An airport. Man on a business trip waiting in line to go through metal detector. A plain clothes man approaches him, shows him some ID, and says, please, sir, come this way.I was thinking of entering this as a short for the Slamdance festival. If any of you are American millionaires or Kuwaitis or whatever, could you get in touch? I reckon we can shoot the whole thing for less than it cost to make Terminator. Investors will get 50% of the profits or a bag of crisps, whichever is greater.
They sit in an office. Plain clothes guy explains that he is Colonel Cathcart, in charge of tightening up airport security. Can you help us? Do your bit in the War On Terror?
“What do you want?” says the man.
Plain clothes says, “We’re looking for civilians like you to try to get weapons on to planes, see if our people are awake. We want you to try to take this grenade through security. Hide it in your undies, let’s see if they find it. Relax, it’s not even a real grenade. I’ll be watching behind the two-way mirror. If they don’t find it, they’re going to get a real dressing down in my report for the Congressional Inquiry. Heads will roll.”
Man says, um, sure.
Man strolls through the metal detector, is wrestled to the floor and tasered.
“I’m part of the Congressional Inquiry. Ask Colonel Cathcart,” screams the man.
Cathcart appears. "I have never seen this man before in my life," he says.
Cell door slams shut. Man lies on the floor in an orange jump suit, weeping.
I expect I'll get Samuel L Jackson to play the Colonel. Do any of you happen to have his number? He cool.
