mOuse tO Orbit [act 4] 'Open it to the public critics...'

FADE IN:

INT. LOBBY - GONDOLA LANDINGS - SUNNY NORTH, SOUTHERN STARs

Floor-to-ceiling tapered windows view Earth, Night, looping every 30 sec., Photochromic cool; Spacesuited WINDOW WASHER SOLARIZED outside squeegees-off magnetic-discoloration with an X-canoe-wand, Occasional PROTONS FLASH in glass … GUESTS exit Elevators, mill about vertical-banner-tapestries, play Virtual-Reality casino games farther-in beyond an Air Lock;

N.B. Guests get Welcome-peruked-and-kissed by Hostesses and wear those in various-formality: neatly pinned or not-so or as berets or backwards etc.

REFOCUS: CHECK-IN several steps prograde from the landings:

MEDIUM flanked by TALL and SHORT, in their helpful dialect, from their helpful country, reconcile their existence:

(SCRAPES down guest-list)
Dee-lay-war.

(nod Yes; enunciate)
/ Deal a war.
/ Dahla war.
/ De la war.

Your country is not listed: Are you Presidents? Vice Presidents? Prime Ministers? Ambassadors?- What…?

(helpful)
I be Supersona.

Your name is, Sue, Persona-- Sue Pears, Anna?

(helpful but rapid)
Our peopleries, have not president, twenty-five years: Have twenty-five Articles conferring Egalitarian Confederation:-- Interregnum, I be Hypersona;- He be Supersona.

(peers between; smiles)
I be Lopersona.

I'll see what we can do for you:: (turning away)
You did, come in a Space Shuttle?

(nod Yes)
/ Affirmative. / True. / Correct.

(fluent to his own)
We really need be expediting the ratifications of our national Constitutions.

You, have yet to concur on the linguistic isolation of a prominent dialection.

(to Tall, to Medium)
I find exception for the demurrer, and remand jurisprudence to the popular appellation-- Mutatis mutandis!

SWING FOCUS TO:

An outside elevator GONDOLA SETTLES;--

Presidents, Aides, enter tipsy-walking in quarter gravity:

SECOND sniff-inhales a long What's-this…I've-never…Maybe…?

I've never been so high in all my years as President.

(sniff-exhales)
Mhhhhhhh--! Definitely: But I don't smell the goose-feathers yet.

(super-balancing-act)
I feel reel--tipsy… All leady….

Space-talking is an acquired skill.

(unto Aide)
Did I remember to bring my digital-video camera?-- I wanted everything recorded: in case I forget.

Yes, sir: You did.

(reconsiders a beat)
Did-- what?

THROUGH AN AIR LOCK, prograde …

And inward: milling about the window-view anteroom flanked by royal elevator-corridors, AD LIB formal personal space-politics … Duchess is introduced to Prime Minister PUDIN of Russia; then G-8 Presidents, BUISSON of France, STRAUCH of Germany, USA President BUTCH, CESPUGLIO of Italy, KAISOU of Japan, FREEBUSH of Canada, BRITISH MINISTER of Out There:

Madam Duchess, I present: The honorable Prime Minister of Russia, Mr. Pootin'.

(hand to; mispronounces)
Welcome to The Hotel Gran MEO, Mr. Prime Minister Put-on.

(bows, kisses her hand)
Thank you, dear Madam Duchess: We are pleased, to attend your presence;-- and that's, Pudin,- please, madam.

(girlish giggle-curtsies)
Ohhh! And a cherry on top, too!

(a beat unsure, thanks)
Vi-radooshnih.

And advances into the crowd…

(tight to others)
And to think, We had, to have a G-Eight!

(waves-up Buisson)
Presentahsion du Prey-si-dent hono-rahbleh de la Rey-pub-lique France-aise, Monsieur Buisson.

(bows, kisses hand)
Ma shehr Ma-dahm, Le Duuch-esse.

(nods)
Bienvenue, Monsieur Prey-sid-ent Buiis-sohn.

A votreh play-zeer.

And advances into the crowd…

(waves-up Strauch)
Presenting: Des achtbaren Praesidenten von Deutschland, Germany, Herr Strauch.

(both hands; nods a slow smile)
Frau-- Duuchess.

(nods)
Willkommen, Herr Praesidenten Strauch.

Dahnka,- bitteh.

And advances into the crowd…

HYPEROPIA:

(over-pronounces)
Pre-Sent-ing the Hon-Or-Able Pre-Side-ent of the Unit-ed State-s of A-Merica, Mad-Am Horhay double-J Butch.

(smiles)
Madam Duchess.

Well-come, Mad-am Pre-side-ent Butch.

(shakes hand)
Thank you; Nice place, you have.

And advances into the crowd…

FLANK OFF-VIEW:

Presentare il Presidente onorato dell'Italia, Signor Cespuglio.

