INT. DEPARTMENT STORE – CHILDREN’S DEPARTMENT - DAY Christmas is upon us. The store crowded with last minute shoppers. Desperate Craig is one of them. Every item on his list has been sold out. The clock is ticking. His defeated eyes light up when they spot a big talking witch doll. CRAIG: where did you find this ? LADY: there was only one left when I bought this. CRAIG: Tell me, where? ON A MAN IN RED SWEATER listens in. LADY: Store at the corner MAN IN RED SWEATER: gotta have that CRAIG: Oh no, I was first The man in a red sweater hurries towards the escalator, pushing some people over . Craig follows his trail, stumbles over people and their presents. Knocked down to the ground, he sees a big green bounce ball. He heads towards the exit with the green bounce ball above his head, irritating lot of people. MAN IN RED SWEATER is being hold by the security man a few steps away from the exit door. He sees a big green ball approaching, under it, the same man who wants the big talking witch doll, too. Hurry. EXT. SHOPPING STREET – DAY Sidewalk is paved shoppers. Craig leaves the department store, runs onto the street, jumps on the bounce ball, heading towards the shop on the corner. Sounds of claxons. Angry drivers. TAXI MAN: Hey moron, this is no play ground. (hanging out of his window) Craig looks behind him to make sure the man in the red sweater is not following him. NEXT he bumps into the rear end of a car. His nose bleeds. The man in a red sweater bolts out the shop, looks around, steals a stepper from a passing child. KID: give back MAN IN RED SWEATER throws him some money, runs off with the step KID cries. CRAIG: onward A screeching sound becomes louder. THE MAN IN A RED SWEATER passes by on a step. CRAIG: damn you BIRDS VIEW: amidst a busy traffic, a frenzied competition between a green ball en a red dot onto the streets to be first at the corner of the street. A TAXI DOOR OPENS, hits the man in the red sweater. He flies through the air, lands onto the front cap of a car. CRAIG: HHAHAHHAHA (looks back) Poor Craig doesn’t see a bus approaching from the side. NEXT, CRAIG is laid out onto the street, the green bounce ball rolls to the other side of the road. Opposite cars approach. The traffic lights switch to green. CRAIG jumps up, opens a taxi door, squeezes himself into it. OLD LADY: get out (slaps him with her bag) The old lady knows some karate. GRAIG gets kicked out of the driving taxi. Lays onto the street, again. Honking sound of taxis and cars. TAXI DRIVER: got some dead wish ! This ain’t “ It’s a wonderful world” , pal. Get out of our way or you’ll be dead. Bounce…bounce..bounce…the man in the red sweater bounces past Craig. Craig runs after the fast green bouncing ball. Cars driving by. SHOP AT THE CORNER – people flow out of the store. CRAIG wants to go in. SECURITY MAN: sir, you can’t go in. The fire alarm went off. Through the window Craig witness the man in the red sweater inside the store. He must get in.

