Funny Things Happen in Walteria

==Characters==
*Mr. Newman
*Ms. Golden (Main Character and Protagonist)
*Alexandros Martinez
*Elisa Martinez
*Christian Martinez
*Lorna Martinez (Villian)
==Story==
In this episode, each day, Amy Golden was going to take the rest of the afternoon off. The first night she came back to Redondo Union High when there was a robbery, she called the Martinez’s and told them that Redondo Bank got robbed. The next night when there was another robbery, Amy Golden called Martinez’s and told them that the Jewelry Store got robbed. The next days, when Amy Golden called the Martinez’s, there were no clues. 
Later, the Mr. Newman thought that Miss Golden was fired, although Lorna kidnapped her, and the Mr. Newman printed out the message Lorna faxed to him. The fax had characters cut out from magazines. Then, Martinez’s came to the Redondo Union High and read the fax, Alex read: I have Golden. Bring $100,000,000 in un-marked non-consecutive bills to Miss Golden's house. No Funny Stuff. Love, Lorna. 
Then, Martinez’s go to Amy Golden's house on 69, Yodelinda Valley Lane. When the enter Amy Golden's house, there was Amy Golden standing in place, and Lorna roped on a chair, with duct tape covering her mouth. Amy Golden tells the Martinez’s that what is important is that she's safe, and that they can send Lorna to jail. But the Martinez’s changed their mind to get Amy Golden and Lorna mixed into each other. First, Martinez’s grab Amy Golden, throw her to the sofa that is a lot of feet away, and then Miss Golden hits the sofa as the sofa falls backwards and gets up on her knees after being hit. Martinez’s say some things claiming her to be Lorna. Then, as the hands change from Miss Golden's skin to Lorna's skin, Christian rips Amy Golden's hair off and finally, Lorna appears. Then, Lorna jumps up and then she grabs Christian with her hair and sticks her with gel around her on one of Miss Golden's windows, making the Martinez’s her victims. Then, Elisa goes to Christian and tries to shred off the gel, and then Lorna uses her hair again to grab Elisa and put gel on her and then stick her on the window on Christian' right hand side. While Alex is trying to unrope the former Lorna, which could possibly be Miss Golden, Lorna warns Alex to stay away from her. Then, Lorna pulls out her make up pads, and throws them at Alex, who punches them away. Then, Alex tricks Lorna into doing better than that. Lorna locks Alex with her hair snakes and then sticks her on the window with the other two. Then, Miss Golden quickly goes over to Lorna and yells to her that she hasn't won yet. Then, Amy Golden pulls off the Lorna head, revealing herself, and then starts fighting Lorna. Lorna throws Miss Golden around causing her to break her own property. Then, Miss Golden becomes extremely mad, and does a super-attack on Lorna, and then they break through a window and splash into the pool. They fight under the water surface and after it was done, Miss Golden exits the pool. Then, Lorna reaches to the surface and her hair gets slacked down and becomes a lemon. Miss Golden grabs the vase, gets the flowers out of there, fills up the vase with water, and splashes the water on Martinez’s to free them. Then, Lorna exits the pool and becomes gets angrier. Lorna doesn't need her hair to beat the four of them. Then, Amy Golden's final idea was to buzz off all of Lorna's hair with a pair of scissors. Lorna tells Miss Golden NOT to do it, and Amy Golden buzzed it all off. 
Finally, Miss Golden returns to Redondo Union High. Amy Golden tells them where came up with $1,000,000 for the ransom. The Martinez’s tell her that it was not $1,000,000, and that it was the Mr. Newman's dirty laundry, which were the whites. Then, the Mr. Newman goes the Prison Area and tells them that the visiting hours are almost over. 
In the end, Amy Golden and the Martinez’s saved the day, and the Narrator classified them as "The Cuties of Redondo Union".
==Transcript==
(The exterior of Redondo Union High School. A couch in the Mr. Johm Newman’s office. Mr. John Newman walks into view, hops onto the couch, and pulls out a compact disc. Close-up of a record player turntable. The disc is set on this, and the needle is lowered. Pull back to show the player as an old victrola, the needle screeching and squeaking against the plastic. Pull back across the office; the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’ snaps his fingers to the “beat”. Ms. Amy Golden steps into view, her back to the camera; cut to in front of her, at the office door, and turn up from her feet. She has one hand on her hip. Back to the couch. She walks into view next to the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’, who is still snapping away.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Ooh, mama! (She sits down.) This techno music is dope!
 
(‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ produces a makeup case, takes out a lipstick, and touches herself up a bit; of course, we do not see the end result. She puts the case aside, then crosses her legs and clears her throat—softly at first, then louder, leaning toward him. He pays no attention.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: A glass of water’ll clear that right up. (She reaches past him o.c.)
 
