SON OF NAKED GUN

EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY

Light traffic on the road of an American town early in the afternoon. A navy blue Buick with a license plate "MC HACK" makes its way through traffic, and pauses at a railroad crossing. The lights are blinking and the gates have gone down. The man behind the wheel is in his early fifties. He has grey hair and is wearing a dark blue long sleeve shirt with button down collar.

McHack (V/O): It was a day like any other, except maybe for last Thursday when I took the "Pancreatic-Failure-Flavored Velvitos" challenge.

Mack glances at the floor boards on the passenger side of the vehicle. An empty, crumpled snack bag lies there. Smoke rises from the empty bag. The floor mat and carpet near the bag have been burned away. Mack tries to contain a belch. He winces in discomfort.

McHack (V/O): It's amazing what health insurance doesn't cover these days.

Mack reaches in his glove box. Latex gloves, both loose and in boxes litter the compartment. Mack digs through the clutter. He extracts a jar of petroleum jelly, but tosses it aside. Reaching into the back of the storage space, Mack extracts a bottle of antacids. At that moment, the train rumbles by. A football player in full uniform is pinned to the front of the train, but Mack remains unaware as he is focused on opening the bottle and taking the tablets. As Mack downs the tablets, the guard gate rises. Mack drives on until he arrive at the entrance to a sports stadium.

McHack (V/O): Anyway, one vital organ light, I arrived at Bingley Extinguisher Stadium, locally known as the "Flam-a-Bowl". It was approximately 1:45 in the afternoon, locally known as "P.M."

The navy blue Buick enters the crowded parking lot

McHack (V/O): This was a game-day for the hometown Lansing Boils, but I was here on business. I was responding to a call from the stadium's head of facilities, So-Much Winning, who had reported a suicide.

As McHack makes his way to the entrance of the stadium, he observes loud, beer-soaked fans, many wearing cover-alls and numbered baseball caps, spitting tobacco, streaming out from the complex into the parking lot, crawling into their pickup trucks.

Mack (V/O): A man wielding hedge-trimming shears and wearing goggles greeted me at Gate D.

Mack displays his badge to the man with goggles and then shakes his hand.

McHack: I'm Detective Mack McHack Are you Winning?

Winning: So-much.

Mack turns back to look at the departing fans.

McHack: I have to ask, does that look like a football crowd to you?

So-Much shrugs his shoulders.

McHack: Are you a big fan?

Winning: Not so much. They suck.

INT. STADIUM - DAY

The pair walk through the post-game stadium concourse.

McHack (VO): So-Much led me inside the near-empty stadium. Peanut shells and beer containers litter the ground as we approached the field of play.

As they reach the edge of the field, Mack pauses to marvel at the impressive domed structure.

McHack: Ah, the frozen tarmac of Bingley Stadium.

Winning: That would be 'frozen tundra'. Except it's not.

McHack (VO): As we made our way to the midfield stripe. My keen observational skills were already kicking into gear.

The pair walk on the field. (Note: Throughout the scene, the mid-field area is not visible.)

McHack: So...

Winning: So-much

McHack: I would say that we are standing on...

Winning: Train tracks.

Wide-shot reveals there are a pair of train-tracks running across the length of the football field that disappears into a tunnel under the stadium seats.

McHack: Right!

Winning: The Lansing Local lumbers through here at quarter-after, every hour. This is the spot where it happened.

McHack (VO): The body of evidence was building, but the body, itself, was nowhere to be seen.

McHack: And the corpse?

Winning: It's hugging the cow-catcher of the Lansing Local.

McHack: One of the fans, no doubt.

Winning: Nope, an offensive Boil.

McHack: Oh, a Patriot fan.

Winning: No, one of the Lansing players. The quarterback. His name was Jim DeMint.

McHack: I see. So, he threw himself in front of the train as it was speeding by.

Winning: Yep.

McHack: He took his life just before the game?

Winning: No.

McHack: Just after the game?

Winning: No. The incident occurred during the game. Mid-play actually.

