REDHEADED WRITER

EXT. SCREENED PORCH - MORNING

Brian PUFFS away on a cigarette.
His FINGERS HOVER over the LAPTOP as he sweats in NINETY-ONE degrees of HEAT.

BRIAN (V.O.)
There's no AC out here, and I smoke, so that puts me out here.
(beat)
Smoking is a nasty, addictive habit, I know, so spare me the emails. It pisses me off. Not the fact that it stinks or what, the fact that any other addict like an alcoholic, doper, fatass, shopaholic, or what, is classified as having a "disease". They're victims, I'm a freaking perpetrator, brandishing an orange-tipped glowing death-stick?? EXCUSE ME!

BRIAN STABS the cig down into the ASHTRAY.
The smoke LINGERS.
It STINKS.

BRIAN (V.O.)
Moving on, I wanted to talk about the image of a writer. Going into this, I figured, in my fantasy world, it doesn't matter how a writer looks, it matters how they write. Boy was I wrong.
(beat)
This sad bit of news came when I first went to the NICHOLL AWARDS site. There stood all five 2008 winners, and they looked like writers! Yep, imagine that.
(beat)
Then, I pulled up DIABLO CODY, talk about shock and awe, I thought I had accidentally fumbled upon the "Dita von Teese" homepage or what.

Brian wipes SWEAT from his FOREHEAD.
He appears to be COOKING on the PORCH.

BRIAN (V.O.)
Okay, I feel fine about my looks, but I don't think I look like a WRITER! How many redheaded male screenwriters have you seen? Maybe one? You're thinking RON HOWARD? Me too, but isn't he more a producer and director? HELL, I'll take it though!

EXT. SCREENWRITER'S PARTY - SUNSET

Brian, feeling a bit OUT OF PLACE, hides himself near a large PLANT URN.

Suddenly, he notes a figure with TRACES of RED HAIR.

It's RON HOWARD.

Mr. Howard approaches, WHISPERING into his LAPEL.

HOWARD
(whispering)
Security? There's a guy hiding behind an urn.

SECURITY
(filtered)
Yessir, Mr. Howard, description please.

HOWARD
(serious)
He's got RED HAIR.

SECURITY
(filtered)
Is he one of the writers?

HOWARD
(angry)
Didn't you hear me?? He has RED HAIR!

RON HOWARD confronts BRIAN.

HOWARD
(skeptical)
Umm, do you have an invite?

BRIAN
(sweating bullets)
Umm, yessir, I mean Mr. Howard, sir, right here sir.

Brian hands Howard the SOGGY INVITE.

HOWARD
(sympathetically)
Okay, it checks out.
Hehe, I've never seen a redheaded male writer.
Have a good night, OPIE!!

BRIAN
(sighs)
Yessir, thank you, you too Mr. Howard.

INT. SCREENED PORCH - MORNING

Brian lights another COFFIN NAIL.
He checks his BLACKBERRY for messages.
He runs his fingers through his SWEATY RED HAIR.

BRIAN (V.O.)
I'm surprised that Blog Reader #1 hasn't chimed in yet. Bet that guy doesn't look like a writer at all. Good.
(beat)
So, no, I'm not going to run out and get a sleeve full of tattoos, or clear lenses or what to look like a writer. It's just another thing on the list to work at, so when Ron Howard DOES walk up, he thinks I'm a writer, not a prowler.

FADE OUT