JACK BURTON LIVES
EXT. SAN FRANCISCO - HOUSE - DAY
Establishing shot of a tiny, broken down dump of a house
sitting in an overgrown, debris-filled yard. Cinder
blocks, massive truck tires and a decaying dog house bake
in the sun.
JACK (O.S.)
Awww c'mon!
INT. HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The inside of the house is in worse shape than the yard.
Shabby curtains partially block out the light. Pizza boxes
are stacked on a cluttered coffee table sitting in front
of a dusty 13 inch TV showing a boxing match in B&W.
Sitting on the couch in front of all this is JACK BURTON.
He's now in his 60's, with a large paunch, gray hair and
the top button on his pants undone. It ain't pretty.
JACK
Ah hell! That's how they taught you to
throw a left hook? I can't believe my
eyes, here. I'm calling my own eyes
liars! Fight, dammit-- Koff! Koff!! Aggh!
Jack doubles over, in pain. After a second, he recovers.
Through the window next to the TV we can see what's left
of Jack's once mighty truck, the Pork Chop Express. A
blurry figure moves across the hood, too quick to
identify.
ON JACK.
JACK (CONT'D)
(noticing)
... the hell?
Jack leaps up and races out the door.
EXT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Jack hobbles out off the house towards the truck.
JACK
Get away from her!
He stumbles, not used to running, and drops to the ground.
JACK (CONT'D)
Aggghh!
He gets up, slowly, and resumes his herky-jerky limp
towards the truck.
ON TRUCK. It's rusted and on cinder blocks, a shadow of
what it once was. It's missing all four tires.
REVEAL two teenagers standing on the hood of the truck.
One is muscular, probably a football player. The other is
more along the lines of an "idiot sidekick." They hop up
and down, denting the hood.
TEEN
Hahahaha! Look at him!
TEEN 2
I told you, man! He's crazy! Stupid old
has-been.
TEEN
Has been? Hahaha that old bag of garbage
never "did" anything.
TEEN 2
I heard some stories... probably
bullshit.
The teen's cellphone rings.
TEEN
Yeah? Hey. Cool... Yeah okay. Nah we're
done here...
He hangs up. The teens scramble down from the truck as a
"huffing and puffing" Jack gets close. They walk away.
TEEN (CONT'D)
Later, dinosaur.
TEEN 2
Hahahaha!
(beat, whispered)
Wait, I don't get it, why is he a
dinosaur?
TEEN
(sigh)
Forget it.
Jack watches them go, doubled over, hands on his knees. He
is one pathetic son of a bitch. He turns and heads back
inside.
CUT TO:
INT. HOUSE - NIGHT
Jack is again in front of the couch. He leans forward,
then grimaces and grabs his back.
JACK
Ugh...
He grabs a bottle of liquor off the table, yanks the top
off and downs a few shots.
JACK (CONT'D)
Agggghhh!
Jack grabs a newspaper off the table and flips through it.
He compares the winning lottery numbers in the paper to a
ticket in his hand... and is disappointed.
JACK (CONT'D)
Damn.
REPORTER (O.S.)
And in a story still developing, we have
breaking news on the group abducted
earlier today from the Chinese Embassy
including Jon Matrix, Marion Cobretti,
Frank Dux... and the city D.A. Gracie
Law.
Jack drops the bottle. He looks up at the TV, shocked.
JACK
Gracie?
REPORTER
... all involved in a case said to
involve elements of black magic and the
occult. We will bring you more on that,
including a man who witnessed some of the
altercation... right after this.
Jack looks around the dingy room. He grabs the bottle,
takes another pull from it, then stands up. He goes into
another room. We hear drawers opening and stuff being
kicked around.
Jack enters the room holding a burlap sack and wearing one
of those old-timey miner's helmets with a light on it. He
leaves the house.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE - THE NEXT DAY
The sun has just popped up past the horizon.
ON THE PORK CHOP EXPRESS. Several mechanical parts lay
strewn about. Next to them is yet another bottle of hooch.
The truck has its tires back on. We hear a clanking sound
coming from under the truck. Jack wheels himself out from
under it, wipes his brow with an oily rag, then takes a
sip from the bottle.
ON JACK, he has a greasy stripe of oil across his eyes,
resembling a domino mask. He looks ridiculous and, of
course, he is oblivious.
TEEN (O.S.)
Hey, old-timer!
The teens are back. Jack stands and goes to the front of
the truck, ignoring them.
TEEN (CONT'D)
What the fuck do you think you're--
Jack absent-mindedly grabs the teen behind the neck and
slams him face first into the grill of the truck. He drops
in a heap. Jack continues tinkering under the hood.
