Going Solo
The first pilot I ever wrote. The true(ish) origin story of The Strokie, a flushable, executive wank sock.
FADE IN:
A logo appears on a black background with animated lens flare effect. It reads ‘Epicpreneur’.
FADE TO:
INT. EPICPRENEUR STUDIO - AFTERNOON
The EPICPRENEUR, dressed in white shirt and waistcoat, sits behind a desk playing with a Zippo lighter. On the desk is a box of tissues, a glass of water and a white, ceramic plate. It’s a YouTube video and he’s very American.
EPICPRENEUR
It all starts with a spark.
He strikes the lighter and as the flame burns in one hand he takes a tissue from the box with the other.
EPICPRENEUR
That non-definable, non-explainable, non-refundable ‘something’ that sets your world, your heart or your shit on fire.
He lights the tissue and throws it onto the plate whilst maintaining eye-contact with the camera.
EPICPRENEUR
So find your flame, and remember, you’re only ever three feet away from a great fucking idea.
Still not breaking eye-contact he douses the burning tissue with the glass of water and shrugs.
INT. HAYWARD HOUSE - MORNING
We see a ladies watch on its side and other clutter on a bedside cabinet. The time shows as nearly twenty past nine. There is a rumble of noise going on in the background, the sound of a typical family trying to leave the house.
REBECCA
Has anyone seen my bloody watch?