RIGHT HAND MEN is the story of Kyle Merideth and Nelson Furbisch, two young men who work as secretaries to J. Austin Hardcastle, a Howard Hughes-type recluse. Hardcastle is very attached to Kyle... and tolerates Nelson, who is a constant schemer and smartass. When Hardcastle's incompetent nephew Palmer Harrison makes a bid to wrest control of the company away from the old man, Hardcastle and Kyle secretly begin plans to take the company public so that Palmer cannot own a majority stake. Palmer has also hired a henpecked paparazzi (Frankie) to snap incriminating photos of his uncle in an attempt to blackmail him into relinquishing control. All is going well, until one night...

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INT. HARDCASTLE'S OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT

It's after hours, and the lights in the office have been dimmed. Kyle and Nelson step in, weaving slightly from the effects of the liquor.

NELSON
So - you want to hear the best part
about getting promoted?

KYLE
Let me guess... now you'll have a
secretary to organize all the betting pools.

NELSON
Nope. It's the women. They love men
with power. Hell, I love men with power,
so you can imagine how hot it makes women.

Kyle laughs, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket. He gives a piece to Nelson.

KYLE
Here. Get rid of our beer breath.
You know how he gets.

INT. HARDCASTLE'S OFFICE

The door opens, Kyle and Nelson stepping inside. Trying to maintain, they walk as though taking a drunk test on the highway. Hardcastle sits behind his desk, slumped in his wheelchair, asleep. A copy of the 'Wall Street Journal' in his hands.

NELSON
(whispering)
You have to put him in his pajamas tonight.

KYLE
No way! It's your turn tonight.

NELSON
Come on, I took him to the bathroom
six times today. Give me a break.

KYLE
Okay, okay...
(steps to Hardcastle, shaking him gently)
Mr. Hardcastle? Time to wake up
and go to bed, sir.

Hardcastle doesn't stir. Kyle sighs, glancing up at Nelson.

NELSON
Poke him.

KYLE
I'm not going to poke him.

NELSON
It worked before.

KYLE
Sir? Time to get up, sir...

Kyle shakes Hardcastle harder - the old man's head rolling limply to one side. Kyle and Nelson both jump back in shock, Kyle wiping his hands reflexively on his pants.

KYLE
Oh no!

NELSON
Oh shit!

Hurrying forward, Kyle drags Hardcastle's limp body out of the wheelchair, laying him gently on the floor. He begins a crude attempt at C.P.R., looking to Nelson anxiously.

KYLE
Give me a hand, would you?

NELSON
What do I do? Try to scare him?

KYLE
Try mouth-to-mouth or something.

Nelson kneels uncertainly over Hardcastle, pinching the old man's nose and breathing into his mouth.

EXT. P.O.V. - THROUGH CAMERA LENS

We watch through the window as Kyle pounds desperately on Hardcastle's chest while Nelson administers mouth-to-mouth. In the background we can hear Frankie speaking to Bobbi through the bathroom door.

FRANKIE (o.s.)
I swear honey, just a couple more days.
The old guy's bound to do something flaky.
I'll snap the picture, collect the check and
we'll take off to Bermuda. How's that sound?

BOBBI (o.s.)
You're sure it'll only be a couple of days?

FRANKIE (o.s.)
Positive. Old eagle eyes here never misses
his chance. Now will you come out of
the bathroom?

INT. HARDCASTLE'S OFFICE

Bent over Hardcastle, Nelson suddenly looks up at Kyle, concerned.

NELSON
Wait a second - what if he's contagious?

KYLE
Is anything happening?

NELSON
Yeah, I'm about to throw up. I don't
think this is going to work.

KYLE
(desperate)
Maybe if we walk him around the room
he'll snap out of it...

Nelson takes Kyle's hands from Hardcastle's chest.

NELSON
Forget it, Kyle. He's dead. His lips
are cold. I haven't felt anything like
it since I was married.

Kyle stands, only to drop into the nearest chair, staring at Hardcastle's body in disbelief.

KYLE
This is crazy. I've never found anybody
dead before. Shouldn't we throw a blanket
over him or something?

In a state of shock, Nelson moves to the windows, drawing the curtains out of habit.