Signora Duchessa.

Benvenuto, Signore Presidente Cespuglio.

Grazie, molto.

Presenting: katai Purejidento, Nippon: Sama Kaisou.

Madamu-- Duchess.

Youkoso, Misuta-Purejidento Kaisou.

Sankyu, Madamu Duchess.

Comes into the crowd…

(to Duchess)
Duchess, please….: (to Presidents)
She will meet the remainder of the Presidents and Prime Ministers over the pre-freshments, please.: (to Duchess)
This way, please, Duchess.

Duchess and Duch-Aide escape via the royal elevator.

IN THE NEAR CROWD meanwhile:

(smiles, palms, relates)
Presidented Bu-jo! How's it, Broh?! Long time never see: How's one life up on Mount Saint Esperanto-world?

(stuffy equivocal)
Like… this… and like… that….

(grins, obtrudes)
Ehh, Brohh: Never make one life so hard-- Broh!

FOCUS: Farside sculpted portal to the GRAND BOUFFE ROOM via gold-roped stanchions, And standing between, COWBELLING--

(cries out)
The, Guests, of Hotel Gran MEO, are invited to join the Royal Family of Gran Fenwijk, at the banquet tables in the Grand Bouffe Room-- for pre-freshments, presently!

And bows, and backs, COWBELLING… while Waiters draw-aside the stanchions and gold-ropes…

All STROLL AHEAD to enter, resuming AD LIB;

(pleasantly to Rubus)
Do you suppose there is anyone else up here, but the guests and help?

(pleasantly dismisses)
Nondum oportet: Gaudeamus igitur!

And into--

INT. GRAND BOUFFE ROOM - SUN, HALF-SUNNY EARTH (CONTINUOUS)

Opulent-ethereal. Guests enter, drifting toward the tables.

The opener internal-3-story structure has tall partitioning fin-bulkheads between hip-high-to-ceiling curved windows on left and right walls; decorated in subterranean faux marble palatial. Back wall partitions-off the dining room behind the pre-freshments tables where 4 WAITERS stand blockade.

Guests LOOK-UP-ABOUT, marveling ineloquent oohs, gathering toward Son ready with Fenwijk's harvest champagne special…

(announces)
Ladies and gentlemen: Presidents and Kings, -and all manners of Ambassadors and Entourages:- The Duchy of Gran Fenwijk, proudly welcomes you-all, to the Grand Uupinning, of Hotel Gran MEO--!

He steadies the bottle bottom in his crotch, And with a yank-- UNCORKED BLASTS its entire contents… over all.

(a hurt grin)
Lower atmospheric pressure and gravity.

All WET-CLAP…

Copilot signals hand-rolls to table-waiters:--

Waiters bow, gesturing at tables, Back aside and exeunt…

All eat and meet AD LIB …

Duchess returns with Duch-Aide via another royal elevator,

And meanders AD LIB, eats, meets, nods at all; Presidents hand-her-off, Introducer helps; Waiters replenish trays…

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. REGAL DINING ROOM, BEHIND PARTITION - TABLES SET - DIM

Guests HEARD EATING in the adjacent room; A few stray to sniff-nose AD LIB through kitchen accesses, unto this room:

Dining tables are set with cakes iced in national colors, each with a corresponding Country-flag-decoration plastic-keep-piece in a jelly cherry; Whole-stuffed turkeys and other entrees are under-glass on serving carts about.

FOOTSTEPS, POV: Strauch MEANDERS towards the throne table, musing cakes, flags, Eating every cherry except his own:

(picks-examines a cherry)
Hmmm.: (eats it)
Ummm--!: (and the next cherry…)
Ummm--Ummm--!

THE THRONE TABLE, a broad 'V', to seat Duchess at nadir and Big-Presidents, Canada near-left, Britain, France left-end, Italy, Russia right, Germany on-end, USA, Japan near-right:

Beginning at Canada, in order unto Japan, he examines and plays-war with the flag-pieces on each cake except-his-own, smears each cherry in icing and eats it, sing-songing a fragment of national anthem: lone Oh-Canada-Our-Home-and-Native-Land, chuckily Wellington's Overture for English vs. French, hummily lone Italy's Hymn of Mameli, Circumspects Russia Our-Beloved-Homeland to stand behind his own and do America Oh-Say-Can-You-See vs. Deutschland-Uber-Alles …

FOOTSTEPS: Duchess and Duch-Aide are nearing the entry--

This way, Duchess.

He rush-replaces flag-pieces, misplacing American, Russian, around Germany, and EXITS (AMPLIFIED STEALTH) with 2nd-last cherry scooped from Japan, just as they enter to seat her--

(woozy-full)
How, is the party, going?

Very well, I think: Let's put you on your throne before they open the partition.

(ushered-in, astonished)
Goodness!-- Do we show them that?!