EXT. DIRT ROAD, CUMBRIA, MARCH 1815 - TWILIGHT TWO FOUR-IN-HAND COACHES sit side-by-side at the crest of a small hill. Eight tethered horses chomp at their bits and stomp nervously, their steamy breath rising in the cool air. CLOSE ON LORD WILSON and his COACHMAN seated in one vehicle decorated with a family crest, grim-faced as they stare ahead. CLOSE ON LORD MAXWELL in his own dark, glossy coach, talking idly with his COACHMAN, while holding the reins to his four-horse team. ZOOM OUT TO REVEAL SEVERAL RIDERS and HORSES observing the coaches from off the road. A lone MAN dressed in a dark cape and broad-brimmed hat stands between the horse teams, a large white handkerchief in his hand. MAN (loudly): Both teams have agreed to abide by the rules of the club? LORD WILSON: Aye. LORD MAXWELL: Agreed. MAN (loudly): On my mark then. Both LORDS pull reins back more firmly and slap them to gain their respective team’s attention. The horses stand tall and tense, waiting. MAN (loudly, holding handkerchief high above his head): Three, two, one! The caped MAN drops his arm rapidly, the white handkerchief flutters down. ZOOM OUT as the COACHMEN shout at their teams, cracking whips as LORD WILSON and LORD MAXWELL brace themselves on their carriages while snapping the reins along their team’s backs. TRACK BOTH COACHES shuddering and swaying as the teams leap forward down the dirt road, the damp packed soil and stone crunching beneath their hooves while both LORDS and COACHMEN continue to yell at their teams. LORD MAXWELL’s coach takes the lead by a horse-length after a mile. CLOSE ON MAXWELL’S LEAD INTERIOR HORSE as it goes lame and stumbles. ZOOM OUT BETWEEN COACHES, as the lame horse falters and rears to a halt. MAXWELL’S COACH veers hard left, pulled by the outside horses off the road. TRACK MAXWELL as he and COACHMAN are thrown from the coach. MAXWELL lands face down off road in heavy grass. CLOSE ON COACHMAN lands on road, in path of coach. CLOSE ON RIDERS’ horses’ hooves, pummeling the road behind the coaches’ path as RIDERS shout. Horses squeal and whinny in distress in distance. CLOSE ON MAXWELL’s well-polished riding boot heel as it twitches then slumps. BLACK OUT. ____________ (A/N: This unintended reverse adaptation method — writing a scene before I write the narrative in my novel — works rather well. LOL)

INT. GROCERY STORE – NIGHT Piped in elevator pop music echoes under fluorescent lighting. We track at floor level behind a pair of high heels pushing a cart with a twitchy front wheel, the heels clicking on the linoleum tiles of the busy store. The heels belong to an attractive PROFESSIONAL WOMAN, 42, wearing a smart pencil skirt and boardroom blouse. She checks her LIST The top reads “Momma Csonka’s Goulash”. Everything is meticulously checked off except for one item: “Hungarian Paprika”. She stops the cart, looking up to locate the spice aisle. She spots the sign a few aisles ahead. “8 – Flour, Sugar, Spices”. She folds the list and pushes the squeaky cart in the direction of aisle 8. She makes the turn and quickly surveys the shelves for the spices. At the far end of the aisle a chubby OLDER WOMAN, 70’s, wearing a matching pink track suit and tennis visor, consults a list and then plucks a spice jar from the shelf. The Professional Woman quickly makes her way to the location as the Older Woman deposits the jar into her cart and leaves the aisle, smiling. The Professional Woman studies the shelf. A STOCKBOY, 17, kneels nearby stocking flour. He admires her legs as she taps her foot and consults her list. She sees an empty slot marked “Hungarian Paprika”. PROFESSIONAL WOMAN: Excuse me. It seems you’re out of Hungarian Paprika. Any more in the back? STOCKBOY: I’m afraid not. That old lady just took the last one. He stands up and grabs some regular paprika, showing it to her. He offers a flirtatious smile. STOCKBOY: We’ve got plenty of regular paprika. PROFESSIONAL WOMAN: No, it has to be Hungarian. She looks left and right, then quickly exits the aisle, searching for the OLDER WOMAN. She spots her making a turn into AILSE 4 – Charcoal, Dog Food, Cat Food, Pet Supplies The Professional Woman quickens her pace, the front wheel of her cart squeaking and twirling. She spots the OLDER WOMAN again at the far end of the aisle, this time leaning down to grab several cans of cat food. She pushes toward her raising a finger. PROFESSIONAL WOMAN: Excuse me, ma’am! Ma’am! As she attempts to round a cockeyed cart in the middle of the aisle, a LARGE MAN in a trucker hat lifts a 50 pound bag of