The following is an excerpt from a screenplay I'm working on, tentatively titled Cocoon 2: The Return . . . of Agnostic Front.
Scene One: A retirement home for aging crust-punks in Yonkers, New York. Members of old-school hardcore bands Urban Waste, Sheer Terror, S.O.D., The Icemen, and others sit around a table, playing cards.
Paul Bearer: Damn kids these days and their weak-ass punk rock. What do they know about hardcore?
Yucca Tap Room in Tempe
Agnostic Front are scheduled to perform on Wednesday, January 20.
Johnny Waste: Yeah, they don't know shit. Hell, we could teach 'em a thing or two, but they don't care about guys like us anymore.
Paul Bearer: I'd get out there and show 'em how we used to do it back in the day, but my back! My hip!
Billy Milano: Quit yer yappin' and deal them cards. Hardcore is a young man's game, and we're just tired, broken-down old men with green blobs where our tattoos used to be.
[Agnostic Front singer Roger Miret and guitarist Vinnie Stigma come bounding into the room, shouting and punching each other in the arms.]
Johnny Waste: Hey, what's with those guys? They're running around like they're 26 again!
Roger Miret: Shhh, don't tell anyone, but we found this pool down the road, and we went for a swim. There were these weird cocoon-like things at the bottom, and after a few minutes, we felt rejuvenated — full of energy, like we were kids again! Turns out there's this group of aliens using the lifeforce in the pool to keep the rest of their friends in the cocoons alive until they can get back home, wherever that is. They told us to keep it a secret, but I can trust you, right?
Paul Bearer: Wow?! That sounds great! Hey everyone, let's go!
Scene Two: The pool down the road. Everyone in the retirement home is diving and doing backflips into the water. Suddenly, two of the aliens burst into the pool.
Alien One: What's going on?! You stupid old punks have used up all the lifeforce in our pool! Roger, I thought I told you not to tell anyone!
Roger Miret: I'm sorry. I thought I could trust them . . .
Alien Two: Trust a crust-punk? Are you crazy?! Everyone, get out and leave! Now!
Scene Three: A parking lot across the street from the retirement home. A fleet of Ford Econoline vans sits there, each with its back doors open. All the punks from the home have hobbled over at the request of the aliens.
Alien One: We were mad at you, but we've had a change of heart.
Alien Two: We're leaving now, but you can come with us, if you choose, to tour the world. There's a van filled with gear for each of you and your bands. But you can never, ever come back. Now, who wants to go?
Johnny Waste: Ummm, I dunno if that's such a good idea . . .
Paul Bearer: My back! My hip!
Alien One: Oh, forget it, you whiny, cranky old farts. We're outta here.
Vinnie Stigma: Wait! We'll go! Agnostic Front will do it!
[As Agnostic Front heads toward one of the vans, Roger Miret's 7-year-old grandson, who'd come to the retirement home for a visit, runs over to the singer.]
Grandson: Grandpa, Grandpa! Don't go!
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Roger Miret: Listen to me, my boy. I'll miss you a lot. But we have to go — it's life on the road, where we'll never get sick, we'll never age, and we'll never die.
Alien Two: Uhhmmm, actually . . . You know that lifeforce stuff? Yeah, uhh, we ran out. Sorry. You'll probably be sick all the time, you'll age faster than everyone else, and you'll definitely die.
Roger Miret: Ah well, it beats staying here in this dump. Away we gooooooooooo!