Star Trek ala Tarantino

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Earlier this week, one of the many spies I employ to keep tabs on Hollywood arrived at my door in the dark of night, sweating and trembling. She passed an envelope to me, clutched briefly at my hand, and dove out of sight into some hedges.

Once secured in my office, I opened the package, and extracted from it a thin sheaf of papers. I had hardly even glanced at the top sheet, when I was forced to take hold of the desk as my heart began a violent thumping and my vision went all swimmy.

When I was finally able to compose myself, I peered down at the document with all the avidity of Howard Carter upon his initial viewing of the Tomb of Tutankhamen. Yes, there on my unworthy desk was the first treatment of Quentin Tarantino’s proposed Star Trek motion picture.

I have posted it below, unedited in any way.


[FADE IN. STARSHIP ENTERPRISE IN ORBIT AROUND A COLORFUL PLANET.]

KIRK

[Voice Over]

Captain’s Log, star-date thirty-one, uh, thirty-one… Aw fuck it. Whatever. Thirty-one and some change. The Enterprise is in orbit around the planet Ubiqutouspopculturereference, where the crew is struttin their shore-leave stuff, and I’m gettin a pack a motherfuckin Red Apples. Later, I’m gonna get snuggly with some prime Green Bitch pussy. Probably. We’ll see. The day is young!

First Officer Spock was willing to stay aboard, but I told him ‘Hell, Negro. You first. Gotta be some Vulcan bitch somewhere down there, lookin to pon farr a handsome motherfucker such as you. You know you my ni**er!’ Spock saw the logic in my statement. What else was he gonna do?

In the meantime, I am scheduled to meet with the planet’s acting Big Kahuna—the aforementioned spicy Green Bitch.

[CUT TO: ENTERPRISE INTERIOR; KIRK’S QUARTERS.]

[LOW LIGHTING. CANDLES. PITCHER OF KLINGON MARTINIS ON A TABLE. A CLOCK READS 4:20.]

[KIRK ENTERS FROM HIS PRIVATE LATREEN WEARING A DRESSING GOWN, BLACK WITH A WHITE FRONT AND NARROW BLACK STRIPE. HE IS MISTING HIMSELF FROM AN ATOMIZER. A CHIME SOUNDS.]

KIRK

Enter!

[THE DOOR SHOOSHES OPEN. SAMUEL L. JACKSON ENTERS. HE IS DYED GREEN AND WEARS FALSIES. HIS T-SHIRT READS “BAD MOTHERFUCKER.” THIS IS HONEY PUMPKIN, THE BIG KAHUNA OF UBIQUTOUSPOPCULTUREREFERENCE.]

KIRK

Daaaaaaaaaaamn! Don’t you look just about as fine as paint! Now, you settle your fanny right there and let Captain Daddy fix you a drink. Anybody ever tell you you’re a spittin image of She Hulk? John Byrne’s, though, not John Buscema’s.

HONEY PUMPKIN

Every motherfuckin day, Captain Daddy. I suffer the trials of Job. You read the Bible?

KIRK

I download the graphic novel.

HONEY PUMPKIN

Well, there’s a passage I got memorized. Helps me through the hard hours. Wanna hear it?

KIRK

Do whores get extra credit for up-selling?

HONEY PUMPKIN

Deuteronomy 23:1. ‘He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the Lord.’

KIRK

That is some fucked-up repugnant shit. But I bet Lady Gaga could make it fuckin sing! With a fuckin Bolian slide tuba?! God daaaaaaamn! Shit would rock like motherfuckin Mungo Jerry in the motherfuckin summertime!

[AN ALARM SCREAMS. FLASHING RED LIGHTS.]

MCCOY

[VOICE OVER]

Jim! You’re needed on the bridge! Right away!

KIRK

Bones? Is that you?

MCCOY

Correctamundo.

KIRK

What’s going on? I got, like, stuff going on in my crib, Negro!

MCCOY

Your crib will enjoy the rest. Get your lecherous ass up here!

KIRK

It’s that important? Seriously? Gimme a hint, motherfucker!

MCCOY

All hell has come unglued on the planet’s surface! It’s a catastrophe!

KIRK

Fuck! Fuck! Motherfuckin fuck!

MCCOY

Scotty, Sulu, Uhura and Chekov are standing by, waiting for your orders! Get a move on, Sir!