dog food to dump into it. It rips open, spilling half of its contents into her cart. She SHRIEKS, then glares at the man. LARGE MAN: Sorry ‘bout that. She grimaces at the mess in her cart, but then remembers her mission. She looks to see the Older Woman just as she exits the aisle. She forces her cart through the spilled dog food and hurries after her. This time, she spots the flash of pink heading down AISLE 11 – Milk, Eggs, Dairy She hustles through the cooler sections, bits of dry dog food dropping from her cart like breadcrumbs. As she closes in on the Older Woman browsing cream cheese, a pair of carts close her off, each piloted by a SUBURBAN HOUSEWIFE with a toddler in the seat. Much to the Professional Woman’s irritation, the two housewives mindlessly chat while the older woman exits the aisle. Professional Woman: (seething) Excuse me. They both stare slack jawed at her and the cart full of dry dog food. They slowly part their carts and share a quizzical look, mirrored by their toddlers. The Professional Woman pushes through, slipping a bit on a crushed hunk of dog food as she turns toward the CHECKSTANDS Hidden just behind the rack of Hollywood gossip rags at check stand 7 is the older woman. The professional woman sees a MIDDLE AGED MAN with a couple of elementary school kids in tow pushing a cart piled high with groceries sizing up line lengths. He has his sights set on check stand 7. She grits her teeth and shoves her cart, working her way up to a full sprint. She skids to a stop, squeezing her way in just ahead of him. She pulls her shoulders back, pops her chest and offers a smile. His scowl melts into a nervous smile. She turns to the older woman who now has her nose in an issue of The National Enquirer as a CHECKER scans her groceries. PROFESSIONAL WOMAN: Excuse me, ma’am? OLDER WOMAN: Yes dear? PROFESSIONAL WOMAN: I was wondering… that Hungarian paprika you have. It’s the last one. I was hoping you could let me have it, you see, I’m making goulash for my fiancé and… well he’s Hungarian and… it’s his dead grandmother’s recipe. The older woman notices all of the loose bits of dog food in her cart. She seems a little put off. OLDER WOMAN: Sorry, dear. I’ve been to four stores today. I’m making goulash for my new boyfriend. And he likes it spicy. The professional woman, furious, digs through the loose dog food and unloads her groceries on the conveyor belt, slamming them as she does so. Uncomfortable with the scene she is making, the older woman turns her back, nose in the air. The professional woman spots the paprika in amongst stacks of cat food. She smiles at the checker, who looks away. She snatches the jar of paprika, putting it on her side of the divider. Looking around, she grabs a handful of double sized Snickers bars from the impulse buy shelf, hiding the paprika from view. As she takes her receipt, the older woman turns back to the professional woman. She sees the pile of snickers bars. OLDER WOMAN: A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, dear. The older woman saunters off, much too pleased with herself. The professional woman sighs with satisfied relief.

EXT. MOUNTAIN PRISON - DAY Dakota Smith's snowmobile bursts through stable door and down into the snow below. She turns her head to Abigail behind her. DAKOTA: Tell me you still have the figurine. ABIGAIL: Of course. The snowmobile glides down the mountain ahead, a beautiful panorama of indigo sky, verdant pines and virgin snow. The muffled sound of its custom 600cc engine almost musical. BEHIND THEM, the prison is now a good 3 or 4 hundred yards and shrinking from view. Abigail beams gently, relieved to be free of that place. ABIGAIL: Thanks for coming to get me. DAKOTA: No problem, but we're not out of the woods yet. With those fateful words, we hear the giant rumble of two 1100cc engine resonate against the mountain side. Those very same snowmobiles power their way behind Dakota, and like a bad spy movie, they're ridden by two henchmen in black. Although she has a massive headstart, it's clearly just a matter of time before those two catch up. DAKOTA: Hold on, Abigail. Dakota revs the throttle, leans in, as they accelerate down the mountain. BEHIND THEM, the prison is about 3/4 mile away. PURSUERS POV As Dakota accelerates, HENCHMAN #1 follows in kind, and with each second that passes we can see him get closer to Dakota and Abigail. He turns to his right, points with two fingers to his partner to indicate that they should enclose her from either side. DAKOTAS POV Dakota looks in her