(assists toward throne)
Your dinner-table, throne, Duchess.

Oh, yes: That throne:: (giggly)
I've got so many thrones up, I can hardly keep track with them all.

Arriving at the Throne Table, as TRACK-SPOTLIGHTS turn On…

We must hurry.

4 WAITERS enter to guard the carts.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. GRAND BOUFFE ROOM - AMID TABLES - SUN, CRESCENT EARTH

Trays all empty-juices; Some finger-out the last dips; All contented. Earth is gradually evening-darkening in space … the 'hour' of sun-eclipse-totality approaches.

REFOCUS - AT THE PARTITION:

(on high tiptoe)
Ladies and gentlemen-- Please: The Guests of Hotel Gran MEO are -now- invited to be seated at the Dining tables for the grand course.

And resumes normal height stance.

PARTITION SPLITS… Onto--

EXT.-INT. DINING ROOM - TRACK SPOTLIGHTS (CONTINUOUS)

4 Waiters guard the serving carts; Duchess helped by Duch-Aide, is slowly sitting at her table Throne:

(smiles, nods, plop-sits)
Ooh.

And smiles to all again.

Guests CLAP, and advance to be seated by 12 USHERS: each at their national-colors cakes; unnoticed 2 Helpers roll-away the pre-freshments tables;

(pats full belly, and smiles big)
The final stretch!

(tests full belly)
'Whew'! It's so easy to forget how much I've eaten: I don't feel any heavier in this lower gravity and lighter atmosphere--! And the hors d'oeuvres were exquisite!

(hand-to-mouth SEMI-BURP)
And easier to up-chuck, too!

All chuckle worries, test bellies, hand-cover little-BURPS;

(a LONG-LOW-BURP… and guttural-glottal excuse)
Ih'-kills, me.

(a CONTAINED-BURP beat)
A-men: But I can still move, And you won't find me slumping under the table tonight… in zero-gee.

Tonight? When is to-night, in outer space? We might be eating for days!

All check wrist-watches, chuckle worries and BURPS …

MOMENTARILY, All are seated before their national cakes.

FIRST-WAITOR (lad) stands at Duchess' side, Waitress next, her Head Chef, 2nd-Maitre-d' Copilot, Maitre-d' Son, each with a cake and fork ready for their moment of exultations; 4 Waiters stand ready at back with the main first-courses.

The Dinner-taste-testing formality sequence begins:

(props half-up; to all)
Well-- come!

And re-lowers, and plop-sits.

ALL APPLAUD…

(samples cake, exults)
Oh, Yummy! My royal favorite, Cake!

And eats-it-up…

(samples hers, extolls)
'Mmmm' Parfait! My Chef --above all Chefs-- has created an above-all masterpiece!

Chef takes his bows as ALL APPLAUD…

(samples, exults French)
Deyleeciouse-eh-quel-coinceedahnce! The bountiful harvest of Gran Fenwijk has in this one year reached its ultimate splendor and glory lofting to the sky: well-deserved, and richly rewarded!

And nods to Chef and Waitress.

ALL APPLAUD while Chef, Waitress, nod in return…

(hungry-French to Son)
Veet-- veet!

(quickly announces)
Contemporary custom in the Duchy of Gran Fenwijk, dictates we serve the sweet deserts first, Then, bring-forth the main courses--: (fork-gesture at carts)
'til you've met your contentment--!: (engulfs a crumbly piece)
'Mmmm' Good!- The Royal Duchess of Gran Fenwijk has ever truly ruled over the most-favored of all nations,-- most-favoring-- and, most-favorably!

And catches-glances to--

Duchess digs-into hers… and ALL APPLAUD and begin eating theirs, while Son, Copilot, Waitress, monitor over all …

(puzzles icing ridge)
Ittai?

(examine their own)
/CAN/ Hey-what?
/ENG/ Hello?
/FR/ Ooh la la!
/IT/ Come eh questo?
/RUS/ Kak--oi?
/USA/ What's this?
/JAP/ 'Hmmmm'?

Son, Copilot, Waitress, mutually pensive but remain demure, Duchess eats and watches, Others eat but gather interest…

Trouble sparks as Pudin discovers the USA-flag on his cake:

(forks flag honestly)
Why is there an American toy flag, on the designated Russian piece of cake?!

Strauch puckers, and furtively avoids looking anywhere;

(half-turned-to)
Just give it back to them.

(fingers RUS flag)
And what, is this Russian flag doing on property ceded to the United States of America?!

QUIET; as Pudin and Butch notice Strauch's furtive glances:

(Hardy-like deliberate)
President Strauch of Deutschland, doesn't find the smears in his own, icing!

(a finger in his own)
Eech, auwch!

(leaning to see)
And who, put the jelly cherry on the German chocolate cake?!

(rechecks his own)
'Mmmh'?!

