Paul Andersen: ‘Aspen: The Serial’
In light of the Comedy Festival and a proposal about a television series about Aspen, I offer the following opening for the pilot.
EXTERIOR FOUR-STAR HOTEL
A stretch Hummer roars up to the grandiloquent entrance of a chic Aspen hotel. DEREK, an obsequious valet, rushes to open the Hummer’s door. HARRIET, a wealthy prima donna, projects a long, slender leg with spiked heel. She takes Derek’s hand and steps out, decadent in a full-length lynx.
Welcome to the Grand Versailles, Mrs. Kennedy-Onassis-Astor. My name is Derek. I can remember all your married names, your children’s names and your lineage dating to your robber baron great-grandfather. I will be caring for your every indulgence.
Must you be so obsequious?
We’re trained to be obsequious, Mrs. KOA.
Hey, that’s funny. Mrs. KOA. You’re a campground.
And you are very camp. Now lift that barge and tote that bale; my shopping is in the back.
Harriet motions to the Hummer idling at the curb. She takes a quarter from her purse and flips it in the air. Derek nimbly snatches the coin, glances at it and glares at Harriet, who saunters toward the door.
INTERIOR HARRIET’S ROOM
Harriet is sipping a wine cooler and chatting on her cell phone.
What dear, they won’t let you fly the 747 into Aspen? How gauche! How provincial!
There is a knock at the door. Harriet flits across the room and pulls it open. Derek staggers beneath a mountain of parcels. Harriet motions him in and resumes her conversation.
Pookie, darling, then you’ll just have to land in Grand Junction, like Bandar does. Oh, be a big boy and stop crying. Bye.
Harriet flips the phone closed and guides Derek to the bedroom.
Put them over there, Dorwick.
(groaning under the strain)
That’s Derek, Mrs. KOA.
He dumps the packages in a heap and turns to see Harriet striking a pose, her fur coat open, revealing ample cleavage in a low-cut, skin-tight, pink lycra ski suit. Derek stares dumbfounded.
Like what you see, Deadlock? My cosmetic surgeon attended the Sore Bone and the Louvre.
That’s Derek, ma’am.
(checking her out)
Nice moguls. Good uplift and projection. Great silicone sculpting. You’ve got a balcony I could recite Shakespeare from.
Enough banter, Dorlick. Now is our chance. Mr. KOA has been delayed. Wanna play doctor?
Well, OK. I’ll be Steadman; you be Martina. Now, let me have a look at that big bad ACL.
[Paul Andersen thinks this serial has potential, but will need six figures to write it. His column appears on Mondays.]
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