mirror. We see the men giving chase move into formation. DAKOTA: There's a concussion grenade in my bag, give it to me. Abigail shuffles through the rucksack, retrieves it, hands it to Dakota over her shoulder. Dakota grabs the pin bewteen her teeth, tosses the grenade behind her. PURSUERS POV Granade lands just in from of them, halfway between them. They easily avoid the bomb. HENCHMAN #1 turns to his companion, grins manically at Dakota's lame ass effort. In his REAR VIEW MIRROR, we see a bright flash, a cloud of snow and hear the concussion grenade explode loudly. Dakota enters a grove of pine trees, weaving in and out, but the henchmen are too good to be deterred. Back in the open, Dakota swerves to avoid jutting rocks, sending sheets of snow into her pursuer's path. HENCHMAN #2 gets a mouthful. DAKOTAS POV A loud mechanical whirling noise above them heralds the arrival of a pursuit helicopter. ABIGAIL: I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything but that was your last grenade. Dakota eyeballs the chopper. DAKOTA: Trust me. I have a plan. Abigail & Dakota's eyes widen as they see the ridge and cliff edge ahead of them. As they approach, Dakota somehow finds more power as they accelerate onto the ridge, fly into the air, rising 30 ft vertically and make the leap over the ravine onto the deck below. Behind them, the riders quickly skid to a halt to stop their heavier machines from sliding off the cliff, knowing that the chopper that is landing can put them wherever they need to be. But in all the excitement and blinded by determination, they don't notice the avalanche Dakota started with her grenade as a 30 ft wall of snow, ice and debris, engulfs them and the helicopter stuffing them all into the ravine, pushing them down to its floor 1000 ft below. Dakota comes to a stop, turns to admire her handiwork. Abigail looks on in awe. ABIGAIL: Hell of a plan, Dee.

A SNOWFLAKE, hexagonal perfection, floats softly though a grey sky. The eerie WHISTLE of an Arctic wind plays with the SNOWFLAKE like a fickle lover. Sounds fade in, the CRUNCH CRUNCH of many furry feet on the coldest snow. Our SNOWFLAKE is held aloft a moment in exquisite stillness when-- WHOOSH! It is caught by a FURRY BLUR. EXT. SIBERIAN TUNDRA - DAY WIDE ANGLE on a desolate snow-covered plain. A SLED DOG TEAM mushes a sled with a fur-covered driver across the white expanse. There is nothing but white snow and grey sky. It doesn’t look like they’ll get anywhere, ever. CLOSE ON our driver, ANNIKA. Errant strands of black hair whip around her face, barely visible under the furry hood. Despite the cold, sweat beads on her upper lip. Annika whips the leather REINS furiously, urging the dogs on. She looks over her shoulder-- ANNIKA’S POV Crashing through the snow after her is a GREAT, WHITE BEAST. It’s somewhere between a hyena and an Arctic wolf, but massive, ferocious, snarling like a rabid dog. Atop this hound from hell sits a-- DARK MAN-- black beard, black furs, black eyes. He holds on to the beast’s white fur, bent low, determined. ON ANNIKA She frantically looks across the frozen wasteland. No shelter in sight, not even a snow drift. WIDE ANGLE The DARK MAN and his BEAST are gaining on her, fast. ON THE LEAD DOGS The leaders of Annika's pack sense this otherworldly creature on their trail and begin to YIP and YOWL as they push on, running for their lives. THE BEAST bears his teeth, catching the scent of fear on his prey. He snarls and-- ON ANNIKA As she hears him now, closer, his giant paws breaking the packed snow behind her. She transfers the reins to one hand and bends down, picking up a WOODEN BOW and ONE ARROW. She takes a breath and nocks her arrow. Then she JERKS THE REINS hard, stopping her confused dogs. They whimper and prance in place, every instinct telling them to bolt. THE BEAST CLOSES IN on them, a wicked smile curling over the DARK MAN’S lips. Annika lifts her bow and aims square at the beast’s head as he gains on her, a hundred feet away now. One shot. If she misses, she’s gone. The DARK MAN pulls the Beast's fur violently, trying to turn him away, but he's caught the scent of a kill, he presses on-- THWACK she lets it fly... KA-CHUNK it hits the beast square in the forehead! Annika picks up the reins and snaps them, hard. The dogs snap to and take off. OVER ANNIKA’S SHOULDER We see the beast take a DEATH DIVE into the snow. The shadow of the Dark Man picks himself up and watches her recede into the white nothing. CLOSE ON ANNIKA, smiling. If the snow picks up, he’ll never find her again.

