It’s like ‘Social Network’ meets ‘King’s Speech’ meets ‘True Grit’

What would happen if the worlds of three of the top Oscar contenders collided, say “True Grit,” “The Social Network” and “The King’s Speech”? You’d wind up with a crazy mash-up of characters and dialogue, something, perhaps, like this:

EXT. OUTHOUSE — DAY

Two hands rap at a rough wood door.

Pause. Then, a drunken voice, phlegmy (subtitles needed?)

ROOSTER

The jakes is occupied.

EXT. WIDER

We see CAMERON and TYLER WINKLEVOSS, identical twins, who look as if they’ve stepped out of a men’s cologne ad, standing before the outhouse.

CAMERON

We know it is occupied, Mr. Cogburn. We have business with you.

ROOSTER

I have prior business.

TYLER

You have been at it for some time, Mr. Cogburn.

ROOSTER

(roaring drunk)

There is no clock on my business! To hell with you! How did you stalk me here?

TYLER

Our valet has been tracking you for the past three days. He told us you spend most of your time here. He also told us you are a man of true grit. And it is meant in a fashion that goes beyond what we are smelling at the moment.

CAMERON

My name is Cameron Winklevoss …

ROOSTER

(confused, anger rising)

Winklewhat?!?

CAMERON

… I’m here with my brother, Tyler. We are looking for the man who stole our website. The man’s name is Mark Zuckerberg.

COGBURN emerges, stumbling from the dilapidated outhouse, hitching up his pants. He is a coarse man possessing an ample belly. He wears a patch over one eye. He examines the twins in front of him, rubs his non-patched eye in disbelief.

TYLER

Marshal, we want you to find this man Zuckerberg …

CAMERON

… and beat the &*#* out of him with a hammer …

TYLER

… or whatever your weapon of choice may be …

CAMERON

… we think he’s in California …

TYLER

… in the region known as Silicon Valley …

CAMERON

… geek territory …

ROOSTER

(irritated)

Why you boys have to talk so fast?

CAMERON

It’s called rapid-fire dialogue, sir.

TYLER

(smugly)

Where we come from, it wins awards.

The sound of a gun being cocked. It is revealed to be Cogburn’s, aimed at Tyler’s head.

ROOSTER

Where I come from, it gets you shot. Now why don’t you boys mount the sheep you rode in on and get out of here.

VOICE

It is quite easy to speak that quickly, Mr. Cogburn, if you enunciate properly.

A tall, middle-aged man with strong features enters frame. He is LIONEL LOGUE, outfitted in a dated, but well-cared-for suit. He possesses impeccable elocution.

Cogburn looks up from the cigarette he has been trying to roll.

LOGUE

Don’t do that.

ROOSTER

(incredulously)

Pardon me?

LOGUE

Sucking smoke into your lungs will kill you.

ROOSTER

My doc says it relaxes the throat.

LOGUE

Your “doc” is an idiot. Now, Mr. Cogburn … what’s your earliest memory?

ROOSTER

I don’t recollect nothin’ from my younger days. But I have a notion of what my next memory is gonna be.

LOGUE

What’s that, Mr. Cogburn?

ROOSTER

The wrath that is about to set down on the three of you.

The deafening sound of three gunshots. BANG! BANG! BANG! Screen goes black.

EXT: CABIN — NIGHT

A point-of-view looking down on a ramshackle cabin. Smoke is coming out of a crumbling chimney.

INT: CABIN — NIGHT

Rooster is stirring a large pot hanging over an open fire.

A hooded figure, wearing a sweatshirt bearing the letters G-A-P, sits at a plank bench, eating from a bowl with a wooden spoon. He is revealed to be MARK ZUCKERBERG, a sweet-looking, socially awkward young man.

ZUCKERBERG

This is pretty good. What’d you call it again?

ROOSTER

(filling up his bowl)

Sofky.

ZUCKERBERG

Never heard of it. Do you know if there’s a copyright on the recipe?

Sound of gun being cocked. Fade to black …

?

?

?

?