EXT. HOLLYWOOD BLVD. – AFTERNOON
DAVID ARCHULETA runs through the streets of Hollywood. He is being chased by a horde of screaming tween girls.
He runs.
He licks his hips.
He runs.
He forgets his words.
He is tired.
He thinks of what will happen if his Dad finds out he’s been near a girl instead of obssesively training to be a SUPERstar! Hat burns sting real bad!
He runs.
He climbs the fire escape of the Nokia Dome on Hollywood and Highland.
He tears through the hallways. The stage door is feet away. Salvation.
He pulls the door open, stardom just on the other side.
SIMON COWELL stands in the doorway. Menace on his face. He raises a gun.
Bullets fly into DAVID ARCHULETA.
DAVID ARCHULETA: Ahhhh!
His death cry is beautiful, but a little pitchy, dawg!
SIMON stands over his tiny body.
DAVID ARCHULETA: Imagine there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try…
DAVID ARCHULETA dies.
CUT TO:
DAVID COOK watching the grisly scene on a monitor back stage. He can’t believe what he sees.
DAVID COOK: It’s not possible. I didn’t think I had the votes. I’m a word nerd! I wasn’t supposed to actually win.
He cries. Does not look smug for once.
CUT TO:
SIMON watching DAVID ARCHULETA convulse.
SIMON: Goodbye, Mr. Archuleta. Hello, David Cook, millions of records sold and a musical Empire at my feet. Muhahahahahahah!!!!
He rubs his nipples for a full hour.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
A cell phone ringtone blares.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD BLVD. – DAY
DAVID COOK talks into his BRAND NEW SPRINT PCS PHONE!! SPONSPORED BY COCA-COLA!!! Go FORD!
DAVID COOK: I know you record industry executives are out there. I can feel you now. You won’t stop text messaging me. I know that you are afraid. You’re afraid of the American Idol Winner Jinx. You’re afraid I’m not as marketable as Daughtry. I don’t know the future. I didn’t come to American Idol to tell you how my music career will end. I came to American Idol to tell you how it will begin. I’m going to hang up this phone, and then I’m going to show the American public what you don’t want them to see. I’m going to show them a world with a successful male American Idol winner. A world without Clay Aiken’s or Ruben Studdard’s. Without Bo Bice’s and Constantine Maroulis’. A world… where I sell five million copies of my debut album. Where we go from there, is a choice I leave to Simon Cowell.
DAVID COOK hangs up his cell phone.
His version of “Little Sparrow” begins playing on the soundtrack.
DAVID COOK gets into his brand new Ford Escape Hybrd 2 and drives off into the sunset.
THE END
Bangarang!
I think David C. needs a few lessons on how to be professional and how to make one song sound different from the next. That same sound he puts to all songs is gonna get old quick. He appears to think he’s hot stuff right now and tries to think of himself as a psuedo sex symbol/rockstar which he doesn’t seem to be pulling off at this time. But don’t tell him this, or he’ll cry.