EXT. RACECOURSE - DAY A hot summer day at the racecourse. Crowded, as usual, with its wide hatted, highly inebriated, upper class clique. In the middle, JOE WHAT (40s), bowler hat, brown suit and a cane. JOE WHAT: Wait, nobody moves. I lost my ticket. A few steps away, BONNY CROWD (50s), used up trench coat, red and blue quilt patterned tie and a long white beard, screams his lungs out. BONNY CROWD: Go number 12, go! Joe What walks to the gentleman and sweeps the ticket off his hands. JOE WHAT: This is mine and you stole it. Bonny Crowd takes the ticket back. BONNY CROWD: Non sense, leave my horse alone. As Joe goes for the ticket again, Bonny slaps him and the two men go at each other, all fingers forward, entering a cat fight. The crowd SCREAMS. Number twelve passed the finish line first. Joe takes its chance, grabs the ticket off Bonny's hands and launches himself forward and onto the racetrack, avoiding horses as they pass by. Bonny comes right behind him but gets hit by a horse and crashes onto the ground. The horse rears up, throwing his jockey off saddle. Joe uses the panic to stop another horseman, taking off his hat. JOE WHAT: Hi good sir, my name is Joe What. JOCKEY: What? JOE WHAT: Exactly. In a swift cane move, the jockey is knocked down and off the horse. Joe jumps on the stallion which rears forwards. Straight ahead: fences, for the Steeplechase. Bonny recovers and jumps onto the closest horse available and off they go. Both men find themselves racing, knees by their ears, wearing the jockey size stirrups. JOE WHAT: That's rather inconvenient. First fence. Joe holds onto the horse by the saddle and stays put. Bonny pushes a little too hard on his feet, losing his seat on the horse. He's now up in the air, facing an unforeseeable yet painful future. BONNY CROWD: Oh dear. He luckily falls back onto the horse, crouch first. A tiny, repressed high pitch scream barely escapes his mouth. The crowd, which has been following the events, cringes in pain as the horses continue their pursuit. Bonny, feet no longer lodged in the stirrups, bobs up and down on the saddle, each landing accompanied by a tiny screams. Second fence, Joe goes for the same technique but the horse won't go for it and throws his rider flying forward and into the fence where he sinks in the middle of the trees except for his arm, pointing to the sky, ticket in hand. Bonny's horse comes to a stop, letting his gaucho slowly slide and fall to the side. In pain but very much determined, Bonny stands up, walks to the fence and grabs the ticket off Joe's hand. BONNY: (Helium type voice) Nobody escapes Bonny Crowd. From within the tree fence, a small painful voice escapes. JOE WHAT: Bonny? That's a girl's name.