More look about, and scrutinize Strauch;

(pushes cherry under)
'Eech-- oops…': (Laurel-like whimpery)
Perhaps-lich liebt der-die-das Amerikanischer-eine Presidenten ihre Ruussish-ky Astronauten-Kameraden-- diese Tagge…!?

Others individually spontaneously gather round;

(transfers USA-flag to German-cake USA-side)
I believe this amounts to extreme decadence-- exhibited by western nuclear powers: Let the Americans renaissance the history of the American side!

(starts, whimpers)
'Eech-- ouch…'!

(transfers RUS-flag to German-cake RUS-side)
America, will have none such much historic exclusivity upon spatially residuated territories:-- Let the Russians repatriate to their own illustrious economies!

(starts, whimpers)
'Eech,-- Nicht…'!

(head-in-hands awed)
Mama, mia! La Germania, fomenta, la guerra, mondiale, tre…!

(squeaky sorry)
Traurig!…

(circles cherry)
Bon!!

(line-divides circle)
Bon-bon!!

And replants USA-flag inside.

(napkin-surrenders)
'euber-gehben… bitteh.

Butch vs. Pudin intend to teach Strauch a final lesson, albeit constrained by Fenwijkian-world-dominance; Those gathering, cheer-boo-hiss-AD LIB:

(replants RUS-flag inside the circle)
Un-detente!

(quick looks between; Tenors Beethoven's 9th)
"Meineh Froindeh:-- Nicht dieseh Toehneh!"

(Music theme-bite Beethoven's 9th finale)

(to Strauch)
Weee-- still have, ellipton bombes:: (hands parting)
Thees-beeg!

All 'Oooh…' and about…

(at Strauch)
America, shall retaliate, with our new-- Clear-missiles!

All 'Oooh…' and about…

(guttural mock serious)
Oh, Santa Claus--! A new, clear-winter, is coming!

(resolute)
We settle this-- like American, westerners: Before the sun goes down!

All look outside-- LEANING HEADFIRST-SYNCHRONOUSLY with the Earth-sun-frame-loop-rotation… 60 deg./5 sec.

(sits-back, solemn order)
Bring me, the football!

Aide! Bring the -Russian- foosball!

MIDGROUND, CONCURRENT:

Will that go over at this altitude?

Foos-ball goes anywhere: We watch foos-ball on national airflights.

F.G. USANUCLEER, RUSNUCLEER, businessly in-step push through the crowd, toting matching-1952-aluminum-nuclear-football-attache-cases with baggage-claimcheck-tags …

Abruptly-- set the attache-cases on the table, Unlock, (US digitally, RUS manually like a cosmetics case), And stand-back at Full-military-attention!

Butch, Pudin, cross-look at each other's case … And check their baggage claimstubs--

Mine.

(a tentative beat)
Ours.

And simultaneously open their cases-- PANEL LIGHTS ENABLED.

CONCURRENT: Butch lifts the inside panel, retrieves glossy photographs; Pudin unscrolls his from an expando-pouch: PICTURES of the latest weaponries: jet bombers, ICBMs, RUS supercavitator-torpedo, USA Sea Shadow frontal view riding water … Shuffle, Sort, Array on the table…

I thought there would be more electronics inside.

It's the newest American high-technology: Ultra-thin flat-panel nuclear-footballs.

It's the image that counts, Not the box it's in.

That's your pa-sonaru opinion.

(unto RUSnucleer)
I've always wondered how world-war-three would start.

(unto USAnucleer)
I figured, When America, discovers, nuclear-element Sovi-et-unium-2-98.

(cocks eyebrow)
Really!?

Slow, deliberate, serious, intoning, posturing, begins--

(at supercavitatorpedo)
The Russian Navy Shkval, hypersonic inter-continental, super-cavitator-pedo…: (points for Strauch)
See how it routes a tunnel through the wall of water before itself!: (defies)
We will sink all-submarines with our Shkval super-cavitator-pedo, which we have tested thoroughly: with our-- sinking submarines….

(at Sea Shadow frontview)
The U.S. Navy, Sea Shadow stealth-ship: See how it rides -above- the water:: (hand-flying)
Its flat-sloped sides deflect radar up and away--: (defies Strauch)
You shall never-see our Sea Shadow seizing your sea shores.

(looks, waves to others)
Come see: It's 'Darth Wader…'!

(looks)
It's gone belly-up, already…!

(then looks, unto Butch)
American Sea-Shadow-ship rolls-over and plays Dead … That-- is very, tricky, stealth….

(tries it inverted)
Australian waves-- down under…?!

(looks, confides)
Not to worry, American president: Japanese peepers buy one, too… We cahr ours, the Naught-Are-Us!

(photo up edges-on)
Waves-- edge-on… Trans-marine…?

