Short screenplay from the Done Deal "March Madness" contest,
       March 2009.

       "The Test"

               FADE IN:

               EXT. BAR - NIGHT

               The kind of dive you'd want to leave the moment you stepped 
               inside, 'cause you got sense.  Populated by NAZI BIKERS who'd 
               slit your throat just for fun.

               INT. BAR - NIGHT

               Biker conversation consists of acting out violent moves, 
               like "Here's how I punched him in the nuts" and "Here's how 
               I shot him in the head" -- they howl with laughter as they 
               slap each other's backs and smash beer bottles over each 
               other's heads.

               The door opens and TURK enters.  Conversation stops, the 
               Bikers stare at him.  Turk looks like one of them, with the 
               leathers and the black Kraut helmet.  But the Bikers glance 
               at each other, suspicious.

               Turk cool-struts up to the bar.  The big, ugly, scar-faced 
               BARKEEP leans forward menacingly.

                         H-hello.  May I have a beer, please?

                                     PIGFACE NAZI BIKER
                         It's a cop!

                         No I'm not!  I'm not a cop!  I'm a 

               A gold badge clatters on the floor between Turk's feet.

                         That's not mine.

               Like a wall of leather, Nazi Bikers slowly rise and advance 
               on Turk.  Turk frantically looks around -- the exit's already 
               blocked.  The Barkeep picks up a baseball bat with six-inch 
               nails driven through it and grins as he taps it against his 
               own palm in anticipation, drawing blood.  The Bikers wield 
               lengths of heavy chain, big hunting knives, broken bottles.

               Turk turns and runs into the men's room, whose symbol is a 
               biker pissing on a whore lying on her back.  The door slams 
               shut behind him.  The Nazi Bikers stop.  They look at each 
               other.  They smile.

               INT. MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT

               Turk stands panting, expecting the door to burst open.  It 

               Turk looks around, sees a high window.  He jumps up, grabs 
               the window ledge and tries to pull himself up.  His boots 
               fail to find purchase.  He lets go and drops, defeated.

               He backs away the length of the room, and takes a run at the 
               wall.  He leaps!  He grabs!  His legs "run" against the wall 
               as he tries to push himself higher.  Nope, can't make it.  
               He lets go and drops, exhausted.

               Turk talks into his jacket sleeve (he's wired).

                         Wild Turkey to Cougar's Lair.  The 
                         Turkey is blown.  Repeat, the Turkey 
                         is blown.  Request extraction.  Come 
                         in, over.  Is anyone there?  Hello?  
                         This is Wild Turkey.  I'm trapped in 
                         the men's room.  Mayday, mayday.

               Turn sticks fingers up his sleeve and pulls out a microphone 
               bud and a length of wire -- the wire is broken, exposing 
               copper.  Turk's eyes widen.  He's out of radio contact!

               A toilet flushes.  Turk slowly looks round.  One of the stall 
               doors is closed.  Inside the stall, a giant shadow moves.  
               Leather pants are pulled up.  Enormous biker boots are visible 
               under the door.  A nude slut magazine falls to the floor, 
               making a squelching noise.

               Turk looks up.  A Nazi helmet sticks up above the door.  
               Whoever's in there is frakkin gigantic.

               The door opens.  The King Kong of Nazi Bikers steps out, 
               buckling his pants.  Turk backs into the corner, terrified.  
               King Kong Biker grins at him.

                                     KING KONG BIKER
                         Hey, what am I doing?

               He unbuckles and opens his pants.  Turk stares in horror at 
               King Kong Biker's crotch.

                                     KING KONG BIKER
                         We can do this the easy way, or the 
                         hard way.  The easy way is, you bend 
                         over and I make you my bitch.

                         What's the hard way?

                                     KING KONG BIKER
                         You don't bend over.

                         Oh God.

               A giant hand slowly closes around Turk's head and drags him 
               out of shot.

               INT. MEN'S ROOM - NIGHT

               Looking at the closed stall door.  Shadows move inside.  
               Rythmic pounding.  Grunting noises.  Whimpering noises.

               EXT. BAR - NIGHT

               Cop cars fill the street.  Dozens of COPS cheer and clap as 
               Turk staggers out of the bar, looking like a guy who just 
               got turned inside-out by industrial drilling machinery.

                                     VARIOUS COPS SHOUTING
                         Here's our boy! 
                         He passed the test! 
                         They did him good! 
                         Ride 'em, cowboy! 
                         You're one of us now!

               A grinning Cop holds up a pair of wire cutters and mimicks 

                         Son of a bitch!  You cut my radio 

               WISE SERGEANT COP moves to stand before Turk.  He puts his 
               hand on Turk's shoulder.

                                     WISE SERGEANT COP
                         Son, a rookie cop has to learn to 
                         stand alone and overcome his fears.  
                         Now you fear nothing and no one.

                         That is true.

               The cheering Cops surround Turk, clapping him on the back.

               EXT. CITY VISTA - NIGHT

               A million lights twinkle with possibility.

                                                                  FADE OUT:


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