged nun.

                         You kids can't go in there!

                         It's okay, we're old buds of Father 
                         McNulty... How's it hangin', padre?

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         A little to the right, pizza fellow.

               Father McNulty laughs some more.

                         That was another dude. Anyway, we're 
                         here to take our bud Jam to the big 
                         satanic KISS concert tonight. Okay 
                         with you?

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Rock on!

               Jam gets up and all four boys exit.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                              (yelling after them)
                         Give my regards to the guy with the 
                         really big tongue!

               The nun looks at the priest, deep concern in her eyes.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         What the hell are you doing, Sister 
                         Gonorrhea, waiting for a bus?

               He lets out a belly laugh as the shocked nun runs from the 
               office. Father McNulty laughs even louder at her behavior, 
               POUNDING his fists on the desk, tears rolling down his cheeks, 

               He suddenly glimpses at the painting of the Virgin Mary and 
               abruptly stops laughing. What appears to be extreme contrition 
               washes over his face as he moves closer to the painting.

                                     FATHER MCNULTY
                         Jesus H. Christ, look at all the 


               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Hawk drives, Trip rides shotgun, Lex and Jam sit in the back.  
               Stoked beyond belief, Jam POUNDS his drumsticks on the 
               upholstery to the beat of a rockin' KISS tune playing on the 

                         Oh, man, my mom is gonna send me to 
                         Alcatraz for this and I don't even 
                         care! I'm gonna see Peter Criss's 
                         drum solo!

               Lex taps Jam on the shoulder.

                         Not looking like that, Mr. Rogers.

               Lex hands him a paper bag with jeans and a tee-shirt in it.

                         We got you a change of duds when we 
                         picked up the car.

                         Next stop: the 2:45 to Detroit Rock 

               The boys do their Three Stooges handshake and say "Curly!"

               Jam starts to change. Just then, the Volvo passes a two-tone 
               Chevy Impala with luggage tied to the roof. The passenger in 
               the back seat turns and spots Jam pulling off his pants. 
               It's Beth. Her eyes bulge. Beth parents are in the front.

               Jam spots her and beams. Their eyes lock. She waves and starts 
               to yell something, when... suddenly... BANG!

               The boys look out the driver's side of the car to see the 
               rear hubcap rolling away. They've got a flat.

                         My mom's hubcap!

               The car fishtails and weaves but Hawk manages to pull over. 
               The Chevy continues on, Beth gazing out the rear window sadly.

                              (looks at car clock)
                         Anybody know how long it takes to 
                         fix a flat?

               EXT. LOCAL TRAIN STOP - DAY

               ANGLE ON a status report. The 2:45 is now leaving. We see is 
               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam running alongside a train as it 
               picks up speed by the second. They YELL for it to stop, but 
               it's hopeless. The train is gone. So much for the 2:45.

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Lex looks at the speedometer. Hawk's got it up to ninety-

                         Jeezis, Hawk, can you at least keep 
                         it within twenty miles of the speed 

                         Lex, am I gonna have to lock you in 
                         the trunk till we reach Detroit? 
                         Don't worry, these babies are built 
                         for speed.

               Trip holds his stomach as we hear it GROWL.

                         I'm starvin' and it's way past 

                         Totally. All I've had for chow was a 
                         packet of Pop Rocks and a Yoo-hoo.

               Trip spots a sign on the side of the road: Next Exit, 

                         Let's stop in Sandusky, Hawk.

                         What's in Sandusky?

                         Pizza, and I been jones-in' for a 
                         pizza ever since we left St. 

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               MOMENTS LATER

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               The boys chomp on their pizza slices and chug cans of Hawaiian 
               Punch. Another raucous KISS tune BLARES.

               Behind them, a car horn starts HONKING rhythmically. Hawk 
               looks into the rearview mirror and sees two guys and two 
               girls in a tailgating Trans Am.

               The guys have 90 M.P.H. haircuts, tacky, wide-collared shirts, 
               and massive amounts of jewelry on their necks.

               The girls wear 10-layer make-up, mega-jewelry, and hair teased 
               so high, it touches the car's roof.

                         Only a car full of guidos and stellas 
                         would ride someone's ass on a two-
                         lane road and beep.

               INT. TRANS AM - DAY

               The speakers BLAST a DISCO SONG to which the four passengers 
               sing. KENNY, the driver, HONKS to the disco beat.

               They're slightly older than our heroes and very full of 
               themselves. Kenny and his best girl CHRISTINE sit in the 
               front. BOBBY and BARBARA are in the back. It's a double disco 

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Trip lifts a rubbery slice of pizza to his mouth and the top 
               layer slides off PLOPPING into his lap.

                         Eyowch! This is one hot pizza!

                         Trip, huck that out before it stains 
                         the upholstery!

               Trip grabs the wad of goop and throws it out the window.

               EXT. TRANS AM - DAY

               Just as the DISCO TUNE playing in the Trans Am hits the next 
               chorus, a fistful of pizza SPLATTERS across the windshield. 
               Freaked, Kenny swerves and zigzags all over the road.

               Righting himself, Kenny's entire family might as well have 
               been insulted.

                         Stop singing... NOW!

               He turns off the stereo and floors the accelerator, swerving 
               into the left lane and passing the Volvo. Bobby is just now 
               noticing the mess on the windshield.

               He starts to laugh.

                         Hey, Kenny, look! There's a hunk of 
                         fawkin' cheese on your windsheel!

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Lex is looking at the mess on the Trans Am's windshield and 
               the anger in the eyes of its passengers.

                         Holy shit! We just pissed off the 
                         Incredible Hulk, his idiot half 
                         brother and two circus clowns.

               The Trans Am runs alongside the Volvo and Hawk turns to see 
               Kenny pointing to the breakdown lane.

                         Stop the friggin' car NOW!

               Hawk rolls up his window. Kenny yells, VOICE MUFFLED, and 
               points to Hawk who pays absolutely no attention whatsoever.

                         Don't you think we should at least 
                         pull over and offer to clean it off?

                         What?! Are you mentally deranged, 

               Just then, SLAM, the Trans Am bangs up against the side of 
               the Volvo pushing it onto the shoulder.

                         What the fuck!

                              (freaking out)
                         The paint!

               EXT. FREEWAY - DAY

               The Trans Am muscles the Volvo into the breakdown lane. 
               Parking the ass end of the Pontiac out a bit, Kenny blocks 
               the Volvo in. Kenny and Bobby climb from their car and storm 
               over to the boys.

               Hawk opens his door just as Kenny's hairy-knuckled hands 
               pull him out through the window. He grabs Trip, yanking him 
               out too. Bobby opens the back door and does the same with 
               Lex and Jam.

               With a kid in each hand now, Kenny and Bobby SLAM the four 
               boys against the Volvo in a line. The size difference between 
               the burnouts and the guidos is painfully obvious now. Kenny 
               and Bobby are Neanderthals.

                         Do you realize the sheer, goddamn, 
                         unadulterated, undiluted, no holds 
                         barred, one hundred percent pure as 
                         Ivory Snow, absolutely friggin' 
                         STUPIDITY of what you just did?

                         Hey, disco dude, it's cool...

               Kenny hauls back and SLAPS the row of boys in the faces Three 
               Stooges-style... WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK!

                         DO YOU?!

               Trip, Lex, and Jam clutch their faces in pain. Hawk looks 
               merely disenchanted as Kenny pokes a muscle-bound finger at 
               his chest. Getting in Hawk's face, Kenny yammers loud and 

                         Lemme paint you a friggin' picture 
                         ahright? Imagine if you will a 1978 
                         Pontiac Trans American in pristine 
                         An appealing portrait, nesspah?

               Hawk starts to say "yes."

                         BUT WAIT! What's that spec on the 
                         windshield? Could it be a wad of 
                         melted mozzarella, tangy tomato sauce, 
                         and various friggin' meat products?

               Hawk is unimpressed.

                         Could be.

                         And if it ain't cleaned off?

                         Kenny, come on with the macho crap 
                         already. Like this kid could take 
                         you in a fight anyway.

                              (ignoring Christine)
                         Answer me, hippie girl. And if the 
                         mess ain't cleaned off my car?

                         It could... bake on?

               Kenny looks at Bobby and they exchange moronic grins.

                         You're a smart little homo, aren't 
                         you, hippie girl? But, while astounded 
                         at your nimble, friggin' insight, I 
                         still detect an issue hanging fire, 
                         namely: where does a sharp-witted 
                         faggot like yourself get off doing 
                         such a dopey thing like that there?

               Hawk figured out that any answer he gives will be incorrect 
               and has decided to wait till Kenny's done.

                         No really, I'm perplexed. I mean, 
                         could you have done stupider if you 
                         were born without a FUCKIN' HEAD?!

                              (using "oh" to mean 
                         Oh! With the language!

                         Shut-up, Christine!

               Christine snarls at Kenny.

                         Okay, Kenny? I don't mean to drain 
                         your keg or anything, but could you 
                         speed up this process?
                         Don't get me wrong, we'd love to 
                         stand here and get shit on by the 
                         cast of Saturday Night Fever, but 
                         we're also on a schedule. So step on 

               Cold silence as Kenny replays Hawk's insult over in his head.

                         Are you gettin' wise with me?

                         No, I'm dumber than a goddamn slug. 
                         Now can I please clean your windshield 
                         and leave without further ado?

                         Break his fawkin' legs, Kenny!

               Kenny's temper's rising faster than the price of gasoline.  
               Hawk on the other hand is cooler than an Otter Pop.

                         Oh, you're dumb all right, you hairy 
                         ass punk. But please, allow me to 
                         clean the friggin' windshield. I 

               And with that, Kenny grabs himself a fistful of Hawk's long 
               hair and pulls him over to the Trans Am. He wipes the pizza 
               off with Hawk's hair, tugging Hawk's head up and down, back 
               and forth. Hawk GRUNTS with each wipe, but doesn't give Kenny 
               the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

               Trip, Lex, and Jam watch helplessly, trapped under Bobby's 
               dull-witted, but equally threatening gaze.

               Kenny gets the last of the big chunks off his windshield and 
               looks at his handiwork.

                         There. Nice and clean.

               He throws Hawk to the ground and smiles at Bobby. Then, he 
               suddenly hears the KISS tune coming from the Volvo. Uh-oh!

                         Oh, no, no, no! It's the fag band!

               Kenny clenches his jaws and walks up to the Volvo, reaching 
               in the driver's door. Suddenly Jam grabs his wrist.

                         Whoa! This is about pizza! Let's 
                         leave KISS out of it. Please.

                         A bunch of guys who make bad music, 
                         dress like freaks, and wear more 
                         make-up than all my sisters combined?  
                         These assholes must be stopped!

               Kenny pushes Jam away.

                         That's it, Kenny! I'm leaving!

               Christine gets out of the car and starts walking down the 
               highway, exiting the scene.

                         Oh, Christine! You googatz in the 
                         head or something? We're on the side 
                         of the freakin' highway!

                         Let her go, Barbara, she'll come 
                         back to Kenny. She always does...
                              (to Kenny)
                         Right, Kenny?

               Kenny meanwhile has his arm in the Volvo.

                         Kool and the Gang, now there's real 

               Kenny takes the 8-track from the car...

                         But this... is crap!

               He flings it into the highway, where it is summarily smashed 
               to bits under the wheels of a passing semi.

               FOLLOW a chunk of cartridge and a strand of mangled tape 
               streaming from it as it sails back toward the side of the 
               road, landing at Jam's feet.

               TILT UP to Jam's face. He raises his eyes and turns to the 
               CAMERA, a single tear rolling down his cheek, just like the 
               Indian in that "Keep America Beautiful" litter ad.

               Hawk rises and Kenny comes face-to-face with him.

                         So. All that having been said and 
                         done, I believe we are ready for the 
                         final topic of discussion. Namely: 
                         Have you learned your lesson yet, 

               Hawk pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. He 
               blows some smoke in Kenny's face.

                         Well, let's recap, shall we? You 
                         slapped all of us, yelled at me, 
                         used my head for a rag, threw me on 
                         the ground and tossed our LOVE GUN 8-
                         track under the wheels of a passing 
                              (puffing on cig)
                         So, if the lesson was that you're a 
                         dick with ears and a really bad 
                         haircut, then, yes... I'd say we 
                         learned it.

                              (beat, in disbelief)
                         Excuse me, I'm a little deef-a-
                         hearin'. Can you repeat yourself?

                         Okay. Ahem! You. Are. A. Dick. With. 
                         Ears. And. A. Really. Bad. Haircut.

                         Oh, yeah...?

               Out of original material, Kenny goes for an old stand by.

                         That's not what your mother said 
                         last night.

               Trip, Lex, and Jam exchange "uh-oh" glances. Meanwhile, Hawk's 
               eyes glaze over.

                         It's not, huh? Well, then, tell me...

               Hawk reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his mostly 
               empty can of Hawaiian Punch, holding it discreetly at his 

                         ...what exactly did my mother say 
                         last night?