(looks, confides)
The United Kingdom, is buying one-- for the Queen's Lifeboat … It shall be christened: The H-M-S Barnsides!

(taunts Strauch, to skid)
Ho! President Strauch can't hit the barnsides of a brooaad… 'Ooh-ooh'--: (smally to Brit. Min.)
Scusilo.

(stiff smile, deprecates)
Bloody noise.

Cespuglio feels his nose … Fingers some red icing… Sniffs …

SUN-ECLIPSE BEGINS beyond the Earth horizon;

(onto Brit. Min.'s coat)
Non consentito…!

(gratuitously emotes)
The first icing of a new, Clear-winner!

SUN 3RD-GONE (west-3rd) at 5 sec.

(enunciates)
Ladies and Gentlemen-- May I have your attention, please: The Earth has totally, eclipsed, the sun.

All look out to Earth--

SUN'S LAST GLEAM winks-out, a GREEN-FLASH: Night, TOTALITY.

All sadden to tears, blinks, sniffles, watching for a hint: North WINDOWS CLEAR-- on a myriad stars and city-asterisms;

(hushed tight)
/ It's totally-- gone…?
/ The Earth is gone, too…?
/ The sun has gone out…?
/ Hydrogen famine…?
/ Lightbulb shortage…?
/ Channel One Sign-off…?
/ International power-outage…?
/ Nuclear winter…?
/ Armageddon…?
/ Global-thermonuclear-blackout…?

(looks out tiny-worried)
No more peons?

And blinks a tear, and eats-on…

Wiiipe--Ouuut…!

(chant rhythm)
It's -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- -war- …

(boisterous sing-song)
And the cais-sons, go march-ing,-- a-loooong…!

Massive CAKE-FORKFLINGING retaliation erupts AD LIB, except Pudin, Butch, remove to climb bulkheads, Waitress to a far corner outer wall … Duchess eats, cheered by the bravado;

(fork-launching morsels)
/ Take that! / And that! / Have another, bite! / Decadent icing-addicts! / Cake-face Commies! / Western pie-verts! / Cherry-mongers! / Forking barbarians! / Candy-sprinklers! / Spoon-doctors! / Napkin-lickers!

Pudin on the lead bulkhead fin, Butch on the lag, climb by gapes, and pause to shout above the din of cake-flingers:

(not loud enough)
Russia has--: (climbs, pauses, louder)
We, have Russian, neutron-laser, in orbit, to melt-down I-C-B-M nuclear warheads, before these launch--!

(climb matching Pudin)
And, What, do you, call, that--?!

Generals have split on, The Nazer… Kremlin calls it, The Neutralaser!

Random cake bits reach to waist-height; Both climb higher--

Our triple,-spies have informed us that the Russian, Doomsday machine is set two,-minutes, ahead, of the American, Doomsday machine…!

'Aah…' So call us, the Aggressor--!: (half a beat)
It is Russian Daylight Saving Time!

Random cake bits reach to waist-height; Both climb higher--

We, are growing gigantic, clouds of carbon-dioxide along our shores, to stall-out your engines when you fly your jet-bombers over;-- And, when, our laser-cannons fire through, the carbon-dioxide, they will be super-boosted and blow your bombers away!

'Harumph'! Russian-made underground nuclear detonations move mountains: and fool-- American-made, cruise-missile terrain-tracking radars!

(piqued)
Well-- We, are secretly training, fifty, million, arctic terns-- to fly over the North Pole--!

All-below quieten to listen more, forkflinging aside only;

(taken aback)
America, will dump fifty-tonnes of guano, on Russian national soil…!?

(a haughty beat)
Ha! Not only--!: (exults)
We will tie aluminum pie-tins to their feet, and aim them at your Arctic DEW Radar stations:-- Your technicians will see metal on the horizon: from Sea-To-Shining-Sea!

(cognizes)
That explains the report of Russian peasants, praising Allah delivering them with dinner-on-a-platter…!

(2 frown beats)
Furthermore: Our top scientists at Los Alamos, have rediscovered Gran Fenwijk's secret-- to the anagogic functioning of the Q-bomb!

ALL 'OHHH…'!?, Halt and glare at Butch…

(gasps, hands to mouth)
'Ohhh…' You mean the Dream bomb--!?

FALLS OUT, SLOWLY FLIPPING MIDAIR toward Butch's feet… All-below hush worry 'Oh'!- Duchess stops eating, and looks up;

America …
Has split …
The infinitive…?!

Butch climbs down, and grabs-out as Pudin hits the wall--

(angst)
You mean, You knew, already!?

But loses grip, and following, both TUMBLE down-wall…

(hushed worry)
/ 'Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh…'!: (fingers to lips)
/ 'Shhh! Shhh! Shhh…'!