(When she speaks, her voice takes on a low, seductive tone—an urbane Mae West, perhaps.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Let’s shut this off, shall we? (The squeaking CD stops.) Ahhh. (pulling him toward herself) Much better…don’t you think?
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Uh…sure. (Pause.) Amy?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Yes? (He tugs at his collar.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Is there something on your mind?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Oh, I’m so glad you asked. Could I take the rest of the afternoon off?
 
(This request startles him considerably. Close-up of him.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: The rest of the afternoon?! I don’t know, Amy! So much to do, so little time!
 
(She leans into view facing him, her hair blocking him from sight. We hear a big sloppy kiss being planted; she leans o.c., and he now has the print of her lips on his nose.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Okay. (Pull back.)
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (walking o.c.) Thank you, John. I’ll see you later. (The door slams o.c.)
 
(He stays on the couch; pull back across the office. The only sound is the ticking of a clock. Through the window, afternoon fades to night and the room darkens. After some moments, the door bursts open o.c. and ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ runs into view. Her come-hither air is replaced by total panic.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: JOHN!
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (slyly) Back for seconds, Amy?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: No, John. I’ve got to call the ‘‘‘Kids’’’! (Quick pan to the hotline; she picks it up and speaks into it.) ‘‘‘Kids’’’? Union Bank has just been robbed!
 
(On the end of this, the scene dissolves around her to the bank lobby. In front of her, the vault stands open and empty. The ‘‘‘Kids’’’ fly in, one by one, in time with the next three lines.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: No clues here.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Nothing over there.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: I couldn’t find anything either.
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Not one shred of evidence.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: That criminal was thorough.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: Very!
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (shaken) I was so afraid…I wish I could have called you sooner! (starting to cry) I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: It’s not your fault, ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Why don’t you go home now?
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Yes. Get some sleep. We’ll finish up here.
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Thank you, ‘‘‘Kids’’’. (walking o.c.) I will.
 
(Fade to black.)
 
(Fade in to the exterior of Redondo Union in the afternoon.)
 
Narrator: The very next afternoon…
 
(Inside, ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ enters the Mr. John Newman’s office and stops at his desk, leaning across it. The seductive tone has returned to her voice.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Hello, John. (Pan left to show him, working and not looking up.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Good day, Amy. How is every little—
 
(He looks up at her; his eye pops wide open, and he breaks his pencil. His perspective of her.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: —thing? (Back to him.) Heh—pencil go snap.
 
(Close-up of the broken pencil in his hand; she reaches into view and holds it with him.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (from o.c.) Here. Let me help you with that.
 
(She guides his hand to the electric pencil sharpener on his desk; pull back to show him babbling with his eye rolling up in his head—this is having quite an effect on him. When the machine stops, he sighs contentedly and looks in surprise at the pencil, now ground down to a nub.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Uh—Amy? Is there something on your mind?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Oh, I’m so glad you asked. Could I take the rest of the afternoon off?
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (slyly) The rest of the afternoon? I don’t know, Amy. So much to do—so little time?
 
(Again she leans into view, her hair blocking him from sight, and kisses him. When she leans away, he has another lip-print on his nose.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Okay. (Long shot of the office; he is alone at his desk.)
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (from o.c.) Thank you, John. (The door closes o.c.)
 
(Through the window, day fades into night as the clock’s ticking is heard. After a few moments, cut to ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ at the office door, where she has just burst in, again panicked.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: JOHN!
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: You know, we gotta stop meeting like this. (Cut to the hotline.)
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (from o.c.) No, John. (reaching into view, picking up phone) I’ve gotta call the ‘‘‘Kids’’’! (Cut to behind her; she speaks into the receiver.) The jewelry store has just been robbed!
 
(The scene dissolves around her to a store with a row of smashed display cases. The ‘‘‘Kids’’’ hover in front of her.)
 
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Man, not one stinking clue again!
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: It has to be the same criminal.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: But, lucky for us, ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ was around again too.
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (shaken) I don’t feel so lucky. (She starts to cry.)
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: You did everything you could, ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’. Why don’t you go home and rest?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Thank you. (walking o.c.) I will.
 
(Cut to the exterior of Redondo Union in the afternoon.)
 
Narrator: The next afternoon…
 
(Inside, ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ is in front of the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’’s desk, her back to the camera. She is heard planting several kisses; when she moves aside, he has lipstick all over his face.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: You can take off the whole week.
 
