SCENE #1:
”Season Two Debut”

[Setting: Pre-dawn diner off a rural highway. Camera over a stranger’s shoulder — coffee, newspaper, grease-smudged counter.

Headline:
LOCAL MUSICIAN LORENZO CHAMPION REMEMBERED
Sub-head:
“West Michigan native’s faith-rock single tops local chart posthumously.”

WAITRESS (refilling coffee):
You look just like that guy.

CUSTOMER:
Yeah. Poor bastard owed me money.

[He smooths the page, reads the pull-quote aloud to himself, as the waitress smiles and walks away]

CUSTOMER (reading softly):
“The one-time sports editor made a late-life leap into rock music under the moniker ‘Cheap Whiskey.’
Friends recall his kindness, his karaoke courage, and a small dog named Morgan.”

NEWSPAPER QUOTE FROM UNKNOWN RECORDING ARTIST:
“I saw him pace the floors and pray for grace. The songs he never shared could fill this place.
He wrote lullabies in backseat bars, and made peace with the parts you call scars.”

[CAMERA PAN → it’s Lorenzo himself, reading the paper, smirking.]

[He’s clearly been awake all night. He went out of his way for this — asked the driver to detour the tour bus off its route, overnighted the band just outside town, all so he could collect a handful of copies of The Grand River Ledger, the small West Michigan paper that had accidentally published his obituary.]

LORENZO (to himself):
They wrote my false obituary the way I might have wanted --
short, confused, and almost flattering.
(beat)
I guess I outlived the rough draft.

[He folds the paper. Outside, the tour bus idles — the first casino date still a few hours down the highway.]

LORENZO (reading):
”Champion’s legacy lives on in every heart he touched.”

LORENZO (muttering):
Guess I’d better make sure that’s true.

[Lorenzo pulls out his phone and Googles: “Alfred Nobel misprinted obituary.”]

CUTAWAY MONTAGE:

• Screenshot of Nobel headline: “Merchant of Death is Dead.”

• Lorenzo scribbling in his notebook:
  “Be known for creation, not combustion.”

• Outside, the tour van idles, Morgan’s head poking from the front seat.

LORENZO (dry):
So the rumor was right — somebody dies early in Season Two.
Just wasn’t the right body.
I guess the internet got half a spoiler.

[Lorenzo’s phone buzzes with a text from Clem, inside the bus.]
”The road awaits, Cheap Whiskey!”

[Camera lingers on the newspaper headline, then follows him to the tour bus, where he flips Morgan a half-strip of bacon.]

LORENZO:
Let’s make sure the next headline’s true.

Title: I’m Not Cheap Whiskey Anymore – Season 2

SCENE #2:
”Best Roommate Ever”

[Setting: The tour bus hums down the highway. Coffee sloshes. Guitar cases rattle softly. CLEM FARMER sits at the tiny table sorting receipts, methodical. LORENZO sprawls nearby, boots off, MORGAN curled beside him on the bench seat, chin on his thigh.]

CLEM:
You ever notice… bus life is basically forced roommates?

LORENZO (chuckles):
Yeah. Like college dorms, except everyone’s older, louder, and convinced they’re right.

[Morgan stretches, repositions herself with surgical precision, then settles again.]

CLEM:
I mean it. What actually makes a good roommate?

LORENZO:
Let’s see…
Doesn’t eat your food.
Doesn’t move your stuff.
Doesn’t narrate your emotional failures at 2 a.m.

[Morgan lets out a small approving huff.]

CLEM:
That’s a pretty low bar.

LORENZO:
Exactly.
(looks down at Morgan)
Which is why she’s undefeated.

CLEM (smiles):
She never complains, does she?

LORENZO:
Never snores.
Never borrows clothes.
Never tells me who I used to be.

[Morgan’s tail thumps once.]

CLEM:
Mood matters too.
If I ask my roomie: ‘How was your day?’ and you cross into your bedroom before even answering?
That’s not boundaries — that’s bullshit.