KIRK

Has Mister Spock returned?

MCCOY

Beamed up just minutes ago. He’s in bad shape, Jim. He ran afoul of the Odious Ophidian One-Way-Ticket Outfit! Their phasers were set on perichondritis, and Spock’s ears were no great shakes to begin with!

KIRK

Fuck! Fuck! Motherfuckin fuck! (to HONEY PUMPKIN) Hey, listen, kiddo. Captain Daddy has some, you know, Star Fleet shit needs lookin into. You be okay here for a short spell?

HONEY PUMPKIN

Can I listen to your K-Tel Super Sounds of the Sunny Soulful Seventies?

KIRK

Loud as you want, my Teal Temptress.

[KIRK EXITS THROUGH THE SWOOSHING DOORS.]

[CUT TO: THE BRIDGE OF THE ENTERPRISE. SIREN IS STILL GOING OFF. RED LIGHTS STILL FLASHING.]

[UHURA, CHEKHOV AND SULU ARE AT THEIR STATIONS. SCOTTY AND MCCOY HOVER NEARBY. SPOCK IS DRAPED ACROSS THE CAPTAIN’S CHAIR. HIS EARS ARE ENORMOUS AND INFLAMED. HE IS RANTING. KIRK RUSHES TO HIS SIDE.]

KIRK

Spock! How did this happen? Who did this to you?

SPOCK

She… She… Insane! Kept calling me…Mister Boysenberry! Complained about…the…amount I tipped… And… And… Arrrrrrgh, it was terrible! She refused…to let me go… Not until I watched… Oh! Until I watched all of… Of The Lost Boys!

KIRK

Dear God! Not that motherfuckin bowl of diarrhea pot pie!

MCCOY

He was saved by his Vulcan blood, Jim. Otherwise, that movie would have driven him loopy.

SULU

Ubiqutouspopculturereference ship approaching, Captain. Ohhhhh my!

UHURA

They are hailing us, Captain. Would you like it on—

KIRK

Put it on visual!

UHURA

[Quietly] How bout you interrupt me some more, fuckin dwanky, raider fan, juggla… [Aloud] On screen, Captain.

[CUT TO: SCREEN. THE FACE OF AN ALIEN SAMUEL L. JACKSON APPEARS, WEARING A SIDEWAYS CAP AND EVENING CLOTHES. THIS IS MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD, LEADER OF THE UBIQUTOUSPOPCULTUREREFERENCE OPPOSITION.]

KIRK

Do I have you to blame for fuckin up my First Officer? I mean, lookit his ears, man! You had no fuckin cause for doin this Medieval shit to a brother’s motherfuckin ears.

MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD

In point of fact, I had nothing to do with your officer’s injuries. It was the work of my sister, Daisy Sharonda Venita. Bitch’s crazy as a pipe-head on a nude beach.

KIRK

There’s the motherfuckin understatement on top of the entire motherfuckin Encyclopedia Britannica of motherfuckin understatements, man. And you are gonna tell me how to put him back the way he was—exactly the way he was, without so much as a speech impediment—or I’m gonna beam over there an Mayweather your fuckin ass right to the motherfuckin end of the universe! You pickin up my drift, ya fuckin twatwaffle?

[KIRK TURNS AWAY FROM THE SCREEN; SPEAKS TO CHEKHOV]

Mister Chekhov, very slowly, I would like you to dial up the file from last week’s Dish-Top Celebrity ProAm, and prepare to launch in into that ship’s communication mainframe. Do you understand?

CHEKHOV

Aye, Keptin.

KIRK

You do? You do understand?

CHEKHOV

Yes, Keptin.

KIRK

[Sniggering] Love the way you say that. Keptin. Aye, Keptin. Fuckin slays me.

[KIRK CLEARS HIS THROAT AND TURNS BACK TO MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD. BEFORE HE CAN SPEAK, SPOCK INTERRUPTS WITH MORE RANTING.]

SPOCK

I tried, Captain! I gave it the old University of Vulcan try! Good ol VU!

[HE SINGS LUSTILY:]

Nerve Pinchers! Nerve Pinchers!

Go! Go! Go!

Nerve Pinchers! Nerve Pinchers!

Win! Win! Win!

T’san s’at! T’san s’at! T’san s’at!