Son, Waiters, hurry gather and clear-away a landing as--

Pudin, then Butch atop, SETTLE onto the floor…

Son, Copilot, Waiters, detangle them: They sit up okay:

(to Butch)
We, never, tell, secret-- secrets!

ALL APPLAUD; and Cake War renews AD LIB with spy-talk:

/ Creampuffers! / Peephole-people! / Window-talkers! / Cake-G-B-spies! / Spatula-geeks! / Sporking-foons! / Crypto-scrabblers! / Pie-rated spoon-lickers! / Industrial flour power! / Planetary-war-shippers!

Duchess struggles to stand… but--

(plops back)
Oh: Murphy!: (pulls her garter pistol, waves it high, loudly)
I-am here-by-ordering a cessation of all hostilities all at once--!

Several restrain her arm push-pull-swinging high-low-left-right: 'No, Ma'am! Not in space! Nooooooo…'! Line-of-fire-targetees part -two side waves- 'Ohhh'! -and back- 'Ohhh'! Except Waitress stands midline against the far outer wall:

FOCUS: Waitress, her hips; Duchess' GUN ARM IN BLUR about…

BANG--! Straight level through the middle, SLO MO ZOOM: a BOULE TRACKS through the air … to the far wall--

And BUSTS OUT a 4 in. hole aside her hip!

NORMAL: Instantly her SKIRT SUCKS-UP, hem out the hole, And she startles-loud: 'Oh'!

ALL STOP. But air escaping the HOLE SHAKES ITS LAUNDRY with a grotesquely violent vulgar Woops-SUCKY SOUND; She screams and tugs to free herself, But it's caught on burrs outside…

CEILING AIR-VENTS CLAP SHUT like dominoes 'ponking'…

Son heroically hugs her: Pulls but dances without leverage…

It's caught on the hole, burrs!

CHIRPING TONE-SWEEPING ALARMS, STROBE LIGHTS, simultaneous E-VOICE-WARNINGS totalize the cacophony, repeating:

/ENG/ Attention: There is a perturbation in the central air-conditioning system: Proceed to an Air-Safe for further instructions.

/RUS/ Vneemaniye: Sooschyestvooyet vohzmooschyeniye veh tsyentrralnoy seestyemye vohzdookh-chohndeetyoning: prrohdohlzhaytye kah vohzdookh-tyoorrma dlya dohpohlneetyel-nikh eenstrrooktseey.

/GER/ Aufmerksamkeit: Es geebt eineh Stoehruung in der tzentrahlen Klimaanlahgeh: Gehen Sie szofort tzu einem Luuftsicheren fuehr Tzuuszatzbehfehleh.

/FR/ Attahnhsiohnh: Il ee a une pehrturbahsiohnh dahnh le systehme de clihmatisahsiohnh central: Pro-cehdeh ah unh Air-Suur pour pluus d'anstruucsiohnh.

/IT/ Attenzione: Ci eh una perturbazione nel sistema centrale di aria condizionata: Continui ad un Aria-Armadio per istruzioni supplementari.

/POR/ Atensao: Ha um disturbio no sistema central de condicionamento de ar: Continue agora a um Ar-Cofre para mais instrusoies.

/SP/ Atenciohn: Hay una perturbaciohn en el sistema central de aire acondicionado: Proceda a un Aire-Armario para mas instrucciones.

/ESP/ Atenti: Estas misfunkTcio en la Tcentra aeropreparo sistemo: Plue AerosHlos por pli instrukTcioY.

VOICE-FORMANTS RISE (FILTERED) in thinning air pressure and All hold noses and suck-swallow to clear-equalize ears…

MEANWHILE - AT A TRANSPARENT AIR LOCK:

Several guests gather round, pointing, AT A SIGN:

"Caution: Hotel guests must not remove the vacuum seal, under penalty of law!"

Some, hands on the window wall, peer inside the Air Lock--

REVERSE, INSIDE: where those outside-looking-in want-to-be.

MEANWHILE - AT THE DINNER CART:

ASTROPILOT in dress-whites, picks a stuffed turkey from a dining cart, Gathers 2 metal bowls, 2 plates, Hesitates to clean turkey, Grimaces, Thrusts a hand into the stuffing, BIG AWE-- Extracts hands in utter dismay at the brown gunk, Resolves to finish, Hurriedly extracts more, Stuffs-in two plates face-to-face, and bowls face-in around the plates…

MEANWHILE - AT THE HOLE:

BACKSIDE: Son HIKES Waitress out of her skirt which SUCKS-OUT the hole in a satisfied-final-BELCH and floats away in space: The HOLE SHRIEKS WINDY harmonics (mult. 50Hz+3KHz)…

All cover their ears.