               Kenny draws a blank, not being prepared for this one.

                         You heard me, prick. What did my 
                         mother say last night?

               Kenny chuckles and looks at Bobby. They have a good little 
               laugh... the homo's got balls! Then Kenny turns back to Hawk.

                         Okay, fagmo... I'll tell you what 
                         your mother said last night.
                         She said that I was the fuck of her 

               Hawk is a little mad now. He tosses his cigarette to the 
               ground and squashes it like a bug under his sneaker.

                              (very Clint Eastwood)
                         How would you like a nice Hawaiian 


               Quick as a shot, Hawk SLAMS the bottom of the can into Kenny's 
               nose, crushing it flat against his face. Hawaiian backwash 
               spews from its tab hole like blood as Kenny falls backwards 
               from the impact. He hits his head on the ground.

               Taking this as a cue... Trip whips out his wallet on a 
               chain... Lex rips off his KISS belt... And Jam yanks out his 

               As if choreographed, Trip swoops the wallet at Bobby's feet, 
               snagging him around the ankles tightly with the chain. Lex 
               THWAMS Bobby in the face with his big KISS belt buckle leaving 
               a reversed, red, KISS logo branded in his forehead.

               Trip yanks the chain pulling Bobby off his feet. When he 
               hits the ground, Jam's right there DRUMMING his balls.

               Bobby shrieks.

               Meanwhile, Hawk advances on Kenny who tries to get the can 
               off his face, but it's stuck on looking like a pig's nose 
               with fruit punch for snot.

               Hawk raises both his hands in Kenny's face, then executes 
               the final insult... Hawk messes Kenny's hair. Kenny lets out 
               a scream that comes from the bottom of his vanity.

               Hawk grabs Kenny by the ears and brings the guido's head 
               swiftly against his kneecap. Kenny falls to the ground, 
               unconscious on top of Bobby. Their heads collide knocking 
               Bobby out cold.

               Terrified, Barbara leaps from the Trans Am and is cornered.

                         Not so fast, stella.

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               MOMENTS LATER

               Kenny, Bobby, and Barbara are now tied to the guardrail with 
               Jam's white corduroy pants, geeky belt, and plaid shirt. 
               Kenny and Bobby rest their unconscious heads on each of 
               Barbara's shoulders.

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam look down at the two guidos and the 
               stella, snickering.

                         When they wake up, they're gonna 
                         come looking for you jerks. You best 
                         hope they don't find you, cause if 
                         they do, they're gonna kick your 

               Hawk grabs a cinderblock off the side of the road, walking 
               up to the Trans Am.

                         Right, stella, and we'll deserve it.  
                         But let's really make it worth their 

               Hawk puts the rock on the Trans Am's accelerator letting the 
               engine WHINE in protest. (Again we are cautious not to show 
               the guidos' faces.)

                         By the way, when Kenny wakes up could 
                         you give him a message for me. Tell 
                         him, quote, Kool and the gang bite 
                         my bag, motherfucker, unquote.

               He throws the Trans Am into drive.

               All who are conscience listen to the brief SCREECH, then 
               watch the Trans Am as it barrels without a driver into the 
               woods skirting the highway.

               It races into ditches, bounces off trees, and SPLASHES through 
               ponds, all Smokey and the Bandit-like.

               The disco-mobile ramps off the edge of an embankment, tumbles 
               down a steep, rocky incline breaking apart along the way, 
               and finally, BOOM! It explodes on final impact.

               The boys all look at each other and shrug. Hawk walks back 
               to the Volvo and gets in. Trip, Lex, and Jam follow suit and 
               pile in as well. Lex shouts back to Barbara.

                         Oh, thanks for letting us draw from 
                         your ample make-up supply. You must 
                         have the entire Revlon factory in 
                         your purse!


               We now see them from the front. Lo-and-behold, Kenny has 
               been made-up like Gene Simmons, Bobby like Paul Stanley.  
               Whoever finds them is gonna get the wrong idea about their 
               musical taste... and kick their asses all over again.

                         Very funny. I hope you choke!

                                     STELLA ON BOARD

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Hawk starts the engine and takes off. Trip pulls a baggie of 
               weed and some rolling papers out.

                         Hey, look, it's that girl.

               Jam points out at the road ahead to Christine. She's a few 
               hundred feet away walking sadly in the breakdown lane.

                         That's no girl. That's a stella.

                         Stella or no stella, we should pull 
                         over and help her out.

                         Oh no, Jam. I'm not falling for that 

                         Well, couldn't you slow down so I 
                         can at least state my case, Hawk? If 
                         you don't like it, you can speed up 
                         and I'll never mention it again.

               Hawk slows down, turning into the breakdown lane, travelling 
               about two miles per hour. Christine doesn't notice as they 
               edge closer to her.

                         What is it with you, Jam? You got a 
                         thing for that... thing?

                         She's a teenage girl walking on the 
                         side of the highway. They make very 
                         scary movies that start out like 

                         Well, they may not make movies about 
                         four dudes going to a KISS concert. 
                         But if they ever did, the four dudes 
                         most certainly would not stop and 
                         pick up a stranded disco bunny.


                         Unless there was gonna be a scene 
                         where the disco bunny blows the four 
                         dudes on the way to the show.

               INT. VOLVO - DAY

               Christine sits between Jam and Lex in the back SNAPPING gum.  
               Jam and Lex stare at her like cats looking at a fish bowl.

               Hawk looks in the rearview mirror at Christine checking 
               herself in a compact. She swathes on some 7-Up flavored, 
               Bonnie Bell lip gloss.

               Trip meanwhile twirls the joint he's just finished rolling 
               in his mouth, sealing it. He winks at her disgustingly.

                         Oh, great. I just hitched a ride 
                         with a bunch of potheads... I'm 
                         hooking up with some people at this 
                         funky place in downtown Detroit called 
                         Disco Inferno. Mind droppin' me there?

                         What's it worth to you?

                              (grossed out)
                         What the hell is that supposed to 

                         It doesn't mean anything. Don't pay 
                         attention to him.

                              (rolls his eyes)
                         Disco Inferno? Disco's infernal 

               Trying to be suave, Lex moves in close, putting the make on 

                         Your clothes may say disco, but your 
                         eyes say rock 'n' roll, baby.

                         Well, your tee-shirt may say rock 
                         'n' roll, but your breath says 
                         pepperoni, baby.

               She pushes him away. Jam laughs.

                         So, are you, like, gonna polish our 
                         nobs, or what?

                              (thoroughly offended)
                         What? That's disgusting!

                         Trip! That's so fuckin' rude, man.

                         Oh, quit bein' the wussy, sensitive 
                         guy to impress her, Jam. She's 
                         obviously not gonna put out. She's a 
                         fuckin' tease.

                         Tease? What the hell did I do to 
                         tease you mongoloids?

                         You got in the car, didn't you?

                         Oh, God, how calculating of me to 
                         lead you all on like that after you 
                         offered me a ride in the middle of 

                         Whatever... stella.

               Trip lights the joint and takes a lungful of pot. He passes 
               it to Lex and the joint begins to make its rounds with the 
               exception of Christine. The car starts to fill with smoke.

                         The name's Christine, not stella.  
                         And there's no need to be such pigs 
                         just cause I prefer Donna Summer or 
                         KC and the Sunshine Boys or the 
                         Village People over KISS?

                              (with disdain)
                         The Village People? They're fags! 
                         You're a fag hag!

                         Come on, Hawk.

                         I can take care of myself, but thanks 
                         anyway, germ.


                              (to Hawk)
                         Okay, Joe Burnout, let's get one 
                         thing straight here. As far as I'm 
                         concerned good tunes is good tunes, 
                         be it disco or rock or polka or 
                         whatever have you, regardless of the 
                         category. True, if I had to choose, 
                         I'd pick the category labelled disco 
                         because I happen to enjoy dancing. 
                         Disco is just easier to dance to.

                         You call that John Travolta/Denny 
                         Terio shit dancing? I wouldn't dance 
                         like that in private if you paid me.

                         Disco blows dogs for quarters.

               Christine processes this remark.

                         Now there's an intelligently biting 
                         remark wrought with wit and irony.

               Trip looks confused, then smiles thinking she paid him a 

                         Hey, if you don't like that one, 
                         maybe you'll think it's funny when 
                         we throw your ass out the goddamn 

                         Yeah, why don't you put your money 
                         where your mouth is?

                         Why don't you kiss my hairy crack?

                         Why don't you bend over, you're 
                         looking right at it!

               All, Christine included, pause to think about what that 
               comment was supposed to mean. Lex takes a hit off the joint.

                              (holding in smoke)
                         That last remark fell about 30 yards 
                         away from making any sense whatsoever.

               Hawk and Trip immediately bust into the giggles and it doesn't 
               take long for Lex and Jam to follow suit.

                         Hey, you're right. "Bend over you're 
                         looking right at it?!"
                              (starts to laugh)
                         What's that supposed to mean anyway?

               Christine succumbs to the contagious giggle epidemic and the 
               whole car gets a great laugh for a while.

               They finally calm down again and wipe tears from their eyes.  
               Lex still has the joint now as Christine looks at it.

                         Man, this is some kickass shit!
                         Gimme a hit off that jay will ya?

               Lex smiles despite himself and holds the weed out to her as 

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

                             HELLO DETROIT, GOODBYE TICKETS!


               The Volvo passing a big sign that says: "Welcome to Michigan, 
               the Great Lakes State."

               The Volvo racing toward the Detroit skyline.

               Detroit landmarks: The General Motors Building, the Ford 
               Building, Motown Records, and finally...

               COBO HALL, where thousands of fans in KISS tees gather, 
               waiting for its doors to open.

               Unbelievable traffic stretches to an intersection at which 
               stand four key landmarks... a cathedral, a convenience store, 
               a parking lot, and a male strip joint. They face one another, 
               each on its own corner.

               A gigantic sign on the auditorium's facade flashes the 
               commandment, "YOU GOTTA LOSE YOUR MIND IN DETROIT ROCK CITY" 
               over and over again.

               EXT. COBO HALL - SUNSET

               The sun hangs low on this day as the Volvo sits in traffic, 
               passing Cobo Hall. Movement is nearly impossible.

               KISS FANS cram every square foot of open macadam, pushing 
               through the jammed cars. STREET VENDORS hawk KISS souvenirs 
               from tee-shirts to pennants. Some are in stands along the 
               sidewalk. Others come right up to car windows.

               INT. VOLVO - SUNSET

               Christine is fast asleep between Jam and Lex.

                         Man, that weed knocked Christine on 
                         her ass. She's sleeping like a baby 

                              (whispers lustfully)
                         Let's lift up her shirt.

                              (pointing out 
                         There it is!

               All look ahead. COBO Hall. A HALO GLOW forms around the 
               building accompanied by a CHOIR OF ANGELS.

                              (in reverence)
                         We made it!

                         Curly driving, Hawk. We still got 
                         two hours to spare.

                         Ample time to grab our tickets at 
                         the station. See, up ahead. W.A.R.P.

               One block on the left is the W.A.R.P. tower.

                         Hey, Look at the front entrance! A 
                         car's pulling out. The parking space 
                         from heaven. God is surely smiling 
                         down upon us tonight, dudes.

                         Kind of funny, I thought He'd be 
                         pissed as hell at me.

               The opening to the Carpenters' "TOP OF THE WORLD" begins.

               INT. W.A.R.P. TOWER ELEVATOR - NIGHT

               "TOP OF THE WORLD" continues, playing through the speaker of 
               the ascending elevator inside which Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam 
               stand. They watch the numbers climb, smiling.

                         What was that D.J.'s name again?

                         Oh, I'll remember it till the day I 
                         die. His name was... Simpleton the 
                         Simian? No, Samson Samoan... No, 
                         simply, similar...


               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam poke their heads around the corner 
               of an office doorway totem pole-style.

                         Simple Simon?

               SIMPLE SIMON strikes a pose before a full-length mirror in a 
               glittery-back Gene Simmons tee-shirt, silver pants, and very 
               high heel boots. He has a huge Afro and bushy moustache. He 
               turns when he hears Hawk.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON
                         The one and only. But can you kids 
                         hurry this up? I'm due at Coco Hall 
                         in half an hour for the warm-up.

               They all enter and stand at Simple Simon's desk.

                         We're right behind you, Simo. Just 
                         wanted to thank you in advance for 
                         handing over those burly-ass tix me 
                         and my buds won this morning.

               The boys do a Three Stooges handshake and say "Curly!" Simple 
               Simon on the other hand suddenly appears nonplussed

                                     SIMPLE SIMON
                         Your name isn't Trip is it?

               INT. PRODUCER'S BOOTH - NIGHT

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam sit in the tiny producer's booth 
               with Simon who fast forwards a reel-to-reel tape through 
               some very loud, high-speed conversation and bits of music.

               Looking at the footage counter on the tape player, he slows 
               down at a certain point and lets the boys listen to this: 
               The CLICK of a phone being answered.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         Simple Simon on the Rock, go caller.

