Lost: If I Wrote The Finale…

…then the finale preview would look a little something like this:

EXT. BEACH – MORNING

CLOSE ON: Closed eye. Eye opens. Pull back.

It is the eye of EUGENE SPOBBINS, an accountant with an ill-fitting suit. His shoes are tattered. His face is scruffy.

A man-shaped SHADOW falls over him.

EUGENE

(recognition flickers)

You.

We never see this man again.

TEXT ON BLACK:

“THIS SUNDAY, THE BATTLE FOR GOOD AND EVIL BEGINS”

CUT TO:

EXT. JUNGLE – DAY

NOT LOCKE creeps through the jungle, whetting his knife on a piece of SUBMARINE PROPELLER.

BEN clings to his back. Like an evil YODA.

INT. THE TEMPLE – DAY

MILES and HURLEY bound through the ruined temple, the SMOKE MONSTER trailing them, the dark smoke coruscating with light.

INT. THE LOOKING GLASS STATION – DAY

JACK stands next to a hospital gurney. On the gurney lies the half-decomposed body of JOHN LOCKE.

Behind JACK: porthole windows, where the fish swim in the ocean beyond.

TEXT ON BLACK:

“ALLIANCES WILL BE TESTED”

CUT TO:

EXT. BEACH – EVENING

SAWYER and KATE stand in the crashing surf.

KATE has a revolver pointed at SAWYER. SAWYER holds a baby.

SAWYER

Listen to me, Frecklechest –

KATE

(sobbing)

Don’t make me do this!

SAWYER

Kate! The baby must be destroyed!

INT. SANTA ROSA MENTAL HEALTH INSTITUTE – NIGHT

HURLEY and DAVE circle one another in an otherwise empty rec room. On a table nearby, someone has constructed a FOUR-TOED STATUE out of, I dunno, macrame or some crap.

HURLEY

Dude.

DAVE

You’re never gonna steal that zeppelin, fat-ass. Forget it.

HURLEY

Dude!

EXT. JUNGLE – MORNING

DESMOND emerges from the fern fronds, beaten and abused. He’s smiling, and holding a rusted machete.

DESMOND

Brutha. It’s time we talk.

We see now he’s talking to SECOND DESMOND, in a suit, his hair slicked back, his skin bronzed with fake tanner.

SECOND DESMOND

(pulling a .38 snubnose)

Oh, I think I said enough already. Brutha.

CRACK, SHUDDER: The jungle foliage snaps and breaks as THIRD DESMOND, this one wearing a WWII private’s uniform, emerges.

THIRD DESMOND

(out of breath)

Hold up, brutha and brutha! Penny sends us a message from 1945!

He withdraws a small purple satchel. It’s moving.

TEXT ON BLACK:

“SECRETS WILL BE REVEALED”

CUT TO:

EXT. JUNGLE – DAY

CLOSE ON GROUND: We see golden paws padding along through the bamboo and spongy jungle floor.

Pan up: it’s VINCENT the YELLOW LAB. He wears an eyepatch.

A 2-YEAR-OLD VERSION OF WALT rides his back. WALT holds a small spear, it’s tip moistened with fresh blood.

INT. THE LOOKING GLASS STATION – NIGHT

JACK and SAWYER stand nose to nose, sneering.

SAWYER

(angry)

You went and did a hell of a thing, Doc. I oughta kill you right here.

JACK

It had to be done, James.

SAWYER growls. The two men KISS. Open mouth. Lots of tongue.

Behind them, ZOMBIE JOHN LOCKE lurches forward on the operating table.

INT. CONCERT HALL – NIGHT

Big audience gathers for a concert. Pan over crowd to see familiar faces: JACK and CLAIRE; SAWYER with his arm around MILES; HURLEY standing off to the side as an usher.

On the stage walks MR EKO and his brother YEMI, both in suits. Each holds his own Jesus Stick. EKO steps to the mic.

TEXT ON BLACK:

“AND THE FIT WILL HIT THE SHAN”

CUT TO:

INT. MR. CLUCK’S CHICKEN SHACK – AFTERNOON

ELOISE HAWKING works behind the counter of the Chicken Shack franchise. She looks up from counting quarters to see DESMOND standing at the counter with HURLEY.

DESMOND

I can help you with that, brutha.

DESMOND punches ELOISE HAWKING out. POW!

EXT. JUNGLE – NIGHT

BEN runs through the jungle, a bloody cut crusting across his forehead. He’s terrified, like this could be it for him.

He hits a dead end: the outer wall of the temple.

He spins around and confronts his pursuers:

TWO DOZEN WHITE RABBITS. Each with different numbers painted red onto their white fur. Their eyes glow in the darkness.

We HEAR, but do not see, BEN SCREAM.

INT. CONCERT HALL – NIGHT

MR EKO, still standing on stage, rips open his tuxedo and reveals a massive thermonuclear bomb.

He begins to sing: “AVE MARIA.”

EXT. BEACH – EVENING

HURLEY, dressed in orange Buddhist robes, swings a huge BANYON tree like a baseball bat. Fire erupts from his mouth.

