Never A Checkered Flag Trailer (Video)

Here’s the teaser trailer for my short movie on Film Fights. Hope you’ll stop by their site for a quick watch and vote. Thanks.

K. Shawn Edgar | Cheeseball | Hat Rack | Total Loser | Thankful


Screenplay Outline “Boston” – First Half






  • Llynroc Orcmean, the owner of Nipple Ranch

  • Newark Notsob, his pilot and nipple hunter

  • Hugo Ronnoc, human nipple broker for Orcmean

  • Maggie String, human physicist

  • Fender Ohms, human friend and assistant to Maggie




Forbeians travel the multiverse harvesting humanoid nipples. On Forbes, their home planet, they use nipples in powdered form as a ritualistic aphrodisiac. Since this group has been traveling for some time, they have adapted the ritual to fit the surroundings on their spaceship. It is a crude, shortened version of the original. The CEO of a company called Nipple Ranch (known as Earth to humans) is Llynroc Orcmean. His Forbeians are highly advanced in many ways and consider humans to be nothing more than a source of nipples. Forbeians have no qualms about killing their humans for the harvest.




A visual representation of the alien nipple ritual on board the Forbeian spaceship. Sensual and erotic with intense attention to detail—a mortar and pestle grinding the nipples to powder, a hand turning the pages of a book, a lid to a jar twisting open, liquids dripping from eyedroppers into mouths and from leaf tips to bare skin.


It will not be clear in the beginning what is being ground in the mortar or who these creatures are. They look human except when shown closely they have smooth nipple-less chests. This scene will also introduce the characters of Orcmean and Notsob. Orcmean is the leader and observes the ritual from a platform a little above the scene.


It is obviously enjoyable for him as he lounges like a loin. Notsob circles the ritual, also catlike, but slowly moves in becoming a part of it. After a few moments, he is distracted by the flicker of a monitor on a complicated looking panel to one side of the room. The picture jumps and comes in and out until the solid image of a large alien appears, leaning into the camera. “This isn’t any of that cold synthetic shit,” the alien quips. He’s holding a jar of dark powder. “One hundred and ten percent natural human—“ Notsob approaches and hits the monitor, causing the picture to jump and role until another image appears, that of an easily recognizable human talk show host. Notsob totally loves humanoid entertainment and he smiles, leaning back in his chair.




Maggie String is peering again into the infinite. A video feedback loop on her TV spins and whirls as Fender Ohms moves a video camera in front of the screen. Fender appears uncomfortable and keeps pausing to adjust his shirt collar.

Smoother circles Fender, smoother circles,” says Maggie.

Fender frets some more and then steadies himself and begins to make nice smooth circles with the camera. The picture starts to shake and then disappears.

Oh, Fender Ohms. What do I pay you for? You’ve lost it again.”

Fender lowers the camera to his side. “Maggie, it’s this shirt. Static. It’s all static-y.”

Maggie puts one hand against the television set, and with the other she grabs hold of Fender’s collar. “Line dry—“ There is a crackling noise and then a jolt of electricity knocks Fender to the floor. Maggie jumps back. On the TV we see a large alien with a jar of dark powder. “There’s no better way to come than with real nipple gum. You know it. The immaculate ritual has proved it. When it comes to humanoid nipples, no one knows skin like Llynroc Orcmean. His Nipple Ranch grows only the finest crop of Humanoid nipples.” The large grinning face of Orcmean appears, filling the screen.




Disbelief and confusion. Maggie and Fender are facing each other over a plate of cheese fries. “What do you think that was?” Asks Fender.

Jingle Bell Rock,” Maggie replies.

I think it was a joke. You know, one of those parody commercials, like on SNL…Jingle Bell Rock?”

Jingle Bell Rock, it’s the secret.”

The secret to what?”

The meaning’s in the lyrics.”

Did I get up and leave, missing a crucial part of the conversation, then sit down again, and not know it?” Fender is confused.

Jingle Bell Rock? The song. You know the song, right? Jingle. Bell. Rock,” Maggie over enunciates each word.

Yes, yes. Jingle Bell Rock. I know the song. But what does that have—“

It’s an Extra Terrestrial message intended to translate the secret of the formation of the planets in our galaxy.” Maggie shouts this out in a way that causes an obvious disturbance throughout the restaurant. “But it was accidentally intercepted by (guy who wrote and sang the song first), who interpreted it to be music and then published the damn song; consequently changing the course of human history.”

I still think that was an SNL parody.”

We should be worried about this…”

I am. See, I’m eating cheese fries to cover my fear.”


Movie Sex


A look through the lens of celluloid love

Limousine backseat with bubbly
Steamy glass shower stall
Another person’s bedroom at a party
In the childhood bed at your parent’s house surrounded by Nirvana posters and Jet Li cardboard stand-ups

Sometimes it’s movie wind and ballet grace
Other scenes are all public restroom, heels on the toilet seat, raunchy

And a dude with his pants shoved down yells, “This is it, baby. I’m gonna pop a cap in Sancho!”

Whilst others, the art house films, love is dreamlike and flesh, a landscape you dip us in. Cellophane! Earth and water, chocolate and blood, all feel the same. Yet, they strike us with unique blows.

In the international film fest, sex is transparent blue paintbrush strokes flashing over two women or two men, rolling in naked cash, with eerie orange clouds drifting outside of softly lighted windows. And there’s a bulky suit with a pistol climbing the stairway; his stony, ruthless eyes foreshadowing the climax

Teen lovers doing it in the wild woods, and just as the scantily clad, barely legal woman is about to come … the beast-with-two-backs is torn apart and devoured by hillbilly circus freaks