LUTE KRZYNSKY stands on the edge of a deep, dark woods.
LUTE Howdy home hunters. Lace 'em up and strap 'em down, 'cause it's time for another action-packed episode of Hardcore Hunting...
BROCK CHITNEY leans his grizzled mug into frame.
A) Brock and Lute running through the woods.
B) Lute signalling to camera to follow him into the breech.
C) Brock up a tree stalking a rabbit. CRASH! Brock falls out of the tree, landing on top of the rabbit. SQUEAK!
D) Lute hiding in tall grass. CU on rattlesnake. Snake bites Lute's hand. He goes flailing around and BASHES the snake against a tree.
E) Lute and Brock walking in Slow-Mo towards camera in bad ass poses.
END OF CREDITS.
EXT. WOODS - CONTINUOUS
Brock and Lute stand in front of trees.
LUTE Welcome to Hardcore Hunting. The only hunting show that doesn't use guns.
BROCK Guns are for pussies.
LUTE Exactly. Guns are for pussies. And you guys ain't pussies. Am I right? I'm your host Lute Krzynsky.
BROCK And I'm Brock Chitney.
LUTE And today we're gonna be hunting on Government protected Wildlife preserved land.
BROCK (has an idea) Hey, wait, isn't hunting on Government land highly illegal? Don't we need permits?
LUTE That's right, Brock. Hunting on government land IS illegal. But we're hunting with our bare hands. We are completely unarmed.
BROCK But my hands are registered as deadly weapons Grr!
Lute gives Brock a withering look, and continues speaking.
LUTE If we happen to stumble upon any wild creatures we will have to defend ourselves. And this being America, a man has a right to protect himself. Am I right?
EXT DIFFERENT WOODS - DAY
Brock and Lute walking through the woods. Lute finds a broken twig and sniffs it.
BROCK So, Lute. Tell our fans what we're hunting today.
LUTE I'm glad that you asked, Brock. Today we'll be hunting the Tympanachus Pallidicinctus... A species of grouse.
BROCK Oh hell YEAH!
Brock works himself up to a blood-thirsy frenzy.
LUTE Now Tympanachus Pallidicinctus is better known as The Lesser Prairie Chicken. These birds feed mainly on vegetables but--
BROCK Wait a minute. We're gonna be huntin' freaking chickens?
LUTE Yeah, but these are wild chickens.
BROCK I got six chickens in a coop in my backyard. Why'm I gonna go traipsin' through woods, standing ball-deep in swamps when all I gotta do his step into my backyard and jerk me a couple a long-necks?
LUTE Trust me, dude. Prairie chickens are pretty hardcore. These are deeply territorial birds that will defend their mating grounds with their big, sharp talons.
BROCK But they're stinkin' chickens. There ain't nothin' scary about no gol-darned chickens.
LUTE They'll gouge your freakin' eyes out, man.
Brock is not buying it.
BROCK Aw, screw it. Maybe I'll use a rotting chicken carcass to bag me a cougar. Now the cougar IS a bad ass animal, with claws and fangs, and stuff.
LUTE Dude, I know you got a hard-on for a cougar but you gotta be careful with grouse. They can be dangerous if not respected--
PHONE RINGS. Lute plays it off. Brock looks up in the trees. He's baffled.
BROCK What the--?
Lute checks the phone.
LUTE Oh, sorry dude. I gotta take this. (into phone) Baby, what did I tell you about callin' on my hunting excursions with Brock. I know, I know. I'm sorry poochie.
Brock makes digusted faces. He pretends to vomit.
LUTE I love you too sweetie. I'll call you right back.
BROCK What was that?
BROCK It's a Hardcore Hunting tradition that we do not take phones on hunting trips. We also do not talk to chicks or females on these phones.
LUTE Aw, come on, man. That's just for the ugly-ass mud-guppies that you pick up. Phyllis is stacked man. I'm talking gazongas out to here.
BROCK I don't give a rat's ass. There is no finer American institution than hunting. And skirts have no place on a huntin' trip.
PHONE RINGS. Lute perserveres, but then breaks down and answers the phone.
BROCK You make me sick.
LUTE I'm sorry I was brief with you, baby-doll, but I'm doin' my TV show right now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
BROCK Screw it, I'm gonna go bag me some grouse and get home in time for Ultimate Fightin'.
LUTE What's your thing against women? Especially hot ones. You wanna be single and alone your whole life, man?
Brock wanders off into the bushes.
LUTE Brock, you can't go runnin' off like this. Grouse can be deadly. (into phone) Sorry. Yes dear, I'm listening. I'm sorry, baby.
EXT. MORE WOODS - DAY
Brock goes stomping through the underbrush.
BROCK Lemme tell you somethin' about skirts. You gotta show 'em who's boss. You can't give em an inch or they take the pair. Snip-snip.
Brock makes a scissors motion. Brock HEARS an EAR-SPLITTING GROUSE shriek.
BROCK (terrified) Oh momma. Oh. I'm just gonna head over this way to see if--
EXT. FOREST CLEARING -- DAY
Lute strikes a pose, standing on a log.
LUTE This looks like a grouse booming ground. These booming grounds are areas where grouse perform displays of attracting women. Their displays consist of inflating air sacs in the side of their necks and snapping their tails.
Lute demonstrates Grouse sexual displays.
LUTE What are you laughing at?
GUS (O.C.) Nothing.
Brock bursts through the clearing and stops short. Lute turns to look at him.
BROCK One of them chickens is following me. I think he's smelled blood.
Brock and Lute hear a BLOOD-CURDLING Squawk.
BROCK There it is again. He's getting closer.
Brock runs to the bushes. A CHICKEN Pounches out of the bushes and flutters at Brock.
