the geatz teaser guys ok

INT. -- THE GEEATZ KITCHEN -- MORNING

The family is gathered around the kitchen table surrounded by eggs, bacon and pancakes. The mother is the only one not sitting at the table she is standing with milk and orange juice in her hands. Her name is Leta Geeatz and she is the mother of: a dying turtle, adolescent Gothic teen daughter Kim and soon to be dead cat Fu Fu. Her husband Ronald aka Ray Ray lights a cigarette at table. And opens the paper.

LETA

Damn it Ray! Can you please go outside?

Ronald Wright family man and entrepreneur shoots a scowl at his wife gives her the middle finger and throws open the sliding glass door to the front porch. Kim stares at her pancakes and starts to gag.

LETA

Your not staying home from school.

Kim continues to gag

KIM

Did you see Charlie this morning? His face is pulling to the right side. I think he had another seizure last night.

Kim looks at the turtle in her hand. The turtle’s head is hanging limp outside of it’s shell.

KIM

Any moment one of Charlie's little blood vessels lining his cerebral cortex will bust putting him in a coma.

LETA

Charlie will die and so will Fu Fu. It is just part of life.

Leta tears a piece of bacon in half and throws it down for Fu Fu.

KIM

I feel like I ate too much. I’m about to be sick.

Kim runs the sliding glass door as her father stands on the porch lighting a three foot roar. Now the only one left at the table is Charlie. The turtle lifts up his head slowly and twitches it to the right then drops it on the table. Leta turns to look out the glass door. Kim has her mouth on the roar as her dad lights the bowl. Leta’s face turns red as she runs to the door and flings it open. Kim turns to look at her and blows smoke in her mother face.

LETA

Kim what the hell are you doing I finally decide to cook breakfast and you take my greens. You know I always get seconds in the wake and bake rotation.

A fly lands on the pancakes as Fu Fu jumps on the table and starts to eat the bacon. The father opens the door and leads the family back into the kitchen he looks at his watch and realizes he is late for work. He opens the fridge gets out a bottle of clear eyes and takes two drops and passes it on to Leta. Leta takes two drops and passes the bottle to her daughter. As Ronald puts on his coat and Leta cleans off the table Kim takes out needle from her sleeve pokes two holes in the tip of her finger and screams.

KIM

I just got bit by a brown recluse. It crawled back behind the counter.

Her parents don’t acknowledging her.

LETA

You are going to school.

KIM

Do you have any benadryl?

Ronald turns his head and glares at Kim.

RONALD

Your not benny bombing this morning. If you keep sleeping through your class I’m going to send you to boarding school in Cuba.

Ronald turns and opens the front door Fu Fu flys out the door first and into the circle drive in front of the house. As Fu Fu walks from the curb to the street the family starts to scream. Ronald runs for the street as a mini-van going five miles an hour heads for Fu Fu.

RONALD

Stop!

Leta drops her keys covers her mouth and screams.

LETA

Fu! Fu!

A drop of blood leaves Kim’s finger and falls to the floor. Fu Fu turns her head to look at the family still in the house as she is slowly run over by the mini-van. Ronald runs toward the mini-van running over his cat and puts his hand out motioning for the driver to stop. The mini-van stops and the driver rolls down the window. Ronald runs up to the driver.

EXT. -- THE GEEATZ FRONT YARD -- MORNING

RONALD

Move! You are on my cat!

The driver’s eyes open wide and he puts the mini-van into drive and peels the tires forward causing blood and fur to fly in Ronald’s face. Ronald picks up the body and holds it in his arm. Leta is holding Kim as they both cry. The driver gets out wearing a suit and thick bifocals. Ronald weeps over the body.

RONALD

Were you not looking or can you not see right in front of you?

The driver shakes his head and searches for words.

RONALD

What’s your name sir?

TED

Ted. I just moved in next door and I am so sorry.

RONALD

Well, sorry is not going to cut it. I hope you have a good attorney Ted cause this cat you just murdered is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was from Persia!

TED

I’m the new District Attorney, believe me sir I want to keep this out of court. There must be something we can work out.

Ronald drops the cat and walks to behind the mini-van and looks at the license plate.

RONALD

Wow, I thought I saw DA on your license plate.

Ronald extends his hand covered in cat hair and blood.

RONALD

The names Ronald Geeatz and this is my wife Leta and my daughter Kim.

Leta and Kim are still holding each other and weeping.

RONALD

It’s OK girls we’ll get a new Fu Fu.