(Cut to the office door as it slams shut, then dissolve back to him, looking very much out of it. Dissolve to the sun in the afternoon sky, which becomes the moon at night, and back to the still-immobile ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’. Now ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ bursts in and picks up the hotline; around her, the scene dissolves to a hallway in the museum. All the artwork is gone. The ‘‘‘Kids’’’, hovering in front of her, shake their heads in bewilderment.)
 
(Cut to the exterior of Redondo Union in the afternoon.)
 
Narrator: The noon after…
 
(Inside, the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’ sprays cologne on himself, using an old-style atomizer. He straightens his bow tie and checks his breath, then folds his hands on the desk. Pull back to the ticking of the clock; once again day fades into night. Cut to his side of the desk and zoom in slightly on the door—which does not burst open this time. Close-up of him.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: She is so fired.
 
(A fax machine starts up o.c., and he turns his head in surprise. Cut to it, with a transmission coming in—the paper shows jagged rows of text—then to the exterior of the ‘‘‘Kids’’’’ house at night.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: (from inside house) Who could it be?
 
(Inside, ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ floats across the bedroom in midair as she continues; camera follows her over to her sisters in their beanbag chairs. She paces behind them. ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ is thinking very hard.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Who could be clever enough to not leave any trace of the crime?
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Maybe it was Vince.
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: No. It was too well planned out.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: True. How about Ridio?
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: No, too trivial.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: The Mills Gang?
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Juvie.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Oh, yeah.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: (blurting out) Robert Hernandez!
 
[Note: “Juvie” is slang for “juvenile hall,” where the Gang would most likely have ended up after their graffiti spree in “Slave the Day.”]
 
(The hotline buzzes, and ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ picks it up.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: What is it, ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’? (Excited talking on the other end.) What?
 
(Cut to behind the other two ‘‘‘Kids’’’. ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ has hung up the phone.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: ‘‘‘Kids’’’! New details have come to light. Redondo Union! On the double!
 
(They take off through the ceiling; quick cut to the exterior of Redondo Union as they approach, then to inside the office, the camera pointing at the door. It swings open, revealing the ‘‘‘Kids’’’. Side view of the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’ in an armchair by the fire, his head bowed. Long silence. Cut to a head-on view of him, the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ floating into view behind him, then to a close-up of them.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (from o.c., very dejected) It’s funny. I look back on a life of achievements. (Cut to behind him on one side.) Challenges met, opponents defeated, hurdles jumped. I have accomplished more than most men, without the use of my brain. Do you know what it is that makes a man, ‘‘‘Kids’’’?
‘‘‘Kids’’’: (uneasily) Uh… (Stay on them.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (from o.c.) Golden.
‘‘‘Kids’’’: What? (Behind him again.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Ms. Amy Golden. The brains behind the man. (sniffling) Are you surprised by my tears? Strong men also cry. (softer) Strong men…also cry. (holding up a sheet) I just received this fax.
 
(‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ looks at it, the other ‘‘‘Kids’’’ reading over her shoulders. Her perspective; it is the one that came in earlier. The message is composed of letters and words cut from magazines.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: (reading) “I have Golden. Bring one million in unmarked, non-consecutive bills to ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s house. No funny stuff. Love, Lorna.”
 
[Dialogue/animation goofs: The actual amount of money on the note is $100 million, and ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ is referred to as Miss.]
 
(Close-up of the ‘‘‘Kids’’’, still studying the note.)
 
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: (gasping) Lorna?!
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: That’s a bummer, man.
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Don’t worry, ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’. We’ll get your Golden back. Let’s roll! (They take off, crashing through the ceiling; the note floats to the ground.)
 
(Fade to black.)
 
(Fade in to the night sky and turn down to ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s house, seen from the street. A twisting path leads up to the structure—rather stark and angular in its plan, after the style of Frank Lloyd Wright. The mailbox/intercom speaker at street level shows her address as 69 Yodelinda Valley Lane. Cut to an overhead view of the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ flying over the area.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: There’s ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s home!
 
(They stop over the house, a swimming pool behind it. Close-up of them; ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ has a valise.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’! Scan the structure and locate Lorna.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: I’m on it.
 
(Her eyes glow green; cut to her perspective, panning across the house. The view is green, with outlines of the furniture visible—she is using her X-rays. Stop at one end, where two glowing figures are seen.)
 
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: I’m picking up two life forms in the north wing. (Cut to ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’.)
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: That’s them. (looking o.c.) ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’! You got that ransom? (Pan to her.)
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’, Roger—I mean, Roger, ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’. (Pull back.)
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Okay. Wing attack plan R. Let’s move in! (They do so.)
 