Brock SCREAMS and SCREAMS. The chicken scratches at the dirt and pecks the ground.
Gus and Lute laugh hysterically.
LUTE Now I've seen it. The great hunter is scared by a little chicky.
BROCK It was a Forest Grouse. Dammit I soiled myself. I'm gonna go clean up.
Lute points at Brock and laughs. Brock heads into the bushes.
LUTE Tell me, are these new boots okay? Phyllis got 'em for me, but they're kind of purty and like, for girls. What do you think?
Lute bends down to tie his boot. He SEES SOMETHING hidden by leaves.
LUTE Hey Gus. Get a shot of that!
LUTE (can barely contain his excitement) This my friend is Cannabis Sativa. Better known as Marijuana or weed. Brock, you gotta see this.
Brock walks back from the bushes.
LUTE Look around you.
Brock looks around. He sees a pot plant. Then another one. Then another one. Then HUNDREDS of them. Lute crouches down and crushes a leaf in his fingers.
LUTE If I had to guess, this looks like... Northern Lights, or BC Bud.
Lute sniffs his fingers.
LUTE Oh my dear lord. It's Eureka Blue Thunder. Brock go get the pick-up and back that mother up to this sweet, sweet goldmine.
BROCK I'm going, I'm going.
Brock trundles off, but stops.
LUTE The only thing that's a little queer is... As far as I know marijuana doesn't usually grow in the wild--
Brock has stopped walking and raises his arms.
BROCK Lute, I think you better see this.
LUTE Why are you still here? We need those duffel bags. Big ones.
ZOOM OUT to see Brock looking down the barrel of a rusty hunting rifle owned by a shaggy Pot-grower, ZEKE.
LUTE What the--?
Lute turns to see he's being covered by a dangerous looking machete, held to his throat by RUSTY, an even more deranged pot grower.
RUSTY Zeke, I think we got some trespassers.
BROCK You're sadly mistaken. This is public government land, and as a result anybody can walk or hunt here, if they want to.
LUTE This is not the time, Brock.
The camera backs away slowly. Zeke turns and aims the gun at the camera.
ZEKE Uh-uh, where you think you're goin' off to, boy? You tryin' to runs away?
The CAMERA shakes his head, NO.
EXT. CAMP SITE - DAY
Lute and Brock are gagged and hog-tied in their underwear and they lay in the dirt next to GUS the camera man.
Rusty paces back and forth. He's tweaking out.
RUSTY Quit foolin' around. We got serious business here.
Zeke puts down the camera, and runs over to Rusty.
ZEKE I think we should just let them free. They wouldn't harm nobody.
Lute, Gus and Brock smile sweetly and nod their heads.
RUSTY I think it's too late in the game for that. We gotta dispose of the dead weight here. They found our secret honey patch.
ZEKE But Rusty. They ain't done nothin'. They're just big babbies.
Brock weeps softly. Rusty bends down and takes the gag out of Brock's mouth with his knife. He holds up the blade to Brock who squeals.
RUSTY What a pussy. I'm gonna have to teach him a lesson in manliness. Backwoods style.
Rusty CHORTLES. Lute moves his mouth and gets the gag down around his neck.
LUTE I'm sorry we busted in on your uh, camp site like this boys. But we're uh, just makin' a hunting show. We don't know who you are. I mean Brock here's a sissy. He won't tell a soul what he saw here. And Gus is a soft-brain. He can't read maps and he's got no sense of direction.
Gus works his gag off as well.
GUS That's absolutely true. I got no idea where we're at right now. I just hold the camera, man. That's all I know. Don't hurt me.
LUTE 'Sides. We got no way to call for help. It's you and us and the birds. Right?
RUSTY That's right. We're out in the middle of nowhere. Nobody to call for help...
Lute's PHONE RINGS.
ZEKE Who's there?
LUTE That? That's just the call of a yellow-breasted sap-sucker. Ka-KA, ka-KAW!!!
Lute's PHONE RINGS AGAIN. Rusty fumbles in Lute's pockets and pulls out the phone.
RUSTY What is this? (into phone) Hello? Sorry Lute is a little tied up right now, who is this? Phyllis, anybody tell you that you got a sexy voice? Really.
LUTE Can I talk to her.
Rusty purposefully turns his back. Zeke shoves Lute back down threateningly.
RUSTY Well, what are you wearing? Ooh, I like that. Me? I got boots on. And a shirt. Say Phyllis, whatcha' doing Friday night? Nah, I don't think Lute's gonna be making that appointment.
Lute looks concerned. Rusty winks at him and blows a kiss.
RUSTY Friday night at the Mr. Piggly's. It's a date.
Rusty hangs up.
RUSTY You got some woman there, Lute. Me and Zeke needs to discuss this sitiation, so don't go nowhere's.
Rusty CHORTLES. Rusty puts the gags back on Gus and Lute but neglects Brock. Rusty and Zeke wander off.
BROCK I can get us out of here.
Brock squirms but falls face first into the dirt.
BROCK Don' worry, man. I'll chew my way out of these ropes.
Brock chews on the ropes and frees his hands and feet.
BROCK Stupid potheads, can't tie a simple buntline hitch.
BROCK Okay. I'm gonna run down the hill. Hitch a ride to town. Go warn the sheriff and I'll have you guys out of here in two shakes of a squirrel's tush.
Lute works the gag out of his mouth.
LUTE Brock, untie me.
BROCK I'm gonna run for freedom. I'll be back with a posse.
LUTE Untie me, you sissy.
BROCK There's no time.
Brock moves to leave but Lute trips him. Brock and Lute roll on the ground.
GUS Come on guys. They're coming back.
Lute discovers his feet are free and he stands up, hands tied behind his back.