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Forget About Triplets, We've Got "Leaked" Scenes from the Un-Produced Kindergarten Cop II

By Rob Payne | Think Pieces | November 16, 2012 |

By Rob Payne | Think Pieces | November 16, 2012 |

The past week there has seen a bit of news circulating around a new project called Triplets, an apparent sequel to the Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Devito twenty-two year-old family comedy Twins. Rounding out the top billed cast is none other than comedy sell-out legend Eddie Murphy, with a screenplay by Josh Gad, the breakout star of Broadway’s Trey Parker’s and Matt Stone’s Book of Mormon. As awful confusing news as this news is, it turns out there was another classic from the Governator’s oeuvre that was once upon a time in the early, pre-production stages before it was secreted away into the bowels development hell.

In Kindergarten Cop, Schwarzenegger played a typical 80s movie super cop turned dedicated educator of children. Between the opening and closing credits, detective John Kimble saves a school and a family, and falls in love with a woman and a new profession. But what happened after the happy ending? Here, for the first time ever, is an exclusive excerpt from the much darker sequel, Kindergarten Cop II: Kimble’s Reckoning.




JOHN KIMBLE sits at his desk, less a physical specimen than a sack of pudding made of denim. His bloodshot eyes, not from hard work but from booze, gaze at the only framed photo on his desk as he pauses his grading…

C.U. - Framed Photo of Kimble with JOYCE PALMIERI and DOM PALMIERI from a birthday party around fifteen years ago.

KIMBLE: Joyce…

Kimble shakes himself out of the stupor and turns the picture over to rest on its face under the lamp. He twists off the cap to the bottle of Jack that he always keeps in a drawer and starts drinking like there’s no tomorrow. Hopefully, there won’t be. Groggily, he slams the bottle onto the desktop, shattering it and staining the spelling tests.

KIMBLE: Aargh! Damn it!

Kimble grabs the papers off his desk, folds them in half, and pours the leftover whiskey into his gaping maw. Finally, Kimble crumples the finger paintings in his sausage-like fingers and tosses them over his shoulder, growling and stumbling like a dazed bear.

KIMBLE: Screw it. Spelling cat with a Q? They were all going to fail, anyway.



Kimble enters his apartment, his arms full of bags from a liquor store called THE LAST EXIT. He moves from the living room/bedroom into the laundry room/kitchen, ignoring the mess around him. The apartment is as disheveled as he is. Setting the bags on the countertop, he grabs a random liquor bottle - not caring in the slightest what it contains - unscrews the top and immediately starts gulping down the fire water inside. He does not see the open window by the fridge.

KIMBLE: Come to papa!

Liquor pours out into his mouth, but much of it also runs down his face, neck, and staining his denim shirt. Kimble wipes his mouth with on his sleeve, moving to look out the kitchen window just in time to hear the distinct CLICK-CLACK of someone trying to pick the lock of his front door.

KIMBLE: What the…?

Kimble drunkenly stumbles to his front door, stumbling and still gripping the liquor bottle for dear life. He swings the door open dramatically…

KIMBLE: Ah ha!

Kimble does his best to stare outside but sees nothing of interest except the decrepit his neighborhood. As he turns back, about to close the door, a grown man wearing a black, full-body stocking dropping down from the kitchen ceiling.

C.U. - The man pulls off his mask to reveal a scarred DOM PALMIERI. He looks pissed.

Kimble falls to his knees, spilling ever so much more liquor on his dirty carpet.

KIMBLE: D-D-D-Dominic…?!

Dom sneers at Kimble, stuffing the mask into his tights around the crotch as he approaches, letting part of it hang out like a flaccid penis. Kimble’s face screws up in panic and desperation as he tries to rationalize what he sees.

DOM: Long time no see, detective Kimble. You remember me, right?

KIMBLE: Can’t be… can’t be you. It can’t be…

TINA/RINA (OS): Oh, but it can.

Kimble turns at the sudden harmonic voices, to see two identical twins - both wearing matching black outfits - named TINA and RINA. Their dull smiles mirror their childhood creepiness, now tinged with dreams of violence instead of candy.

KIMBLE: Who are you?!