TED

I’m sorry we had to meet under these terms. Listen Why don’t you guys come over for dinner tonight. I’ll have my fix up something special and you can meet my family.

Ronald holds his wife and daughter.

RONALD

It’s alright Ted I think we are just going to grieve alone tonight but, maybe we can do it tomorrow.

TED

I have to coach my son Trevor’s little league team tomorrow.

RONALD

Your son’s name is Trevor?

TED

Yeah. Trevor.

RONALD

I had a son named Trevor he was run over by an eighteen wheeler when he was three.

TED

I’ve got an assistant coach he can take over tomorrow. Why don’t you guys come over for dinner tomorrow night. Ronald If you need any help burring Fu Fu let me know.

RONALD

It’s ok Ted we want her cremated so that we can put her ashes in the flower bed. When the flowers bloom we will see her be reborn.

Ronald takes out his handkerchief blows his nose and then wipes a tear drop from his wife’s face with the handkerchief.

RONALD

We will see you tomorrow friend.

Ted gets back into his car and drives off leaving the family to weep in the front yard over Fu Fu’s body. As the mini-van makes the turn to leave the dead end street.

RONALD

Well, goodbye Fu Fu.

The family goes back into the house leaving the cats body on the street.

EXT. -- THE GEEATZ POOL -- DAY

ssshhh

Chapter 1- The Piss Test

It was one hundred and eight degrees on a gigantic navy blue scoreboard. The scoreboard was a state of the art gift to boost spirit after receiving the National Collegiate Athletic Associations’ first and so far only known death penalty. The rule made law SMU’s (Southern Masonic University’s) team as ineligible for competition for two years and resulting in a loss of over 55 scholarship positions over the course of the team’s four year probation. A decision dealt out by the committee as a way to show what would happen to a repeat violator. The NCAA condemned SMU with their harshest blow. They felt SMU had extensively broken every rule to get graduating high school seniors signed up to their sports program that they could no longer compete. Recruiting stories spread to other campuses until soon all over the south rumors spread of free cars and all expense paid trips to Gentlemen clubs and even in some cases blank checks handed out to top recruits in order to sway their choice.

A hypnotizing electric fly flicker LED spells out touchdown and a technical cocktail of celebration scenes with the teams’ mascot, Peruna the Pony, plays out above the end zone. The barrage of characterizations kicks off with the explosion of an atomic football. This was the pig skin spheroid that was once made from a pigs’ bladder. Grad oar scenes meant to excite the crowd out of their seats oddly ends with a sun setting over a beach brought to life by the movement of stampeded horses along a shrinking tide. All of these images paraded out like short films painted across a Wall Street building. The scenes were just logged numerical patterns to the programmer designing its code but, to the football players on hot days like this it was an escape from reality. One slight gust of air and it was easy to get lost on the back of a majestic wild pony joining his sprint and feeling the cool ocean mist hit your head collect on your necks and roll down your back.

Expanding matter squelches and radiates into a mirage of fumes that ripple the horizon. Players heave over synthetic fibers that make up the stadium’s new turf field. Athletic young men bumble pass the coaches with noodle legs doing everything possible to take horizon like spilt fuel bending the hot colors surrounding air. Young and willful men do everything they can to suck and sip in natural air. The new arena was surrounded by metal stands that could sit about one hundred thousand people. They wouldn’t be caught dead sitting in those stands at this time of day and year. It would be enough to set a person’s rear end on fire and fry any bare skin that so much as grazes into a shriveled pork rind on those steel bolted down blood red folding chairs.

Paul, a man’s body slapped with the brain of an adolescent, looks at the digital thermometer hanging from the omnisciently looming scoreboard. The team’s mascot, a white mustang, was painted under the temperature on a score board acquired through the school’s most prevalent donor. Somehow, a mustang on the score board looks more like a retarded mule then the majestic wild horse it’s meant to portray. The Ponies have the worst record in the league for the past three years and one could draw the conclusion a less then authentic cartoony horse has something to do with it.