(Inside, the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ crash through the ceiling. ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ stands over Lorna at the end of the room.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Okay, Lorna. We’ve got your money. (‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ holds up the valise.) Now give us back— 
 
(Close-up of the two women. Lorna is tied to a chair, her head down.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: (from o.c.) ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (from o.c.) ‘‘‘Kids’’’! Thank goodness you’re here.
 
(Lorna raises her head; her eyes are wide, and a strip of tape covers her mouth. She makes muffled cries of panic. Pull back; the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ fly up, one by one, in time with the next three lines.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Whoa!
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: Holy cow!
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Dude!
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’, I thought you—and—she, but—and then—how—?
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’, ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Yeah!
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: ‘‘‘Kids’’’, ‘‘‘Kids’’’! The details are unimportant now. What is important is that I’m safe— (pointing o.c.) —and we can send this criminal to jail.
 
(Cut to Lorna, now sounding even more frantic through the tape, and back to her.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Look. It’s been a long day. So, if you don’t mind— (‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ flies up, taking her hand.)
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Oh, yes. Here, let me help you. Why don’t you take a seat?!
 
(She flings ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ the full length of the room. Lorna grunts in surprise as the woman slams into a couch, knocking it over. The ‘‘‘Kids’’’ fly up to survey the results of the strike; ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s hand reaches up from behind the couch, and she climbs up, groaning slightly.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: ‘‘‘Kids’’’…have you gone out of your heads?
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Don’t “‘‘‘Kids’’’” us, you impostor!
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’’: You expect us to believe that you happened to witness every crime?
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’’: And that you happened to be kidnapped?
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’’: And singlehandedly subdued Lorna?
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’’: Well, think again…’‘‘Lorna Martinez’’’!
 
(She grabs hold of ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s hair and rips it away. Now Lorna stands behind the overturned couch, her true face and writhing, overgrown hair exposed. She still wears ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s clothes, though. She leaps over the couch, snarls, and lashes out toward the ‘‘‘Kids’’’.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’’, ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’’: Look out!
 
(‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ is hit dead on. She screams as the strand carries her along; it slams her into the window, leaving her pinned under pink slime. She struggles to pull loose, but without success.)
 
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: Help! I’m stuck!
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: How do you like my new hair gel?
 
(‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’ flies to ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ and starts scraping at the goo that holds her.)
 
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: I got you, ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’!
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’! Look out!
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: (turning around) What? (Hair lashes into view and pushes her o.c. She grunts.)
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’: ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’!
 
(‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’ is yanked into and out of view, yelling in surprise, and finally plastered to the window next to ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’. She tries to free herself and fails.)
 
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: Sorry, ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’.
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: Two down, one to go. You ‘‘‘Kids’’’ stick around while I finish your sister!
 
(‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ is working on untying the captive.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: I’ve almost got it!
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (from o.c., pointing) You stay away from her!
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Make me! (Cut to Lorna.)
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: I’m glad you asked.
 
(She reaches into her suit jacket and pulls out two flat objects—perhaps pieces of armor plating she wore under her bra. She hurls these at ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’, who deflects them easily.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: You have to do better than that!
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: Merely a diversionary tactic. Look behind you!
 
(‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ does so and finds a lock of hair reared up next to her arm. She is grabbed and held fast, and her other limbs are seized as well. Cut to her perspective of Lorna from overhead.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: Try picking those locks!
 
(More hair snakes toward the camera, blacking out the screen for a moment. Fade in to show all three ‘‘‘Kids’’’ stuck to the window; the top of Lorna’s hair is visible at the bottom of the screen.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Sorry, guys.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’, ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: That’s okay, ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’. (Pull back to bring Lorna into view, facing them.)
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (sighing) This was too easy. (pacing) Now, my only dilemma is whether to finish you off quickly, or do it painfully slow. But that would be splitting hairs!
 
(She laughs madly, the fireplace casting a deranged glow over her.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (from o.c.) Not so fast, Lorna!
 
(Pull back; she stands across from Lorna, still wearing the latter’s clothes and face.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: You haven’t won yet!
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: You think you can beat me when your superheroes could not? Never!
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Oh, yeah?
 
(She pulls the face off. Just before it gives way, cut to behind her; that mass of curly red-orange hair erupts into view.)
 
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Try me!
 
(She throws the mask aside. Lorna catches her around the waist and lifts her into the air.)
 
‘‘‘Kids’’’: ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’!
 
(Lorna lashes out again; just before the strike connects, cut to the ‘‘‘Kids’’’.)
 
‘‘‘Kids’’’: (turning their heads) Ooh!
 
