It says... They went out looking for some crazy teenage kicks!
What they found was their worst living nightmare! Watch in horror as three
young innocents hook up with one bad seed... and end up in the slammer!
The Vehicle: 1997 Mitsubishi Montero Sport LS 4WD
* Also Starring: David "Hasselhoff" Navarro, Bikini Beach Ambassador
A NOTE TO THE READERS FROM DAVE:
PRE-TEST DRIVE, GATHERING IN THE PARKTING LOT OF BIKINI'S POSH OFFICE DIGS IN SANTA MONICA
Daniel: (looking at the Montero) This thing is bitchin'! This is gonna be great.
Dave takes shotgun. The silverchair members pile into the back of the Mitsubishi.
Rob casually hopes into the driver's seat.
Dave: Rob... uh, what are you doing? It's their test drive.
At this point you need a little background information:
It was intended as a suprise for silverchair, y'know, a little road prank
from the veteran rock band to the new kids on the
block. The stunt, however, backfired - as one of the strippers got all
tangled up with young Daniel, playing his heart out, and accidentally
unplugged his guitar. All while the Peppers looked on - in
horror.
CUT TO: A BEACHFRONT PARKING LOT ON THE PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY
Rob: Okay, guys. Here we are. Who wants to drive?
Rob climbs out of the Mitsubishi and Ben eagerly replaces him in the driver's
seat. The Mitsubishi Guy and The Publicist already looked rather
concerned. It's official test drive time.
Ben: Here we go! ^ Sound effects: SCHWCHHHHHTTHK- TOUINK- CHHHH!!! ^ (Ben is turning the keys and
grinding the starter motor. The car is already running.)The Mitsubishi
Excitement all around. Ben punches it and pops the clutch. It's driver's ed all over again.
The Montero lurches into first with a squeal of the tires and - ba-BUMP -
Ben, Chris, Daniel, and Dave are crusing on the beach. Laughs galore.
Now THIS is fun.
Ben: Aw... we're gonna get bogged in the sand...
Teenage laughs from everyone. They're already "bogged"
as Ben predicted. The Mitsubishi Guy appears very concerned and begins
to approach the vehicle from the parking lot with a sense of gloom. The
fun could be over...
Chris: Just hit the gas! (shrieks of laughter)
The Mitsubishi Guy is actually not going to break up the fun. He points to a gadget and, za-zip, they are easily
freed from the "bog."
Dave: Oh, we're moving... we're cruisin'! Mitsubishi, baby!
Consider this for a moment: By this point all sense of restraint has been recklessly
abandoned. Endorphins have been released, and the carefree bunch are
giddy and high. They're invincible. No harm can come to them. They're
rock stars behind the wheel of a rockin' four-wheel drive. They're
sailing down the open beach. They're zipping past volleyball courts.
Sand is kicking up into the wind. It should be noted here for, y'know,
like, irony's sake or whatever, that before silverchair was actually
called silverchair they were briefly know as... the Innocent
Criminals.
Daniel: Do a donut!!!
Typical Los Angeles scene: A motion picture is being shot
on the Santa Monica beach, complete with rent-a-cops (off-duty and/or
retired police officers hired to sip coffee, hassle passers-by, and
pretend to be "connected" to Hollywood.)
Daniel: (to the rent-a-cop as they whiz by) How ya' doin' big fella?!
The cop is not amused, nor does he respond... so they think.
Dave: This is beautiful, boys!
Break: Daniel gets behind the wheel. Dave's recovering
from the endorphin rush and reason begins to filter in... somewhat.
Dave: Hey, how old are you guys?
The boys don't seem to understand the gravity of Dave's realization.
In fact, they're not even listening to Dave. They're still dripping with enthusiam. Howling. Jumping on each
other's lines. Basically basking in adolescent mayhem. Daniel
recklessly meanders onto the boardwalk, you know, right up there with the
bicyclists and skaters. Cackling all the way. Then it's back onto the
sand.
Dave: Here we go... I don't know how I could be letting this
happen... this is.. the uh.. The Sand & Sea Beach Club. This is a
private beach we're driving onto!
Beat: For one icy moment, fear has wandered into the Montero.