Whistles belt out short loud chirps. “Alright, stop for a fifteen second break!” Paul puts his hands over his head and slowly controls a deep breath. Players struggle to encourage other teammates hunched down huffing and puffing. Paul “come on get up let’s go guys! Two more then we’re done!” Short, rigid and hairy Coach Benet blows his whistle. “Sprint you pussies!” Spit flies out his mouth as he biting down on the whistle and speaking simultaneously, “Move your asses or everyone is getting two more laps.” Benet’s face glows bright red and blood vessels swell on his throat. “I want to see you winning this year.” Players drag their feet and attempt to stay focused as heat waves ripple off the stadiums metallic chairs like over spilt gas. “Oh, ya baby I’m cold!” Sidney shivers then transforms into a wild dog. “ Ruff, ruff.” Snarling at the teams’ slowest and chubbiest line man is Coach Sidney. A Former Cowboy’s linebacker and it’s easy to see he’s the biggest man on the field. He’s got weird style but wears it well. A tall afro connected to the back by a small rat tail braided and sticking out like a post above three separate sized shiny necklaces that match his gold ear rings. He claps his hands chest muscles bounce and stretch the pink tank top with black tiger paws on it. “Push it! Let’s go!” Sidney runs up to the fattest lineman and slaps the linemen’s slow plump sweaty ass. The whistle gives out one long last chirp.“Alright good job, get in here.”

The team runs to circle up on Coach Benet. “Take a knee.” They snap off helmets then shoulder pads and Benet twirls a whistle around his pointer finger. He brushes down a Tom Selleck mustache resting his chin and thinking as a copper bracelet slides down his arm. The sweat and skin alchemized a visible green stain around his wrist. “All the losers and tit suckers get off my fucking field. “ The team struggles to catch wind. He points up to the thermometer. “I know it’s hot, you can take it. Right?” The team responds with a massive “yes sir.” He takes off his ten gallon straw hat. “If you caint’, go play tennis or soccer because this is a man’s sport.” Sweat drips in his eye and he doesn’t blink. “If you want to play for me, you better bust your ass!” He spits the wipes down his mustache. “Don’t cramp up. I’m tired of players having to get I.V.’s.” Paul squirts cold water on his face. “Get hydrated before practice. Drink a Gatorade right when you wake up.” He looks over at Coach Sidney who is shuffling through his fanny pack. “Coach Sidney, anything to add?” Coach Sidney steps forward cracks open a quick whiff of ammonia meant to give power lifters a head rush before throwing weight in the air. Sidney snorts in the strong scented break stick then snarling he growls at the players around him. “I’m going to bench five hundred pounds twice then hit the showers, I got swamp ass.” The team laughs. “Alright, everybody up on me let’s get in here and get a loud as fucking break.” The players enclose on Benet shoving each other as the bounce around with pure testosterone. “Break it out three. One, two, three, the team joins in Mustangs!” As the players disperse Paul picks up his helmet and shoulder pads. “Paul, come here a minute I want to talk to you.” Paul runs to the sideline where his coach stands now accompanied by Sidney and three other assistant coaches.

Paul, “Yes sir?” The assistant coaches silently stare at him judging the “Boy-Man” from head to toe. Sidney looks at Benet. “Doc needs to see you.” Paul, ok, just give me a few minutes. I got to take a shower.” Benet sighs. “Why don’t you just go ahead and hustle straight to Doc’s.” Hesitantly Paul replies, “Sure.” As instantaneous as Paul turns and jogs to the exit assistant coaches snivel spitting out chew and relentlessly shooting fast glances back and forth. An assistant coach looks at Benet.” It’s a damn shame on that’s boy family, him Losing everything on account of stupidity. I’d be mad as hell at my boy if I was his Paw…” Another assistant coach spits out a slab of chewing tobacco. “Coming home with his tail tucked between his legs.” Benet, “Come on now guys, he’s going have to get a job pumping gas somewhere.” All the coaches’ share in an elongated laugh but, Sidney slows his chuckle sooner than the rest.

He enters Doc’ Junior’s office. Three football players and a metro sexual tennis player get the total body ice down in a whirlpool room towards the back of the complex. Paul opens the door after taking off his shoes then starts a slow walk in before being immediately greeted by Doc. Doc, Hey Paul let’s go into my office. Paul stops, looks around and notices everyone is fixated on his actions. Doc’s eyes shift avoiding everyone around to the point he is looking directly at the ground. Doc’s office door opens and a vacuumed sealed room suddenly exhales its’ hidden sixty seven degree room. Docholds the door open for Paul disturbing the temperature in the training facility its enclosed in by glass walls. Doc’s office sits in a class a training and rehab center banked in like a fish tank.

The inside of Docs office is pristine. Like a commercial set for some cleaning agent. Certain books in his shelf glisten making it surreal and almost fake clean or just impeccably kept. It’s got a motif the seemingly suggests that a professional cleaner comes every hour on the hour and signs their name after having thoroughly sanitizing everything on spot. It had a verifying the comforting feeling one would come to naturally love, believe and feel safe in. Scholarly looking papers hang framed and certified on the wall behind Doc.

