Onto today's episode from HIT & RUN HOLIDAY ...
This where things get REALLY kinky.
First up, the Trophy Wife who disgruntled screenwriter/car jacker Friday Foster terrorized on the Santa Monica Third Street Promenade has become a local celebrity, and gets interviewed on the news ...
Meanwhile, Friday, continuing on her path of destruction and revenge, decides to take a time out at her favorite fetish joint, Club Fuck ... not realizing that white slave trafficker/former Marine Bland Loosener is in hot pursuit ...
INT. NEWS STUDIO - AT THAT MOMENT
SUE SIMON (40’s), pretty, African-American, sits in a comfy chair.
Next to her on the couch is TROPHY WIFE.
(into the camera)
Welcome back to your Channel 12 News Fix at Six.
(leans forward, eager)
With us today is Dendra von Boutrous,
wife of socialite hedge fund manager Victor von Boutrous --
My husband is like, so NOT a gardener.
He does, like, investments and stuff.
A hedge fund is put together by a group of investors --
So tell me, what went through your head
when Friday Foster hijacked your car at gunpoint?
Ohmigod. I thought I was going to pee my pants.
Bonus points for Dendra.
(into the camera)
Next up, We’ll talk to Marilyn Manson about his new children’s book --
EXT. CLUB FUCK - NIGHT
Hollywood and Vine. The boulevard of broken necks.
An old, Deco movie theatre. Now den of depravity. Times ten.
Not quite the witching hour.
But don’t tell that to the long line of FUCKED-UP CLUB KIDS.
Trannies. Tweakers. Junkies. Whores.
Masters. Slaves. Gays. Straights. In-betweens.
A black super-stretch limo pulls up to the curb.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Hey, Xanax. We gotta celeb.
The door FLIES OPEN.
A long, lean flash of thigh.
It’s FRIDAY, red vinylicious.
She straightens up.
Well over six-feet in platforms.
Excuse me while I touch the sky.
(gazing longingly at the crowd)
Auntie Em. There’s no place like home.
AT THE DOOR
the hedonatrix chats up the DOORPERSON.
Shirtless. Covered with ink. Hair scooped into horns.
And, hey - nice nose ring.
Mistress Bella Donna. Been awhile.
Where you been hidin’ your cruel self?
Places to go, people to see, Zed.
You finally get your big movie deal?
Secret. What happens in hell, stays in hell.
I’m here to forget the happy, shiny world outside.
(raises the velvet rope)
On the house, your gorgeousness. Have a good time.
You mean bad time.
INT. CLUB FUCK - CONTINUOUS
The saucy, bitchy snarl of Blondie’s RIP HER TO SHREDS over --
FRIDAY walks down a long corridor of mirrors.
Boots CLACKING. Checking out her reflection. Fabulous.
INT. CLUB FUCK - FRONT BAR - CONTINUOUS
Our vixen orders her poison. Imperious.
Absinthe. Jaeger back.
The GOTH BARTENDER nods.
Reaches for the bottle. Pours.
Nice wedding dress. Retail Slut?
(hands her the drink)
Nah. My girlfriend made it.
Here’s mud in your catheter --
EXT. CLUB FUCK - AT THAT MOMENT
DOLLY (16) walks in. Alabaster skin. Red lips.
Demure in that Wednesday Adams kinda way.
Must be the braids tied in ribbons.
The striped stockings. Or is it the lollipop.
Where’s Humbert Humbert when you need him?
Right behind her is Bland, dressed in full combat fatigues.
He walks up to the doorperson.
I think you’ve got the wrong club.
The Village People look-alike contest
is down the street at the Cock Ring.
Bland takes off his shades. Squints menacingly.
Huh. I think I was just insulted.
He reaches up and SQUEEZES Zed’s neck.
His face turns RED.
If I was angry, I would pop your head like a zit.
Lets go. Zed sucks in air.
(pulls out money)
But I’m not angry.
I just want to have some fucked-up fun tonight.
(slaps it in Zed’s hand)
So be a good little freak, take the bribe,
and get the fuck out of my way.
Bland smiles grimly. Pushes him aside. Walks in.
INT. CLUB FUCK - BACK BAR - CONTINUOUS
The filthy go-go groove of The Thrill Kill Kult’s
GIRL WITHOUT A PLANET hip-swings over --
Friday. Perched on a bar stool. Scoping out the action.
She’s a girl without a planet, a girl without a home --
A FAT SLOB in a diaper approaches her.
Mistress, I’ve been a very bad boy.
I made pee-pee.
Freak. How old are you?
I’m 3, mistress.
I’m not your mistress, you fat fuck.
You don’t deserve my greatness.
And I don’t remember hearing you
ask permission to SPEAK to me.
Thank you, mistress.
I said -- NO.
She gets off her stool.
Grabs an ashtray.
FLINGS it in his face.
Ashes, cigarettes stick to his sweaty face, body.
I don’t deserve your attention, mistress.
I am so sorry. So sorry.
(gets on his knees)
Please forgive me mistress,
tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.
You can buy me a drink.
And then go change your fucking diaper.
You reek of piss.
Yes, Mistress -- I reek of piss.
Thank you, Mistress.
(to the bartender)
Please give the divine mistress
another round of whatever she’s having.
(pulls business card out of diaper)
Irv Sloca, CPA. Former IRS.
Now I help protect the little guy from the bastards.
Thanks, Irv. Now, please --
don’t take this the wrong way,
but I’m trying to get lucky tonight,
and your outfit kinda clashes with my fabulousness.
No hard feelings --
Glorious mistress of great beauty,
I bid you adieu.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
That was so cool.
Friday turns. Sees --
DOLLY. One stool over.
Is that an all-day sucker?
Depends on what.
PUSH IN ON Dolly.
Slides the lolly out.
Who’s doing the sucking.