                                     TRIP'S VOICE
                         Hello? Is this me? I'm Trip. Am I on 
                         the air?

                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         I should hang up on you right now, 
                         but you're the right caller so answer 
                         quick or get your battleship sunk. 
                         What are the names of the four members 
                         of KISS?

                                     TRIP'S VOICE
                         Gene Klein, Stanley Eisen, Paul 
                         Frehley, and Peter...Criscula! Yeah, 
                         that's it!


                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         Is that your final answer?

                                     TRIP'S VOICE
                              (with trepidation)

                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                              (building to crescendo)
                         Trip? You just got yourself four 
                         tickets and four backstage passes to 
                         KISS live at Cobo Hall tonight!


                                     TRIP'S VOICE
                         I did?

                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         Yeah, you did!

                                     TRIP'S VOICE
                         Yeeeehaaawww!! This is totally fuckin' 
                         curly, man! Thank you God!


                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         Whoa, easy, Trip, this is radio, not 
                         "Taxi Driver." Now listen up cause 
                         this next part is crucial. Stay on 
                         the line so we can get your full 
                         name, information, and...

               DIAL TONE.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON'S VOICE
                         Trip? Trip? Oh, man, you didn't hang 
                         up on me did you? Trip?
                         What kind of total moron would 

               Simple Simon stops the tape and looks at the boys who look 
               like they've just been served a life sentence behind bars.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON
                         Well, there you have it. We had no 
                         choice but to give the tickets to 
                         the next caller. I'm sorry.

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam stare at the floor in silence.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON
                         We got sodas in the fridge if that 
                         helps any.

               INT. W.A.R.P. TOWER ELEVATOR - NIGHT

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam ride back down the elevator sipping 
               NeHi sodas, watching the floor numbers get lower and lower. 
               Terry Jack's immortal hit "SEASONS IN THE SUN" plays over 
               the elevator speaker.

                         Well, here we are, dudes. One hour 
                         and thirty minutes away from the 
                         concert of the century... ticketless. 
                         All thanks to Wile E. Coyote, Super- 
                         Fucking Genius over here.

               Trip looks away from the rest, ashamed.

                         Really, Trip, can we bore holes in 
                         your head and use it as a bong so it 
                         actually does us some good for a 

                         Fuck you, Lex! This whole thing 
                         wouldn't have happened if it wasn't 
                         for you jinxing us. I just made an 
                         honest mistake.

                         Oh, I'm sorry, Trip. What you made 
                         was a big, brainless, pile of horse 
                         shit. No offense.

                         Guys, GUYS! Come on, if this is 
                         anyone's fault, it's mine. I was the 
                         one who grabbed Trip's jacket by 
                         mistake. It's my fault and I 

                         Please, Jam, we're trying to vent 
                         some hostility here. Sure the whole 
                         thing may be your fault, but who's 
                         gonna get pissed off at you?

               Jam looks at his feet.

                         Sometimes I think I don't deserve 
                         friends as good as you guys.

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex cringe.

                         I have one question. How could a kid 
                         who wails on the drums like it's the 
                         only thing keeping him alive even 
                         think of such a femmy thing to say?

                         Really, Jam, you tryin' to make us 

                         Yeah, it's like you're possessed by 
                         The Flying Nun, or something.

               The doors to the elevator open and the boys step out.

                                    SHAKE YOUR WEEWEE!

               EXT. W.A.R.P. TOWER - NIGHT

               COBO Hall looms up ahead.

               Hawk, Trip, Lex, and Jam enter the sidewalk. A thickening 
               CROWD of KISS fans continually meander by.

               On their way to the car, they suddenly hear a WOMAN'S VOICE 
               bellowing through a megaphone from somewhere down the street.  
               After a moment they see the voice's source.

               A GROUP OF WOMEN has congregated about forty feet ahead and 
               their LEADER, her back toward the boys, yells to the group 
               through her bullhorn. Flying above them all is a large banner 
               reading: "MATMOK, Mothers Against The Music Of KISS."

                         Welcome to the first open meeting of 
                         MATMOK, Mothers Against The Music Of 

               The group cheers as the KISS FANS milling around them pretty 
               much ignore the whole MATMOK spectacle.

               Lex looks away from the MATMOKS and into the street. We can't 
               see what he sees, but we can tell he's alarmed.

                         Uh... dudes?

                              (ignoring Lex)
                         Now there's a woman who totally abuses 
                         the privilege of motherhood.


               They all look at Lex.

                              (eyes focused ahead)
                         Where's the Volvo?

               Hawk, Trip, and Jam look at their parking spot to see a beat-
               up Dodge Dart sitting there instead of the Volvo.

                         It's gone.

                         I can see that, bright boy. What 
                         happened to it?

                         It was stolen!

                         Christine stole it! Asleep, my ass! 
                         The stella booted with your mom's 

                         But we took the keys?

                         Damn, she musta hot wired it. We 
                         picked up a professional car thief 
                         in the shape of Olivia Newton-John!

                         Okay, I'm just a little mad now! 
                         Jam, why'd you talk us into picking 
                         that bitch up in the first place!?

                         I'm sorry, guys. I thought it was a 
                         nice thing to do.

                         Jam, not another word out of your 
                         femmy-ass mouth! Okay, we're here, 
                         we got nothing, and we got an hour 
                         and a half. We're totally committed. 
                         It's time to brainstorm.

                         Here's a suggestion. Let's stop 
                         worrying about the concert for the 
                         time being and get the cops in on 
                         this Volvo situation.

                         Wake up, Lex. This is Detroit. The 
                         cops aren't gonna waste city dollars 
                         looking for a Swedish car. Face it, 
                         the Volvo's on a cutting board as we 
                         speak getting sliced, diced, and 
                         julienned by Christine, the chop 
                         shop gourmet.

               Lex is developing a look of resolve. This is Detroit!

                         Now listen up. Here's the game plan.

                              (on a roll)
                         ...I mean, my mom's got insurance. 
                         What's the worst thing she could do?  
                         Ground me for the entire year? I can 
                         handle that...

                         Cool, bro, now listen up...

                         ...Holy shit! I am in absolute 
                         trouble! I never should have let you 
                         drive, man! Absolute fuckin' trouble!

                         Okay, shut the fuck up, Lex! Now, 
                         then, step number one, we find us a 
                         scalper. I got...
                              (takes out KISS money 

                         Twenty-five more'n I got.

                         All I got is five. The rest is in 
                         the Volvo.

                         I got...

                         Uh-uh. Don't tell us, Jam. Just show 

               Jam holds up a ten keeping his mouth shut.

                         So maybe we got enough for one ticket.  

                         Waitaminit, dudes! I got it! We find 
                         four really small kids, beat the 
                         shit outta them and steal their 
                         tickets. What do you think?

                         Brilliance, Trip. Sheer brilliance. 
                         Give Albert Einstein here the Nobel 

               Trip smiles proudly.

                         I think we should try sneaking in.

                         Four dudes sneaking in? We'd get 
                         busted fer sure. Bad plan.

                         Okay, one of us sneaks in, gets four 
                         ticket stubs off some kids in the 
                         audience, comes back out, and we all 
                         "re-enter" the concerto. Voila!

                         Still too risky for my money.
                              (looking at watch)
                         We're running out of time here. This 
                         is KISS! A victory for one is a 
                         victory for the team. I'm sure I can 
                         barter with a scalper, but if you 
                         dudes think you got better plans, go 
                         for it. We'll reconvene at that 

               Hawk points to the intersection where the church, the male 
               strip joint, the parking lot, and the Smiley Mart are located.

                twenty-thirty hours.

                         One more time in English.

                         For the next hour and a half it's 
                         every dude for himself. Try to get 
                         at least one ticket and at 8:30 P.M. 
                         we'll meet over there.

                         Wait! I know how we can get in!

                         Jam, shut-up! You're not allowed to 
                         speak, remember? Go use whatever 
                         femmy idea you have to get yourself 
                         a ticket or four. I don't wanna hear 

                         But... my plan involves all four of 
                         us acting together.

                         See you at 8:30, Jam. Later.
                              (to Lex and Trip)
                         Dudes? Later.

               Hawk, Trip, and Lex split up, leaving Jam alone. He starts 
               walking in the opposite direction, passing MATMOKS. The leader 
               is still on a roll, yelling through the megaphone.

                         Look around you tonight, mothers!  
                         Look at all the young faces! They 
                         smile and laugh but their eyes have 
                         lost all hope! Not one among them 
                         appears to possess the love and fear 
                         of God... This satanic group KISS 
                         has stolen their souls.

               The leader's gaze finally falls upon Jam. He lets out a GASP. 
               Yes, the leader is Mrs. Bruce. So this was her church meeting.

               She freezes when she sees her son; her jaw slackens. Meanwhile 
               Jam looks stunned beyond comprehension.

                         Oh... dear... Lord!!

               Mrs. Bruce quickly hands the megaphone to another MATMOK 
               member, who picks up where Mrs. Bruce left off.

               Jam looks around for someplace to run and hide, but it's too 
               late. Mrs. Bruce slices through the crowd of KISS fans and 
               grabs Jam by the ear. He yelps.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         I don't know how you got here tonight 
                         and I don't want to know either. All 
                         I know is you're going to pay dearly 
                         for this one, young man!


               Mrs. Bruce tugs Jam toward the intersection we saw before.  
               They cross the street toward the corner where the Cathedral 

               Jam looks up at the cross on the steeple and GULPS with 

                         Mom, what're we...?

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Just keep your lying, heathenous 
                         trap shut, Jeremiah.

               They climb the steps to the cathedral passing a bulletin 
               board reading: Thank God It's Friday Mass, 6PM-7PM.

               PARISHIONERS exit the beautiful church, shaking hands with a 
               PRIEST as they leave.

                         What a wonderful mass, Father/So 
                         inspirational, Father/Thank you.

                         Thank you/Come again next week.

               Mrs. Bruce pulls Jam up to the priest.

                         Next mass is tomorrow morning, sister.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Can we talk, Father? I'm desperate. 
                         My son was about to defy God by going 
                         to that blasphemous KISS concert.

                         In that case, come right in.

               Meanwhile, across the street...


               Parked in front of the busy fast-food establishment we 
               recognize the two-toned Chevy Impala with luggage tied on 
               top. In the window we see Beth and her parents sitting at 
               one of the booths.

               Out the window Beth looks across the street just as Jam, 
               Mrs. Bruce, and the priest enter the cathedral. Her face 

                         Oh my God! That's Jeremiah!


                         Jeremiah Bruce from school. He and 
                         his mom just went into that church. 
                         He must be in Detroit for the concert. 
                         Can I go say good-bye to him?

                         Beth, I am not letting you wander 
                         the streets of Detroit after dark.

                         I'm not going to wander. I'm just 
                         gonna go over there.

               Beth points to St. Sebastian's.

                         He's with his mom.

                         Fine, as long as we know where you 
                         are. But don't be long. We need to 
                         be getting back on the road.

               Beth is already out the door and halfway across the street.  
               Dad pats mom's shoulder.

                         She's probably got a little crush on 
                         that boy.


               Beth runs up to the cathedral and sneaks in.


               Hawk walks down the sidewalk badgering everyone passing by 
               for a ticket, getting the same stock answer: "Suffer, dude!"

               He stops and sits on a curb, lighting a cigarette. Behind 
               him stands the marquee for IT'S RAINING MEN, the male strip 
               joint. A DISCO SONG comes from inside. Just when it looks 
               like Hawk's given up, a VOICE is heard above.

                         Hey, chief? Need a ticket?

               Hawk can't believe his ears. He looks up at a greasy-looking 
               hybrid, part porn star, part used car salesman, the SCALPER.

                         Second row center, seventy-five clams.

               Trying to act confident, Hawk takes out his money clip showing 
               the scalper twenty-five dollars.

                         Dude, this is all I got.

                         Sorry, man, no can do. But I'll be 
                         here for a while if you scare up the 
                         extra gravy.

                         Where the hell am I gonna scare up 
                         that kinda gravy in one hour?

                         The easy way.

               The scalper points over his shoulder and Hawk turns to see 
               three GIGGLING WOMEN exiting the strip joint. None are under 

               A sign below the bar's logo reads: Amateur Night Giveaway!  
               Guys Over 18 Only! Bare It All And Win 75 Bucks!

                         You look a little scrawny, but it's 
                         worth a shot.

                         I can't just walk in and take my 
                         clothes off. It's embarrasskin.

                         Guess you don't want to see the 
                         greatest show on earth. And in Detroit 
                         no less. Well, take care, chief.

               The scalper turns and Hawk grabs his arm.

                         Dude, if it were dancing the way 
                         Fred Astaire did it, I'd give it my 
                         best shot. I'd learn the steps and 
                         practice in my spare time. But this... 
                         tribal, ritualistic bullshit, it's 
                         way-too-spontaneous for me.

