SCENE: A quiet morning in San Francisco's Mission District. Slow zoom from sky on 21st and Valencia Street. Frame fix on Self Edge, a denim shop that has just opened for the morning. A small group of tech workers ride hoverboards across the frame from stage left, laughing amiably. Cut to interior of Self Edge.
INT: Self Edge San Francisco. Neat rows of dark denim hang from hooks all around the shop. A polished wooden table, stationed in the back left of the room, holds a MacBook and a credit card reader. Behind this table, a heavy denim curtain leads to the back of the shop. Directly opposite the table, at stage right, is a small changing room and full-length mirror. A steep staircase at front stage right leads upwards to a small, open second floor.
JASON enters from behind the curtain at back stage left and surveys the shop. He is alone, having just started his shift. For a moment, he stands in the center of the room, looking around proudly. Then he turns, walks behind the table, and slowly opens one of the table's wooden drawers. He withdraws a roll of measuring tape and shuts the drawer. JASON looks to the front of the shop again before walking back to the centre of the room, positioning himself in front of the dressing room mirror. He lifts one massive bicep and flexes in the mirror, then wraps the measuring tape around his bicep and flexes again, grinning to himself. JASON is in midst of repeating this on his other arm when the front door opens and YOUNG enters. JASON quickly hides the measuring tape and turns towards YOUNG, an innocent expression on his face.
YOUNG (amiably): Morning, Jason!
JASON (a bit surprised): Oh, uh, hey Young. ... A-aren't you supposed to be working in the afternoon?
YOUNG (taking off jacket, casually crossing room to lean against staircase): Nah, I'm taking today off—we had band practice for six hours yesterday and I'm pretty wiped.
JASON: Oh, I see. Well ... what's bringing you in so early? I haven't even fully opened the shop yet!
Slightly nervous, JASON moves back behind the table and pulls a book of CDs from a different drawer. The book is titled "UNKNOWN BAY AREA HARDCORE VOL. XXI". He pulls a CD at random and inserts it into the MacBook. As he does this, YOUNG begins speaking.
YOUNG: Well, I wanted to come in and give you some news—both good and bad.
JASON (looking through CD book): Shit ... uh, start with the bad, I guess.
YOUNG (sighing): I hate to have to tell you this, Jason, but ... you're cut from the modeling gig.
JASON looks up, wide-eyed. He is clearly taken aback.
YOUNG: Listen, I know that was your big dream ever since you started working here. It's just ... (trails off)
JASON: It's just what?
YOUNG (after a pause): It's just that some customers took issue with your body type. Like, a few big names.
JASON (nervous): Like Pharrell?
YOUNG: No, no ... listen, it doesn't matter who. All I know is that people didn't feel like you were accurately representing the fit of our clothes on our typical clientele.
JASON: Well, that's 'cause our clientele is mostly—
YOUNG: Yeah, I know ... (looks wistfully outside) ... scrawny people.
JASON (spitefully): Ever since people started riding those hoverboards, it's like nobody cares about their muscles anymore.
YOUNG: Well, most people don't seem to need them anymore. Unless it's to hail an Uber or lift a bottle of Soylent to their lips, most people seem perfectly able to get by never raising their arms above keyboard-level.
JASON and YOUNG are silent for a moment, both gazing out the window. A self-driving Tesla silently passes by the front window of the shop.
JASON: You know, you're right. It's not fair to our customer base that I'm the one modeling their clothes. (short pause) Well, thanks for breaking it to me, Young.
YOUNG: No problem. You wanna hear the good news?
YOUNG: Well, it's the same as the bad news ... You're cut!
JASON (confused): What do you mean?
YOUNG: I saw you measuring your bicep earlier ... Dude! Twenty-one centimeters?
JASON (sheepishly): Yeah ...
YOUNG: Congratulations! That's huge!
JASON: (sheepishly, smiling): Yeah ...
YOUNG crosses the room to where JASON is standing. They high-five and embrace warmly, then JASON lifts his bicep again for YOUNG to take a closer look.
YOUNG: Wow, twenty-one centimeters ... that's the same as the leg opening on my 47s...
JASON: Yeah, I'm pretty proud about it!
YOUNG (walking back to stairwell, picking up his jacket): It's amazing. Anyway, I'll catch you later, bro.
JASON: Yeah, see you at your show!
YOUNG exits through the front doors and turns left down the street. He narrowly misses being hit by someone flying up the sidewalk on a hoverboard, going the opposite direction.
JASON sighs and smiles, returning to the table at back stage left. He looks momentarily at the MacBook. Cut to over Jason's shoulder, where the Self Edge website is visible. An image of JASON stands proudly on the screen, modelling an olive green Lady White t-shirt. JASON lingers on this image for a moment, then closes the laptop and cranks up the hardcore CD on the store's speakers. He returns leisurely to the stool behind the table and folds his arms behind his head, leaning back against the wall.
JASON (to himself): Oh well, guess that was fun while it lasted.