A calm morning above New York City.  An eagle soars lazily through the sky.

A small, private JET, with Krulo Air written in a logo on its side, bursts into the scene noisily, killing the eagle.

The jet’s door opens.


TED KRULO, 23, is visible through the jet’s entrance: a young executive wearing a suit and a tie and a stylish, meticulous hair cut.  He sits in a cushy, first-class airplane chair.  His eyes are closed and he’s oblivious: grooving to giant, noise-cancelling headphones.  On Ted’s suit is a “Hi, my name is:” sticker, with his name and then, in sloppy, childish handwriting: “. . . and I own you.”

Two burly, identical MEN, both 30, wearing black “STAFF” shirts and matching pants, effortlessly carry Ted’s chair to the jet’s open door.

                One!  Two!  Three!  Heave!

Ted’s eyes snap open as he and his chair are thrust into the air.


Ted falls in slow motion, in a state of shock.  His chair spins majestically through the clouds, and he takes in the chaos of the city beneath him.


The giant ads of Times Square all show business-related products: serious men bearing overly complicated cellular phones, computer systems, and formal wear.

A line of nervous, pre-occupied people file up to the ‘roast-nuts’ street corner vendors, too busy with their PDAs  to notice the pile of dead and dying recent customers only ten feet away.

Cars crash into one another and taxi drivers exit their vehicles and jump and wave their fists with anger.

Flocks of energetic young businessmen abandon their cars and race on top of the chains of stalled traffic, heading for their various workplaces.

Atop a skyscraper roof, an obese, aging executive shoots pigeons as his secretary types whatever he is apparently dictating (inaudible).


Atop a different skyscraper, it is far calmer.  A janitor looks out at the morning sky while taking his smoke break.

Ted, screaming, crashes through the roof.  The janitor does not look up.


Ted and Ted’s chair are fully intact, and Ted continues to fall, again in slow motion, down through the buildings of the skyscraper.

We see an office complete with cubicles, a water cooler, and a giant scanner/printer/fax machine with an indent where it has been kicked.

Also visible is a MAN, 30, playing a giant game of minesweeper.  The game grid fills his entire computer screen.  The man bears a distinct resemblance to Ted, but is wearing business casual.

As Ted falls from floor to floor, he sees the exact same office, down to the same man playing minesweeper, again and again.  The passage of time speeds back up, gradually, to real-time, and the rooms blur into one.

The man playing minesweeper does move slightly from room to room: if we look closely at the board, we see that from the top floor to the bottom he has moved just enough to click the wrong square and lose the game.


A busy crowd rushes through an elaborate lobby, barely noticing the generically-fancy art on the walls, the artificially-Greek statues guarded by thick red ropes, and the giant, showcase aquarium in the center of it all.

The crowd funnels into a small elevator, never letting it go up but constantly pushing to fit more and more people inside.  Their entire collective attention is devoted to this task or, if not that, their cell phones and PDAs.

The ceiling makes a sickening noise as Ted’s chair crashes through its fake-marble surface.

Ted’s fall ends in the giant aquarium and water and fish fly out, drenching bystanders.  Ted is undamaged, but shocked, looking outward at the crowd.

Ted watches from the bottom of the aquarium as the crowd continues with its business.

A BOY, 9, is the only one who seems to notice Ted.  The boy taps on the glass and moves his finger around as if Ted were a fish.

Ted’s chair slowly floats him up to the top of his tank.

Beneath where he had landed, through the glass base of the aquarium, we see the name “Krulo Enterprises” is etched into the ground.

As Ted surfaces, his cell phone begins to ring.  Ted finally snaps out of his state of shock, removes his enormous headphones, and takes the call.

                Hello?  Ted here.

                Ted!  How ya doin’, old buddy?


Joe?  Joe is that you?  Joe, I was just thrown out of an airplane.  I think I’m hurt.  I’m floating in an aquarium at . . .



That’s great, Ted, wonderful.  Glad to hear you’re still up and kicking ‘em down, you old rascal.


Joe, send the car to . . .



Sure thing Ted, you bet.  Just have to sort out one little problem we’re having here at the big H Q, buddy.


I’m afraid your old man went and died on us.