(Foot note 1) Doc makes up an entire lineage of trainers working in sports medicine. His father was a trainer for the Bears and his father before him a trainer for the Packers. They were all dapper men claiming wives as mere puppets to lead on straight coaches who have always hired them on their remarkably inviting personalities. Doc senior did not receive any special training nor did he go through any specific course to obtain his job. He simply gave Vince Lombardy a blow job. That brings up the question of whether mere circumstance played into a lineage of bisexual football coaches bread into the business by men that couldn’t face society’s rejection of their homosexuality. At least one could arrive at the conclusion that these coaches felt comfortable around a particular breed of men so much so they provided jobs of rank to them for three generations. Their names are Doc, Doc sr. and Doc. Jr. (back to text)

“Son, do you know the damage that steroids do to the human condition?” Doc watches for Paul’s’ reaction. The chemicals found in your specimen have been linked to some serious side effects. Paul, these drugs can take their toll mentally physically and emotionally.” Paul thought about each needle that went through his skin and began to swallow down the bad thought with another one more random. He thought of the monster that gave him nightmares as a kid. Although now a tall green faced Frankenstein would hardly scare him yet then, as a child, the sight of a man with stitches across his forehead terrified the living daylights out of Paul. He imagined a body turning green and mutating larger with each word leaving Doc’s thin pink lips. “Your gains were not real Paul. You cheated and for that we are going to have to ick you off the team. Your scholarship has been suspended until further review. Im goignt to be honest with you since this school got the death penalty it rarely makes exceptions to any of the NCAA’s guidelines, let alone those pertaining to urine analysis.” I’m sure you know what was in your system but, in case you didn’t here is a copy of the test results and here is your letter from the Board. Your levels of testosterone were exceedingly high. Paul’s head hangs in his hands. They found traces of four types of anabolic steroids along with a high level of winstrol the same drug they shoot in racehorses before they went to the track. What were you thinking? Still his thought lept back to a this time any even more distracting thoughts of his parents looking at him with discontent as he carried his belonging back into their home. Finally he breaks silence. “Paul, Does this mean I’m getting kicked off the team?” His eyes look right up at Doc’s. You think I didn’t know what I was doing well your right I feel stupid now. I wish I hadn’t done them. Hell I quit taking them before the season started that should count for something. Well they are still in your system Paul. I’m sorry really sorry You don’t understand Paul starts to cry You can’t take my scholarship away. Now Paul this doesn’t mean you are getting kick out of school this just mean you can’t participate with the team

Paul suddenly has a flash back his entire athletic career. He laughed. Is something funny doc asked. It was funny because to him all the memories were wrapped in sweat and sacrifice yet to them he was going to be known as a cheater and an outcast. There is nothing funny about your situation doc repeated. It’s funny yeah its funny. Funny that a coach gave me those steroids. Paul looks past doc and at Sidney who was helping a female tennis player of the examining table and across the white lenolium floor. He picks up his shoe. Paul are saying a coach provided you these steroids. If you want to give me a name the board might look at that in your favor. Sidney peers at Paul from the outside room and shakes his head a stern fashion. Do you want to give me a name Paul? Pual looks back at Doc. Nothing I say will change situation here. We could fill out a form of misconduct. They might side with giving you back your scholarship. Just give me a name. Doc pleads with Paul as Sidney Paced by the office. Why’d you do it son. Pual, I wanted start, be a player part of the team not somebody riding the pine. Doc, Im going to recommend you to a Psychiatrist I know. Im sorry Pual but you made the decision maybe if you bring out some names the board will give your scholarship another review. Until you provide a viable explanation your off the team. Doc shuffles uneasily afraid of Paul’s response and uncertain of his own next move. He finally pulls out a card and slides it across the table to paul. His name is Shoeburger he’s a good friend and you can tell him anything in complete confidence. I’ve cried over his shoulder before. Doc Puases and adjusts his chair. Over my former wife of course. Always get prenuptial son. Your saving money in the long run trust me. Especially if you marry a trophy wife whore.

(trophy wife foot note)A trophy wifeas defined is always disputed. Some say blonde with particular height and weight requirements. Typically the name is defined under American History. Only this term could be used as a byproduct of the United Nations. Doc refers to is something a older more established man aquires as a pretext or sometimes carrying after the Purchase of an expensive automobile. A trophy wife is often refered to as a bi product of a man’s mid life crisis. Many odd facsimilies follow that fall of hair and testosterone naow prematurally awared to Pual who would trade his disfunction depressive thoughts for anything. He was trained like a pup to look at pretty things and apreciat the beauty without taking into account the roses many thorns.