NELSON
He's not the only thing dead here.
Our careers are dead, too. He was the
only one who could okay our promotions.

KYLE
That's a shitty thing to say.

NELSON
It's shitty, but it's true. When
Harrison finds out about this he's going
to fire our heads so fast it'll make
your butt spin... or something like that.

Kyle ignores Nelson, muttering to himself.

KYLE
I guess we should call the coroner...

Nelson suddenly brightens, speaking excitedly.

NELSON
Hey! Why do we have to call anyone?
We're the only ones who know about this.

KYLE
Which is why we have to call someone.

NELSON
No, what if we don't tell anyone? People
don't ever see him, he never goes out in
public, we're the ones who do most of the
dirty work for him - who's to know?

Kyle stands, looking to Nelson in disgust.

KYLE
I hope you're still drunk, Nelson,
because that's the creepiest thing
I've ever heard.

NELSON
(defensive)
What's creepy about wanting to fulfill
a dead man's last wish?

KYLE
(wary)
What're you talking about?

NELSON
He spent his last days doing everything
he could to make sure this company wouldn't
be taken over by Harrison. And that's just
what's going to happen once it gets out
that he's dead.

Kyle laughs, shaking his head numbly.

KYLE
That's pretty weak, Nelson. And besides
that, it's highly illegal.

NELSON
Hey, I'm a businessman, I'm not interested
in what's legal and what's not. When
Hardcastle was alive he was willing to make
a sacrifice to save this company. Now that
he's dead we have to make a sacrifice to see to
it his legacy doesn't die.

Kneeling by Hardcastle's body, Nelson gently strokes the old man's hair.

NELSON (cont.)
He trusted you, Kyle. He even said you could
run the business better than Harrison. He even
talked about adopting you, for chrissake.

Nelson stands, noticing that the palm of his hand is covered with the spray used to cover Hardcastle's bald spot. Sighing, Kyle stares at Hardcastle's body sadly.

KYLE
There's no way, Nelson. It's not like
we're dealing with some faceless hermit
here. He's a famous man - the richest man
in the country. He can't just disappear.

NELSON
How long can it take to go public? Most
of the paperwork's already done. What're
we talking about, a couple days, a week?

KYLE
Two weeks. Minimum. I talked to the
lawyers this afternoon.

Nelson frowns, glancing around the room thoughtfully. His eyes fall on the hunting trophies hanging on the walls.

NELSON
I think I have an idea...

                                                    CUT TO:
INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT

Nelson tries to force Hardcastle into the back seat of his Volkswagen as Kyle finishes tying the wheelchair to the roof. Stepping back, he watches Nelson wrestle with the body.

KYLE
Maybe we shouldn't be putting him in the
back seat. It doesn't seem right.

NELSON
(impatiently)
So what do you want me to do? If
we cram him in the hatch he might
stiffen up that way.

KYLE
No, I mean maybe I should ride in
back and let him have the front. To
show some respect.

NELSON
We're showing respect. We put him in
his best suit, didn't we? Give me a hand,
I think he's caught on something.

Kyle moves to help Nelson as we...

                                                    CUT TO:
EXT. L.A. FREEWAY - NIGHT

Nelson's VW. speeds down the freeway, looking anything but inconspicuous with Hardcastle's wheelchair tied to the roof.

INT. VOLKSWAGEN

Nelson drives, Kyle riding shotgun. Hardcastle is wedged awkwardly into the back seat, dark glasses covering his eyes. Nelson hits the brakes, causing the body to lurch forward - head resting on Kyle's shoulder. Letting out a scream, Kyle pushes Hardcastle back into place, shuddering miserably as we...

                                                    CUT TO:
EXT. DOWNTOWN OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

Nelson's car is parked outside a run-down office building.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - STAIRWELL

Kyle and Nelson struggle to get Hardcastle and his wheelchair up the narrow stairwell. Nelson pulls on the handles at the top, while Kyle pushes from the bottom.

KYLE
Do me a favor - if I have a heart attack
just bury me, okay?

They reach the top of the stairs, panting as they lean on the wheelchair. Nelson cries out, slapping his forehead in disgust.