EXT. JUNGLE – DAY

KATE’s body dances like a jerking puppet as gunshots perforate her body. A TOY AIRPLANE drops from her hand.

EXT. BEACH – MORNING

As the sun rises, MILES steps out of the churning surf. He smirks. Then, behind him rise the GHOSTS of all those who have ever died on the island. Finally, ZOMBIE JOHN LOCKE emerges from the water next to MILES and stands with him.

EXT. LIGHTHOUSE – EVENING

RAIN pours. The SMOKE MONSTER whirls about in ever tightening coils, trying to crush JACK in the middle.

VOICE (O.S.)

(booming)

Forget about somebody?

SMOKEY’s “face” turns to look:

It’s FRANK LAPIDUS. He’s half-man, half-helicopter. The chopper blades emerge from his back. His feet are copter rails. One of his arms is a GATLING GUN.

He and the SMOKE MONSTER clash. Everything explodes.

TEXT ON BLACK:

“LOST SEASON FINALE. MAY 23, 2010, 9:00 PM. ABC.”

CUT TO:

EXT. BEACH – DAY

CLOSE ON VINCENT’s face. With one paw he lifts up his eyepatch to show a ROBOTIC EYE telescoping, BZZT, BZZT.

Closer, closer, closer –

VINCENT

Guys. Where are we?

FADE TO BLACK

16 comments

  • Oh, and I may go ahead and live-blog the finale tonight. And it may involve alcohol.

    Anybody up for me doing that?

    Or is that just plain silly, because, y’know, you’ll all be fixed rapt to the television?

    — c.

  • You really don’t like Kate, do you?

    This would all work -except- you didn’t devote half the episode to Richard. And an episode without 38 minutes of Richard being an indecisive whiny douche is not an episode I would care to see.

    It’s good that we’ll finally see the Vincent storyline come full circle.

    • @Rick:

      No joke, I did that for you. I left Richard out *just* for you. That’s how much my beard loves you.

      I was going to have a scene where Richard was like, laser-inscribing his eyeliner. Under the “secrets” banner.

      But then I was like, “No. For Rick, Richard can just suck it. He’s already dead. Ol’ Smokey kilt his ass.”

      Also: I like Kate just fine, for the most part. As a character, she’s great, but it often feels like the writers don’t have a handle on her.

      — c.

  • You almost moved me to tears with that. What is love?

    I really liked Kate the first couple of seasons, and then exactly as you said, they seemed to have no clue what to do with her. Maggie actively wishes her imminent doom.

  • I dunno, I still want to see Lapidus emerge from the ocean like the mighty Nodens, complete with a trident. :P

    But Transformer Lapidus is great too!

    You should write more for Hollyweird. :D

  • Of course. How else will He know to touch me with His Noodley Appendage?

    Also, goddamn do I wish you’d written this show. Your version is so much better. Gonzo-Lost screams to be made.

    Noah

  • My first thought was, “Jesus, how much 50-year-old Scotch did he consume before writing this teaser script?” But given the hour of the morning, I decided scotch was very unlikely.

    So I contemplated crack, cocaine and psychedelic mushrooms. I ruminated on all the possible explanations for this post. Insanity, a gun to your head, a sudden and irrational violent loathing for your readers…

    Then I realized that my mind birthed EL POLLO DEMONICO, and I should really shut up before I made myself a hypocrite.

  • I’m game. Howzabout you figure out how to port your Twitter feed into blog form and go about it that way?
    That’s my plan, at least. But then I’ve driven for 3 hours up 95 today, consumer two tall daddy’s of Dogfish Head 90, so I’m well on my way.

    • I figure on keeping it out of Twitter, as I don’t want to pump a spoiler pollution into people’s Twitterstreams (or, Lost noise into the ears of people who don’t give a rat’s right nut about the show in the first place).

      But yeah. I got booze. I’ma live-blog this motherfucker. I don’t care who reads it. Screw it! Drunkenness! Geek TV! Two and a half hours! Eeeee!

      *vomits*

      — c.

  • Yes, do live-blog. You can also use the @ to aim Tweets at us finale-watchers, and it won’t generally pollute the whole Twitterstream… which means I could get more snarky up-to-the-minute joy, potentially. That really enriches my Lost experience, honestly. Your wife’s “Jacob and the cup” comment was fan-goddamned-tastic and needed at that moment.

    Also, I’m really proud of Jeff Fahey. The fantastic following of Lapidus must make him happy. He’s come a long way since “Lawnmower Man”.

    • @Amy:

      Could aim tweets that way — but ‘twould also be redundant given that I’d have to retype info back and forth. (Blog, then Twitter.)

      But I’ll still try to keep the blog up to the minute.

      That is, if my Internet connection holds out. It’s been yo-yoing all day.

      See also: my sobriety.

      — c.

  • “Kate! The baby must be destroyed!” – You really got me with that one, Wendig :)

    I’ll be too rapt to participate tonight (and watching it slightly time-shifted), but I’ll check back on Monday.

    –Dan

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