LORENZO:
Yeah, that means we’re not roommates.
We’re just two people who happen to share a fridge.
And maybe they’ve forgotten what a good roommate is.

CLEM:
So… best roommate you ever had?
Morgan?

LORENZO:
No contest.

[He absentmindedly scratches behind Morgan’s ear.]

LORENZO:
She’s twelve pounds of boundaries and loyalty.

CLEM:
That’s… disturbingly healthy.

[Lorenzo grins, reaches for his guitar leaning against the seat.]

LORENZO:
I’m thinkin’ I owe her another song before the next stop.

[Morgan lifts her head, alert. Lorenzo strums. The bus rolls on.]

SCENE #3:
***MUSICAL NUMBER: “Best Roommate I’ve Ever Had”

SCENE #4:
”Champ Hairline”

[Setting: The tour bus barrels through flat Midwestern nothing.
LORENZO lounges with his phone. MORGAN sleeps, chin bouncing gently with the road. Lorenzo scrolls. Stops. Smirks.]

LORENZO:
Well I’ll be damned.

[Across the aisle, CLEM looks up.]

CLEM:
That tone usually means money or trouble.

[Lorenzo turns the screen so Clem can see: a slick email header.

CHAMP HAIRLINE™ – PARTNERSHIP PROPOSAL

[Before Clem can react, the bus speakers crackle.

MARV deBOS (On speakerphone):
Alright, nobody panic, but we may have accidentally monetized your scalp.

LORENZO:
So what’re they selling? Hope?

deBOS (Voice-Over):
Minoxidil-adjacent hope.
Champ Hairline.
They want meetings. After the tour.

[Lorenzo leans back, processing.]

CUT TO — PRESS JUNKET FLASHBACK – CHICAGO (PRE-TOUR)

[Bright lights. Cameras. A modest stage.
Lorenzo holds up two laminated photos.]

LORENZO:
This is me at thirty-five.
This is me at sixty-five.
I should’ve been bald before Bush Two.
But here we are—still parting it down the middle, still stealing glances in hotel mirrors.

[Light laughter.]

MODERATOR:
You credit Minoxidil?

LORENZO (grinning):
That and my refusal to wear a hat, unless I’m hiding from people.

NARRATOR (V-O):
And just like that, The Miracle Mane Tour trended on TikTok for three days.

MODERATOR (squinting):
You do have some serious hair density, sir.
What’s your secret?

LORENZO:
Good buzz. Bad genetics.
A thirty-year standoff with male-pattern baldness.

MODERATOR:
You ever lose any?

[Lorenzo pauses—just a hair longer than expected.]

LORENZO (quiet):
Some of the best people in my life.
But not much hair.

[CASEY passes behind with coffee.]

CASEY:
That’s a lyric.
Write it down before Rickles steals it.

MODERATOR:
Some say image is illusion.
Others say it’s armor.
Lorenzo—what’s your take?

LORENZO (into mic):
If a man’s hair survives grief, divorce, and recreational marijuana…
it’s not image.
It’s a fuckin’ miracle.

Laughter. Applause.

LORENZO (adds):
But the trick ain’t just havin’ it.
It’s lettin’ it go gray.
Owning the silver.
This ain’t a comeback — it’s just volume with wisdom.

From the back:

RICKLES:
I don’t know how he still has it.
That much hair at sixty-five?
I’ve seen less fur on a werewolf’s shin.
Meanwhile I been lookin’ like a baby potato since ’03.

MONTAGE — FLASHBACK PACKAGE:

• Lorenzo flipping his hair at karaoke

• Tambourine airborne

• Morgan barking at the camera

• Headlines: MIRACLE MANE, SILVER ICON, WHO IS THIS GUY?

LORENZO (On-Screen, deadpan):
Champ Hairline™.
It’s not a product.
It’s just me telling you—
you might not be done yet.

* * * * *

BACK TO — TOUR BUS – PRESENT

[The road hums.]