(Now ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ is slammed to the ground. Lorna stands over her, chuckling, but ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ reaches up to grab her by the hair and pull her down. She punches Lorna in the face a couple of times, but a kick to the chest propels her down the length of the room and into a spiral staircase. Lorna quickly grabs her and throws her into a shelf of knickknacks, then onto a small rug and up against the window where the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ are trapped. She slides slowly down o.c. She stands up, and the two face off again. Now ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ moves in, catching Lorna with a flying tackle. Cut to outside the house, at the edge of the pool; the windows are a very short distance away. After a moment, the two women crash through in a shower of glass. Freeze frame of them suspended in midair, tumbling toward the water. Now they sink slowly to the bottom of the pool. ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ swims for the surface, but ‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’ grabs her by the ankle and drags her down again. The two trade blows; the exchange ends with ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ delivering a kick to ‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’, who goes up for air after she recovers. Cut to the edge, just above water. A small patch begins to bubble, and ‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’ pokes her head up, gasping for air. She disappears under the water; from inside the pool, we see ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ directing a punch her way. She screams, her voice sounding very bubbly, and the screen flashes white. When it clears, ‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’ sinks to the bottom, unconscious, as ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’ watches. The latter swims up. She climbs out of the pool and staggers to the broken window. Gasping and coughing, she leans against the frame. Behind her, the water bubbles and Lorna once again pokes her head up. Now her hair is quite limp and soggy.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (deliberately) This isn’t over.
 
(She lashes out with a lock of hair, but it falls limply back over her face. She tries again, with the same result—her hair gel has been washed out. The venom and anger evaporate from her face.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (stammering) My hair! What happened to my hair? (splashing) YOU BROKE MY HAIR!! (also crying) My poor hair!
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (to herself) That’s it! (She snaps her fingers.)
 
(Inside, a vase is grabbed from a shelf and its flowers are tossed to the floor. Cut to the ‘‘‘Kids’’’; a splash of water is thrown onto them from o.c.—the water in the vase—and they break loose. ‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’ is first, then ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ and ‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’ at the same time. They float in front of ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: Thanks for getting us out of a hairy situation.
 
Cut to Lorna’s feet and turn up to her head on the next line. She is ready to go again.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: I don’t need my hair to beat you— (suddenly frightened) B-B-B…
 
(Her perspective of the four, shifting from one to the next. The three whose faces can be seen glare at her with unbridled fury.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (with mounting fear) Alex? Elisa? Christian?…Golden?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (pulling out scissors) Let’s finish this, shall we, ‘‘‘Kids’’’?
‘‘‘Kids’’’: Let’s! (Cut to ‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’.)
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: (pleading) No! Not that! (kneeling) Please! Anything but that!
 
(Close-up of the scissors snapping in ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’’s hand, then cut to the side of the pool perpendicular to the windows. Silhouettes of the five are seen inside. As Lorna cries out, pan across the pool away from the windows, putting the group out of view.)
 
‘‘‘Lorna Martinez’’: No! No! Please! No, stop! (We hear hair being snipped.) No, don’t! Don’t!…NOOOOOO!!
 
(Stop at the other end of the pool, the city skyline visible in the background. Cut to the exterior of Redondo Union in the afternoon.)
 
Narrator: And finally…
 
(Extreme close-up of the ‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’ in his office. He is ecstatic.)
 
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: Oh, my dear sweet Ms. Amy Golden! It’s so good to have you back! (Pull back; he is hugging her at about hip level.) I would have gladly paid fifty million dollars for your safe return!
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: That reminds me. ‘‘‘Kids’’’, where on earth did you come up with a million dollars for the ransom?
 
(They are in front of her. The valise ‘‘‘Christian Martinez’’ was carrying sits open on the floor.)
 
‘‘‘Alexandros Martinez’’’: It wasn’t really a million dollars.
‘‘‘Elisa Martinez’’’: It was the Mr. Newman’s dirty laundry.
‘‘‘Christian Martinez’'’: The whites! (He pulls a pair of underwear out of the valise.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (to ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’) Uh, speaking of dirty laundry—don’t you think we should let ’em in on our little secret, hmm?
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: (sighing wearily) For the last time, John, it was not me trying to seduce you. It was Lorna, dressed up like me.
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: (deflated) Oh. (perking up) Oh, well, in that case— (jumping down o.c.) —I’ll see you later. (Pull back; he crosses in front of the ‘‘‘Kids’’’ and walks o.c.)
‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden’’’: Where are you going? (Cut to him at the office door.)
‘‘‘Mr. John Newman’’’: To the prison. Visiting hours are almost over. Toodles!
 
(He shuts the door. The ‘‘‘Kids’’’ and ‘‘‘Ms. Amy Golden look after him, puzzled.)