Cali Shores Spec Script Idea’s
Think Jersey Shore West type characters looking at various business start-up idea’s
Starting a Medical Marijuana Outlet
“Medical Marijuana,” are you fucking out of your mind. They’ve already got surveillance on three roof tops. “Hey Angela, 2 o’clock…flash that guy some nipplage.”
“I mean we start dealing Purple Kush and the whole town’s gonna go postal.”
“It’s perfectly legal, moron, we just set up a co-op, apply for a license and start making brownies.”
Anyway, who gives a fuck what they think?….That a girl… Angela, now give that guy at 11 o’clock some 36-DD mammary glands.
“You’re out of control.”
“Listen freak, my braw in West LA buys somethin called Herijuana, he’s fucking couch-planted twelve hours a day…and then sleeps like the Ameritrade Baby. It’s our constitutional, god-given right, besides these Ambien are starting to make me stupid; last night I ate the whole fucking bag of Canolli’s and sleep walked into Jennifer’s bed.”
“No shit….did you uh….
“No Braw…the dolphin didn’t get waxed but flipper was all over her stomach.”
“Sick fuck, what did she say?”
“She was groaning and sending some very subliminal I want you in my mouth signals until she realized it was me and not biker man…. yea, she kicked my ass.”
“Getting back to the Goo, where would we start?”
“Well clientele, isn’t gonna be a problem, Mrs. Good Dress has been sending me signals all week. Her husband is the Kiwanis President and makes Fat boy look like a number 2 pencil. I mean girth, anyway we turn her on to some Ragin Cajun out of a bong and half the PTA’s gonna be lined up after hours.”
Tanning Booths
“A tanning yards a great idea, I can sell it right now Braw I mean yesterday!”
“It’s all gonna be about marketing. Dude, sex sells. We just plant Cindy and Angela out front in those
sling-shot thongs and we ain’t go need no sign twirlers.”
“So no booths?”
“No shitlock, artificial rays cause cancer, it’s all over the internet. We’ll be delivering direct rays from the sun out back on blankets,
and have Adonis Boy and Raven serve Ice tea and Lemonade. Forty bucks an hour and you and me can whack the jack from up stairs.
We’ll crank Artic Monkey, maybe even set up a cage dancer on a platform. We’ll call it Tantric Tan’s”
“We’ll have to get a permit?”
“A permit, for what?”
“It’s a business D-Trump dickhead.”
“Fuck that, it’s a private tantric tan in the comfort of our own backyard.”
An Escort Service
“How’s it look Abs?”
“It’s crooked, who painted it?”
“Angela.”
“Was she on Dialodin?”
“Why”
“Escorts is spelled wrong and our area code is 619 not 916”
“Okay, okay it didn’t get run through QC”
“Who’s QC”
“Biker Guy”
“He only knows five words and two hand gestures, not sure he’d be my pick for director of quality control.”
“He kind of insisted when we tabled the idea.”
“How did he insist?”
“With a big fucking blade.”
“You didn’t buy that did you? He was a tax preparer at H &R Block 4 years ago, he’s as harmless as a seeing eye dog at Spearmint Rhino.”
“Hey, I got a marketing idea”
“Beach Town Escorts….have a little thong with your bong.”
“Are you sure the girls are good with this?”
“Yea, with bike man as the driver and a no-touchy policy they’re all good. Kim say’s we can make bank on Bachelor Parties and 50th birthdays. She used to pull in five dimes an hour working Daytona Beach. Chief Redneck’s been hittin on her every time he pulls her over for jay-walking. Now there’s a dude who’d drop half his pension for a little cleavage and bald beaver.”