McHack: So, Jim calls a play, a locomotive happens to be passing by and he jumps in front of it.

Winning: Bingo.

McHack: Any witnesses?

Winning: Well, the stadium normally holds about 30,000. But we were at overflow capacity today. Probably 33,500.

McHack: Security cameras?

Winning: No, but it was televised.

McHack: And who is the equipment manager?

Winning: That would be Meticulous Lemon.

McHack: I'll need to have a word with him.

Winning: Why?

McHack: I have a hunch.

Winning: OK. Follow me. (Speaking into his bluetooth headset) Yes, the detective is here now.

McHack (VO): As we made our way into the bowels of the stadium, we located Mr. Lemon in the lower level of Lansing's large, lead-lined locker room.

Mack pauses with a concerned look on his face.

McHack (VO): But, before that conversation occurred, I had to place an important phone call.

Mack pulls his mobile phone from his pocket and taps the screen a couple of times and presses the phone to his ear.

McHack: Hi, Phillip? It's me. Yeah, listen, make it clear to Scorsese Junior there that my contract has a 20 percent upcharge for alliteration, ok? Alright. Yeah, 'whoppers' to you too.

Mack wheels around to face the equipment manager.

Winning: Meticulous, this is Detective McHack. He has some questions for you about our ex-quarterback.

McHack: Mr. Lemon, how well did you know Jim DeMint?

Lemon: Not very well. Only started a couple of weeks ago.

McHack: Does his family live in the area?

Lemon: No. We acquired him from the Montreal Meh of the Canadian Bacon Football League. It was good trade as far as I was concerned. Got him for a case of soiled jock straps.

McHack: Did he request any changes to his uniform before the game?

Lemon: Don't think so.

McHack: His cleats perhaps?

Lemon: No, why?

McHack: I have a theory that he might have tripped onto the train tracks before he was killed.

Lemon: An accident? Not a chance.

McHack: How can you be so sure?

Mr. Lemon: He posted a suicide note on the scoreboard. It's all over Twitter. Search "DeMint Demise".

Mack performs the search on his phone. He squints at the image and notices a grainy figure in the scoreboard operator's booth, just above the scoreboard.

McHack: Hmm, looks like this suicide had an assist.

So-Much turns to face approaching footsteps.

Winning: Detective, this is the owner of the team, Ms. Victorino.

Victorino: (Pointing to the image on McHack's phone) Tragedy.

McHack: (Holds out his hand) Hello, Tragedy, I'm Detective McHack.

Victorino: No, the suicide is a tragedy. My name is Brenda.

McHack: That's a tragedy. My ex-wife's name is Brenda.

Victorino: That would be a coincidence.

McHack: I don't believe in coincidence...ces.

Victorino: That's a tragedy.

Winning: Well, I'm going to go fertilize something.

So-much turns and exits.

McHack: Ms. Victorino, were you here when it happened?

Victorino: I was upstairs in the owner's box.

McHack: Would you say that Jim seemed depressed before the game?

Victorino: He did seem a bit freaked out.

McHack: Why?

Victorino: Primarily because the team's chaplain was shadowing him during pre-game warm ups. I guess anyone would be concerned about being chased around by a guy with a frock and a cross.

McHack: Is that unusual?

Victorino: Well, most priests are guys. You know the motto of organized religion, "Keeping the 'Men' in Amen for almost 6,000 years!"

McHack: No, I mean, was it normal for the priest to be following Jim like that before the game?

Victorino: Well, I, uh...Oh, look, it's our team mascot, Uncle Furry.

Uncle Furry, a guy in a six-foot, smiling Mr. Potato Head-like costume covered in red welts, some of them oozing liquid, runs by.

Victorino: Is there any other information you'd like?

McHack: Yes, I'd like to meet with the scoreboard operator.

Victorino: Oh, I'm afraid that would be quite difficult.

McHack: And why is that?

Victorino: He retired today.

McHack: How old was he?

Victorino: 23.

McHack: Oh, independently wealthy.

