What a fucking gorgeous day. Just back from a killer bike ride up the coast beach path up to Santa Monica, then back down through Venice and back to my lair here on the canal. The ducks are floating, the birds are chirping ...
And I'm about to write the exciting conclusion to the gang's first bank heist. Blood will be spilled. A pair of high school girls are about to piss their pants.
Tina the Wonder Dog is sleeping at my feet, Miles is cranked way up, I've cracked open a cold one (energy drink, sorry), fired up a smoke, and am ready to rock.
But first, a little 'heist preparation.'
EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER - PARKING LOT - DAY
A large, empty lot adjacent to the pier at the beach.
The Olds is parked near the sand. Surf guitar on the stereo.
Hondo sits on the back of the car,
legs dangling onto the rear seats.
Net snuggles next to him.
They drain cans of beer.
SMASH the empties on their foreheads.
When the sun goes down, and the moon comes up --
I turn into a teenage GOO-GOO MUCK.
Rod and Cam walk up the car.
Pant legs rolled up, barefoot.
(grabs her, tickles her)
Gidget goes SURFING.
Stop calling me GIDGET.
Hondo leans down, GRABS a six-pack.
Tears off a beer.
Play-time is over, kiddies. We got work to do.
He TOSSES the can. Rod CATCHES it.
Me, too -- gimmee, gimmee.
Hondo CRACKS off another one.
Tosses it. HARD.
She GRABS it.
Look who’s getting all self-confident and shit.
Okay, sports fans, listen up.
He jumps out of the car.
Pulls out a piece of graph paper out of his jacket.
Unfolds it. Lays it down on the hood.
Everyone gathers around it.
Okay. Here’s the window where the two tellers are.
And there in the corner is the vault.
It’s ALWAYS open during business hours.
Santa Monica’s no hillbilly town.
We’re talking rich, Range Rover,
Starbucks-swilling, yoga class assholes.
Shut up and listen.
Enough from the peanut gallery.
Here’s where the security camera is.
Right above the front door.
After we walk in, Cam’s gonna spray-paint it.
Okay, here’s how it’s gonna work.
You go in first and get the guard.
GET the guard?
Don’t worry. He’s an old fart.
Just waive your gun in his face he’ll piss his pants.
Then yell out NOBODY MOVE, THIS IS A ROBBERY --
and then Net and I come in with our shotguns.
Then spray-paint the camera
and make the guard lock the door behind us.
I’m on it.
Then Net and I will do our thing
and clean the fucking place out.
Now here’s the best part.
The place is always fucking dead.
Cam here will hang around a bit in front
and check real casual-like to see who’s in there.
When it’s empty, we go in.
That’s fuckin’ brilliant.
That’s my lil’ bank robber.
I love you too, honey-bunny.
Now what I need you to do, Rod,
is drive around to the rear alley,
and wait for us near the back entrance.
The bank has a BACK ENTRANCE?
Yeah. Told you it was podunk shit.
Fucking teller takes her SMOKE BREAK out there.
I seen her.
You’ve really thought this out.
Learned it in the joint.
Gotta plan the shit out of it.
That makes for a successful job.
No one gets hurt, and we get a big pile-a dough.
One last thing. We gotta do it FAST,
cause these local cops GET THERE fast.
Cop shop’s only a mile away.
Minor drawback, but if we’re real quick-like,
we’ll manage it.
(holds up his watch)
Everyone synch up. Its now 10:36.
When we get to the bank, everyone look at the time.
We got two minutes to finish the job --
but if we’re not done in two minutes, we gotta split.
Hondo pulls out a joint. Fires it up. Takes a big hit.
EXHALES. Passes it to Rod.
So who feels like gettin’ some cotton candy?