Chris: Don't be a faggot, Danny! Keep driving!
Daniel begins doing fishtails all over the place, leaving
The Photographer and the increasingly concerned onlookers in the
sand.
Ben: So much for the photographer taking pictures of us!
Uproarious laughter from the guys.
Ben: (howling) Look out for the baby!
There is a small child not too dangerously near.
Dave: (as David Letterman) There's a child over here
for Chrissakes!
Daniel punches it, at the same time blowing the horn.
Dave: How's the car handling there, Dan?
They're claimed a small portion of beach as their own.
The fact that the Mitsubishi, Sony, and Bikini representatives do not
seem to be parentally reacting to their reckless teenage abandon serves
only as a license to escalate their wild activites. They begin to peform
"figure eights" in the sand, leaving deep crevasses in their wake. The
Photographer has caught up to the vehicle and is caputuring it all on
film.
^ Sound effects: Sirens can be heard faintly in the distance. ^
They glibly joke.
Dave: Uh-oh! Here they come,
As it just so happens... the joke is on them. All at once,
three vehicles converge upon the group. Two Baywatch-style lifeguard
units and a Santa Monica Police squad car - all three with red lights and
sirens blazing - surround the Mitsubishi mavericks. It turns out the
rent-a-cop radioed ahead to the real police and put a dragnet on the
jolly jokesters.
Ben: Holy shit, it's the cops!
Daniel: (worried) I... I don't have a license!
The most enormous, ripped, Carl Weathers look-a-like, menacing cop you have ever seen gets our of his car
and approaches the Montero. He's visibly angry. FUrrowed bork cracking.
Daggers of reflected sunlight shoot off his shiny badge into the
frightened eyes of the young men in his warpath. CLOSE UP OF THE BADGE:
It reads simply yet ominously: "57.
"57: (bluntly, to Daniel) License and registration.
Dave scrounges around the glove box for the registration papers.
He pulls out the only envelope in the glove box and offers it to Daniel.
Dave: Give him this...
It is startlingly evident to Dave that none of the
"entourage" who have chaperoned this merry event appear to be coming to
their rescue. No Bikini. No Sony. No Mitsubishi. Dave looks around
for the cavalry. None. The grim mugs of assorted law enforcement
personnel have replaced all familiar friendly faces on the beach.
Meanwhile, Officer 57 attempts to extract a valid driver's license from
the other boys, one by one, to no avail. He finally settles upon
Dave...
57: (pissed, to Dave) Do you have a license?!
VERY TIGHT CLOSE-UP SHOT OF DAVE
Dave: (stroking his chin, thinking to himself) Okay now...
if I give this guy my license... I'm 29... I'm of legal age... I'm a
resident of the State of California... I'm technically their legal
guardian.. but... wait a second! (knitting his brow) My license is
actually suspended! There's no way I'm gonna offer a suspended license to
the Joseph Stalin of the Santa Monica Police Department! Then I go to
jail... and that won't do anybody any good, now will it? (silently
rationalizing) These guys will get out of this... they're young and cute
and famous... their record sold like 15 zillion copies... they come from
a faraqay land, obviously unfamiliar with the laws and customs of our
nation... but... wait! (coming to his senses, realizing his
responsibilties as a friend, a fellow musician, an adult, a Bikini
journalist, and a caring human being) If I punk out on these guys, I'm a
dick!!! They were on the road with us for Chrissakes! I can't do that
to them! I already ruined their last set with the strippers thing...
(smiling and nodding slightly, pleased with his own inner strength and
courage) I most definitely must make a stand and take full responsibility
for this entire...
The chaperones have finally resurfaced. Things start getting a little dicey.
The Photographer is snapping off photos like mad. The Mitsubishi Guy is
shuffling his feet. The Bikini Editor is looking worried. The Publicist
is rifling through a bunch of papers (from which no one knows what she
plans to produce).
57: (to the Mitsubishi Guy) Is this your vehicle?
The Mitsubishi Guy produces a Florida driver's license and he and Officer 57,
The Publicist, and The Bikini Editor all behign holding a brief
"conference" on the beach. Although no pressure has actually been
relieved, he fact that Officer 57 is no longer actually screaming into
the vehicle at the musicians allows them to kid themselves into thinking
that they are somehow, miraculously going to skate out of this mess.
