Bad Hair Day

bad hair day.png


“Late to work and in a hurry, a completely ordinary young woman has a nagging suspicion something extraordinary is happening around her.”


As a completely ordinary and disheveled young woman walks to her completely boring job at a call center, she passes through multiple times lines. Each of these time lines is similar, but all have different outcomes. At the end of her journey, all she retains is a vague suspicion something extraordinary may have happened in her dull and uneventful life.

Bad Hair Day is actually a less expensive re-write of my Time Lines which was dripping car crashes, shoot outs and expensive FX. The original version was optioned several times, but then reluctantly abandoned due to its BIG budget requirements.

The lesson learned in this (5) page short? Keep it inexpensive and easy does it on the FX…Especially in a short-short.

Here’s the script and enjoy the read!

Bad Hair Day V3

© Copyright 2017 | John Hunter |





“A drug and alcohol addled homeless man living on the streets gets a once in lifetime opportunity to give back to the community.”


This is a dark, (6) page, low budget, horror short with minimum sets, small cast, no slashing and no FX.



© Copyright 2018 | John Hunter |


Above the Maze


Everyone has to be somewhere, doing something all the time. The obvious caveat being IF you’re alive, on this side of the grass and not taking a dirt nap.

The slacker, gamer, politician, salaryman, narcissist, thot, incel and housewife, all find ways to fill their time and push back the great unknown.

From birth, we are raised within “realities” complete with norms, cultures, belief systems, goals and expectations. Most never imagine there are other ways to live our lives. At best, some may recognize others as foreign or different, but only in terms of, “They’re different from us and we’re not like them.”

Some realities are more attractive than others. Some are restrictive, others offer more so-called personal freedom, but without exception, most offer an array of activities designed to give our lives structure and purpose. Without purpose, what would we do with our time? How would we be able to gauge our level of satisfaction, success or failure?

So many things to do and so little time. What to do? Well, you could join a Jihad, toil your life away to enable another, become a writer, SJW or live on social media – The possibilities are endless. Readily available to most is a cornucopia of compartmentalized, self-sustaining, mini-realities to fully absorb your every waking hours and torment your dreams. Enough to keep us from ever looking up.

Without being judgmental, entanglement in one of these boxes is our birthright – It’s inevitable – Good enough for everyone that came before us and those to follow. These realities engulf us from the moment we take our first breath of life and end only with our deaths.

Now for a moment let’s imagine at some point in your journey through life, you were able to climb up above your section of the maze to gain a different perspective.

From an elevated vantage point above your maze, you might see what people like Elon Musk and others have described as a simulation, but not just one…A gaggle of them.

Beyond our own personalized simulations, it is suggested there is a hidden, and unseen base reality. Something completely different from the everyday world we live in.

For me, this is the exciting part. What would this ‘other place’ look like? And what is the purpose and function of the beings or people who run this unseen base reality? Do they dismiss us as inferiors or envy us?

© 2019 Copyright | John Hunter |

The Lean Times


This is the pilot for the Lean Times Series, a collection of interrelated stories which uses an apocalyptic event as a common time reference. My award winning Baby Soup which won the 2013 Florida Independent Filmmakers Contest is one of the stories in this series. A complete series outline and other episodic content is available. This series needs a good home. Let’s talk.


A paranoid delusional homeless man accurately predicts an apocalyptic event which nearly wipes out humanity and ushers in a dangerous new reality.


A paranoid delusional homeless man accurately predicts an apocalyptic event which nearly wipes out all of humanity. The event throws the Earth off of its axis enough to radically change the weather. Those lucky(?) enough to survive the Event find themselves in a much colder world with dark skies. There is no law, order, power, grocery stores or modern conveniences of any kind – This new world is ruled by necessity, brutality and barter. As The Lean Times begin, a small potato is more valuable than a woman’s virtue and predation of the weak by the strong is commonplace.

Please enjoy the first pages of The Lean Times:

LEAN TIMES PILOT 14 pages v6

© Copyright 2016 | John Hunter |




This is my tribute to the overmedicated personalities on those wonderfully cheesy, high pressure TV Infomercials – The guys making all manner of outrageous claims in an effort to sell you products too good to be true.

In this (8) page short script, the fictional product being offered is a handheld device that allegedly does it all. Low budget, small cast, single location, minimal set, contains some green screen. 

Please enjoy BUY NOW! and thanks for the read.



© Copyright 2016 | John Hunter |

Lucid Dream


Warning: This story is not for those familiar with The Myth of Sisyphus in Greek Mythology, faint of heart or easily discouraged.

In a lucid dream, I imagined myself at the seaside. It was a beautiful day. Between me and the water’s edge was perhaps two hundred yards of sandy beach.

This beach extended both left and right as far as my eyes could see.

When I glanced down at my feet, it seemed the individual grains of sand on this beach were moving. I was transfixed in horror until I realized that each grain of sand was in fact an aspiring writer. 

The beach almost imperceivable seemed to sway or ripple as the multitude of tiny writers tried in vain to get my attention. 

A soft humming noise filled the air. Thinking the noise might be a swarm of insects about to attack me, I instinctively raised my hand to protect myself. I dropped my hands when I realized the noise was the unintelligible cries for attention coming up from the masses of writers at my feet. 

As the hopeful writers looked up at me, they waved their tiny little arms in the air and shouted,

“Hey, I’ve got something you just gotta read!”

My perceived threat level went to zero.