                         Yeah, you're probably too young 

                         Hey, I invented fake I.D.s, alright.  
                         That's not the problem... They're 
                         playing disco music in there, man.

                         Chief, here's a little secret. Drink 
                         heavily, your feet will know what to 
                         do. Now shit or get off the pot. Do 
                         you wanna dance or do you wanna see 
                         KISS only on their album covers?

               Hawk gets a look of resolve on his face.

                         You sure you'll have a ticket for 

                         You have my solemn oath as a public 

               Hawk turns and walks up to the door, hesitating before opening 
               it. Rummaging through his pockets, he pulls out a handful of 
               expired driver's licenses.

               Choosing the one he thinks best suits himself, he walks in 
               with trepidation. The scalper sees someone else coming up.

                         Hey, chief, you need a ticket? Second 
                         row center, seventy-five clams.

               It's Trip.

                         No thanks, dude. I'm beating my ticket 
                         out of some poor, defenseless chump.

               Trip exits FRAME.

                         What's happening to kids today?


               Hawk enters your average, everyday, male strip joint. A crowd 
               of LUSTY WOMEN cheer on a STRIPPER IN A FIREMAN'S SUIT. He 
               dances on a lighted, tile stage under a spinning, mirror 

               Hawk shows the MAN AT THE DOOR his fake license and the man 
               nods him in. He approaches the bar in the early stages of 
               being very intimidated.

               The BARTENDER, a man dressed only in tight, black, tuxedo 
               pants, shirt cuffs, and a tie, comes up to Hawk.

                              (voice cracking)
                         Like to sign up for the contest.

               The bartender gives Hawk the once over.

                         You're a little scrawny, but thanks 
                         to the concert we're low on amateurs. 


                         Pick a song, Hawk.

                         Got any KISS?

                         You kidding? This is Detroit. Drink?

                         Yeah, a man's drink...

               Hawk squints at a name tag on the bartender's tie.


               Dickey goes to the bottle rack on the other side of the bar.

                              (to himself)
                         I'm gonna need all the help I can 
                         get tonight.

               Dickey returns with the drink and Hawk pulls out his money 

                              (looking at the drink)
                         What's that?

                         You mean you never seen a Jack Daniels 
                         on the rocks before?

               Hawk looks at the unfamiliar drink again trying to play it 

                         Sure, I have. But not one with ice 
                         in it, that's all.

                              (seeing money clip)
                         Save your money, stud muffin. The 
                         lady at the end of the bar sends her 

               Dickey points to a WOMAN sitting at the end of the bar. Mature 
               and sexy. She's a knock-out. Every teenage boy's fantasy. 
               Hawk's eyes pop at this "Mrs. Robinson" before him.

                         Whoa... she is a killer.

                         Amanda Finch. Her ex is one of the 
                         wealthiest businessmen in Detroit. 
                         Play your cards right and you could 
                         hit paydirt. She like 'em young.
                              (leaning in)
                         And since you look a little new at 
                         this, let me give you three words of 
                         advice. Hard to get. Think it, act 
                         it, know it, be it. Nothing a woman 
                         loves more than when you beat her at 
                         her own head games.

               Dicky pats Hawk's shoulder and leaves. Hawk looks away from 
               Amanda and scans the room. He glances back at Amanda. She's 
               still gazing at him the way queens of yore must have eyed 
               particularly cute knights. She winks and toasts Hawk.

               Hawk raises his glass smiling nervously. They both sip at 
               their drinks. She licks her lips suggestively at him. And, 
               Hawk proceeds to COUGH up his mouthful of Jack Daniels, 
               SPRAYING it all over the bar.

                                SMILEY MART / HAULING BASS

               EXT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               Your typical 70's convenient store. Out front two SIX YEAR 
               OLDS in Star Wars tee-shirts play tug-o-war with a Stretch 
               Armstrong doll.

               Trip stomps over grabbing them by their mini shirts. When he 
               tries to act tough, it's pathetic. Even six year olds aren't 

                         Hey, you little twerps, gimme your 
                         KISS tickets or I'll pop your fuckin' 
                         faces in.

                                     SIX YEAR OLD #1
                         We don't have any KISS tickets.

                                     SIX YEAR OLD #2
                         Yeah, KISS sucks!

                         I oughta kick your asses for sayin' 

               He grabs the Stretch Armstrong and stuffs it in his pocket.

                         But I'm in a hurry so I'll just take 
                         this instead. Now scram.

               The kids run away.

               INT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               The store is crawling with KISS FANS, some reading the comic 
               books, others playing pinball against a far wall, still others 
               looking at the poster section. Trip enters on a mission.

               He looks around catching the eye of a pretty CASHIER. She's 
               a rocker, wearing a Who tee-shirt, a mood ring, and just a 
               little too much make-up. She smiles at him. Trip returns the 
               smile with a feeble wave. Her mood ring turns from blue to 

               Concentrating on the layout of the store, Trip peers all the 
               way to the back to a darkened corner... where he spies a 
               LITTLE KID wearing a KISS tee-shirt playing a KISS pinball 

               Trip smiles. The eagle has spotted a fuzzy, little bunny. He 
               moves in for the kill, walking past a crowd of kids at the 
               magazine rack, past the Hostess aisle, past the dairy cooler 
               and into the darkened corner.

               He stands behind the little kid, relishing this moment. The 
               kid is actually pretty good. We also see now the little kid 
               has his face painted like Ace Frehley.

                         Hey, little kid.

               Suddenly distracted, the kid loses the ball.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Shit! You just skunked my last ball, 

               Trip clamps a hand over the little kid's mouth.

                         Okay, booger, your KISS ticket or 
                         your life.

               The little kid says something but Trip's hand muffles his 


               The kid says what he said before, but it is utterly 
               incomprehensible, once again thanks to Trip's hand.

                              (looking at his hand)
                         Oh. Okay... But scream and you'll 
                         never live to see puberty. I'll pop 
                         your fuckin' face in.

               Trip pulls his hand away.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Please sir, don't beat me up. I do 
                         have a KISS ticket, but not on me.

                         A likely story. Hand it over, kid.

                                     LITTLE KID
                              (bottom lip quivering)
                         No really. My brother's hanging onto 
                         it for safe keeping. Please, let me 
                         get him for you.

               The kid turns and yells into the store before Trip can stop 

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Hey, Chongo!

               A titanic guy at the comic book rack looks up from his issue 
               of "Thing" when he hears his name. CHONGO has a very low 
               forehead and the expression of an angry bull plastered onto 
               his face.

                              (getting scared)
                         Hey, kid, that's okay. I don't wanna 
                         see KISS that ba...

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Don't try to run, maggot. Chongo's 
                         an all-state track star in every 

                         What do you want?

                                     LITTLE KID
                         A tag on your toe. Nobody threatens 
                         me and lives.

                         Look, you can have my wallet...

                                     LITTLE KID
                         It's not nearly enough, punk.

               Chongo is getting ever-closer with his tree trunk legs, his 
               barrel chest and hydraulic biceps. He is joined by TWO BUDS.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Besides, I was gonna take your wallet 
                         anyway. After Chongo and his friends 
                         crush your ribcage like a pack of 

               Chongo arrives eyeing Trip with distaste. Trip goes white.

                         This fairy givin' you shit, bro?

                                     LITTLE KID
                         He was gonna mug me for my KISS 

                         Me? Mug? That's nuts. I said, do you 
                         know where I can take a piss.

               Chongo and his two buds laugh. Then, without a second of 
               warning, Chongo belts Trip in the gut. Trip doubles over and 
               falls breathlessly to his knees.

                         Okay, pimple dick, you've got the 
                         option of walking outside with us or 
                         gettin' dragged out. Either way you're 
                         comin' with us.

               Trip catches his breath.

                         Please, sir, don't kick my ass! I'll 
                         do anything to get out of a beating!

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Say, Chongo, perhaps we could use 
                         some extra cash for tasty snacks at 
                         the KISS concert our weasly friend 
                         won't be attending.

               Chongo scratches his head.

                         How much cash do you figure?

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Take five for a minute, Chongo. Let 
                         me do the math.

               The little kid taps his finger on his chin and the theme 
               from "JEOPARDY" begins. While the kid thinks, Trip looks 
               nervously up at Chongo and his buds. Chongo reaches into his 
               denim vest pocket and we hear a CRINKLING NOISE. He comes 
               back up with two walnuts, putting them between his bicep and 

               Trip watches in horror as Chongo makes a muscle and the 
               walnuts are shelled between two walls of iron-hard flesh. 
               CREEEAAAACK! Chongo eats the walnuts, shells and all.

               EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT

               The full-to-capacity parking lot is patrolled by a couple of 
               SECURITY GUARDS.

               Lex cautiously makes his way to the edge of the parking lot 
               and looks at the back side of Cobo Hall just beyond the chain 
               link fence that surrounds the lot.

               He crouches down and walks between two cars parked against 
               the fence, looking both ways. Seeing a guard's flashlight 
               beam, he sits stock still until the beam sweeps past, then 
               SIGHS eased.

                              (whispering to self)
                         I can't believe I'm actually 
                         entertaining the notion of sneaking 
                         in. I oughta have my cranium examined.

               Lex finds a vertical break in the chain link. He lays on his 
               back, slides through, then stands on the other side of the 
               fence. He's at the edge of a weedy, littery field that also 
               happens to be poorly lit.

                         Whoa. Danger Will Robinson.

               Spooked, he lays down again intending to slide back through 
               when a flashlight beam hits his eyes.

                                     SECURITY GUARD'S VOICE
                         Hey you! Get back in here!

               Lex sees the guard standing about fifty feet away on the 
               other side of the fence. Panicking, he bolts deeper into the 

                                     SECURITY GUARD'S VOICE
                         You're not getting far, kid!

               Lex double-times it as we hear the guard yelling into his 

                                     SECURITY GUARD'S VOICE
                         We got one just ran into the field 
                         from the north lot!

               The field gets darker as Lex closes in on Cobo Hall's well-
               lit loading dock, where ROADIES empty the remaining bits of 
               KISS's monstrous set from an 18-wheeler. Other huge trucks 
               are parked nearby. There's a bustle of last minute activity.

               EXT. LOADING DOCK - NIGHT

               Lex scurries from giant speaker box to a stack of lights to 
               huge trunks, keeping well hidden. He dodges roadies and avoids 
               being seen by OTHER GUARDS.

               He slithers along side the 18-wheeler and nears the loading 
               bay. Up ahead some auxiliary speakers, drum kits, and 
               scaffolding wait their turn to be carried into the building.

                                     SECURITY GUARD'S VOICE
                         There he is!

               Lex spins. The security guard, flanked by two others, barrel 
               right for him.


               He dives rolls under the 18-wheeler. The three security guards 
               leap for the pavement and crawl under the semi after him.


               The three guards scramble to their feet and grab a SCRAWNY 
               BODY. They spin him around roughly.

                                     SECURITY GUARD
                         Alright, wiseguy, you are so outta 

               They suddenly realize they've got the wrong man. It's a 

                         Hey, what the fuck?

               The roadie holds up his all-access laminate angrily.

                         Keep your paws to yourself, ya dumb 
                         fuckin' apes.

               The security guards look around frantically for Lex as other 
               roadies join in to defend their comrade.

                                     SECURITY GUARD
                         Where'd he go? You see him?

               No one pays attention as a bass drum is carried past the 
               guards and up the loading dock ramp. They don't notice Lex 
               crammed inside contorted into a shape befitting a yoga master.

               Praying he won't be spotted, Lex holds his breath as he's 
               carried into the building and disappears.

                                 JAM IN A JAM / KISS THIS


               Jam sits in the front pew, head buried in his hands as Mrs. 
               Bruce and the priest talk on the alter.

               Beth moves quietly in the back, unseen and unheard. She looks 
               overwhelmed by the architecture, the detail on the stained 
               glass windows, the icons carved into the columns that support 
               the extravagantly decorated ceiling.

               The priest catches a glimpse of Beth meandering in the back.

                         Uh, next mass isn't until tomorrow 
                         morning, young lady. Run along now.

               Beth smiles nervously and heads back toward the front door 
               passing a confessional booth. She throws a glance back at 
               the priest and Mrs. Bruce who have returned to conferring, 
               their backs to her. She stealthily ducks into the booth.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Now it's been a while since my boy 
                         had holy confession. Could you...?

                         Consider it done.

               Mrs. Bruce looks down at Jam and sees his drumsticks poking 
               out of his socks. She immediately takes them out and stuffs 
               them into her jacket. Jam doesn't even move.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         It's about time you gave up on that 
                         stupid dream once and for all. No 
                         son of mine is going to be a career 

               Jam is stung. Mrs. Bruce and the priest head back down the 
               center aisle exiting through the gigantic front doors. She 
               eyes Jam.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Thank you, Father. I'll be back for 
                         him before you know it; after I take 
                         care of some unfinished business.

                         Just knock loudly, sister.

               He lets her out and locks the door, leaving the keys in the 
               lock, and walks over to Jam.