A sucking BLUISH VORTEX dances at Waitress' hip: TUGGING AT HER PANTIES whimsically-gently…

REVERSE, POV: Bluish Vortex: Watching her face, and theirs…

MEANWHILE - BACK AT THE DINNER CART:

Astropilot hand-weighs his turkey, nods Maybe… And EYES--

(music theme bite: Turkey In The Straw)

A STRAW IN A DRINK: He grows a smile, Sticks the straw in his turkey and admires his handiwork as a specialty-drink… Then turns heroic except for high-faint-voice-formants:

(arm-waves olympic)
Everybody step back: Clear the way: An American hero is coming through!

ALL CLEAR HIM A PATH to the hole.

With both hands on the turkey, He charges for the hole…

INCLUDE: passing retrograde-- a PROGRADE ARROW…

He loses footing, FLOAT-RUNNING-flipping-upside-down…

Waaaah--!: (calls his shot, loud)
Turkey-in-the-Hole…!

Slams backside against the wall,

Stuffs the turkey in the hole:

HOLE SWALLOWS ITS SHRIEKING… 'PLUNGS' SHUT UP-- SILENCE…

He settles on the floor; AIR RUSHES-IN, VOICES RENORMALIZE:

(applaud; cheer)
/ Touchdown! / Dunk! / Basket! / Score! / Birdie! / Goal! / Homer! / Run! / In! / Out! / Hole! / Completion! / Take! / Trick! / Ringer! / Check! / Mate! / Match! / Point! / Win! / Success! / Target! / Bull's-eye! / Pig-nose / Right-on! / Righteous! / Base! / Good show! / Good chap! / Good man! / Thank you!

THE HOLE SQUEAKS. All stop. THE HOLE SLURPS, THE TURKEY DEFORMS… 'PLINGS' QUIVERING… BUT STAYS.

Give that turkey a raise!

ALL RE-APPLAUD…

Son applauding-about, notices Waitress standing beside him is panties-bare to the midriff: He's promptly shocked--

(SILHOUETTES WAITRESS, begs distraught loud)
'Ohhh'-- Forgive, me…!

SILENCE, as she peeks around, still happy…

(continues solo)
I'm so, terribly, sorry! Please:: (commits)
Will you… Marry me… Please?!

(smiles-cute)
Will you accept a, Yes,-- Please?

ALL CHEER-APPLAUD-CONGRATULATE AD LIB and gather-closer, salvoing encouragements, and Son smiles weakly relieved:

(advises loudly)
You must immediately reciprocate prenuptial agreements!

A dowry of one-million American dollars!

Son looks askance at Waitress… She smiles back…

Some pull up papermoney and wave it high--

(loudly)
Golden parachutes, Both ways: Two-million Euros!

Put!

Call!

Do I hear, Three-million…?!

Ten-P-M curfew!

They're welcome in my country, what's left-- any day!

Preferred stocks-and-bonds in all the multinationals!

Mad-money tickets to my country!

(tests pen)
My pen is run out of ink!

It's the change in altitude!

Three children!

One boy--One girl!

What's third?

What is second!

I-don't-know!

The girl!

MEANWHILE - AT A DINNER TABLE:

One YANKS-OFF a golden TABLECLOTH-- upsetting the PIECES to near-weightless-FLOATING-SCATTERING about the room…

(watching about, marvels)
Why doesn't that work?- It always used to work in the movies--!

Some pin up Waitress in a wedding gown created of a golden tablecloth, gold-rope, a table-laurel tiara; Some compile a wedding cake with flags stuck-about; 5 Q-BOMBERs prate:

What does it really do?

Nothing.

Nothing!?!-- I thought the Q-bomb created the Big Bang!

In war-- we count end-results, not the means: We bake cakes, we don't bake flour: Expand dominions-- not explosions….

What good is a Q-bomb of split infinitives, in a war, anyway…?!

Communications-ing, is the number-one military supply-line.

How is the Q-bomb used?

The falling-out, from detonating a Q-bomb at gerund-level irradiating troops and personnel, for hundreds of miles around reverting to apes, aborigines, idiots, and imbeciles, morons, and voters, electors, and politicians, presidents, civilians… is fecundly, contagious.

(marvels)
'Wow' That real? Like an E-bomb and bio-warfare, altogether: And right-up the as-scent of evolution!

(a beat)
Just testing Q-bombs near civilian populations, has resulted in S-&-L collapsings … perestroikas … gross national economic crumblings … It's why Gran Fenwijk is smart to have a Duchess: It's just social security.

Is it reversible…?!

Nobody wants to really, remember:--: (a beat)
A mere wish, for actually reversing it, may destroy us all: worser than worserest, unimaginable antebellum!

(shakes No 2 beats)
I watched something like that in a movie, recently.

Those, were actors.

(marvels a beat)
Oh-- Yeah…!

Waitress-bride is presented for a perfect-couple marriage ceremony: Copilot best-mans with a royal ring; Duchess in folded white-napkin-block-bow-tie solemnizes with a Bible:

Senator, a Princess-escort flanking, marches his Secretary-Waitress-Daughter step-by-step-pro-forma forward… and--

(da capo till they meet)
"Here comes the bride…"

AT THE PODIUM, together-- All silence.