TEEN 2
What are-- You can't do that-- I- I...
JACK
(not looking up)
Leave.
The teen grabs his now bloodied friend and they limp off.
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE - LATER
A refreshed and newly showered Jack exits the house
carrying a bag overflowing with guns and swords. He opens
the door of the truck, then throws them in.
He stops suddenly. His face contorts with pain as he grabs
his chest.
JACK
GRAGHHHH!!! No dammit! Not now...
He staggers forward a few steps, away from the truck.
JACK (CONT'D)
NO! Not. Again. Not ready... I need--
Jack drops. He twists as he falls, landing flat on his
back. His face hardens into a sun-burned mask as the light
goes out of his eyes.
He's dead.
We stay on Jack's body. A few seconds later we hear some
laughter, and the sounds of Jack's truck being started up
and driven off.
CUT TO:
A LARGE BUBBLING CAULDRON OF GREEN LIQUID.
We see the image of Jack's body on the surface of the
liquid.
PULL OUT to reveal a hulking, seven foot-tall demon
covered in red and gold scales, CHONG LI. Chong is
bleeding from several knife wounds and looks exhausted.
The prime Jack Burton stands across from him. Still young,
still full of fire, and flashing the shit-eatingest grin
you've ever seen. He's got a gun, specifically a .45
caliber handgun.
Dead samurais lay in various spots around the room.
CHONG
So you see, Mr. Burton, the horrible fate
that awaits you, if you decide to kill me
today. Misery! Pain! Suffering beyond
your mortal comprehension! Plus, it looks
like your neighbors think you're kinda
creepy... trust me, you don't want to be
that guy.
ON JACK, thinking this over...
CHONG (CONT'D)
Imagine, a heart attack, bringing down
the great and powerful Jack Burton... Not
so glamorous, is it?
JACK
Ah hell... So I'll lay off the bacon and
switch to low-carb beer.
CHONG
Wait, what-- What's low-carb beer?
JACK
Were you not paying attention to your own
mystical vision? It was right there on
the counter, in my future house. Looked
damn tasty, too.
CHONG
Well, I mean, there was a lot to take in.
And how is THAT what you were focusing
on!? You died! The chain of events that
starts with my death, continues with you
enduring years of emptiness and pain
before ending with your pathetic, lonely
death!
JACK
We've all got a story, Chong, mine ain't
done yet.
CHONG
I'm not sure you're grasping exactly what
I'm saying. Let me start agai--
A GUNSHOT rings out.
REVEAL CHONG LI has a bullet-hole between his eyes.
CHONG (CONT'D)
Wrong again, Burton. If you'd bothered to
do any research at all...
ON JACK, frantically reading an old piece of parchment.
The parchment shows a drawing of Chong, along with
numerous ancient symbols. He flips it upside down, and
then back again.
JACK
Ah, right, right...
He nods to himself, looks up, and fires another shot.
CHONG
... you'd have known that my kind has no
brain to destroy and that we can only be
harmed by striking one spot on the
body...
The bullet hits Chong in his left thigh, which causes his
entire leg to explode like a grenade.
CHONG (CONT'D)
... Oh. I see. Well done, Mr. Burton.
(angry)
See you in hell.
JACK
Not if I see you first--
(notices he's dead)
Damn. Wonder if he knew what I was gonna
say? I probably should've said it faster.
Jack picks up a large golden vase and exits.
CUT TO:
EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT
INT. THE PORK CHOP EXPRESS - NIGHT
Jack drives down the road. He's talking on his CB radio.
JACK
You win some, you lose some and hell,
some you just walk away from limping and
hoping the bleeding stops, not sure which
end is up and where to put the bandage...
I'll say this, though, you do what ole
Jack Burton does, when that red-eyed
devil swaggers in, drops a gold coin on
the bar for a drink, then turns to you
waving a clawed hand in your face,
telling you to pick a card, any card, you
look him straight in the eye and say
"Thanks but no thanks, I'll stick with
roulette and betting the horses..."
Jack adjust his rearview mirror.
JACK (CONT'D)
Cause that's all she wrote. Keep your
head up and your chin down and before
it's all over your ship will have come
in... And as for ole Jack's ship...
ON A SCRAP OF PAPER, taped to the dashboard. Six numbers
are crudely written on it.
DISSOLVE TO the image of the newspaper in Jack's house
from earlier. The numbers on the dashboard match the
winning lottery numbers.
BACK TO TRUCK.
JACK (CONT'D)
It looks like that SOB's due to come in
in about twenty years, two months and six
days...
Jack smiles big.
FADE TO BLACK.
\ \ }