TINA/RINA: Hi, Mr. Kimble. Don’t you remember us?


TINA/RINA: Awwwwwww…

With that, Tina and Rina both high kick Kimble square in the face. Dazed, confused, and wounded Kimble drops to his knees and looks up, pleading for an answer he doesn’t get.


DOM (OS): You’ll see.

Kimble, blood dripping from his drunkard’s nose, turns just in time to see Dom raise a police-style baton and swing it hard against Kimble’s face.


The soundtrack cycles through the hits from 1997, like stations changing on a car radio until finally settling on “I Believe I Can Fly.”


A minivan drives down the narrow, curvy road in the backwoods and ranch land of the town of Astoria as R. Kelly blares on the stereo inside.

STEREO (OS): “…in life I must achieve / But first I know it starts inside of me…”

TITLE CARD: “1997”


Kimble wakes up in the passenger seat, still mighty drunk, though this is clearly when the ex-cop was still in thug-busting shape. He slowly recognizes the van and his garish Christmas. JOYCE continues driving as he sits up, rubbing the cobwebs out of his eyes.

STEREO: “I can see it, then I can be it If I just believe it, there’s nothing to it…”

JOYCE: Well hello there, Mr. Daniels.

KIMBLE: Huh? Who’s this Mr. Daniels?

STEREO: “…I believe I can fly / I believe I can touch the sky…”

JOYCE: I’m calling you that because you must have more Jack in your system than blood right now.

KIMBLE: Clever. How long was I out?

STEREO: “I think about it every night and day / Spread wings and fly away…”

JOYCE: Not long. You passed out as soon as we left Phoebe’s.

KIMBLE: Now that I’m up, why don’t we fool around a little, eh?

Kimble drunkenly begins kissing on Joyce’s neck as she tries to keep driving, enjoying it.

STEREO: “…I believe I can soar / I see me running through that open door…”

JOYCE: We’ll be home in fifteen minutes, keep it in your pants, Mr. Daniels!

KIMBLE: But I’ve got a growth on my crotch and it’s definitely not a tumor.

Kimble leans in further and starts caressing her inner thigh. Joyce tries to push him off.

STEREO: “…I believe I can fly…”

JOYCE: John, stop, I need to watch the road!

KIMBLE: Mmm… You watch, I’ll play…

Joyce looks down for a moment in order to convince her husband to get off of her.

STEREO: “…I believe I can fly…”

JOYCE: John! Stop!

Kimble stops in time to see an 18-Wheeler round a corner, it’s headlights blinding them.

STEREO: “…I believe I can fly…”



KIMBLE: Damn it…!



Kimble and Joyce’s minivan slams headlong into the 18-Wheeler, causing both to erupt in a massive, fiery explosion that no one ought to survive.



Tied to a chair, Kimble regains consciousness to see four black-clad figures talking around him. He sits in the middle of the mostly empty room. In his fog, Kimble can just barely make out Dom, Tina and Rina, as well as another young man: LOWELL.

LOWELL: Why do we have to play at all? Why can’t we just kill him? Get it over with?

DOM: Because that isn’t the plan, Lowell.

KIMBLE: What…? What damn plan…?

Dom turns to address his prize, very confident. A little too confident.

DOM: Oh, good, you’re awake. Do you know where we are, Kimble?

Kimble, still suffering from massive head wounds and whiskey, looks at Dom and his accomplices, who enjoy the older man’s confusion, like so many after school cartoons.

KIMBLE: No, damn you!

DOM: No? Don’t you remember buying mother that combo washer and dryer when ours wouldn’t stop flooding this basement?

Dom points to the combo washer and dryer. Kimble stares for several beats, then he nods.

KIMBLE: I remember, damn it!

DOM: What else do you remember?

KIMBLE: I… I remember raising you…

DOM: Don’t take credit for that! You were only around because you killed my father.

KIMBLE: Dom, I had to… He had a damn gun to your head!

DOM: He was my father, detective. He wouldn’t to kill me. You didn’t have to kill him.

KIMBLE: Damn it, Dominic! I was protecting you! I only ever loved you and Joyce!

DOM: Her name was Rachel, and she was a single mother who needed help. You were just as good a substitute for Cullen Crisp as anybody.