I shook my head and grinned when I considered what if all the hopes, dreams, unsolicited pixels and frustrations on this beach could be turned into fossil fuel…

The simple answer is the energy market would collapse. A tankful of premium gasoline would cost about five cents – Heck, they might even pay you to haul it off and burn it?

Completely unenlightened by my vision, I sat down and wrote this account.

Note: The graphic above depicts Sisyphus or Sisyphos who was the king of Ephyra (now known as Corinth). He was punished for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deceitfulness by being forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll down when it nears the top, repeating this action for eternity.

© 2019 | John Hunter |

Speed Trap

speed trap

As evidenced by old photographs, my maternal grandmother was once a very handsome woman in her youth. By the time I came along, she was a heavy set woman with a care worn face who kept her grey hair pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head.

She only attended school for three years, but this did not prevent her from becoming a wealthy woman way back when a dollar was still a dollar.

I can not remember ever seeing her dressed up. She wore nondescript inexpensive cotton dresses from a now defunct department store and carried a small plastic pop-open coin purse clutched in her hand – She never carried a handbag.

She had lived through the Great Depression and getting her to part with her money was not an easy task. Even so, I could sometimes talk her into giving me a few coins to buy a soda. On these rare occasions, she would root around in her coin purse and begrudgingly give me a few coins. These coins came with a painful look on her face as if she was giving me one or two of her vital internal organs.

During these times, it was common for small towns in south Georgia to stop and fine both real and alleged speeders. These places were called “speed traps.”

The most notoriously in our little part of the world was a small pulpwood town named Ludowici which we pronounced “lew-dah-witch-chee.” 

An outraged and embarrassed Lester Maddox, a former governor of Georgia, posted warning signs on the narrow two-lane road going into and out of this town. These signs did not stop the practice of fining the few motorist who did pass through.

On one lazy summer day, my grandmother was stopped for allegedly speeding in Ludowici.

For anyone familiar with the reality of the situation, the idea of her speeding was preposterous. She drove a pre-WW2 sedan with faded black paint and huge fenders. The car could not go faster than the speed limit even if it had it been shot out of a cannon.

When the arresting officer asked her to pay a fine, she broke down into tears and explained she was a poor widow woman with three children. She pleaded with the officer to let her go and told him she had no money.

The unsympathetic officer led her back to the station where she was to be held until someone paid her fine. On the way to the police station, she hid her money under the front seat in her car.

At the police station, my grandmother was threatened, yelled at and put in a cell. As the afternoon wore on, she produced more tears and made impassioned pleas for leniency, mercy and charity.

She insisted she simply could not pay a traffic fine and wept openly as she explained she did not even have enough money to buy the gasoline she needed to get back to her children in nearby Brunswick. As she wiped away tears, she told the police her children would be worried and certainly go without supper if she was not released and allowed to continue on her way.

Hours later and just before dark, the police finally let my grandmother go without paying a fine. They may have even given her a little money to help pay for the gasoline needed to make her trip home.

As a child, I enjoyed hearing stories about this hardy, self-sufficient and waggish old woman who was as clever as a fox and tight with her money. I only hope some of her DNA was passed on to me. 

© Copyright 2019 | John Hunter |

Surefire Storytelling Formula

cat w:fiddle

For aspiring scriptwriters everywhere seeking a surefire storytelling formula which is neither Save The Cat or The Hero’s Journey, I here offer the following as a guide:

   Hey diddle, diddle

   The cat played the fiddle

   The cow jumped over the moon

   The little dog laughed to see such fun

   And the dish ran away with the spoon

It’s tightly written, has an unapologetic opening, there’s a strong leading character, the storyline is non-derivative, loaded with interesting supporting roles and has a romantic B Story. 

What’s not to like?

One last word of caution – In the event you want to take your writing beyond the hobby stage, a well monied executive producer and a good agent not currently in rehab may also be helpful.

All the best and carry on.

© Copyright 2019 | John Hunter |

Bliss and Other Simulations



“An unhappy man seeks refuge in a vast and pristine virtual reality simulation.”


When I come up with an idea for a longer work, I sometimes make notes and write a short script. In this way, nothing is ever lost or forgotten. Perhaps a lazy man’s way to stick a pin in a promising premise, but hey, it’s what I do.

At some later date, all I then need do is add some pixels, convince Matt Damon to be the star, find some finance and POOF, I got a boffo feature!

In this instance, the inspiration for this (6) page sci-fi short-script-slash-feature comes from some THC (Tetrahydrocannabinol) influenced comments made by Elon Musk, a true visionary of our times. With 99% certainty, Mr Musk states life as we know it is most probably a simulation. He also mentions a Base Reality. 

Strangely, I have no memory of “my” base reality, so I made one up.

Please enjoy Bliss and Other Simulations, and as always, thanks for the read.


© Copyright 2018 | John Hunter |

Reality of Scriptwriting

rainbow pony

Scriptwriting is a brutal and highly speculative adventure. It will bruise your ego and doesn’t pay very well for most.

I’ve been actively, not passively, at it for perhaps 8-9 years and am truly grateful of the modest successes I have achieved. For me, the biggest payday to date has been the experience. 

It has been noted there are some 50,000 feature scripts registered each year and these have a shelf life of about 8 years. So on any given morning that means there are about 50,000 X 8 = 400,000 scripts begging to be read. Some of these are good, some are bad and most of them are awful.

If the reality of the situation and numbers bore you, there is a story about a little boy who opens the barn and shouts with delight when he sees a huge pile of manure,

“This is great! With all this shit in here, there just has to be a pony somewhere!”

So keep on slaying them pixels and all the best.

© Copyright 2019 | John Hunter |