NELSON
Oh, crap!

KYLE
What? What's wrong?

NELSON
I just realized - I won the 'When-Will-
Hardcastle-Kick-the-Bucket' pool and I
can't tell anyone!

Kyle glares at Nelson.

KYLE
Where is it?

Nelson looks around, pointing to a door with the words 'EDWIN NORMAN - TAXIDERMIST TO THE STARS' painted on the frosted glass window.

INT. EDWIN'S OFFICE

Kyle and Nelson wheel Hardcastle into the empty office. The room is decorated with every example of the taxidermist's art imaginable, the most impressive piece a moose head hanging on the wall behind the reception desk.

KYLE
You think he's out?

NELSON
The door was open...

Nelson reaches out, ringing the bell on the desk. He and Kyle jump back as the moose head on the wall comes to life - ears wiggling, eyes blinking, and speaking in a slow, dopey voice.

MOOSE-HEAD
Howdy, friends! Welcome to the studio of
Edwin Norman, 'Taxidermist to the Stars'.
We're open 24 hours a day to serve all your
post-mortem needs. If you'll have a seat,
Mr. Norman will be with you in a moment.

The moose head lets out a 'Hyuk' as it runs down. Kyle seems doubtful.

KYLE
I still can't help but feel we're
exceeding our authority somehow.

NELSON
Come on, it's not like we're selling
drugs or something. Think about it. The
most influential men of all time have been
stuffed - King Tut, Lenin, Mao,
L. Ron Hubbard...

KYLE
L. Ron Hubbard?

NELSON
The guy who wrote 'Dianetics'. He's still
updating it even though he's been dead for
years. Have I ever told you how 'Dianetics'
changed my life... ?

Kyle and Nelson look up as Edwin steps through a door behind the desk, surprised to see his three guests. He moves forward eagerly, wiping his hands on a towel and sniffing his fingers before shaking Kyle and Nelson's hands.

EDWIN
Well, hello! I usually don't get much
business this time of night. Just kids
playing pranks or stealing prosthetics.
What a nice surprise.

Kyle and Nelson frown, sniffing their fingers as Edwin extends his hand to Hardcastle, who obviously doesn't respond.

NELSON
We've got another surprise for you.

Kneeling, Edwin takes Hardcastle's hand sadly.

EDWIN
Oh my. When did this happen?

KYLE
We found him about an hour ago.

EDWIN
I'm sorry to hear it. He was a great man.

KYLE
(nods solemnly)
A good boss.

NELSON
A snappy dresser...

EDWIN
Why did you bring him here?

Nelson shifts uneasily. The moment of truth has arrived.

NELSON
We want to hire you. To... preserve him.

Standing, Edwin places his hand on Hardcastle's shoulder. He seems puzzled.

EDWIN
How did you know?

KYLE
How did we know what?

EDWIN
When Austin and I were on safari in Kenya
in '72 he became very ill. He made me
promise that when his time came I'd take
care of him.

KYLE
(shocked)
He did?

Edwin begins pinching Hardcastle's cheeks, checking the tightness of the skin.

EDWIN
He always admired the quiet power and
dignity of preserved animals. The noble
moose, the ferocious tiger...

NELSON
(excited)
L. Ron Hubbard!

EDWIN
Exactly. I think we should stuff all our
great leaders. Presidents, scientists, artists,
sports figures, newscasters. That's strictly a
professional opinion, of course.

Kyle looks to Hardcastle apprehensively.

KYLE
How long will it take?

EDWIN
This is a big job. I don't normally carry
human accessories. It takes a few days to
order them from back east...

NELSON
Can't you improvise or something? We could
be in an awkward situation here.

Edwin thinks it over for a moment.

EDWIN
Coffee's brewing. You might as well make
yourselves comfortable, it's going to be a
long night.

Edwin pushes Hardcastle through the door to his workshop, Kyle and Nelson staring after him.

KYLE
(frowns)
The more I sober up the more impossible
this seems.

Nelson steps to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup.

NELSON
What do you mean? Things are going great.

Through the window in the workshop door we see Edwin arranging and examining a tray of surgical tools and human prosthetics.