Victornino: Well, until recently, he and and his four roommates used to share a closet in Dearborn's low-rent district.

McHack: And now?

Victorino: Yesterday he bought himself an island.

McHack: An island?

Victorino: Yes. Aruba, to be specific.

McHack: How could he afford...

Victorino: Oh, look, it's Coach Hat!

A commotion near the locker room entrance commands everyone's attention. High-volume shouting, punctuated by frequent F-bombs are audible. The source of the expletive-laden tirade turns the corner: he's a pint-sized Popeye with Turrets. He pauses in front of McHack.

Coach Hat: Waddyou lookin at, shit-stain?

Mr. Lemon: Coach Hat, this is Detective McHack, he's here about Jim.

Coach Hat: Jim's taking a dirt nap. And you are taking up space in my locker room!

Coach begins to walk away.

McHack: I understand that you call all of the team's plays. Is that correct?

Coach Hat walks up to Mack and positions himself right under his nose.

Coach Hat: And I bet you were the brightest of your brood!

McHack's eyes are focused over the top of the coach's head, on the locker room whiteboard. The top line reads: "Statue of Destiny Play". The remaining line are a simple list: 1) Take snap 2) Drop Back to 50 yard line 3) Just stand there. The play is also drawn up in Xs and Os fashion, except the quarterback's symbol is not an "x", but is instead a crime-scene victim's chalk outline.

Coach Hat: (shouting) I have to find a replacement QB! If your last name isn't Manning or Brady, then you need to remove yourself from my locker room! Pronto!

INT. STADIUM ELEVATOR – DAY

McHack: I appreciate you showing me the way to the Office Manager.

Victorino: What do you hope to find, detective?

McHack: I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't think Jim's death was a suicide.

Victorino: Really? Are you certain?

McHack: Not yet, but if I'm right, there may be a clue in his transfer paperwork.

The field is visible from the rear elevator window. As the elevator rises to the floor that has the executive offices, Mack can see the train tracks running across the gridiron. The elevator doors open. McHack and Victorino exit.

INT. EXECUTIVE FLOOR OF STADIUM – DAY

McHack: Have those train tracks been there for a long time?

As they proceed down the corridor, they pass a series of framed portraits. Each is of a Lansing player in uniform. Also, each has a black drape decorating the top of the frame.

Victorino: No. Three years ago, this stadium was almost shut down for fire violations. So we began drafting plans to renovate, which is a very expensive proposition, I assure you. So, the stadium is falling apart and to make matters worse, our team was pitiful and attendance was awful. That's when Michigan Public Railroad offered us a deal and we accepted.

They pause as McHack asks a question. Meanwhile, a maintenance worker hangs the latest portrait, Jim DeMint's.

McHack: So, after the improvements were made, the team started getting better?

Victorino: Nope. In fact we haven't won a game since.

McHack: But your facility manager told me the stadium was at overflow capacity today.

Victorino: Is that right? Well...oh, look! Here we are at the administrative offices. You must excuse me, I am due for a meeting. Alicia, our Office Manager will help you find the files you are looking for.

McHack enters the office (Note: the scene captures the side view of the Office Manager. Her back is up against the right edge of the frame and the office door is directly in front of her). Stacks of paper crowd the desk. The nameplate on the desk reads "Alicia Mulbridge". Ms. Mulbridge is writing in a ledger.

Mulbridge: (not looking up, indifferent tone) How can I help you?

McHack: Ms. Victorino suggested that you could help me locate some files.

Mulbridge: (not looking up, sarcastic tone) Did she?

McHack: Yes. I won't take up too much of your time, I can see you're busy cataloging.

Mulbridge: (slowly looks up) I am cataloging. How did you know?

McHack: I'm a detective. Also, the line of sequentially numbered livestock ambling by your desk is a give-away.

As seen from McHack's vantage, a line of black and white cows are shuffling past the office manager, behind her desk. Each cow has a numbered plate, held in place by a red ribbon around the neck.

McHack: Good looking Dalmatians.

Mulbridge: Holsteins, but ok.

