Happy Friday, crimesters. Welcome to the land time forgot. The land of the lost. The down-trodden. The bottom of the barrel. The dark underbelly of these mean streets I like to call home ... where I can scratch that certain itch ...
Screened a suprisingly good film last night. I know all the critics blasted it, but I was pleasantly surprised. RIGHTEOUS KILL, with Bobby DeNiro and Al Pacino was not a great film, but I really liked it. Just goes to show what ca happen when you have no expectations. It was cheaply made -- looked really crummy -- but it was a cool, little story. Nice supporting work from Donnie Wahlberg and John Leguzamo, too. And, a nice, big twist at the end. Sure, Pacino chewed the scenery like he was gorging at the craft services table, and Bobby D. was a little ... raw ... but it worked. And it was fun seeing them together for the first time. Cheap little B movie with a great cast. What can I say? I liked it ...
Onto today's rip-snorting installment from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. Hold onto your hats, kids, cause things are about to heat up. Big time.
INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Chet Baker’s THE THRILL IS GONE plays softly on the stereo.
Carrie and Jenny sit on the couch.
More than a little looped.
There’s a couple of decent places at the beach.
The Venice Motor Hotel, maybe.
Reasonably cheap, not too sleazy, and right near --
(drains her glass, stands)
I’m gonna go freshen my --
A fire engine SIREN SCREAMS.
Carrie DROPS her glass.
It hits the hardwood floor. CRASH.
She races to the window.
It’s okay, it’s okay!
It’s just a --
Carrie watches the fire truck go by.
Socked in the gut.
She WHIRLS AROUND.
Clenches her fists.
The shock balloon POPS.
NO, It’s NOT OKAY.
It’s NOT -- OKAY.
I lost EVERYTHING.
My music, my books, my movies, my clothes, my -- SHOES.
Ohmigod, my SHOES! My fucking SHOES.
I lost EVERYTHING, Jenny!
I lost EVERYTHING I had in THE WORLD.
(beat)And now I --
I have --
And she LOSES IT.
Wrenching, heart-ripping SOBS of pain.
Spilling, gushing out like blood from a violent wound.
Jenny races over to Carrie.
Hugs her. Strokes her hair.
Carrie cries. And cries. And cries --
INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - FRONT DESK - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie stands with Aya at the desk.
Bernie flips his badge at Grotesque Clerk.
Grotesque checks it out. Scratches herself.
Detective Keko, homicide.
This is my partner, Aya Meir.
When did you find the body?
About fifteen minutes ago.
The guy in the room below called to complain
about blood leaking through the ceiling.
Poor guy’s on his honeymoon.
At first he thought he broke his wife’s cherry.
But when she told him s
he really wasn’t a virgin, well, hello --
Did Yavo have any visitors,
Another detective, a woman.
Checked out the dead guy’s room,
then left in an hurry.
Drove a big, old, white car,
Cadillac, I think.
Didn’t say her name --
Tall, thin, long hair, big boobs, smart mouth?
Yeah, that’s her.
You know this person?
Yeah. And now she’s in a shit-load of trouble.
(to the clerk)
What’s the room number?
24. You can’t miss it.
Place is crawling with pig -- uh, cops.
INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - MORNING
Now that it’s light out, we can see through
the wall of windows the Marina Peninsula’s Grand Canal.
It’s quite a sight. Worth every penny of the outrageous rent.
Nestled in a large, airy studio is a kitchenette.
Dinette. Work stationette. Entertainment centerette.
Carrie leans against the kitchenette counter.
Rakish in Jenny’s white terry cloth robe.
Holding a mug of coffee.
Not as hung over as I thought I’d be.
Did we -- you know, do anything, uh -- ?
comes into frame. With her coffee.
No. You passed out. I slept on the couch.
Good. Don’t want to compromise -- the case.
We did -- kiss.
(off Jenny’s nod)
Did you like it?
Carrie puts down her mug.
Puts her hands on Jenny’s hips.
Rule one. Don’t mix business with pleasure.
(strokes Carrie’s hair)
Rule two. Don’t get involved on the rebound.
(puts arms on Carrie’s shoulders)
Rule three --
What the fuck.
And she GRABS Jenny for dear life.
Jenny grabs right back.
They writhe against the kitchenette counter.
Carrie’s hand WHACKS her mug,
it hits the floor, CRASH.
Jenny’s foot CRACKS against the garbage pail, BANG.
They kiss each other hungrily.
FALL to the floor, THUD.
Roll around on the carpet.
Hands everywhere at once.
Carrie’s head disappears under Jenny’s skirt.
Oh, my-god --
Jenny’s face. In complete ecstasy.
It’s never been this good.
Years of bad sex and faking orgasms melt away.
Something from deep inside starts rising to the surface.
And a high-pitched animal YELP ERUPTS from her mouth.
A wall-shaking, window shattering PRIMAL SCREAM
of complete, utter abandon.
She WAILS and WAILS like a she-banshee.
And just as quickly, it stops.
Carrie’s head reappears.
That was -- incredible.
Your first orgasm?
Promise you won’t tell anyone?
My lips are sealed.
So to speak.