                         Come along, son. Get into the booth.

               He helps the despondent Jam up. They walk to the booth and 
               Jam reluctantly gets inside.


               Jam kneels on the board and a mere two feet behind him, Beth 
               sits on a bench shrouded in darkness. Her posture is that of 
               someone with a crate of nitroglycerine on her lap.

               We hear the SHUFFLING noise of the priest getting into his 
               own compartment next door. A moment later the small, eye-
               level door SLIDES open. The priest's face is barely visible 
               on the other side of the thick screen, but he's there.

                         Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. 
                         This is my first confession in... 
                         well... a really long time.

                         Prepare to receive the Act of Penance.  
                         How many sins have you committed 
                         since your last confession?

                         Just one, Father, but boy was it a 

               Beth leans forward slightly and listens to Jam's confession.


               Hawk's at a bar stool gulping sloppily and woozily from a 
               rocks glass. Four more empty rocks glasses sit in front of 
               him. He stares at the sexy woman who smiles back, blowing 
               him kisses from the other side of the bar.

               The EMCEE enters the stage.

                              (into microphone)
                         Okay, ladies, hang onto your hormones. 
                         Here comes our next amateur. Let's 
                         have a big hand for Hawk!

               The beginning of a rockin' KISS tune comes over the P.A. and 
               Dicky approaches Hawk.

                         You're up, Hawk.

               Hawk wakes up fast. There's nothing more sobering than having 
               to undress in public.

                         Oh, Dicky, I c-c-can't...

                         You're not gonna chicken out on me 
                         now, are you? We've got your KISS 
                         song playing and everything.

                         I-I c-can't...

                              (leans in close)
                         Look, people undress in public 
                         because, A, they're exhibitionists, 
                         B, they're nutcases, or C, they need 
                         the money. I can tell you're not A, 
                         and I hope to hell you're not B. So 
                         my suggestion is, think about why 
                         you're a C and let your body party, 
                         shake your groove thing, boogie oogie 
                         oogie till you just can't boogie no 

               Hawk thinks about it, then downs the rest of his drink. He 
               grimaces at it's taste, then opens his eyes with new resolve.

                         You're right, Dicky. I gotta do it 
                         for KISS. Gotta put a bag over its 
                         head and 
                         Do it for KISS.

               Hawk swivels his bar stool to the right and gets off, 
               forgetting to stand when his feet hit the floor. He proceeds 
               to fall flat on his face. Dicky looks down concerned, but 
               Hawk stands with a little difficulty and heads for the stage. 
               The crowd of women parts down the middle for him and checks 
               him out as he walks by. They seem to like what they see. 
               Hawk looks nervously at the carnivorous faces leering at his 
               package first, his ass after. What the hell is he doing?

               Hawk reluctantly climbs onto the stage and the gals start 
               CLAPPING to the song. He faces them and starts gyrating his 
               drunken hips at them, feeling no confidence whatsoever, 

               The CHEERS start to ECHO and the pulsing lights begin to 
               hurt his eyes. Hawk watches the world proceed to spin faster 
               than the disco ball above his head.

               He stops gyrating and clutches his stomach. BELCHING. Uh-oh.

               Hawk spots an almost-empty beer pitcher one of the CHEERING-
               IN-SLOW-MOTION women holds above her head. He runs up to the 
               edge of the stage, grabs the pitcher, and PUKES.

               The cheering and music come to a grinding halt. You can hear 
               a pin drop as Hawk yacks his guts out into the beer pitcher. 
               It goes on for an excruciatingly long time, then finally 

               Hawk looks up at the hundreds of astonished eyes staring at 
               him. He wipes his mouth, then a look of ease washes over his 

                         Wow. I feel a hundred times better!

               He hands the vomit-filled pitcher back to the shocked woman.

                         Thanks lady.

               He looks over at the emcee, who gazes at Hawk from the DJ 

                         Maestro? As you were.

               The emcee stands perfectly still, jaw agape.

                         Come on, dude, we got a bunch of 
                         frisky felines waiting for some 
                         entertainment! The show must go on!

               Hawk starts gyrating even though the music is still off. The 
               emcee shrugs, re-cuing the song. It starts again as Hawk 
               faces the crowd, dancing with new-found bravado.

               The women come out of their dumbstruck comas and reluctantly 
               start CLAPPING again.

               Hawk pulls off his jacket and twirls it over his head Roger 
               Daltry style. Then he pulls it back down and tosses it into 
               the crowd. The women actually fight over it.

               Encouraged, Hawk then peels off his KISS Army tee-shirt and 
               hurls it at the women, who SQUEAL with delight. Sure, he may 
               be scrawny, but they don't mind. This lad's got personality.

               Adrenaline pumping, confidence building, Hawk starts playing 
               the crowd of very responsive ladies.

               He unbuttons his jeans first. Then, leaving them on, he does 
               an "air guitar" medley: Chuck Berry, ZZ Top, Angus Young 
               from AC/DC, and Elvis Costello in six easy steps.

               Hawk finishes off with a Pete Townshend windmill, shaking 
               his ass at his audience in mid-strum, then licks his finger 
               and touches one of his cheeks: "hot stuff" (he does this in 
               a manly way of course).

               Then Hawk pauses to adjust what looks to be his underwear 
               bunching up in his crack.

               The women WHOO-HOO.

               He segues into a Mick Jagger rooster strut and the ladies go 
               ga-ga. He makes the sign of the horns with each hand and 
               wiggles a protruding tongue like Gene Simmons. The gals scream 
               in orgastic joy.

               Then, Hawk goes for the gold. Yes, he does the Fonzie dance! 
               The women are now overcome by sheer animal lust. Hawk's 
               whipped his audience into a frenzied pack of bitches in heat. 
               Amanda smirks and sucks from her little drink straw 

               At long last Hawk figures he has to give them what they want.

               He puts his fingers to his fly, pauses, then unzips. His 
               Brittanias fall to his ankles, revealing a pair of bony legs 
               sticking down from some KISS boxer shorts. The ladies go 

               Unfortunately Hawk has neglected a cardinal rule of disrobing. 
               Never pull your pants down without taking your shoes off 
               first. He tries to kick off his shoes. The left one goes 
               flying across the bar and THWACK, beans a MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN 
               in the face. She flies backwards over a chair.

               Trying to kick the other shoe off, Hawk loses his balance 
               and falls backwards, hitting his head on the edge of the 

                                 DRUM ROLL / NEGOTIATION

               INT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               Trip looks at the little kid, Chongo, and the two buds in 

                         Two hundred bucks?

                                     LITTLE KID
                         You heard me, nad breath. My time's 
                         precious and I think that's a 
                         reasonable price to pay for your 
                         sorry life.

                         Look, I want to live, but I don't 
                         know where the fuck I'm gonna find 
                         two hundred bucks.

               The little kid shakes his head in disgust.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Chongo? Take him outside and tear 
                         his ass out through his mouth.

               Chongo advances, muscles flexing.

                         Hold on! I know how I can get the 
                         money! I just figured it out! Only 
                         you might wanna wait outside.

               The little kid and Chongo look at each other.

                         I don't trust him.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         I think he's on the level. He's too 
                         stupid to try anything sneaky anyway. 
                         Look at him, he's a moron.

               They look back at Trip.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         You got fifteen minutes and not a 
                         second longer. We have a concert to 
                         go to. See you outside.

               Trip nods sullenly as the kid, Chongo, and the two buds exit.  
               Then he checks to make sure Stretch Armstrong is still with 

               INT. BASS DRUM - NIGHT

               Lex is twisted like a pretzel as he's carted into the bowels 
               of Cobo Hall. He tries to keep calm, but it's not in his 

                              (under his breath)
                         Keep it together, Lex. Anything worth 
                         fighting for is worth dying for.


               ROADIES and TECHIES run in all directions as last minute 
               preparations are being attended to.

               Two roadies carry the base drum down a long ramp unaware 
               that Lex is hidden inside.

                                     ROADIE #2
                         Boy, this one's heavy.

               Suddenly, Roadie #2 snags his foot on a mess of cable and 
               loses his balance, dropping the oversized drum. In an instant 
               the drum goes rolling down the ramp quickly gaining speed.

                                     ROADIE #2

               The roadies bolt after the runaway drum. Other workers scurry 
               out of the way to avoid being hit by the speeding instrument.

               INT. BASS DRUM - NIGHT

               Lex spins like in a dryer on speed.



               More techies jump out of the way as the wayward drum heads 
               right for a closed set of double doors. The roadies are just 
               about to grab it before impact, when...

               The door unexpectedly swings open. The FOXY GROUPIES on the 
               other side scream at the sight of the careening drum heading 
               straight for them.

                                     ROADIE #2
                         Close that door!

               Too late. The groupies jump away as the drum flies through 
               the open door and down a flight of stairs.


               The drum bounces down the zigzag stairway violently. Lex's 
               GRUNTS of pain can be heard from inside.

               AT THE BOTTOM

               The big drum hits the landing hard, tips over, then spins 
               like a quarter getting faster before it stops.

               ON THE ROADIES

               They barrel down the stairs two at a time. Finally reaching 
               the bottom, they grab the drum.

                                     ROADIE #2
                         Peter's gonna kill us.

               As they carry the drum back up the stairs, we see it is now 
               empty. Once the roadies are gone, CAMERA TILTS UP to the 
               ceiling. There's Lex clutching exposed pipes for dear life, 
               hanging upside down, praying the coast is clear.


               INT. CONFESSIONAL - NIGHT

               Jam is at the end of his confession. The priest is still 
               listening on the other side of the screen. Beth sits in the 
               shadows behind Jam.

                         So, you see if it wasn't for me, me 
                         and my friends would be at that KISS 
                         concert right now... together.

                         That's it?


                         Well, this is a unique confession to 
                         say the least, son. And not exactly 
                         the most interesting one I've ever 
                         heard either. You sure you don't 
                         want to talk about... oh, carnal 
                         knowledge with a neighborhood girl 
                         or impure thoughts about the new 
                         student teacher maybe... or how about 
                         finding a box of magazines under 
                         your dad's bed?


                         Well then, I suggest you have a seat 
                         on the bench behind you and think of 
                         something a little juicier to confess 
                         than losing KISS tickets. I realize 
                         this is Detroit, but I personally 
                         find, what that rock and roll band 
                         is all about, to be boring as 
                         Lucifer's kingdom. I'll return in a 
                         little while.

               The priest SLIDES the door shut again. Jam is all but shrouded 
               in darkness, but can make out the time on his watch. It's 
               getting late. He resignedly sits on the bench behind him... 
               right on Beth's lap.

               Jam yells, but Beth throws her hand over his mouth. His eyes 
               bulge. He can't believe what he's seeing. He climbs off Beth 
               and sits next to her.

                         Beth? I can't believe it.

                         Believe it.

               Jam thinks for a beat. Something still isn't quite clicking.

                         Are you waiting for confession? I 
                         thought you were Jewish?

               BETH can hardly speak. She gulps thinking of what to say.

                         I have a confession. Here it is.

               Beth gives him the biggest, wettest, sloppiest kiss in 
               recorded history. She pulls away finally wiping her mouth.

                         I didn't mean for that to be so... 
                         intense. Forgive me.

                         I don't care. I wanna hear more.

               She lunges at him again, kissing him for dear life. Her lips 
               leave his and begin to explore his chin, neck, ear.

                         I've loved you ever since I first 
                         laid eyes on you, Jeremiah. I've 
                         just always been too scared to show 

                         Beth, I can't believe you just said 
                         that because that's exactly how I've 
                         always felt about you... Call me 
                         Jam. It's my band name.

                         You don't know how long I've been 
                         waiting to hear that... Jam!

               He kisses her neck. Unable to stop, they start undressing 
               each other, both breathing heavy.

                         We've got to take this slow...

                         Right, slow...

                         Oh, screw it!

               She tears his tee-shirt open with her teeth.


               A really buff STRIPPER dressed as a construction worker is 
               on stage with about ten others who stand in the background.  
               The emcee's hand hovers above the stripper's head.

                         Okay, ladies, it's down to... Troy 
                         the Human Jackhammer...

               The women APPLAUD as we...

               FOLLOW the emcee's hand to Hawk who holds an ice pack on the 
               side of his head.

                         ...and Mr. Massive Head Wound 
                         Accompanied by an Upset Stomach-Hawk!

               The women APPLAUD but not quite as loud.

                         No contest. The grand prize of seventy-
                         five dollars goes to Troy the Human 

               The women cheer and a DISCO SONG starts as Troy does a reprise 
               of his act. Hawk walks away from the stage with the rest of 
               the rejected strippers, looking the way he feels: pretty 
               damn stupid. He puts on his pants, trying to walk at the 
               same time and falls to his knees.

               A helpful hand grabs him under the arm and helps him up.  
               It's Amanda looking lustier than ever.

                         Thanks, miss.

                         You're too kind. I'm Amanda.