(smiles)
My dear Son: All these years, And you go and choose another woman…!

All chuckle.

(continues)
Well, Royalty never forbid it.: (to Waitress)
Young lady: You are new here… And, You are bright-and-quick. Will you have my Son -a man- in your house?

Yes: I shall.

(quickening 'til final)
Then: Wherefore and whereas and by all these remains and now present, blah blah blah blah … I pronounce you now, Son -ahem: Man- and Wife!

And looks to--

Copilot opens and REVEALS the ring box around for 'Ahhhh's… to Son-- Who takes the ring to Waitress' annualry… and,--

Just as the pair kiss in the first holy space matrimony,--

A SUN GLEAM! RISES AROUND to full at their heads… 12 sec.

Ladies and gentlemen: Sunlight has returned to the Earth--!

(Music bite: America: God shed His grace on thee…)

ALL CHEER-APPLAUD LONG: the Earth a thin HALO-CRESCENT;

(settling in tears)
It's beautiful…!: (breaking)
A marriage made in heaven…!: (a beat… blows nose)
We must do this all again sometime.

And napkin-wipes blinks…

You can only marry once: The second time is sin.

(blearily)
Spoilsport…!

Duchess in a rolling stance, smiles at success; 2 Waiters roll-in a real wedding cake, to noticing 'Oohs-and-Ahhs'…

And the couple two-hands cuts-and-serves the first slice,

ANOTHER ROUND OF APPLAUSE… ending in an undistracting NOISY CASH WINDFALL in the adjoining Casino Games Room--

ZOOM ACROSS TO: Coins bounce-about Angel opening SODA CANS GUSHING-UP FOAM, slurping… JACKPOTTING triple-Earths,

(ebullient overacting)
There's no place like home…!: (JACKPOT)
There's: No place like home…!: (JACKPOT)
There's, No: Place!-- like…: (LEAPS UP 12 FLOORS)
Hoooooommmmehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…!

Rising behind the room-separator-bulkhead gapes-- topward…

DROP CROP INTO:

INT. BEDROOM - READING LAMP (AS CONTIGUOUS)

BOOK CLAPS SHUT (Sync to music, Look At Us, with Sarina).

(00:00 clap)

Duchess concludes for 3 cute little GRANDCHILDREN in bed:

And that, is the truth about gambling: It is ever a pre-tender, And insurance averages it all out again,- for better or worse.

And kisses each child…

(pull under blankets)
/ Good night, Gran-[ma]ma, Duchess.

(smiles)
Pleasant dreams, dear children …

AND SMILES AT -US-

SWING TO INCLUDE:

MR. AND MRS. ROYAL SON AND WAITRESS smiling happily married:

Slow kiss, to hug…

SUPERIMPOSE:

"AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER"

CREDIT-VIEW ASCENDS WALL to open ceiling late-evening sky: Hotel Meo passes amid stars and -a new constellation:- the matron, her dustmop radiating meteors… 50 deg./200 sec.

FADE OUT

The End.

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

MOUSE ON THE HORIZON
(Comeback Mouse in Uproar Bit)

a romantic engineered comedy, PG

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic Director
a Wision--Sesquatercet USA production

The Mouse That Roared, roars back to orbit,
hitching its waggin' to its brightest star.

[index][screenplay][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

This is by design a Hollywood pro forma story expanding one science theory: the efficiency of a nuclear powered skyhook to MEO (middle Earth orbit) on 1/20th the length of a GEO (geosynchronous) elevator cable-- the expansion is what a little motive and effort might thereby accomplish.

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic Director's selection]

Act 4

'Open it to the public critics...'

[quel]

digital music [var] © [tbd]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited(as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

© 2001-2010 Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

MOUSE ON THE HORIZON (Comeback Mouse in Uproar Bit)

a romantic engineered comedy, PG

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic Director a Wision--Sesquatercet USA production

The Mouse That Roared, roars back to orbit, hitching its waggin' to its brightest star.

[index][screenplay][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

This is by design a Hollywood pro forma story expanding one science theory: the efficiency of a nuclear powered skyhook to MEO (middle Earth orbit) on 1/20th the length of a GEO (geosynchronous) elevator cable-- the expansion is what a little motive and effort might thereby accomplish.

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic Director's selection]

Act 4

'Open it to the public critics...'

[quel]

digital music [var] © [tbd]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited(as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

© 2001-2010 Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry

MOUSE ON THE HORIZON
(Comeback Mouse in Uproar Bit)

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic Director
a Wision--Sesquatercet USA production

The Mouse That Roared, roars back to orbit,
hitching its waggin' to its brightest star.