MARV deBOS (V-O)
So yeah.
They want you.
Full campaign.
Provided… you keep lookin’ like that.

[Lorenzo looks down at Morgan. Scratches her head. A few loose gray hairs cling to his fingers. He smiles—just slightly.]

LORENZO:
Tell ’em we’ll talk after the tour.

MARV deBOS (V-O):
That’s my miracle man.

[Lorenzo gazes out the window as the bus rolls on.]

SCENE #5:
“First-Night Nerves”

[CASINO SHOWROOM – DES MOINES, IOWA — NIGHT]

[Rows of half-filled chairs. Slot machines thrum faintly through the walls like a second heartbeat.

A banner reads:
TONIGHT: STYX
Smaller print:
Special Guest: Cheap Whiskey

[LORENZO steps onstage to polite applause.
No Casey. No Kat. No Writers’ Room.
Just CLEM, arms folded at the wing, and a couple of roadies pretending not to stare. Backstage, MORGAN  sits in her crate, ears perked.]

[Lorenzo adjusts the mic. Clears his throat.]

LORENZO:
Evenin’, folks.
If you’re here for Styx… good call.
I’ll warm the room. Gently.

[A few chuckles. Mostly silence. He launches into the opener. It’s… fine. Serviceable. He keeps glancing down at the lyrics monitor. He’s already sweating.]

[Mid-verse, he hesitates. A word doesn’t come. He looks at the monitor. Nothing. The band holds. The crowd shifts.]

LORENZO:
Sorry—
(laughs, too quick)
First night.

[A couple of scattered BOOS from the back. Not loud. Worse. Casual. Lorenzo nods, absorbs it, starts again.]

VOICE FROM CROWD:
You need the words, buddy?

[Light laughter. Lorenzo exhales. He pushes through, finishes the song without the missing line, jumps ahead to the chorus like a swimmer grabbing the wrong rope.]

[Applause. Polite. Uneven. He reaches for the tambourine on instinct — his comfort object. Does a small flourish. It slips.]

CLATTER.

[The sound echoes louder than it should. Lorenzo freezes for half a beat too long. Then he picks it up, gives a little half-bow.]

LORENZO:
Gravity’s undefeated.

[That lands. A real laugh this time. He moves on.]

[Next song. Simpler. Slower. He tries to play and sing—just a little more than he should. Misses a chord. Misses a lyric. Chooses the chord. Lets the lyric go. The song limps to the finish line.]

[Applause. Louder now—but still not warm. From the wing, Clem gives him a small nod. Not praise. Permission. Lorenzo steps back to the mic.]

[He wraps early. Thirty minutes feels like ninety. Final applause. Respectful. Not unkind. Not impressed.]

[After Lorenzo exits, his phone buzzes. A text from an old tambourine tournament rival:]

RIVAL (text):
Didn’t know the tambourine had a trapdoor.
Proud of you, man.
First night’s a liar.

[Lorenzo exhales a laugh that sounds more like relief than humor. Backstage, he crouches by Morgan’s crate. She presses her nose to the bars.]

LORENZO:
Hey, roommate!

[He opens the crate. She crawls into his lap like nothing in the world went wrong. From a distance, Clem watches—already rewriting tomorrow’s set list in his head.

[The slot machines keep ringing. Lorenzo closes his eyes. Tomorrow is another town. Another room. Another try.]

SCENE #6:
“After the Lights”

[The casino still glows behind the tour bus — loud, artificial, indifferent. Lorenzo walks Morgan along the far edge of the lot. Neon hums. A highway murmurs nearby.]

[Lorenzo is replaying the show in his head. Every missed word. Every pause. Morgan is equally anxious, heart beating rapidly. His phone rings.]

CASEY (On phone):
Hey. I saw the stream.

[Lorenzo stops walking.]

LORENZO:
Yeah?

CASEY (V-O):
You held the room longer than you think.
That middle song — people stopped moving.

[Lorenzo exhales, unconvinced.]