                         Right, well, thanks for the drinks 
                         and stuff, Amanda, but there's no 
                         reason for me to stick around these 
                         parts anymore.

                         Don't be so glum, Hawk. The night's 
                         still young and filled with plenty 
                         of compensatory possibilities.


                         I'd be in a position to spend some 
                         money on you if you'd get in a 
                         position and spend some time on me.

               Hawk GULPS.


               Jam and Beth lay buck naked, tightly wrapped around each 
               other in the heat of passion on the confessional booth floor.  
               They kiss, sweat, and PANT heavily.

               Suddenly, the sliding door to the priest's booth opens. Jam 
               and Beth freeze.

                                     PRIEST'S VOICE
                         Where are you, son?

                         Uhh, tying my shoe.

                                     PRIEST'S VOICE
                         Oh. So, have you thought of a colorful 
                         confession yet?

                         Actually, yes. Last year I walked 
                         out of a candy store with a Reggie 
                         Bar I hadn't paid for, but went back 
                         and apologized the next day.

                                     PRIEST'S VOICE
                         Boooring. Think, boy, think!

               We hear the door SLIDE shut again as Beth and Jam pick up 
               where they left off.

                                         HOLD UP

               INT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               Trip leafs through a KISS comic, not really paying attention 
               to it. Directly behind him is the register and the CASHIER.

               He starts hearing voices in his head. We see SUPERS of his 
               friends' faces hovering around him.

                                     LEX'S VOICE
                         I can't believe you're even thinking 
                         of committing a robbery, Trip. You 
                         don't pass go and collect 200 dollars 
                         for pulling stuff like this.

                                     HAWK'S VOICE
                         No shit, dude, is this really worth 
                         it? Sure you get your ass kicked 
                         nine ways to Sunday by that fucking 
                         gorilla, but it's still a hundred 
                         times better than getting it porked 
                         for the next three to five.

               Trip sends brief, agitated glances around the store meeting 
               the cashier's eyes again. She smiles at him coyly as she 
               plays with her mood ring. He gives her the eye, then returns 
               to his comic.

                                     JAM'S VOICE
                         And what about that girl, Trip? She'll 
                         never forget this night. Even if you 
                         get away with it, she'll be scarred 
                         for life. When are you gonna realize 
                         sometimes being tough means being 

                              (to the other voices)
                         Alright, everybody, SHUT UP!

               Trip snaps out of it. All the shoppers and cashier are 
               starring at him. He COUGHS loudly, clearing his throat to 
               cover his outburst. The shoppers go back to shopping.

               A MAN WITH A LONG COAT enters the store, looks around, then 
               takes a spot alongside Trip and opens a Mad Magazine.

                              (whispering to himself)
                         Okay, bro. You gonna have to do this 
                         sometime. Might as well be now.

               Trip puts a hand in his pocket and takes one last look at 
               Stretch Armstrong before stuffing the action figure back in 
               so it looks like he's got a gun. He takes three deep breaths 
               and discreetly pulls his knit cap down over his eyes, 
               revealing it actually as a semi-ski mask that covers the top 
               half of his face.

               Just then, the man with the coat puts the magazine back and 
               pulls something over his own head.

               Trip whirls around pointing Stretch-in-his-pocket at the 

               Just as the man in the coat, now masked with a stocking, 
               pulls the biggest shotgun ever made from under his coat, 
               pointing it at the cashier as well. The cashier shrieks. So 
               does Trip.

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Evening, honey. Y'know what I am, 
                         what this is, and what you have to 
                         do, so do it quick.
                              (to shoppers, Trip 
                         The rest of you kindly introduce 
                         yourselves to the floor and kiss it 

               His thunder now stolen, Trip drops to the floor along with 
               everyone else. The air is very tense. The cashier starts 
               SOBBING, keeping her hands in the air.

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                              (to cashier)
                         Do or die, bitch! Next time I let 
                         the barrels do the talking.

                         P-p-please, mister, I'm just a high 
                         school kid...

               Man with the coat COCKS the chamber and the cashier 
               immediately opens the register drawer and starts emptying 

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Fuck school, that's what I say! I 
                         just went through the motions till I 
                         was old enough to drop out and I'm 
                         leaving here with at least two fifty 
                         the easy way. Look where all that 
                         studying's gonna get you tonight. 
                         Robbed at gunpoint and possibly shot 
                         in the fucking head... for minimum 

               The man with the coat's laughter ECHOES in Trip's head till 
               he just can't take it anymore.

               ON THE CASHIER

               She suddenly shoots a surprise glance over the man with the 
               coat's shoulder.

               Seeing this, the man spins around. There's Trip behind him.

                         Alright, drop it or I'll kick your 

               Astounded by Trip's audacity, the man with the coat turns 
               his shotgun point-blank at Trip.

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Oh, yeah! You and what army?

                         The KISS Army!

                                    CRASHING BACKSTAGE


               Your wildest fantasy of a rock show's backstage area come 
               true. The place is packed with "beautiful" people. Scantily-
               clad BABES everywhere. Slick, RECORD BIZ-TYPES. Lots of food. 
               Lots of booze. Lots of fun. It's backstage at a KISS concert, 
               come on!

               CAMERA TILTS UP above the partying hordes to find Lex shimming 
               along an exposed duct amid the pipes, sprinklers, and vents. 
               Looking straight down on everybody, Lex is in awe and 

                         This is real. This is not a dream! 
                         This is real! I've pierced the inner 

               He takes the opportunity to peer down some BIG BUSTED GIRL'S 
               cleavage. Then his eye spots something else. He GASPS. A 
               door. On it a star. Written on the star, the word, KISS.

                         Oh, God, they're in there!

               A big-haired HIPSTER in mirrored sunglasses KNOCKS on the 
               dressing room door. It opens, but Lex can't see inside. The 
               hipster stands in the doorway talking to whoever is there.

               Lex cranes his neck to see around the door jamb. Desperate 
               for a glimpse of his idols, he leans out too far.

               Suddenly, the entire duct collapses. Breaking loose of the 
               ceiling, Lex hurls to the floor clutching the duct. Backstage 
               goers leap for cover as SMASH... he hits the ground in a 
               shower of plaster and dust.

               The hipster protectively pulls the dressing room door shut 
               as two SECURITY MEN jump in front of it.

               Instantly, huge, burly hands come down on Lex's shoulders.  
               Before he can react, a slew of OFFICERS have him off his 
               feet and carry him away, a stunned expression frozen to his 


               Lex is thrown into a heaping garbage dumpster by the scruff 
               of his neck. The security officers laugh and pat themselves 
               on the back as they hurry back in.

               Lex peeks out the lid. The alley is dark and spooky. He jumps 
               out of the trash and comes face to face with the biggest 
               GERMAN SHEPHERD that has ever lived. Its teeth are bared and 
               its black, wolf-like body is coiled, ready to spring.  

               Lex jumps backward hitting the dumpster. A GROWLING PITBULL 
               walks out from the shadows and joins the Shepherd.

                         Dogs! Why did it have to be dogs!

               Then, a GROWLING DOBERMAN with a spiked collar emerges from 
               the darkness on the other side of the alley, its solid, 
               muscular form making the brick building nearby look like 

               Lex starts SLAPPING himself on the face.

                         Wake up, Lex! Wake up, man! This 
                         part's gotta be a nightmare!

               No luck. He stops, when several other DOGS emerge from the 
               shadows and gather behind the first three. These new mutts 
               immediately join in the GROWLING chorale. The Shepherd snaps 
               at Lex.

                              (to the heavens)
                         God, if you ever get me outta this, 
                         I swear I will never masturbate again!

               The pack BARKS even louder.

                              (to heaven again)
                         I REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME!


               Beth lays in Jam's arms on the floor. They might as well be 
               the only two people on the face of the earth. They whisper.

                         So. Is it true that Gene Simmons had 
                         a cow's tongue grafted onto his real 
                         one? Y'know, to make it so long?

                         I dunno. I think he had the piece of 
                         skin under his tongue removed so he 
                         could stick it out farther. I'm not 
                         too up on Gene trivia.

                         Your man is the drummer, Peter Criss, 

                         Peter Criss is my inspiration, man.  
                         If I paid a hundred bucks for a KISS 
                         show and all I saw was his solo, I'd 
                         consider it... money... Hey, how'd 
                         you know that?

                         I have all your notebook doodles 
                         memorized, Jam... Here.

               She opens her backpack and pulls out a package addressed to 
               Jam. The return address reads: Beth Bumsteen, Somewhere in 
               Ann Arbor.

                         Ann Arbor?

                         My dad's company is relocating him. 
                         We're moving. That's why I was acting 
                         so freaky in school today. I thought 
                         it was the last time I'd ever see 
                         you. Anyway, open the box. I would 
                         have given it to you this morning, 
                         except... like I said, I was freaking 

               Jam opens the box and his jaw drops. It's a black tee-shirt 
               with the "Mystery" logo printed in white on the chest. Jam 
               holds it up. It's gigantic.

                         I pass by this really cool tee-shirt 
                         shop on my way to school every day 
                         and I know you wear those black tee-
                         shirts all the time. You look like a 
                         size thirty-five, but all the sizes 
                         were in Roman numerals. So I got you 
                         an XXXL. That's thirty-five, isn't 

               Touched, Jam kisses her for a long time. He starts putting 
               on the shirt when suddenly they hear the SHUFFLING of the 
               priest entering his booth. Jam grabs his clothes and sits 
               back on the bench. Beth starts getting dressed at his feet.

                         Okay, you better have something really 
                         sinful for me this time, son. My 
                         patience is worn to threads and your 
                         mom will be here any minute.

                              (pulling up his pants)
                         Alright, Father, here it is. About 
                         two weeks ago I went to my cousin's 
                         wedding and one of the bridesmaids 
                         asked me if I wanted to take a bath.


               Beth is tying her shoes. Jam slips on his socks.

                         I was insulted, so I asked her if I 
                         was wreaking some wicked b.o., right?  
                         Then she said no, she wanted to take 
                         a bath with me.

                         Oh, this is terrible... Please go 

                         Well, she was a very tempting siren, 
                         Father. Built like you wouldn't 
                         believe. So I gave into temptation 
                         about a block away from the wedding 
                         reception at this little motel that 
                         charges by the hour.

               Jam pauses.

                         Well? Continue! Continue!

                         Okay... when she peeled off that 
                         gown, you'll never guess what she 
                         was wearing underneath.

                         Was it a teddy?

               Fully dressed, Beth crawls out of the confessional.

                         No. Much bet... I mean, much more 
                         sinful than that.

                         A bustier?

                         Tell you what. You keep guessing and 
                         I'll say something when you get it.

                         Splendid! I love a good game of Name 
                         That Nightie.

               Jam quietly sneaks out.


               We can hear the priest's voice as Jam hurries to Beth. They 
               dash out the door.

                                     PRIEST'S VOICE
                         Satin underwear? Crotchless panties? 
                         Leopard skin bra? Fishnet leotard? 
                         Leather G-string?


               Still trapped by the GROWLING, BARKING pack of dogs, Lex 
               searches nervously through the garbage behind him.

                         Okay, okay, you're pissed off. I can 
                         see this. So... Maybe what we need... 

               Lex holds up a worn-out, old frisbee.

                         Play some frisbee, poochies?

               The pack just glares and SNARLS. He tosses the frisbee over 
               the packs' heads, but the dogs don't even acknowledge it. 
               They just keep BARKING and GROWLING.

               Meanwhile, an unnoticed dog at the rear of the pack, a mangy 
               Basset Hound, turns its flat head to see the frisbee land on 
               the ground behind him. His tail starts to wag.

                         Alright! I give up! I hearby and 
                         forthwith defer my destiny to you 
                         mutts. I may be an intelligent, 
                         upright, walking, homo-fucking sapien, 
                         but you fleabags are a force of 
                         nature. So, I'm just gonna sit here 
                         and wait for you to decide. If you 
                         let me live, I thank you. If you 
                         bite my head off, I'll die knowing I 
                         did all I could. It's up to you.

               Lex waits before the GROWLING, SNAPPING canines. Suddenly, 
               the Basset Hound runs up in front of the pack and drops the 
               frisbee at Lex's feet. Lex looks down at the floppy, wrinkly 
               dog, who wags its tail and PANTS furiously.

                         Well, how do you like that?

               Lex starts to pet the hound, and one-by-one the rest of the 
               dogs shut-up. Shocked, Lex picks the frisbee up again and 
               throws it.

               This time the entire pack bolts after the Whammo product.

               Lex smiles, watching them fight for it in the air... in SLOW 
               MOTION... as the theme from "CHARIOTS OF FIRE" begins.

               The black Shepherd finally grabs the frisbee in its mouth 
               and runs back toward Lex. It's soon joined by the rest of 
               the pack. That's right about when Lex realizes they aren't 
               going to stop.

                         Whoa! Whoa!

               The dogs plow into Lex full-force knocking him into the 
               garbage. They surround him licking his face. Lex bursts into 
               unstoppable laughter.

