BACKGROUND: Boris, lover of all things American, who has lived in New York for years, is deported. He is sent back to his horrible birthplace Bulvakia.
EXT. BULVAKIA PORT - DAY
Boris gets off a rickety boat. He looks haggard with a 40
o'clock shadow. He clutches a burlap sack to his chest as if
his life depended on it.
Damn, BULVAKIANS are poor. And not happy poor, like Cubans.
Miserable, rotten-teeth poor. Like even making the effort to
commit suicide would just get them into a shitty heaven.
COUSIN NIMBUS (30, rough and brown-toothed) talks to a SLAVE
TRADER (40) who dresses well and has a gold chain hanging
from his vest pocket, chest puffed like a peacock.
SLAVE TRADER
I didn't like the boys you got me
last time. Too weak. They can
hardly do the work of one mule
each. You hit them too hard.
NIMBUS
Kidnapping is tough business these
days.
SLAVE TRADER
Well, next time, I think you'll do
better.
NIMBUS
I will?
Slave Trader belts Nimbus in the mouth. Nimbus spits out
brown teeth. His front teeth, all gone.
SLAVE TRADER
You'd better do better, or other
parts of you will break off piece
by piece.
Nimbus looks down at his teeth. Bye, bye, teeth.
EXT. BULVAKIA - DAY
Boris walks purposefully through the streets, a bright white
smile highlighting his face as he continues to clutch his
sack to him.
But as he continues to walk, sweat, and squint into the harsh
sun, his smile slowly disappears.
EXT. BORIS'S CHILDHOOD SHACK - DAY
Sopping wet from sweat, Boris sees a pile of rubble, or
rather, odd bits of canvas cloth, metal siding, stones,
and...
He bends down to a cracked, dust-covered T.V.
BORIS
Not the T.V.
He spies the VCR.
BORIS (CONT'D)
Not the VCR, where I spent many an
hour watching American sitcoms to
learn English to escape from this
miserable place.
He spies a finger with a meager diamond ring on it. He picks
it up.
BORIS (CONT'D)
Mama!
He throws his hands up in the air and loses the finger. His
voice echoes through the dry, dusty air.
Nimbus approaches, sees the unguarded sack, grabs it, and
runs.
Boris does a quick search for the finger/ring then takes off
after Nimbus.
BORIS (CONT'D)
Cousin Nimbus. Bring my sack back,
you son of a cow hoof trimmer!
Nimbus is fast. But so is Boris. Boris tackles Nimbus.
The sack hits the ground and spills dirt, little blocks of
cement, and some junk.
NIMBUS
What is that?
BORIS
You knew it was me?
NIMBUS
We're cousins. Of course I knew who
you were. But you had something to
steal, so I stole it.
Boris settles down beside the spillage. He picks up a handful
of dirt, letting it fall down his face through his fingers.
BORIS
This is a part of my home.
NIMBUS
You lived in a cave?
BORIS
No, it's American soil. And this is
a piece of cement, and a plastic
wrapper from the grass in Central
Park where joggers jog, children
laugh, and you can get good
falafel.
NIMBUS
What's falafel?
BORIS
That's the great thing about
America. Food from everywhere; it's
a microcosm of the whole world.
NIMBUS
What's microcosm?
BORIS
A miniature version of the world.
NIMBUS
Things are smaller there?
BORIS
No, Nimbus.
Boris picks some dirt from his white teeth.
NIMBUS
Hey, who painted your teeth white?
BORIS
It is what I saved my first many
paychecks for. I almost starved to
death, but one by one, I became an
American.
INSERT: One tooth by one tooth, Boris gets a Hollywood smile.
Nimbus fingers his lack of teeth.
NIMBUS
What kind of paint did they use?
BORIS
What happened to Mama's home?
NIMBUS
You set it on fire.
BORIS
What?
NIMBUS
Officially, in the official
records, you officially set your
house on fire. Which is punishable
by death by beheading, of course.
BORIS
But I haven't been here in five
years.
NIMBUS
Details, cousin.
BORIS
And what of my mother? Why was her
finger still in the house?
NIMBUS
That's where it ended up after I
cut it off.
BORIS
You cut it off!
NIMBUS
She was dead. She had no head. To
protect the family treasure, I cut
it off. But it flew off somewhere.
I couldn't find it. So where is it?
BORIS
I lost it.
NIMBUS
It doesn't want to be found.
Curses, you finger with a mind.
BORIS
What happened to your teeth?
NIMBUS
What teeth?
BORIS
The teeth that you used to have.
NIMBUS
They're gone.
Nimbus starts to walk away but stops.
NIMBUS (CONT'D)
Let's dine tonight to celebrate
your return.
BORIS
I don't know if I'll be good
company.
NIMBUS
I'm the only blood you got, Boris.
Your mom, your pop, dead. Your
brother, your sister, died before
their third birthdays. Everyone
else, killed in the war.
BORIS
What war?
NIMBUS
Street warfare, man. My brother got
mowed down. By a lawn mower. Really
disgusting. He was in so much pain
I had to finish him off myself.
Bless his girlfriend-stealing soul.
But enough of that. Get cleaned up.
I'll meet you there.
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.