KYLE
Great, huh? We find our boss dead,
don't tell anyone, then get him
stuffed so we can run the business.
This isn't your traditional Horatio
Alger story.

NELSON
(shrugs)
Times change. Besides, you act like
we're doing this for ourselves. We're
saving the business, remember?

Kyle sits at the desk, head in his hands.

KYLE
This situation never came up in
ethics class...

They look up as Edwin steps into the room, opening a pizza box on his desk and removing a nasty looking cutting tool.

EDWIN
Here it is...

Edwin moves back into his workshop, closing the door behind him. Nelson looks to Kyle patiently.

NELSON
What else can we do? Even a dead Hardcastle
can run things better than a live Palmer
Harrison. It's ideal. Hardcastle is now
the perfect businessman - no brain, no soul,
no conscience.

KYLE
This is beginning to sound like 'The Wizard
of Oz'. Who, I might add, got caught trying
this sort of thing.

Edwin moves past the workshop door, lugging a stiffened Hardcastle over his shoulder. He draws the shade as Nelson sits on the edge of the desk, not noticing.

NELSON
He got sloppy, he didn't use good
business sense. Anyway, it's a little
late for debates.

Kyle grimaces as the whine of a cutting tool starts in the next room.

                                                    DISSOLVE TO:
INT. EDWIN'S OFFICE - DAY

The first rays of sunlight are beginning to peek through the blinds. Nelson is asleep on the couch, clutching one of Edwin's stuffed owls as though it were a teddy bear. Wide-eyed, Kyle stands at the coffee maker, pouring the last drops from the pot into his cup. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked - it's obvious Kyle hasn't slept a wink. He jumps as Nelson suddenly bolts upright, awakening with a yell.

KYLE
What's the matter? Are you okay?

Nelson shakes his head, tossing the owl aside in revulsion.

NELSON
Oh, man - I just had the weirdest
dream. I dreamt Edwin did Hardcastle
and made him wear a tutu like those
stuffed toads in Tijuana.
(rubs eyes tiredly)
What time is it?

KYLE
It's almost six.

NELSON
Haven't you slept?

KYLE
Ten mugs of beer topped off by
fifteen cups of coffee - I may
never sleep again.

NELSON
Good thing. You'd probably wet the
bed and drown yourself.

Kyle and Nelson turn as the door to the workshop opens, Edwin wheeling Hardcastle into the room. The old man looks great - his cheeks are rosy, his posture straight, he's even got a slight grin on his face.

KYLE
Is he... ?

EDWIN
(proudly)
He's all done.

Kyle and Nelson can only stare at the body, impressed.

NELSON
God, Edwin. He's... beautiful. He
looks more alive than when he was alive.

KYLE
That'll give us away for sure.

Edwin leans over the body, picking and preening, adjusting Hardcastle's clothing.

EDWIN
It was a challenge doing it without
all the right parts. Had to take
a few shortcuts I normally wouldn't,
but that can't be helped. Also...

Edwin hands Nelson a spray bottle full of pink liquid.

EDWIN (cont.)
... spray him with this once a day.
It'll keep his skin soft and supple.
And try to keep him in a cool place.
As a matter of fact, if you know
anyone who owns a meat locker...

Nelson moves to shake Edwin's hand.

NELSON
Another great job, Edwin. How much
do we owe you?

EDWIN
Owe me?

NELSON
Well, yeah. You put in a lot
of work here.

Edwin seems genuinely offended.

EDWIN
That's not the point. I did this
out of love and respect. Working
on Mr. Hardcastle was an honor
that could only be tainted by
accepting money.

NELSON
I'm sorry, Edwin. I just wanted to
show our appreciation...

EDWIN
Actually, there is something you
could do. I publish a small taxidermy
magazine, and any donation would be a
great help.

Smiling generously, Nelson takes out his checkbook.

NELSON
How much is a subscription?

EDWIN
A hundred thousand dollars.

Laughing weakly, Nelson sniffs his fingers, Edwin flashing a cunning grin as we...

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As we CUT TO more post-mortem hi-jinx! Needless to say, the boys have to deal with taking the business public and keeping Hardcastle's death from the public. Wacky fun a-plenty.

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