Don’t cha wish your screenplay was this fre-aky?

Here’s my sister-in-law’s idea for a movie scene:

A youngish couple is attending a classical music concert (“ Mozart ,” she says, “because classical music sucks”). They’re among the younger listeners in the audience, and they’re being very careful to be quiet among the silver-hairs sitting around them.

Then, in the middle of one movement, the wife remembers something: her cell phone . Unlike in the movies, where an ad reminds you to turn your cell off, the concert had just started. And now there she is, with her purse tucked under her seat – and it’s still on.

Worse, her ring tone was about as far from Mozart as can be: It’s a pop song, one that was being used to sell a brand of beer .

Slowly, she reaches down and grabs hold of her bag. She pulls it up into her lap. She reaches inside and she begins to search for her phone. Her purse is full of empty gum wrappers and receipts and unpaid bills and loose change and pretty much every kind of thing that can make noise.

She can’t find the phone. Her husband begins to notice. He leans over, says, “What are you doing?” She turns to him, whispers, “Cell phone.” He grimaces, widens his eyes, whispers, “Hurry!”

Members sitting around them begin to look in their direction. She continues to search. And then, just as the music slows, stops, the phone …

“ Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?
Don’t cha?
Don’t cha?”