How I Plan on Making A Half Million Dollars

I’ve been good friends with Shakin’ Eakins for a long time now. For those of you who know the two of us, I apologize for some of the ridiculous conversations you have had to sit through. From an outsider’s perspective, some are better than others. You see; our brains are tuned to the same wavelength of disregard for all things. Therefore, there are many times where we come up with monumental ideas. If you gave the two of us control of the country and we ruled as Two Kings, America would be kicking ass once again. As long as there was no potato famine in Idaho. 

A couple of nights ago at the bar we had another one of these moments. I’m pretty sure that this is how we can each make half a million dollars. We’ll split the million of course, because the idea I’m about to unfurl upon you was a brainchild of our brain trust.

So without further adieu, here is the idea. I’m going to ask you to use your imagination for a few minutes. I truly hope that Jersey Shore and Jon & Kate Plus Eight marathons haven’t completely destroyed this part of your brain. Imagine the following movie trailer:

The Trailer

The year is 2022.  Tensions over natural resources have brought the world to war. The East fights the West in a conflict that will determine who is to control the last of this world’s fledgling supplies of oil and natural gas. Consequences are grave for both sides. Consequently, countries pour their monetary resources into new ways to wage battle. A new way of fighting war will be born.

An USAF plane cuts through the clouds and begins to descend. The chatter of radios, equipment, and the banter of the pilots is audible throughout the plane. One man sits strapped into a seat in the rear of the plane. He gazes into the distance. The ground is black. The darkness is startling and he still has not become accustomed to it. Because of night time bomb raids and rationing, only necessary lights are used. He tries to remember flights in the old days when the warmly lit glow of cities emanated from the ground. It seems like those days are so far away now.

Suddenly he is awoken from his musings.  “Jones! You’re up in five!” screamed the pilot over the intercom.  Startled, Jones immediately went into action as his training had prepared him for. Robotically he acquired his gear, checked his parachute, and stood waiting for the green light from the pilot.

As the door opens and he leaps from the plane, the cold air envelops him. What seems like an eternity later the parachute opens and Jones glides toward the Earth. Blackness still surrounds him.

With a thump he hits the ground and again training takes over his body. Cut away the parachute, arm yourself, equip night-vision, and find bearings. The conditions must have been good because Jones found himself perfectly situated in the drop zone. The laboratory was only a few miles away.

As he trekked through the outskirts of nowhere, Jones was surprised by the lack of any human presence. The cold Russian wind greeted him. The deer in the forest greeted him. But if the Russians knew he was here, the greeting may come in the form of a lead slug. He knew the area was sparsely populated by civilians, but there should be more Russian military around.

Keeping his mind focused on the mission at hand, Jones made his way to the periphery of the laboratory complex. It was a large, drab building with little character. Red brick stacked up to meet an asbestos covered roof. There were very few windows and only a couple of doors. Once again Jones notices the lack of activity. It confounds him. The Russians’ most top secret weapon is supposed to be housed here. If it weren’t for his briefing, the building would be unremarkable.  It would blend into the industrial sector of any city in Russia. Jones began to get suspicious. He wondered if the intelligence they received was wrong.

Snipping the fence to the compound Jones crawls through the opening and notices the signs of a frantic incident at the laboratory. No signs of guards are apparent on the outside of the building. Trucks are strewn about the area, some even still running. He debates leaving the scene.

A door lays open at the top of some cracked concrete steps. Jones contemplates whether or not this is a trap. It has been far too easy getting into this laboratory. His body and mind are on edge as he enters the building. The level of danger has increased dramatically now that he is inside. His mission is a quick one. Find a computer and load the contents of a flash drive. Any computer will suffice, once the virus is in the network it will start reporting information back to the Americans.

Making his way through the hallways he hears a sneeze. His back throws itself against a wall as he waits nervously to see the situation. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he encounters a Russian. His heart races. Sweat beads form on his brow. His ears prick up as the sound of footsteps echo through the halls. He peers out to see his adversary. Nothing except the pale green tile on the floor and dirty white walls. He peers again. Nothing. The footsteps persist and he takes one last look.

What he sees is unexplainable. A small child of maybe three or four years dressed in full military uniform walked through an adjacent hallway. “What is going on here?” he thought. With the baby gone, Jones eyes a computer in the office across from him. He closes the door, sits, and quickly sets out to complete his mission. Five minutes is all that’s needed to upload the virus and he can make his way out. The minutes pass like hours and as the virus finishes loading, he hears a heavily accented Russian voice. “Freeze!”

As he turns to meet the beginning of what he assumes to be a hellish nightmare he is faced with an unexpected site. “Who are you and who do you work for?” asked the leader of the group. So flabbergasted by the situation that lay before him, Jones could not mutter any response. “Children?!?” he thought. “How are they talking so well? They seem to be of adult intelligence judging by the way they’re speaking amongst themselves, but that’s not possible. What the fuck is going on here?” continued his inner voice.

The lead child took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. He then mumbled something to the others in Russian. Still trying to get a grasp of the peculiar situation Jones found himself in, he checks to make sure the virus loaded correctly. A loud sound of metal scraping and moving gained the attention of the gang of babies before him. Quickly, Jones grabbed the flash drive to cover his tracks. These goddamn kids might know he’s here, but they are not going to know what he is doing. He knows he can’t jeopardize the mission.

The sound gets louder and a metal cart rolls into view. Behind the cart are three little ones dragging a Kalashnikov. Jones’ pupils dilate with fear. These aren’t ordinary children, they are some sort of experiment. But, what? They are clearly super-intelligent for their age. And at closer inspection, he sees little difference between them. Jones deducts that they must be clones. As he pieces his split second observations together he is taken aback by the ramifications. “Super-intelligent evil Communist child clones” he thinks. “Babies that could infiltrate any country or battlefield to spy or assassinate leaders. How terrible. How scary. How distinctly Russian.” 

Jones knows he has to get back to base to report his findings. The future of the war and the country just might depend on it. But he also knows he will have to fight his way out. Jones reacts quickly and grabs the lead baby and throws him through a large window connecting two adjacent offices. The babies duck from the falling glass. Four struggle to get the AK-47 on the cart so they can shoot Jones. As Jones advances to pummel the babies, alarms ring and more and more babies start filing into the area.

Why, You Ask?

As far as I know, no one has ever made a movie like this. First, who wouldn’t want to see a grown man take down hundreds and hundreds of clone children with hilarious theatrical violence? Second, these aren’t just clones. They are super-intelligent evil Communist clones. And to be honest, since the Cold War ended, Communists disappeared from popular action movies. But some of the best movies had Commies We really need to bring it back.

Pictured here is Elya Baskin. Since the end of the Cold War, it's been hard for this guy. He can't be cast as 'Russian Gunman/Terrorist/General anymore.

Third, just picture the tag line and advertisement scheme (spoken with that movie-guy voice): They say the children are the future. For Special Agent Alan Jones, the future (cue explosion) must (cue Communist children flying through explosion) burn!

Who wouldn’t want to see this movie?

So this is how I plan on making half a million dollars. I assume Eakins and I can sell the script for at least a million. We might even be able to make more. Who knows?

No name for the movie yet. Any suggestions?