Chain story?

A friend of mine, who is a well-known author and screenwriter, swears by the chain story as both a fantastic exercise and as means to stretch the old creative brain muscles. Anyone up for giving it a try? I recommend a screenplay, because they are generally shorter. ;-) Remember, keep in mind the usual elements of the craft--structure, character, pacing, etc. And have fun!

I'll start...

FADE IN

INT. A BOWLING ALLEY--NIGHT
Not an especially nice once. If the regulars had someplace, anyplace, else to go, doubtless they’d be there. There is a blue collar, small town feel to the place. The Milwaukee’s Best beer is cheap, plentiful, and ice cold, and the décor was probably really nice back in the ‘70’s when the place was state of the art. More than a few of the regulars can remember that.

JASON TEGAUE, 30s, handsome, tired, drunk, is bowling with A GROUP OF EIGHT OF HIS FRIENDS--all close to his age, mostly male. Or rather, they are bowling. Jason sits off to the side, drinking. He finishes the beer in his plastic cup and refills it from the plastic pitcher. He frowns, sadly, seeing that the pitcher is empty. His eyes are red and bleary. It has been a few days seen his face has known the caress of a razor. He could use a shower and a fresh shirt.

JASON (V.O.)
Don’t believe what they tell
you. Drinking doesn’t make a broken heart feel better. It does, however, make you feel nothing. For a while, anyway. Sometimes, that’s good enough.

Jason holds up the empty pitcher and calls, plaintively, his speech slightly slurred.

JASON
I need another one of these.

CARL, one of his friends, takes the pitcher.

CARL
You’re better off without her, man. Bitch.

JASON
(Looks up, hopefully,
at Carl.)
What about the job?

Carl and wanders off toward the bar, answering as he goes.

CARL
Oh, you’re pretty much screwed there.

JASON
(Mutters)
Thanks.
(Calls after Carl)
You suck at this, Carl!

JASON (V.O.)
When you’re brokenhearted and lonely, real friends will take care of you. They’ll take you out. Somewhere nice. My friends, on the other hand, took me to Earl’s Bowling Palace. Why? Partly ‘cause they’re assholes, partly because it’s probably the best they could do.

SAM, another bowler, calls to Jason from the lane.

SAM
Jason, it’s your turn, dude!
(Beat)
Dude, you coming or what?

Jason doesn’t answer or react. He finishes the last of the beer in his cup and looks, sadly, at the empty plastic, as if hoping to find a drop or two that he missed.

SAM
(Gives up)
Asshole.

He goes back to bowling.

JASON
Carl! Where’s my beer?
(No answer)
Carl? Carl!

With a sigh, Jason stands and staggers toward the bowling alley bar. He enters the dim, disco-era lounge. The shag carpet is worn. Some of the letters in the beer neon signs have burned out, likely in decades long past. The disco ball projects its spots of light, but no longer turns.

JASON (V.O.)
When you’re brokenhearted, lonely, and drunk, take my advice. Stay the hell away from bowling alley bars, because that’s a romantic mistake just waiting to happen.

Jason looks around and sees MELODY sitting alone at a table against the far wall. She is attractive, around 30, dark-haired with narrow eyes. She smokes a cigarette, long and thin. Something about her suggests a classy woman trying to make herself look trashy.

Jason looks around, confused and disoriented. He seems to sense, in the recesses of his alcohol-soaked brain, that this isn’t the kind of woman who should be here. “Here” being Earl’s, or even the nearby area. Maybe even the state. As he stands, wondering what to do--should he approach her?-- the payphone on the wall RINGS. Jason turns and stares at it for a moment, uncertain what to do, or how to react.

JASON (V.O.)
When you’re brokenhearted, lonely, drunk, and about to make one hell of a romantic mistake in a bowling alley bar--and the pay phone starts ringing--for the love of God, whatever you do, don’t answer it!

Jason shakes his head, still dazed, and looks back and forth between the woman and the phone. He scratches his head, and for the first time seems to realize that he would be much better off sober. He turns, staggers gracelessly to the wall, and answers the phone.

JASON
Hello?

Your move. ;-)

MALE CALLER (O.C.)
Listen very carefully and don't react to anything I tell you.

JASON
'Kay.

MALE CALLER (O.C.)
This is Sergeant Westlake...I'm with the Rockville police department.

JASON
You're...what?

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
Don't react, Goddammit. Listen to me carefully.

JASON
Right, right.

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
Now, there's a women in the bar with you.

JASON
(drunkenly nonchalant)
Mm-hmm.

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
She's expecting a guy to pay her a visit. He ain't gonna make it. They were gonna talk about something. Something important.

JASON
Yeah. Mm-hmm.

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
Now, Mr. Whoever-you-are, I'm going to tell you something and I need you to be like ice water. You got that?

JASON
(giggles)
Ice, ice baby.

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
We need to know what they were going to talk about. You understand?

JASON
Um, listen, is this, like,...

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
You listen. A person's life is at stake and you're the only chance we've got. I need you to talk to that woman...

Jason looks over at Melody who takes a long slow drag on her cigarette as she looks Jason over, evaluating him. Never taking her eyes of him, she exhales the smoke slowly. She radiates sexuality.

JASON
Oh, way ahead of you on that score, chief.

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
I need you to make a deal with her.

JASON
(giggling)
I don't know if I have that much cash...

WESTLAKE (O.C.)
No, no! She's going to hire you. We're going to pretend you're the person she was going to meet.