Sunday, April 01, 2007

It's So Easy, Even I Could Do It

Last week, there were rumblings that those tempermental Geico cavemen were going to make the leap from TV side dish to main entree. I might have to check my annals of televisual history, but I can't recall the last time a commercial became a TV series. Ten month time lapse: I just read the entire annals; nothing there.

Needless to say, I think it couldn't have happened to a better ad. The first time I saw the one with the sound guy who drops the boom and marches out of the studio in the middle of the commercial, I laughed for, mmm, half-an-hour.

The more I thought about the prospect of an entire TV show, the more firmly I believed that I must contribute something. At least a scene. So, herewith, is a scene from my pilot.

Geico, feel free to holler at your boy.


Scene: Posh Bar. Evening.

is sipping a Corona and talking to a gorgeous BRUNETTE, who is a bit tipsy and totally into him. The CAVEMAN is a bit distracted, paranoid glint in his eye.

BRUNETTE: So (giggle)...Oops

Her necklace falls into her cleavage. She frowns.

: Oh. (embarrassed to have looked down her blouse)

BRUNETTE: No, my necklace. I've been holding it together with a piece of tape. It's got a missing link.

: (momentarily intense) What?

BRUNETTE: My necklace...

still glares.

BRUNETTE: God, you're so tense...(massages his shoulders) I like that...

: I's just these goddam commercials...They're so demeaning...But I can't stop doing them. They're just so lucrative. I've gotten all this money now. And I can't go anywhere without people saying something, which is cool, but...

RANDOM DUDE AT BAR: Hey, caveman?...Holy shit, Caveman!!! (laughing with his buddies and pretending to throw down a boom mike) "Not cool!" Hahaha!


BRUNETTE: Then why don't we get out of here?

: Yeah?

BRUNETTE: (smiling) Yeah.

: (smiling, snarling) Yeah?

BRUNETTE: (louder) Yeah?!

: Yeah!

smashes his bottle of Corona over her head. She clatters off the barstool and off camera.

The music skips. The bar goes silent. Awkward, awkward silence. CAVEMAN hasn't moved; he can't even believe what he's just done.

He looks back at the bartender who's on the phone possibly with the police. CAVEMAN throws a few bills on the bar, steps gingerly over her. HE walk-jogs towards the exit, then CAVEMAN is sprinting out the door.

CAVEMAN: (running, barely heard) Call me.

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