“ If there is a…” Doc pauses, “coach that supplies steroids here it’s going to be your word against his.” It would help if you had as many people as you can that could attest to your character and upbringing. You know like former coaches, reletives, teaches and even preachers if that should apply. You need people you know to get behind you

Chapter 2- People learn to get by

An immanently gothic Bo Waltz stand in a fifteen foot bronze statue outside the stadiums exit. Pual looks up a him immortalizing the “Bo’s” Spirit.

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$for sequel$ Transhumanism. They save Pual secretly taking his brain vital oragan’s and skeletal frame to a government lab underground in Arizona. Using secret technology to transform Pual to mostly machine the doctors have prolonged his life 500 years to where he is now part of whats known as the hive one super computer controls the limited through wargames a population decreaser. Pual is a government asset that travels through time with a large black trunk known as

Its time fellows wrestling champ runs camp with barn

"Devil's Escort" Novel

One hundred and eight degrees climbs another notch expanding matter and thresholds to heat in the turf field stadium. Paul, a man’s body slapped with the brain of an adolescent, looks at the digital thermometer hanging from a huge blue scoreboard. A white mustang was painted under the temperature. Somehow, the mustang looks more like a retarded mule then the majestic wild horse it’s meant to portray. The Ponies have the worst record in the league for the past three years and one could draw the conclusion a less then authentic cartoony horse has something to do with it.

Whistles belt out short loud chirps. “Alright, stop for a fifteen second break!” Paul puts his hands over his head and slowly controls a deep breath. Players struggle to encourage other teammates hunched over huffing and puffing. Pual “come on get up let’s go guys! Two more.” Short, rigid and hairy Coach Bennet blows his whistle. “Sprint!” Spit flies out his mouth as he bites down on the whistle. “Move your asses or everyone is getting two more laps.” Bennet’s face glows bright red and blood vessels swell on his throat. “I want to see you winning this year.” Players drag their feet and attempt to stay focused as heat waves ripple off the stadiums metallic chairs like over spilt gas. “Oh, ya! Ruff, ruff.” Snarling at the teams slowest runner is Coach Sidney. A Former Cowboy’s linebacker and it’s easy to see he’s the biggest man on the field. He’s got weird style but wears it well. A tall mohawk afro with three separate sized shiny necklaces that match his gold ear ring. As he claps his hands chest muscles bounce and stretch the pink tank top with black tiger paws on it. “Push it! Let’s go!” Sidney runs up to the fattest lineman and slaps the linemen’s slow plump sweaty ass. The whistle gives out one long last chirp . “Alright, everybody up on me.”

The team runs to circle up on Coach Bennet. “Take a knee.” They snap off helmets then shoulder pads and Bennet twirls a whistle around his pointer finger. He brushes down a Tom Selleck mustache resting his chin and thinking as a copper bracelet slides down his arm. The sweat and skin alchemized a visible green stain around his wrist. “All the losers and tit suckers get off my fucking field. “ The team struggles to catch wind. He points up to the thermometer. “I know it’s hot but, you can take it, caint’ ya?” The team responds with a massive “yes sir.” He takes off his ten gallon straw hat. “If you caint’, go play with each other in the shower.” He looks intense as a junkie begging for a fix. The sweat drips in his eye and doesn’t blink. “If you want to play for me, you better bust your ass!” He spits the wipes down his mustache. “Don’t whine and cry, just be a man! He looks over at Coach Sideny who is shuffling through his fanny pack. “ Coach Sidney, anything to add?” Coach Sidney steps forward cracks open a quick wif of ammonia ment to give power lifters a head rush before throwing weight in the air. He snorts in the strong scented break stick then snarlily growls at the players around him. “I’m going to bench five hundred pounds twice then hit the showers, I got swamp ass.” The team laughs. “Alright. Everybody up on me let’s get in here and get a loud as fucking break.” The players enclose on Bennet shoving each other as the bounce around with pure testosterone. “Break it out three. One, two, three, the team joins in Mustangs!” As the players disperse Paul picks up his helmet and shoulder pads. “Paul, come here a minute I want to talk to you.” Paul runs to the sideline where his coach stands now accompanied by Coach Sidney and three other coaches.