               Pulling himself up, he pets the dogs as they jump around him 
               wagging their tails and PANTING.

                              (baby talk)
                         You sonsofbitches could tickle a guy 
                         to death, y'know that? Sure you do... 
                         Sure you do...

               Lex stops. He hears TALKING coming from inside the windowless, 
               brick building on the other side of the alley. He steps in 
               front of the pack and puts his fingers to his lips. They 
               obey, quieting instantly. He then tiptoes to a thin crack in 
               the brick wall. The dogs quietly follow.

               Lex puts his eye to the crack and peers in.

               INT. CHOP SHOP - NIGHT

               LEX'S POV

               His mom's Volvo and a BMW are on adjacent hydraulic lifts 
               inside a makeshift auto-mechanic shop.

               Two BEEFY JERKS with blow torches stand next to the cars. 
               One has a bandage on his head and seems to be in pain.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         So, I jump into the car, hot-wire it 
                         in thirty seconds and start driving. 
                         Then, suddenly I hear this scream. 
                         The disco queen was asleep in the 
                         back seat.

               Beefy jerk #2 laughs.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         You think it's funny? How would you 
                         like to have a stiletto heel smacking 
                         you in the temple when you're tryin' 
                         to work?

               Beefy jerk #2 laughs more. Beefy jerk #1 checks the time.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         You about done splittin' a gut there?  
                         We gotta get these parts to Toledo 
                         by nine.

               Then a familiar voice is heard coming from the back of the 

                         Then maybe you guys'll let me go, 

               Lex follows the voice and sees Christine handcuffed to a 
               radiator near the rear of the shop.

                         Come on, whadaya say? You scratch my 
                         back, I scratch yours. You let me 
                         go, and in return, I keep my big 
                         mouth shut about your little operation 
                         here. Mum, know what I mean?

                                     BEEFY JERK #2
                         You're lucky you're still alive, 
                         wench. If you was a guy, we woulda 
                         thought nothin' of sawing your head 
                         off with a butter knife.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         What are we gonna do with her anyway?

               Beefy jerk #2 bares what's left of his yellow, crusty teeth

                                     BEEFY JERK #2
                         I dunno, but she sure looks fun.

               Beefy jerk #1 touches the bandage on his head.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         Yeah, and payback's a bitch.

               Christine GAGS at the thought.

               ANGLE ON WALL CRACK

               Lex's eyeball bulges with terror.


               DOLLY FROM the front end of a Jaguar XKE, Michigan vanity 
               plate reading: AMANDA.

               TO its windshield, through which we see Hawk and Amanda 
               kissing in the front seat, clad only in their underwear. 
               Something like "ME AND MRS. JONES" plays on the radio. When 
               they separate, Amanda takes out a flask and offers it to 


               He gulps some down and pulls the flask away COUGHING.

                         What the hell is that?


                         Whoa. Some of this hard liquor's a 
                         tad too manly for me. I'm a brewski 
                         man myself.

                         Better ease up then, Hawk. Wouldn't 
                         want to give you whiskey dick would 

                         Who's Whiskey Dick?

               Amanda plants a stocking foot on Hawk's crotch and rubs.

                         Well. Obviously no one you have to 
                         worry about... Woody.

                         My name's not Woody, it's Haw-haw...

               Hawk's eyes cross as he lets out a DEEP, OBNOXIOUS GROAN.

                         ...holy shit!

               Amanda looks down at his crotch.

                         But you do know Premature Peter, 
                         don't you? Shame, I just bought these 

               Hawk has never been more embarrassed.

                         Well, Amanda, this has been quite a 
                         night. So far you've seen me and my 
                         dick throw up.
                              (to the heavens)
                         What's next? Projectile diarrhea?
                              (beat, to Amanda)
                         Man. What a stud, huh?

                         Believe it or not, you still have a 
                         way to go before you start competing 
                         with my soon-to-be-ex-husband... the 
                         champion of lousy lovemaking. The 
                         man who thinks he's the biggest and 
                         the best... The man who thinks every 
                         secretary, stewardess, and cocktail 
                         waitress he fucks should lick his 
                         feet for the honor. The man for whom 
                         faking it was invented. Christ, if I 
                         hadn't gotten pregnant with our son, 
                         I would have never known I even had 
                         sex with the prick.

               She takes a healthy swig of gin, relishing its bitterness.

                         You love him?

                         I just told you, he's a big, hairy...

                         No, I mean... you love your son?

                         More than anything in the world.

                         And he loves you back, doesn't he?

                         He's a little spoiled, but I know he 

                         Well, shame on him if he doesn't.

               She pats his shoulder.

                         You're sweet.

               Hawk stares out the windshield.

                         My mom died of a heart attack while 
                         she was having me. Man, I wish I had 
                         known her for even one day. If they 
                         ever invent a time machine, that's 
                         what I'm doing. Going back in time 
                         to meet my mom. I'm gonna say, "Mrs.  
                         Pitchford?... or Miss Williams, 
                         depending on when I show up. You 
                         don't know me, but I'm your kid from 
                         the future. Just wanted to thank you 
                         for the blue eyes, pug nose and for 
                         tying the knot with a guy who didn't 
                         mind diaper detail... Oh, and, uh... 
                         cut down on the red meat, will ya?"

               Amanda caresses Hawk's cheek. He turns with her hand and 
               kisses it. He takes her arm and begins kissing his way up to 
               her neck, her cheek, her mouth...

                                  DR. LOVE TO THE RESCUE

               INT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               It's a stand-off. Prone customers look up at Trip and the 
               man with the long coat circling each other like sharks. The 
               helpless cashier lets out fearful sobs.

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Gimme your gun, boy!

                         No, you gimme your gun, boy!

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Don't tempt me, I'll shoot!

                         Not if I shoot first!

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         I don't even think you have a gun!

                         Neither do I!

               The man with the coat puts his shotgun against Trip's head.

                                     MAN WITH COAT
                         Now, for the last time, take the 
                         piece out and lay back down or your 
                         mom's gonna need the White Tornado 
                         to get the brains outta your ski 

               Trip GULPS. The jig's up. He slowly pulls out Stretch 
               Armstrong, and the man with the coat glances down and starts 
               to laugh very loud. So loud, he throws his head back.

               When he recovers, Trip's got Stretch aimed at his head and 
               pulled back to maximum tension.

                         Smile, you sonofa...

               Trip lets go. WZZMACK! The man gets it right in the face and 
               falls backward onto the Hostess display, toppling a whole 
               bunch of Ho-Ho's, Ding-Dong's, Twinkies, and Suzy-O's to the 

               Trip runs up and grabs the shotgun away as the man with the 
               coat lifts his head briefly, then passes out.

               Trip turns around and the cashier SLAMS into him, nearly 
               knocking him over. She throws her arms around him letting 
               out relieved SOBS. Behind her all the customers rise from 
               the floor CLAPPING. Trip did it. He saved the fucking store!

               The cashier looks into Trip's masked eyes.

                         Thank you! Thank you!... Who are 

                              (with confidence)
                         Call me... Dr. Love!

               She plants a thousand mega-watt kiss on his lips and we ZOOM 
               IN on her mood ring changing color from gray to fire engine 

               Trip's eyes widen just before... KABOOM... The shotgun he's 
               holding goes off, blowing a hole in the ceiling.

               The recoil from the blast jolts Trip and the cashier apart.  
               We now see Trip's face is smeared with bright, red lipstick.  
               A huge chunk of ceiling falls onto his head but he doesn't 
               move. The kiss hit him harder.

                            I'M HERE FOR THE GIRL AND THE CAR

               INT. CHOP SHOP - NIGHT

               BZZZZZ! Christine and the beefy jerks watch the brown, '78 
               Volvo, Ohio plates: OB-GYN, ascend on a hydraulic lift.

               Behind them sits the BMW skeleton. These boys work fast.

                         You guys better kill me before you 
                         do what you're thinking of doing. 
                         Cause when I'm mad enough, I can 
                         bite down very hard.

               The beefy jerks laughs.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         Sweet Polly Purebred's got some spunk, 

                                     BEEFY JERK #2
                         I'll give her some spunk alright.

               They put their blow torches down and turn to her.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         We stripped that Beemer in fifteen 
                         minutes. Bet we can strip her in 
                         fifteen seconds.

               They giggle maniacally and lumber toward Christine. Their 
               shadows growing larger and larger across her.

                              (mile a minute)
                         Now wait a minute, guys! Two against 
                         one ain't fair. Lemme go back and 
                         get my friend Barbara. You'd love 
                         her. Tits the size of your head. 
                         You'll feel like a little baby sucking 
                         on 'em. I swear, I'll bring her right 
                         back. It'll be a four-way... You 
                         guys like disco? I teach disco dancing 
                         at my church. You guys look like you 
                         got rhythm in your blood. Come on, 
                         free lessons if you let me go.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         I know a dance we can do. The 
                         horizontal hustle.

               They both laugh. Just as they're about to grab her...

               Suddenly, the garage door behind them SLIDES UP revealing 
               darkness. Christine and the beefy jerks look out anxiously.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         Who's there?

               Silence except for CRICKETS. Then... from out of the darkness 
               emerges a figure... Lex. Christine's eyes brighten like a 

                         I'm here for the girl and the car. 
                         You can try to stop me, but I must 
                         warn you, it may be hazardous to 
                         your health.

               The beefy jerks laugh at this little punk. They start toward 
               him, one with a tire iron, the other a big monkey wrench.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         Too bad. He was such a young idiot.

                                     BEEFY JERK #2
                         Ehhh. He was a stupid boy. He deserved 
                         to die.

               Lex lets out a quick HIGH-PITCHED WHISTLE. The pack of BARKING 
               dogs led by the Shepherd, the Pit Bull, the Doberman, and 
               the Basset Hound, step from the darkness and flank Lex, 
               GROWLING and SNARLING at the beefy jerks.

                         Listen to them. Children of the night. 
                         What music they make... Hounds of 
                         hell? Say hello to dinner!

               The beefy jerks drop their tools on their feet and yelp in 
               pain. The pack takes this as a threat and charge the beefy 
               jerks, who bolt for a glass-partitioned office. The dogs 
               SCRATCH and BARK at the window ferociously.

               Lex smiles at Christine. She smiles back. He presses the 
               "down" button on the lift and the Volvo descends. Lex yells 
               to the beefy jerks through the glass.

                         One foot out of that office and your 
                         asses are Alpo!

               Lex unlocks Christine. She leaps into his arms.

                         Wow! Thank you! You're cooler than 
                         the Fonz.

               She gives him a lingering kiss. Lex leans back, gives the 
               double thumbs-up, and says...


               Lex takes her hand and they walk over to the Volvo. Lex lets 
               her in then rounds the car to the driver's side.

                                     BEEFY JERK #1
                         Hey, what about the dogs?

                         You got a phone in there?

               They nod. Lex drips a dry smile onto them.

                         Call the cops.

               The beefy jerks watch in disbelief as the Volvo SCREECHES 
               out of the chop shop.



               Beth's parents wait in the running car as Jam and Beth share 
               a heartfelt good-bye outside the back door.

                         Ann Arbor isn't... that far from 
                         Cleveland, right?

                         Nah. Once I get my own wheels, I 
                         could come up all the time.

                         That'd be great. Hey, maybe someday 
                         your band'll play there. It's a 
                         college town, you know?

               Jam takes her hands.

                         I feel like such an idiot. Why didn't 
                         I just say something a year and a 
                         half ago? Man, think of how much 
                         time we wasted.

                         Let's not think about the past. Let's 
                         just think about from today on. I'll 
                         never forget you, Jam.

                         Tell me about it. Church will never 
                         be the same again.

               They stare at each other for a really long time. Then, kiss.

               BEEP. BEEP. Dad looks back out the window and CLEARS HIS 
               THROAT LOUDLY.

                         Coming dad.
                              (to Jam)
                         I'll call you. Soon as we get a phone. 


               She gets in the car. They both wave as the Impala turns a 
               corner out of sight. Jam is left alone still waving long 
               after she's gone.

               INT. AMANDA'S JAG - NIGHT

               Amanda and Hawk are half-dressed post-coitus. She looks in 
               her purse.

                         Amanda, as ironic as this is gonna 
                         sound, I can't take any money for... 
                         I'm no Midnight Cowboy, y'know. It 
                         would only cheapen the whole deal 
                         for me.

                         I'm not paying you for the lovemaking, 
                         Hawk. I just want you to have whatever 
                         you needed the money for when you 
                         took me up on my offer.

               She forces the money into his palm.


               They kiss.

                         You're a good man, Hawk. Thank you.

               EXT. SMILEY MART - NIGHT

               The cashier, shoppers, and a gathering CROWD watch two cops 
               load the dazed man with the coat into a cruiser.

                                     COP #1
                              (to cashier)
                         You wouldn't happen to know where we 
                         could find this... Dr. Love, would 

                         It's company policy to hand over a 
                         cash reward of a hundred and fifty 
                         dollars to anyone who stops a robbery. 
                         I gave him the money and he took 

               The cops shrug and get into the cruiser.

