Not much to report today. Had a great phone conference with my new protege, who for now I'll call 'Mr. X.' He's got a hell of a story to tell. A rags-to-riches-to-rags-to-redemption crime story that has the mob, millionaires, private eyes, drugs, drug dealers, suicide attempts, espionage -- and a clean and sober light at the end of the tunnel.
And if I play my cards right, I'll be the one to help him tell it. Bring this amazing story to the silver screen.
Maybe even pay my bills.
This afternoon's installment from GUN-WILD is a quickie, so I can sneak it in for you. A little appertife to brighten the end of your drab, dull 9-5 existence.
Kidding. Just kidding.
We take you now to our bank heisters, who have just split the joint, leaving behind two dead cops, a soccer mom with a stroke, a dead security guard ... and two really pissed off high school girls who a now bereft of cell phones.
That's life in the big city, doll.
INT. OLDS CONVERTIBLE - MOVING - DAY
Rod turns north up a steep hill toward Fourth Street.
Starts to slow down.
Why are you slowing down?
This car sticks out like a sore fucking thumb.
We gotta find new wheels, pronto.
And what THE FUCK was that back there?
I told you NO FUCKING SHOOTING.
He wouldn’t listen.
And the fucking COPS?
You might have KILLED one of them.
You know what happens THEN?
We’re MARKED FOR LIFE.
So fucking what.
I’m already marked.
(SMACKS Cam on the head)
You didn’t make the fucking GUARD
lock the fucking DOOR!
You said he was gonna be an OLD FART.
He was built like a MARINE.
He was gonna jump me.
I had to CLOCK HIM.
There was no TIME.
We got the money, didn’t we?
Yeah, but --
So we’ll hole up somewhere
and figure out our next move.
I like the sound of holing up.
How about we snatch a Winnebago
and go up north?
You mean -- like a motor home?
Yeah. And I know where we can get one.
Oh, yeah? Where?
PUSH IN ON Cam.
Her Cheshire cat grin.
Bastard’s out of the country -- in Switzerland.
(looks at her, smiles)