INT. GYM – WEIGHT ROOM – DAY
The clank of iron plates. ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER, in a tight-fitting sweatshirt, is meticulously loading a leg press machine.
Across from him, struggling to lift a modestly weighted barbell, is JCJ (JOSEPH CHRISTIAN JUKIC). He is a mountain of muscle that has settled into a valley of comfort. A significant, soft pot belly strains against his too-small workout shirt. His face is red with exertion and distress.
JCJ
(Grunting between reps)
…and you gotta believe me, Arnold. On my mother’s name, Nelly is not a pig. It’s a libel! A slander! Her current… amplitude… is a temporary situation. A hormonal thing. Very medical.
He drops the bar with a clatter, his own belly jiggling from the impact. He pats it ruefully.
JCJ
We’re both on a journey, you see? Mine’s just… further along. Hers is just beginning. But does the world see that? No!
Arnold grunts, sliding another 45-pound plate onto the machine with a definitive clang.
ARNOLD
The world sees what it wants to see. The journey is what matters.
JCJ
But they stand in our way! It’s the same story, all my life, Arnold. All my life! There is always some authority figure. A fun-wrecker. A joy-sheriff.
ARNOLD
Who this time? The landlord? The doctor?
JCJ
(Waving a dismiss, jelly-like hand)
Worse. A cabal. A whole network! It started with Sister Helen who said our shared enthusiasm for the church bake sale was “gluttonous.” Then Mr. T, the gym teacher, said we were “monopolizing the rope climb.” Monopolizing!
JCJ tries to pace, but it’s more of a waddle, his belly leading the way.
JCJ
Then her doctor—her own doctor!—says our dates to the all-you-can-eat buffet are “a shared death wish.” A death wish! I was being a supportive partner! Her parents said I was a “bad influence.” Our mutual friends staged an intervention… at a salad bar, Arnold! A salad bar! You know neither of us can get full on leaf lettuce!
Arnold stops what he’s doing. He turns and looks JCJ dead in the eye, his famous intensity focused on JCJ’s soft, desperate face.
ARNOLD
Joseph. Look at me. When I wanted to come to America, they said my body was too freakish. When I wanted to be in movies, they said my accent was a joke. They were doctors of doubt. Teachers of “no.” They were… authority figures.
JCJ nods, his chins wobbling, desperate for the wisdom.
JCJ
What did you do? How do we defeat the network? Look at me! I can barely defeat this gravity!
ARNOLD
You don’t defeat them on their terms. You win on yours. If you want to take this woman, Nelly, on a date… you look at the nun, the teacher, the doctor, the parents… and you say…
(Arnold drops his voice to its most iconic, gravelly whisper)
ARNOLD
“I’ll be back.“
JCJ freezes. A single, triumphant tear rolls down his cheek, cutting a path through the sweat. He looks down at his own belly, not with shame, but with newfound purpose.
JCJ
“I’ll be back.” …We’ll be back.
ARNOLD
(Nodding)
But first, you have to go. You go to her. You take her to the buffet. You get the fried shrimp, the prime rib, the ketogenic, paleo foods. You be the man she needs. The workouts can start tomorrow.
JCJ stands up as straight as his belly allows, his despair replaced with radiant, caloric purpose. He places a meaty hand on Arnold’s shoulder.
JCJ
Thank you, Arnold. You’ve freed me. The obstacle is the way! Our obesity is temporary, but brotherhood… brotherhood is forever.
He turns and waddles out of the gym with the determination of a Terminator who really loves pie, not even stopping to pick up his water bottle.
Arnold watches him go. He looks down at the fully loaded leg press, then down at his own impossibly flat stomach.
ARNOLD
(To himself, utterly sincere)
It is good to have a goal.
He sits down at the machine and begins his set, the weight moving effortlessly.
FADE OUT.
