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Scene: A Manhattan brownstone at 245 East 73rd Street between Park and Madison. Sarah Jessica Parker Wilson sits on his bed, typing at his Mac and sneaking his sixth last cigarette of the night.

We hear his voice reading the words he is typing on screen.

SJPW: But what if, in the rush to find love, we have forgotten sex somewhere in all the rush? And is there enough sex in our love, and enough sex in our love? And where do both fit with the urge to have sex while you're in love with someone else? And when facing a zone blitz, what the fuck do I do? And the sex? What of the sex?

The phone rings. BRODIE CROYLE is on the line.

SJPW: Hello?

Brodie: What's up bitch? ARE YOU WEARING SHOES?

SJPW: No, I'm just stuck on my column. But I love shoes!

Brodie: Then put on some EXPENSIVE SHOES and get down to the bar. First Cosmo's on me!

SJPW: You always know how to cheer me up.

Brodie: Whatever. And bring your vagina!

SJPW: See you in an hour

The scene changes to an expensive bar you would never go to unless you like whorish displays of wealth and hair gel. At a table sit SJPW, BRODIE CROYLE, PAULETTE FINEBAUM, and Terrance Ann Cody.

Terrance Cody: I like sex!

Paulette Finebaum: I'm looking for love, not sex. There's more to life than just sex, you know.

Brodie: There's shoes AND sex, Paulette!


Brodie: How's the diet going, Terrence Ann?

Paulette: That's private, Brodie.


SJPW: You can talk about it if you like, Terrence Ann. It's your call.

TAC: I...I can't stop eating lineman.

Brodie: They are fatty.

SJPW: And delicious, if you know what I mean. RIGHT GIRLS!!!


A suave, diminutive gentleman in a trenchcoat approaches the table.

Mr. Big: Good evening. I'd like to show you something, ladies.

Brodie: Oh, I bet you do big man OH MY GOD---

TAC: I'm hungry.

Paulette: I'm disgusted by your lack of discretion, as I'm the only person in this series who knows their ass from a moral hole in the ground. Also, I have the best ass, by far, but am never seen naked for some cursed reason.

SJPW: Is that...covered in diamonds?

Mr. Big: Not many men can afford a codpiece this big, or need one, for that matter. Fewer still can afford to cover it in rubies and diamonds.

Brodie: Is that...

Mr. Big: An elephant pattern.

SJPW: Where's it's trunk?

Mr. Big: I can show you that later.



Scene: an abandoned parking lot in Hoover, Alabama.

SJPW: I've hit another predictable crisis where my complete lack of self-awareness and need for approval from any man, no matter how sad, has me walking the streets alone. Lacking acting chops, I will stare at the ground and purse my lips while wearing a five-thousand dollar dress.

A black limousine with Alabama tags pulls up. A window rolls down. Mr. Big smiles from the window.

Mr. Big: Hey, gorgeous. Need a ride?

SJPW: I...(she swoons. From lack of food.)

SJPW: How did you find me?

Mr. Big: I followed my heart...all the way to Hoover.

SJPW: You followed me to the Galleria? That's at least 50 miles. That's more than most Alabamians travel in their whole lives--

He puts a finger to her mouth.

Mr. Big: Shhhhh. Distance means nothing between you and me, JPW. I'll make sure you never have to think about anything ever again. Just like we've been doing all along.

SJPW: Run on almost every first down?

Mr. Big: Yes.

SJPW: Play-action? Screens? Simple stuff, right? Big, I can do the simple stuff. I can!

Mr. Big: Yes, baby. Yes, you can.

SJPW: I'm...I'm so glad you found me.

Mr. Big: Me, too, baby. Most quarterbacks actually want to do something.

SJPW: No, Big, no. I'm yours. Whatever you say, from now on. That's what I'll do. But what if it's too predictable?

Mr. Big: Predictable or not, baby, you can't stop unstoppable.

SJPW: You're right, Big. You're always right.

Big: Now let's go find that elephant trunk I told you so much about, huh?

SJPW: You naughty boy, you.

(They embrace.)