                                     COP #2
                         Okay, well, thanks anyway. And let 
                         us know if you happen to see him 
                         again. We'd like to ask him some 

               The cruiser takes off and the cashier stares at her mood 
               ring. It throbs red like a beating heart.

                              (sighing to herself)
                         If I see Dr. Love any time soon, 
                         you're gonna have to wait till I'm 
                         done with him first.



               We find Trip counting his money out to the little kid, Chongo, 
               and their two buds.

                         ...hundred forty, hundred fifty.  
                         That's all I got.

               The little kid puts the money in his pocket.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I really wanted things 
                         to work out for you, my weasly, dim-
                         witted friend. You got spunk.
                              (to Chongo)
                         Chongo, give him a fifty dollar 

               Chongo reels back and...

                         Oh, no... Please, look.  I...

               THWAM! Right in Trip's face. Trip flies off his feet into 
               the Smiley Mart brick wall with a THUD. A bag of weed drops 
               from his jacket, then some uppers, a few sheets of acid, and 
               finally a can of beer rolls out.

                         Hey, the jerkoff's got drugs.

                                     LITTLE KID
                         Consider it a bonus, Chongo.

               Chongo laughs like an ejaculating gorilla as he and his two 
               buds scoop it all up. The little kid, Chongo, and the buds 
               leave Trip lying in a puddle of his own nose blood.

               He pulls out Stretch Armstrong and looks at him fondly.

                              (misty eyed)
                         At least I still got you, Stretch.

               Trip looks up. The six year olds who he stole it from stand 
               close by having watched the whole humiliating exchange. 
               Licked, Trip tosses the doll to them. They both dash away 
               with it, giggling.

               EXT. NEARBY STREET - NIGHT

               Christine sits in an idling taxi taking money from Lex, who 
               stands outside the window.

                         This oughta be enough to get you to 
                         Disco Inferno, Christine.

                         Come with. It's not too late for you 
                         to catch the fever.

                         No can do. But I made a promise to 
                         get you to that disco, and we KISS 
                         maniacs are men of our word. 
                         Besides... you're pretty cool... for 
                         a stella, I mean.

               Christine takes his hand and writes something on his palm in 

                         Here's my number. Tell me how cool I 
                         am over the phone sometime. Okay?

               She gives Lex a kiss then pushes him away.

                              (to CABBIE)
                         Disco Inferno, on the double.

               The taxi SCREECHES away as Lex smiles and gets back into the 

               INT. COBO HALL - NIGHT

               Jam approaches the stadium, passing the MATMOKS, walking 
               straight up to Mrs. Bruce. Her back is to him. He taps her 
               on the shoulder. She turns. Her jaw drops. It escaped again! 
               And what an ugly tee-shirt.

                         I'm gonna ask you nicely first. Mom, 
                         can I have my drumsticks back?

               Taken aback by his confidence, Mrs. Bruce grabs his ear and 
               tries to pull him away. He won't budge.

                         Again, can I have my drumsticks?

               A BUNCH OF IDIOTS walk by with big transistor radios. One of 
               them holds a Mr. Microphone and heckles the MATMOKS.

                                     LEAD IDIOT
                         Hey, I'm on the radio! Hi, good-
                         lookin'. We'll be back to pick you 
                         up later!

               Mrs. Bruce yells at Jam through her bullhorn.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Drumsticks are the least of your 
                         worries, young man. You are in a 
                         world of...

               Jam yanks the Mr. Microphone from the lead idiot and screams 
               at his mother, his voice amplified on the transistors. 
               Everyone stares.

                         I know, mom, I've been in trouble 
                         for about twelve hours now! 

               The other MATMOKS turn to look as Jam climbs onto a trash 
               receptacle and shouts down at his mother, his face slowly 
               turning purple.

                         I'm gonna be spending the next two 
                         years of my life at St. Bernard's 
                         Boarding School, remember?! I'm gonna 
                         be outta your hair till I'm a legal 
                         adult, remember?! That way, all you 
                         have to do is go to church, light a 
                         candle, pray to a little statue for 
                         me, and voila! All is forgiven and 
                         forgotten, right mom?!! Then, you 
                         can spend your days in guilt-free 
                         pursuit of more constructive 
                         activities like telling everybody 
                         else how screwed up their lives are! 
                         That way you no longer need the 
                         patience and understanding required 
                         to communicate on some normal level 
                         with your own child!!! And that way 
                         you don't even have to think about 
                         how tough it was for you when you 
                         were growing up, and it's a good 
                         thing too. Cause if you did, you'd 
                         realize what a LOUSY, GODDAMN, SHITTY-
                         ASS, PARENT YOU ARE!!!

               The crowd of KISS fans APPLAUD Jam's rant. Mrs. Bruce is 
               utterly winded from the assault.

                                     MRS. BRUCE
                         Jeremiah... what's gotten into you?

                              (into Mr. Microphone)
                         I just lost my virginity in a 
                         confessional booth! Lord have mercy!!

               The crowd cheers. Jam jumps down and hands the Mr. Microphone 
               back to the lead idiot. He turns to his mom.

                         For the last time, mom. Let me have 
                         my fucking drumsticks. Please.

               Mrs. Bruce reaches into the trash, finds the drumsticks and 
               hands them to him. He spins them like pistols, then stuffs 
               them into his socks and walks away.

                                       SIMPLE PLAN


               Hawk runs to the scalper across the street who's selling a 
               ticket to another KISS fan.

                         Whoa! Whoa! WHOA! That better not be 
                         the last ticket! I hope you have 
                         another one for me!

               The scalper sees Hawk and bolts down the street disappearing 
               around a corner. Hawk stops. He's lost him.

               Hawk sulks to the now-familiar intersection where all four 
               landmarks meet. He takes one more look up the block at Cobo 
               Hall. Nearly all the KISS fans are inside. The streets are 
               almost deserted.

                         Fuck me!

               He sees someone out of the corner of his eye across the 
               street. It's Jam. Lex approaches the other corner. Trip comes 
               up to the forth corner. They all stop when they see each 
               other. Each standing on his own corner. They're all pissed. 
               They meet in the middle of the street as last minute CONCERT 
               GOERS hurry by.

                         Any luck?

                         Plenty, but it was all bad.

                         I found the Volvo.


               They all shake no.

                         Well, dudes, the only way we're gonna 
                         see KISS this tour is by some fuckin' 

               Suddenly, a commotion up the street. A SURLY MOM yanks four 
               12 YEAR OLD BRATS dressed like KISS by the scruffs of their 
               necks. She's furious, they're CRYING.

                                     SURLY MOM
                         How dare you sneak out of the house 
                         like that! You had me worried to 
                         death! Don't you know this is Detroit! 
                         And for a degenerate band like KISS! 
                         They're sick, sick, sick and oughta 
                         be in jail with their vile antics!

               She throws a wad of paper to the pavement as they pass our 
               four heroes. The dudes watch her pull the brats away.

                                     SURLY MOM
                         Just wait until your father gets 
                         ahold of you!

               Jam, Hawk, Lex, and Trip turn and look at the crumpled wad 
               at their feet. It's an envelope. An ANGELIC SPOTLIGHT FROM 
               ABOVE highlights it.

                         No... You don't think...?

                         Nah. Couldn't be.

               They all shake their heads in unison resolved that it isn't. 
               Then, unable to control themselves, they dive for the 
               envelope. Jam tears it open. His trembling hand reaches in.  
               All their eyes focus like lasers on what's inside.

               Jam pulls out four KISS tickets. Their jaws drop. Their eyes 

                         It's a miracle! A miracle!

               The boys are practically moved to tears. It's Divine 
               Intervention at its finest.

               Suddenly, a greasy hand juts out of nowhere and grabs the 
               tickets. The boys look up shocked. They can't believe it.

                                     ALL FOUR BOYS

               Yes, Elvis. Fire in his eyes. Mania on his mind. And tickets 
               in his hand.

                              (laughing hysterically)
                         Whose laughing now?! Whose laughing 
                         now, ya little shits?! I told ya... 
                         Over my dead body! Ha-HA-HAAA!

                              (arms outstretched)
                         Take it easy, Elvis. Don't do anything 
                         crazy. Just give me the tickets before 
                         someone gets hurt.

                         Hey, wait a minute! This ain't school 
                         property! He's not the boss of us 

                         That's right. This ain't school. 
                         It's not about school anymore. Now 
                         it's personal.

                         Come on, Elvis. We was only kiddin'. 
                         It's all in good fun. We run, you 
                         chase. Cat and mouse. You know.

                         Boys, this time... I win!

               Elvis stuffs all four tickets in his mouth and chews crazily. 
               In seconds, GULP. Elvis explodes into unhinged laughter as 
               he runs away zigzagged down the street.

               Our boys are left dumbstruck and speechless. After a really 
               long pause...

                         Well... I still got my idea if anybody 
                         will let me speak.

                         Go ahead, Jam.

                         We all beat each other up, then, 
                         once we're nice and bruised, we run 
                         over to the ticket takers and say we 
                         got mugged and our tickets were 
                         stolen. They gotta let us in then.

               They stand and think for a moment. Hawk's mouth curls into a 
               devilish grin.

               Then, he lets out a gigantic "AIEEE!!! and slugs Jam. The 
               four boys brutally pummel one another in the middle of the 
               intersection. Punching. Kicking. Headbutting.

               EXT. COBO HALL - NIGHT

               Two TICKET TAKERS are letting the last KISS fans in. They're 
               about to close the doors when our four bloodied and bruised 
               heroes come running up.

                         Dude, you gotta let us in! Four 
                         muggers just stole our tickets!

                                     TICKET TAKER
                         You expect us to believe that?

                         Look at us!

               Trip points into the crowd of fans inside the auditorium 

                         It was those assholes! They even 
                         stole my wallet!

               The ticket takers turn to see the little kid, Chongo, and 
               their two buds just going in. The ticket takers signal two 
               security guards who proceed to stop the four stunned kids 
               and confiscate their tickets. They find all the stolen dope 
               and Trip's wallet.

                         Inside that you'll find my KISS Army 
                         picture I.D. and a hundred fifty 
                         bucks cash.

               The security guards see he's right and break out the cuffs.

                              (to little kid)
                         Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I was really hoping 
                         things would work out for you, my 
                         weasly, midget friend. You got spunk.

               The little kid for once is speechless.

               Then the ticket taker extends his arm in SLOW MOTION into 
               COBO Hall as if to say "Entrez Vous." The four friends pause.

                         This is it!

               They take a few slow steps almost as if they don't believe 
               it, then run like the wind into the auditorium.

                                    DETROIT ROCK CITY


               The lights are out. The lighters have been lit. The CROWDS' 
               ROAR is deafening.

               Jam, Hawk, Trip, and Lex plow their way through the throngs 
               and head straight for the front row just as Simple Simon 
               takes the stage.

                                     SIMPLE SIMON
                         You wanted the best! And you got the 
                         best! The hottest band in the world... 

               Simple Simon runs from the stage just as the opening chords 
               to DETROIT ROCK CITY BEGIN.

               On the beat, BOOM, FIREWORKS shoot from the floor alighting 
               the place. KISS takes the stage descending on hydraulic 

               ON JAM, HAWK, TRIP, AND LEX

               They're seeing God!

               The show is spectacular. The costumes. The make-up. The 
               blitzkrieg of pyrotechnics. The flashing KISS sign. Ace's 
               smoking guitar. Gene's spewing fire. Paul's rockin' vocals. 
               Peter's kick-ass beat.

               Then, something really weird happens.

               The crowd behind the boys heaves forward. Jam is pushed like 
               a twig in a flood and over the shoulders of those in front 
               of him. Purely by accident, he is thrown onto the stage 
               landing on his stomach between Paul and Gene. Just before 
               Peter's drum solo is about to start.

               Gene, Paul, and Ace silence their instruments. Peter throws 
               his drumstick into the air intending to catch it when it 
               comes down. But the sight of Jam landing on the stage 
               distracts him.

               All is mute as Peter misses the drumstick. It hits the outside 
               edge of one of the drums.

               Thinking fast, Jam grabs one of his drumsticks out of his 
               sock and tosses it to Peter. It tumbles through the air in 
               SLOW MOTION with a LOW, WHOOPING, HELICOPTER SOUND. We see 
               the word "Mystery" clearly as it twirls.

               Instantly, it's caught in Peter Criss's hand and he brings 
               it down on his drum not missing a beat. The song resumes 
               with all its fury as Peter's drum kit ascends on a hydraulic 

               Jam scrambles from the stage and leaps back into the audience 
               barely missing the claws of some security guards.

               The four friends pound on each other with unbridled, teenage 
               exuberance. Will it ever get any better than this?

               FREEZE FRAME.

                                                             FADE TO WHITE:

                                         THE END

Detroit Rock City

Writers :   Carl V Dupre
Genres :   Adventure  Comedy  Musical

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