But that… That movie… It… It was a hit! How…? Why? Why would the people of Earth…? Why would they…consciously or unconsciously…allow it? Their actions… They opened the Gate… They freed Joel Schumacher!

[HE DISSOLVES INTO AGONIZED HOWLS.]

KIRK

Fuck, Spock! Cork yer soup-cooler, wouldja? I’m tryin t’ slip one past this ape, and yer gonna queer the play!

MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD

What’s that you are saying, Kirk? I have read all about your mad prevarication skills, and I tell you this: If you fool me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize.

KIRK

[SUDDENLY, URGENTLY, TO CHEKHOV:]

Now, Chekhov!

[CHEKHOV SLAMS HIS PALM DOWN ON A RED BUTTON LABELED ‘NUT PUNCH.’]

[ON THE SCREEN, MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD WRITHES AND HIS HEAD CATCHES ON FIRE.]

[ON THE ENTERPRISE BRIDGE, CLAXONS AND STROBBING LIGHTS. THE CREW CAREENS TO THE LEFT, THEN TO THE RIGHT.]

[KIRK ATTEMPTS TO DRY-HUMP UHURA.]

[SCOTTY WHIPS OUT A MACHINE GUN AND YANKS A MASK FROM HIS HEAD. HE IS REVEALED TO BE SAMUEL L. JACKSON. GRINNING, HE OPENS FIRE ON THE CREW. BLOOD SPRAYS COPIOUSLY—JUST SHY, MIND YOU, OF AN NC-17!]

[ON THE ALIEN SHIP MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD PULLS OUT HIS OWN EYEBALLS FROM HIS FLAMING SKULL AND STOMPS ON THEM.]

MAJ. ORDELL STUNTMAN WINNFIELD

To the last, I will grapple with thee… from Hell’s heart, I stab at thee! For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee! You cock juggling, biznatch, douche canoe! You low-down, scum—

[SCREEN TURNS TO STATIC AS THE ALIEN SHIP EXPLODES.]

[ON THE BRIDGE, ONLY KIRK, SPOCK, AND SAMUEL L. JACKSON REMAIN ALIVE. KIRK AND SAMUEL L. JACKSON EXCHANGE PHASER/MACHINE GUN FIRE.]

[SPOCK RETURNS TO NORMAL. KIRK AND SAMUEL L. JACKSON DO NOT NOTICE. HE CRAWLS TO CHEKHOV’S CONSOLE, FIDDLES SOME SWITCHES, AND POKES A BUTTON LABELED “BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY.” EVERY SCREEN ON THE BRIDGE BEGINS SHOWING A MONTAGE OF GOD’S NOT DEAD.]

SPOCK

Do not look, Captain! Close your eyes!

[KIRK DOES AS ORDERED. SPOCK FOLLOWS SUIT. SAMUEL L. JACKSON IS STUNNED MOTIONLESS FOR A MOMENT, THEN HIS HEAD EXPLODES IN A DRAMATIC CLOUD OF CHUNKY RED.]

[KIRK AND SPOCK GET TO THEIR FEET AND APPROACH ONE ANOTHER.]

KIRK

Dammit, Spock! That was too close!

SPOCK

The timing had to be perfect, Captain.

KIRK

And it was. (Pause.) Hey, I hope you didn’t take all that shit I was talkin about you personal.

SPOCK

Not at all, Captain.

KIRK

You still my ni**er, right?

SPOCK

I have been…and always shall be…your ni**ar.

KIRK

Fuckin-A, man. Motherfuckin-A. Let’s get a team in here to clean up all these robots an shit. And send a shuttle to the surface to retrieve our real crew.

SPOCK

Immediately, Captain.

KIRK

An make sure they get my motherfuckin Red Apples.

SPOCK

Of course. (Pause.) Captain?

KIRK

What is it, Spock?

SPOCK

I heard an interesting story while on the planet.

KIRK

Hit me with it, Negro.

SPOCK

Do you know what my name is in the native tongue of Ubiqutouspopculturereference?

KIRK

I don’t. What is it?

SPOCK

Royale with Ears.

[KIRK AND SPOCK LAUGH. SLOW FADE TO BLACK.]

[“MACARTHUR PARK” PLAYS AS THE CREDITS ROLL.]

 

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