[…] month on Go Into The Story is Scene-Writing month. Write one scene prompted by Scott Meyer everyday to stretch your writing […]

Well, I think it might still be the 9th somewhere, so hopefully this still counts! ;-) Some great stuff from everyone, just too much to keep up with, what with NaSkeWriMo and GOYOQ....September is becoming "No Time to Sit Still" month! Okay....chase.... INT. LABORATORY - NIGHT DON HADLER (50s) all white coat and grey hair, prepares a beanie-cap attached to several wires, in turn connected to a large bank of computers. Reclining on a hospital-like bed beside him is ELLEN SPARKES (late 20s) dressed to hunt in a tracksuit and trainers, hair viciously tied-back from her face. ELLEN: Is he in? DON: I'm trying to find him, it's never easy. He flicks some switches on the computer and fits the cap to Ellen's head, attaching two pads to her temples. DON: You sure you want to do this again? ELLEN: No choice, she needs me. Don adjusts a dial, flicks a few switches and then grabs a paper readout from one of the machines, checking it against images flashing in rapid succession on a monitor. DON: House-wife, on the east-side, in a park...nightmare... sorry, Go! He forces up a large lever on the banks of machines. Electricity charges the air, and Don's hair stands up more than usual. Ellen grits her teeth, then passes out. She is in. EXT. PARK - NIGHT Ellen stands near a small pond in a deserted park. It is silent and she turns her head back and forth as if trying to hear something. Something snaps behind her, and she wheels around to come face to face with KURT HAGEN (40s), mean-looking and unwashed with a desperate look in his eyes. He says nothing but leans back and throws a punch. Ellen rolls with it, but he gets a good hit, knocking her down. He runs. Ellen rolls onto her front and gets to her knees, only to be knocked down again. Something has her leg. She looks down to see hideous fish-like goblins trying to drag her to the pond. She kicks furiously, knocking them back into the water. She leaps back to her feet and runs after Kurt. ELLEN: Too much cheese before bed... She turns a corner by the end of the lake to see Kurt vault a fence a few hundred yards away. He disappears mid vault. ELLEN: He jumped! DON (O.S.): Tracking... school-kid on West fifty-third...patching. Ellen vanishes. INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Ellen materialises in a child's bedroom, toys and posters and mess. The door is swinging shut. She runs out onto the landing and can see the open front door. She leaps down to the ground floor just in time to see Kurt disappear in the doorway of a house opposite. ELLEN: Don!? DON (O.S.): Keep up Ellen... here we go! HOSPITAL WARD Kurt runs down the corridor past doctors and nurses. Ellen is in hot pursuit HOTEL KITCHEN Kurt pushes burly-looking chef out of the way and knocks pot and pans to the floor in front of a rapidly gaining Ellen. AIRPORT LOUNGE Ellen vaults the seats in the first class departure lounge, tracking Kurt's progress on the other side of the glass. JUNGLE She can almost touch him. SCHOOL YARD Running SHOPPING MALL Fighting against busy crowds. INT. HALLWAY - DAY Ellen stops in a large, round hallway with doors all around the wall. Kurt is trying door after door to escape. ELLEN: Give it up Kurt. He ignores her, testing more doors. DON (O.S.): End of the line Ellen, dementia patient, you're locked in. ELLEN: Nowhere to run Kurt, where is she? KURT: Screw you bitch. ELLEN: Don? Gun. A bulky pistol appears in Ellen's hand. ELLEN: You know what they say about dying in your sleep Kurt? He ignores her, trying more doors. Ellen shoots him in the leg. Kurt goes down screaming. ELLEN: I'm your only way out Kurt, where is she? KURT (crying): Lock-up, eleven-thirty-eight North Seargent. Code is 74376... bitch! ELLEN: Don, two to bring out. Kurt reaches out for Ellen's hand. She steps back, smiling, and disappears.