LORENZO:
I went brain-dead.
I forgot the words.
With the words in front of me.

CASEY (V-O):
That doesn’t cancel the truth.
It just proves you’re human on camera.

[Lorenzo looks down. Morgan has stopped walking. She pants harder than before.]

LORENZO (low):
They weren’t booing me.
They were booing the idea that I knew what I was doing.

CASEY (V-O):
Lorenzo… You opened a four-casino run.
You overdelivered for the contract.
You just got invited back later — bigger rooms.

[Lorenzo leans against the bus.]

LORENZO:
deBos is thrilled.
Says it’s a favor tour now.
He said later on it’s open for…
(half-smile)
Collective Soul.

CASEY (V-O):
That’s not nothing.

[Lorenzo nods, but his eyes stay on Morgan. She whines softly.]

CASEY (V-O):
You don’t have to do this part alone.

LORENZO:
I know.
Tonight I just am.

[Lorenzo is about to hang up.]

CASEY (V-O):
Hey. Before you go—
there is one more thing.

[Lorenzo stiffens slightly. Braces.]

LORENZO:
That tone usually means either really good news or something I’m gonna pretend not to hear.

CASEY (V-O):
This one’s… good.
Just maybe not timed well.

[Lorenzo smirks despite himself.]

LORENZO:
Story of my tour so far.

[pauses]

CASEY (V-O):
deBos signed the lease.
A writers’ room.
A real one.

[Lorenzo sits down.]

CASEY (Cont’d)
Big windows.
Long table.
Natural light that makes you think you’re smarter than you are.
We’re not at Kat’s loft anymore.

[Lorenzo exhales, half-laughs, half-groans.]

LORENZO:
Figures.
I hit the road, you guys hit syndication.

CASEY (V-O):
It’s still us.
Just… with chairs that don’t wobble.

[Lorenzo rubs his face.]

LORENZO:
So let me get this straight.
We went from my place—
to Kat’s clearly nicer place—
to some glass-and-light temple to productivity…

CASEY (V-O):
Retreat energy.

LORENZO:
Meanwhile, I’m crying in casino hallways, arguing with my falsetto —
and eating things that used to be cheese.

[A small silence.]

CASEY (V-O)
We didn’t do this without you.
We did it because of you.

[Lorenzo looks out the bus window. City lights smear by.]

CASEY (V.O.)
This is just the room waiting for you to walk back in.

[Lorenzo nods slowly.]

LORENZO:
Still feels like I’m missing a good party.

CASEY (V-O):
No. You’re on stage making sure there is a party.

[A beat.]

LORENZO:
When I get home…
we’re writing like hell.

CASEY (V-O):
That’s the idea.

LORENZO (smiling):
Tell Kat I’m happy for her.
And jealous.
And proud.
In that order.

CASEY (V-O):
Already assumed.

[They hang up. Lorenzo sits alone a moment longer. Then he pockets his phone, crouches, strokes Morgan’s back. She trembles, then slowly settles.]

[TOUR BUS – LATE NIGHT]

[The Cheap Whiskey band laughs quietly in the back lounge — their own orbit. Familiar. Tight.

Lorenzo doesn’t join them.
He spreads a blanket on the bench seat near the front.
Morgan curls into his chest, finally calm.

Her breathing evens out.

Lorenzo closes his eyes, exhausted beyond language.
The bus hums.
Everything finally goes still.]

[CUT TO BLACK]

[END OF EPISODE 1]

Alfred Nobel opened a newspaper in 1888 expecting routine news — and instead read his own obituary.

Lorenzo Champion (aka Cheap Whiskey) asked to detour the tour bus off its route, overnighted the band just outside town, all so he could collect a handful of copies of The Grand River Ledger, the small West Michigan paper that had accidentally published his obituary.

Lorenzo Champion, circa 1995, long before becoming known as
Cheap Whiskey.

Cheap Whiskey’s concert debut in a Des Moines, Iowa casino was a mixed bag.