KIMBLE: No… Cullen Crisp was a damned monster!

DOM: Well, I guess I’ll never know. But mom never loved you. That I know for a fact.

Kimble subtly seems to gather his wits, steeling himself against Dom’s verbal assault. Rather than wound him, it gives him the Power of Grayskull. Metaphorically speaking.

KIMBLE: You’re wrong.

DOM: Am I? AM I?!

Dom doesn’t register Kimble’s change, but Lowell does and tries to pull Dom back.

LOWELL: Hey, let’s do it already, huh? Then we can get back to more important things.

DOM: Nothing is more important! He killed my parents! His pain must equal mine!

LOWELL: Okay, okay, Dom. You’re right. Yeesh.

Dom turns back to Kimble now, wiping the spittle from his face with his sleeve — a caveman-like move he got from his stepfather, whether he’d like to admit it or not.

Dom: Now where we? Oh, I remember! We were about to start the torture.

KIMBLE: I remember, too.

Kimble’s smirk returns as he looks at each of Dom’s criminal acquaintances. None of them much like his descriptions.

KIMBLE: Lowell. The boy who with the asshole father. I’m sure he’d be proud of you now. And the twins, right? Tina and Rina? Still creepy as fuck, I see.


KIMBLE: You are all just lost little children, looking to punish your daddies for your pathetic lives. Only your parents aren’t around to punish, are they?

DOM: Because of you!

Kimble barely stifles his laugh as his kidnappers all look more emotionally hurt than he looks physically hurt, and he looks like a sack of pudding that’s gone terribly bad.

KIMBLE: You know what they say about apples, don’t you, kids?

Kimble shockingly bursts through his restraints, shattering the wooden chair into splinters, with sheer unadulterated ex-Mr. Universe muscle.

KIMBLE: They don’t fall far from the tree!

With that, Kimble kicks Dom in the stomach — sending his stepson flying backward into the combo washer and dryer — and then simultaneously snaps Lowell’s neck with the speed of an Austrian wild boar. Dropping Lowell’s corpse to the ground and facing the stone-faced twins, Kimble grins from ear to ear with renewed thug-busting vigor.

KIMBLE: Girls? Let’s dance!

And they do, with balletic thrusts and jabs of a brutal fight between two peerless martial arts masters and a giant, hungover manimal who learned how to fight in 80s action films. Eventually, Kimble smashes the twins’ emotionless faces against each other — creating one seamless person… but killing them instantly in the process.

KIMBLE: How do you like them apples!

Turning toward Dom, who is still on the ground next to the combo washer and dryer, Kimble drops the fused TRina to the basement floor.

KIMBLE: You should have listened to your boyfriend, Dominic.

Kimble pulls out a Cuban cigar from a shirt pocket and a lighter from nowhere, igniting the end and puffing several times like a real pro.

KIMBLE: You could have killed me easily when I was drunk. I had no reason to live.

Dom watches, freaked the hell out and skittering toward the basement’s staircase, as Kimble takes a long, slow drag on the Cuban, walking toward the combo washer/dryer.

KIMBLE: Then you had to threaten my memory of your mother. Nobody threatens your mother, not even you.

Dom finally makes it up the stairs but he struggles with opening the door in his full-on panic. Kimble continues to puff on his cigar as he grabs a Desert Eagle from inside the combo washer/dryer. He takes aim at Dom’s back and cocks an eyebrow as he cocks the hammer.

KIMBLE: I told you I’d be back.


The sudden sounds of gunshots and agony are soon overtaken by the swelling tones of “I Believe I Can Fly.”


With a rumored dream cast of Ben Foster as Dom, Wes Bentley as Lowell, and the Olsen Twins as Tina and Rina starring alongside Arnold, with a cameo by Penelope Anne Miller, it really is a damn shame the studio thought this script was too dark. Granted, this was likely written before the gritty reboots conquered Hollywood. Maybe if this new Twins thing works out Universal will give Kimble’s Reckoning another look? One can only hope.

Rob Payne also writes the comic The Unstoppable Force, tweets on the Twitter, tumbls on the Tumblr, and his wares can be purchased here. He would love to have the opportunity to become a sell-out.

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