EXT. ABINGTON PARK - DAY Pete Henson stands by a tree on a trail tracking the river, watching attentively as his ex-wife Heather, his son James and the fuckwit called Malcolm share a family moment by the water's edge below. A moment that should have been his. JAMES: Malcolm, where does all this water come from? Malcolm gazes kindly on his stepson. MALCOLM: When it rains, water from the hills ends up in the river. JAMES: And where does all the water go? MALCOLM: Eventually? All the way to the sea. HEATHER: Why don't you show him? Heather grabs a spiral bound notebook from her bag, rips out a sheet of paper, hands it to Malcolm, who quickly folds it into a paper boat. JAMES: That's cool. Will it float? MALCOLM: Why don't we see. Malcolm hands the boat to James who places it into the flowing water. It stays put for a moment until a current catches it. JAMES: Look! James runs after it. Malcolm and Heather follow behind, briskly, so the boy doesn't wander too far ahead. No one sees Pete following them. As they walk Heather nestles into Malcolm. MALCOLM: What's wrong? HEATHER: Pete just got out of jail. James still chases the paper boat. Soon, it's caught in an eddy and spins in place. James looks around, finds a long stick, uses it to prod the boat back on it's journey. JAMES: Ha! Got you! From the trail above them, Pete smiles gently. Malcolm hugs Heather, brings her in a little closer. MALCOLM: Do you think he's going to try something? The restraining order is still in place. They'd lock him back behind bars before the day's end. HEATHER: You don't know him like I do. Something like that's not going to stop him. Current catches the boat as it accelerates faster than James can follow. He stops chasing just as Malcolm and Heather reach him. MALCOLM: Got away, huh? JAMES: (plaintively) It was too fast for me. MALCOLM: Next time, James. All of a sudden, Heather twitches like a jackrabbit catching a mountain lion's scent. She spins her head, scans the scene, half expecting to see something. Malcolm sees her, joins in. But Pete has vanished. MALCOLM: I don't see anything. You okay? HEATHER: (nervously) It's nothing... but it felt like we were being followed... I could have sworn I saw him. She turns, faces Malcolm. A gentle smile appears. HEATHER: Just nerves, I expect.

Wonderful! Look at the variety of conveyances and circumstances you've come up with for creating chase scenes. On foot, horses, snowmobiles, grocery carts, and so on. We can do much better than yet another car chase. And if we DO a car chase, necessitated by the story, let's be as INVENTIVE as possible.

EXT. PARK - DAY Families, friends and couples explode in a firework frenzy of fun across the crisp grass. Commotion around the workout area draws major attention. Onlookers keep a tight grip on the action. KIM, a lingering onlooker with sharp eyes and an even sharper taste in style, stands at the front of the crowd. HARRY, a well groomed and stylishly dressed 30 year old, rolls through the crowd in his slick wheelchair. In his tense hand, a paper with Kim's face perfectly drawn. GEORGE, a college brat with a muscular upper body that overshadows puny legs, effortless defies gravity with each pull up. The crowd cheers each one. Harry inches closer to Kim with the drawing. George drops perfectly into his ratty, duct taped wheelchair. The crowd appeases him with applause. KIM Amazing. George catches eyes with Harry. A fake smile of epic proportions exchanges between them. George and Harry's gaze breaks only to reveal the crowd dispersing and Kim gone. In Kim's place, her purse. George and Harry reunite their gaze for a moment. George burns out and has the purse in his lap. Harry, using muscles last used 3 years ago at the local YMCA, ignites his wheelchair, practically into a wheely. DOG PARK Mutts and their owners scatter as George and Harry whip under leashes and over dog toys. The extra weight of the purse and poor navigating slow George by a few mph's. Harry just barely nicks George's seat back. POND George hits a puddle and sends a hurricane of dirty mud water at Harry's clean shaven face. Harry, closing in on George, jerks to the side as cyclists tear by at ungodly speeds. HILLY PLAYGROUND Kids scream as George and Harry hit a small ramp built for skateboards. Three feet later, they both hit the ground in a smash, sparks almost flying. Harry hits a rough patch of wood chips and skids out. George disappears over a small hill top. Kids laugh and yell behind Harry. Harry tightens his grip on is wheels and explodes down the path over the hill. HILLTOP Harry's eyes explode open at a motionless George. Harry's hands instinctively grab the wheels with no regard to sever rubber burn. Harry skids to a stop- a hair length behind George. They both stare down a long winding path of steep stairs with no path around. Kim enjoys a hearty, loving laught with her very able bodied BOYFRIEND as they easily manipulate the stairs. An unsure awkwardness storm clouds over George and Harry. SUSIE, swimming under uncoordinated yet incredibly comfortable attire, corrals a stable of dogs. SUSIE Hey, that was pretty awesome. The dogs give Susie a jolt that almost pulls her to the ground SUSIE Can I get some help? George and Harry, share a laugh followed by Harry elbowing George and peeling out.