McHack: Right. By the way, I believe number 645 should not be in front of number 450.

Ms. Mulbridge turns to shout at the hoofed offender.

Mulbridge: Hey, you! Back of the line!

The busted cow lows and turns to leave.

Mulbridge: (A much more friendly tone): Thanks. What kind of info are you looking for?

McHack (V/O): After Alicia provided information about the recent renovations, I asked to see last year's financials.

Ms. Mulbridge hands McHack a stack of ledgers dripping in red ink.

McHack: How is it possible for an organization that is nearly bankrupt one year, can be so popular the next?

Mulbridge: Oh, I'd give all the credit to our promotions department. They have totally energized our fan base! Here's a sample.

Mulbridge hands McHack a flyer. The title is: "Back on the Tracks!" The image is a large locomotive bearing down on a frightened, helpless football player. The text lists the date and time of the game, as well as "convergence times" when the train will be passing through.

McHack: Very creative.

McHack returns the document to Mulbridge, picks up a folder labeled "Project Invoices" and turns to leave, but then turns back toward Mulbridge.

McHack: I have to ask, does something here smelly fishy to you?

Mulbridge is eating a fast-food sandwich. The bag on her desk has a "Fish City" logo on it. She shakes her head no.

EXT. STADIUM PARKING LOT – DAY

McHack exits the stadium. Mr. Winning is nearby, watering a statue. McHack notices his vehicle is being ticketed by a guy in a black and white striped shirt.

McHack: Hey, buddy. What are you doing?

The guy in the black and white shirt salutes McHack, chuckles and walks away.

Winning: That's Reggie. He's a NFL referee AND a stadium parking enforcement official. Talk about job satisfaction. He gets to penalize everybody!

McHack removes the ticket from his windshield, looks at it with disgust and climbs into his Buick. He grumbles and then opens the "Project Invoices" folder.

McHack (VO): My efforts were beginning to bear fruit. I now had the name of the company that did the renovations. And I would pay them a visit. But that have to would wait until tomorrow.

EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET – NIGHT

McHack (VO): My boss was waiting for a report on this case. I knew that I would find him at our favorite watering hole.

Mack's Buick slows and stops in front of a neon-lit bar, Noh's Dive.

McHack (VO): Noh's was a crime fighter's bar. A great place for a badge to toss back a few.

The bar is filled with notable fictional characters. A Sam Spadish-looking fellow, Columbo, as well as a number of men and women wearing tights, masks and capes.

McHack (VO): Noh is the establishment's Vietnamese owner/barkeep. He is also "Sum Young Punk", sidekick to Lansing's legendary past-his-prime superhero "Iron Pants", the world's only incontinent caped crusader.

Iron Pants, an elderly gentleman in wrinkled tights sits at the end of the bar, by himself. He belches as he hunches over his near-empty glass of bourbon.

The bar door swings open. In walk Velma, Freddie and Daphne. The crowd notices them and groans.

Noh: Wait a minute!

Velma: What's the matter?

Noh: You guys have to leave your four-legged friend in the van.

Freddie: Serious?

Noh: Serious! No one else around here leaves puddles.

Daphne points at Iron Pants.

Daphne: What about him?

Iron Pants grunts and looks down at the liquid dripping from his chair to the bar floor.

Noh (to Iron Pants): She's got a point Jeff. Maybe you should go hang out in the van, too.

Iron Pants dejectedly slips off his stool and sloshes his way out the door.

Sargent Martinez: Mack! Over here!

Mack: Chief. What's the word on the street?

Sargent Martinez: I was hoping you would tell me. I've got another Boil in the morgue, a splitting headache and a lot of media types asking me some very pointed questions! The league is pressuring me to bury it. They insist it's another "unfortunate accident". They right?

Mack: There's something hidden beneath the surface on this one, chief. I'll stake my badge on it!

Sargent Martinez: Wrap this one up quick, Mack. I've got a meeting with the commissioner tomorrow afternoon. And I don't want to visit him empty-handed.