“Breakfast of Champions”

OK let me pitch a movie: “Breakfast of Champions”


It’s about a guy who works seven days a week, 5AM-2PM. Every single day at lunch, he goes to the same cafe and tries to order a burger.


“Sir, we’re only serving breakfast right now.”


This happens for years. One day, he gets fired from his job (for a crime he didn’t commit?) and goes to the cafe.


“I want a burger, please.”

“Sir, we’re only serving breakfast right now.”


He knocks all the silverware/condiments off the table in a fit of rage.




The waiter smirks, leans in, and whispers:


“Prove it.”


Quick shots of the man hurriedly filling his grocery cart, not even stopping to pay, but throwing more than enough cash at the register. An upward shot of a door opening into darkness, a basement door. Followed by all kinds of packaged food being spread across a workbench. Dozens of horrifying, failed breakfast abortions are created and destroyed, interspersed with reaction shots of frustration and disgust. But he’s getting closer. Driven. Determined. Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” swells in the background as he get closer. It hits its peak as he stares, crazed smile on his face, as a cheeseburger with an egg sits on the desk. It’s just crazy enough to work.


He takes a bite, hesitating to confront the power he has summoned. Tight shot on his eyes, morphing from a glare of fear, to enlightenment. Fade to black.


Establishing shot of Norway, 30 years later as he gets ready to accept his Nobel Peace Prize for Burgistry. As he paces back and forth behind the stage curtain, his name is called. He walks towards the stage, fade to epilogue:



Credits roll, Glenn Frey’s “The Heat is On” plays.