Scene: Frank vs. The Ocean (“Drowning is Just a Suggestion”)
Setting:
A windswept pier. Seagulls screech overhead. The ocean churns menacingly, as though personally offended by what’s about to happen. A small crowd of bemused onlookers has gathered, drawn in by the spectacle of Frank, wearing nothing but speedos, goggles, and a smug sense of invincibility.
At the edge of the dock stand Mrs Warboys and Estelle, arms crossed.
Frank’s Grand Delusion:
FRANK: (stretching) You know what’s wrong with people today? No grit. No determination. No will to survive. Well, I’m gonna show them. If you believe in yourself, the ocean can’t stop you.
ESTELLE: (deadpan) I think it’s mostly the drowning that stops people.
MRS WARBOYS: (cheerfully oblivious) I read a story once about a man who tried this! They found him six days later in a fishing net. Marvellous effort.
FRANK: (rolling his shoulders) Look, I don’t need fancy "techniques" like "breathing" or "understanding currents." All I need is mental fortitude.
ESTELLE: (aside to Mrs Warboys) Five quid says we get a rescue helicopter within the hour.
MRS WARBOYS: (excited) Oh, I love gambling! Ten quid says a shark gets him first.
The Attempt:
Frank leaps off the dock with the grace of a falling wardrobe. SPLASH. He immediately starts flailing.
FRANK: (coughing) See?! I’m already defying the waves!
ESTELLE: (shouting) Frank, you’re just treading water badly.
FRANK: No, no! This is a strategic endurance phase. You don’t just charge across the Atlantic, you let the ocean respect you first.
A small wave slaps him in the face. He goes under for two alarming seconds before resurfacing, wild-eyed.
FRANK: (gasping) … It’s testing me.
The Spectacular Failure:
Frank begins “swimming”, which looks more like controlled drowning. Within ten minutes, he is already regretting everything.
MRS WARBOYS: (watching through binoculars) He’s going the wrong way.
ESTELLE: (deadpan) Maybe he’s aiming for the Caribbean.
Frank, now visibly panicked, realises that swimming requires actual skill. He waves frantically at the pier.
FRANK: (gasping for breath) UH— JUST CHECKING— HOW MUCH LONGER TILL I’M HALFWAY?!
ESTELLE: About 3,000 miles, Frank.
FRANK: (muttering) … Right. Good. Good. That’s… manageable.
Another wave slaps him. He goes under. Longer this time.
The crowd murmurs. Some start pulling out their phones.
The Inevitable Rescue:
A nearby lifeguard boat pulls up alongside Frank, whose determination has been replaced by blind terror.
LIFEGUARD: Sir, you need to get in the boat.
FRANK: (thrashing weakly) NO. (cough) This is a test of the human will.
LIFEGUARD: Yeah, well, the human will isn’t waterproof. Get in.
FRANK: (reluctantly hoisted aboard) I had it under control.
LIFEGUARD: You were swimming backwards.
FRANK: Tactical retreat.
Back on Land:
Frank shuffles back onto the pier, dripping wet, dignity shattered.
MRS WARBOYS: (happily) Oh dear. I suppose neither of us won the bet!
ESTELLE: (nodding sagely) No, but human stupidity won big today.
FRANK: (wrapping himself in a towel) I could have done it.
ESTELLE: (smirking) Oh, absolutely. Just a little more training, and you’ll almost drown much more efficiently next time.
The lifeguard boat speeds away. A small child in the crowd points at Frank and asks his mother:
CHILD: (innocently) Mummy, what’s natural selection?
MOTHER: (hurrying him away) Nothing you need to worry about, dear.
FADE TO BLACK.