Dave: See? What'd I tell ya'? They're gonna sort things out for us. Let me
tell you something, guys, this kind of thing happens every day in Los
Angeles. It's as common as a drive-by shooting!
57 opens the car door and waits for Daniel to emerge. Daniel reluctantly slinks out of the car. He is
beaten and truly frightened out of his wits. This is actually his first
run-in with any type of law enforcement. All of the onlookers and
dumbfounded and speechless. The sun is setting on the horizon, and,
oddly, the image of Officer 57, with his burly arm outstretched and
clutching young Daniel, makes it look as if they are actually new-found
pals. One can almost hear Humphrey Bogart's voice-over: "Louie, this
looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship." If only this were
the case.
Officer 57 ushers Daniel into the back of his police
car. ^ Sound effects: A thundering, echoey BOOM as 57 slams the car
door. Daniel stares wide-eyed from the window as the car pulls away.
Fade to black.
CUT TO: THE SANTA MONICA POLICE DEPARTMENT. ^ Sound effects: The familiar reggae intro fades in and the lyrics begin:
"Bad boys, bad boys, what'cha gonna do..." as the Mitsubishi Montero and
the trail vehicle pull into the police station lot. ^ Officer 57's car
has arrived just ahead of them, but already no sign of Daniel is to be
had. The entire entourage grimly files into the station. Daniel, it
seems, is being "processed." What has to happen is this" some sort of
proper identification for Daniel must be produced. But this is something
of a challenge because most of Daniel's papers and whatnot are in
Austraila, and his passport is evidently back at the hotel in Hollywood.
So The Publicist is making calls, recieving faxes. Calls are also placed
to the Bikini office tower, as if this will help matters at
all.
At the same time, Dave, scrambling for ideas, recalls an
experience he had while touring with Jane's Addiction, in which Border
Patrol agents wouldn't allow him to re-enter the US from Cananda without
an I.D. Then from out of nowhere, the Jane's tour maganger appeared with
a CD and saved the day. So Dave asks if anyone has a copy of the
silverchair CD with Daniel's picture on it. The Mitsubishi Guy claims to
have a copy in his own personal Misubishi and goes to grab
it.
Meanwhile, a couple of the not-so-zealous Santa Monica Police
officers find out what's going on and are, in fact, mildly amused and a
bit honored at having the rock celebrities in their midst. They go out
to admire the new Misubishi and claim that they themselves would not have
arrested young Daniel, admitting that Officer 57's actions were perhaps a
bit... hasty. Things are starting to look a little better, but... Fade
to black.
CUT TO: THE CALIFORNIA STATE PENITENTIARY VISITORS
AREAD, ONE WEEK LATER. An apologetic Dave Navarro sits in front of a
bulletproof glass partition, talking through a little circular metal
speaker grating to a frightened Daniel Johns, clad in oragne prison
overalls, held without bail on the other side. The graver conversation
is abruptly interrupted by the sudden arrival of Daniel's "cellmate," a
burly bald fellow with many more tattoos than Dave. The guards look the
other way and whistle to themselves, as Daniel's new "friend" grabs him
by the arm. "But... he's from Australia!" pleads Dave through the
window, jumping to his feet, as Daniel is dragged back into the depths of
the correctional facility.
CUT BACK TO: THE SANTA MONICA POLICE
DEPARTMENT, THE REAL ENDING, Y'KNOW, THE HAPPY ONE. Well, as it turns
out, one of the nice officers at the station apparently has a lovely
young daughter who just happens to be a really big silverchair fan. He
phones her and she gets very excited about her father's young celebrity
captive, insisting that justice be properly served. This is good. So he
and a couple of the other nice officers help "negotiate" Daniel's
release, the terms of which include hitting Daniel and the boys up for a
few autographs. A half hour or so after getting busted, Daniel is free,
released, all charges dropped. It seems that this will not, in fact, go
down on his permanent record.
CUT TO: DANIEL AND THE GANG, OUTSIDE THE SLAMMER.
*THE END*