Onto today's joint from LEGS, and hold onto your phallic symbols, kiddies, cause it's gonna be a bumpy night in the dungeon ...
Insane former CIA spook The Bagger is on his way to the crime scene, along with his partner in crime, the murderous, crossdressing assassin, 'Cindy.'
Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love is preparing to appear in the first movie ... which may also be her last ... (seeing as how it's a snuff film.)
INT. CLUB CHERRY - NIGHT
David Bowie/T-Rex 70’s rock at an EAR-SHREDDING volume.
Very glam, very glitter. The packed club is jamming.
Smoke machines. Mirrored balls. Go-go dancers on pillars.
Boys, girls and everything inbetween writhe with abandon.
A COOL GUY and a HOT CHICK twist and shake it.
The babe, (23), mod, waifish, vibrates like a woman possessed.
stops dancing. Opens her eyes.
Pulls out her BlackBerry.
CLOSE ON --
The LCD display.
"The geese are in flight. Pack your lipstick. Love, Mom."
YELLS something in the guy's ear. Bolts for the door.
EXT. CLUB CHERRY - CONTINUOUS
She FLIES down the outside staircase.
Six-inch platforms CLATTER, BANG-BANG on the metal steps.
ON THE SIDEWALK
she fingers a number on her cell.
EXT. MULLHOLLAND DRIVE - NIGHT
A candy-apple red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible stops at a light.
Music blares on the stereo.
IN THE CAR
is the Bagger. Singing along.
His phone rings. He answers it.
Or is it Cindy tonight?
He lights up a Gitanes.
THE BAGGER (CONT'D)
Cindy -- nice. What are you wearing?
Wait, don't tell me. I like surprises.
SPLIT SCREEN WITH:
INT./EXT. CINDY'S MIATTA - CONTINUOUS
We recognize Cindy as the hot chick from the club.
I knew I shouldn't have worn heels tonight.
The clock's running, girlie-girl, no time to worry about that.
(sips from a flask)
You pack the trunk?
Honey, my trunk is always packed.
INT. THE BAGGER'S JAGUAR - CONTINUOUS
He tosses the phone. Shoves in a CD.
The Sex Pistol’s ominous SUBMARINE floods into the car.
He CRANKS IT UP.
The madman cracks open an amyl nitrate ampule.
INHALES it viciously. Sings along at the top of his lungs.
I’m on a submarine mission for you, baby.
I wanna go down on your watery love --
INT. KLAUS' STUDIO - NIGHT
The power is back on. Carrie’s tied to the chair.
Jorel confers with Samms at the control board.
Can you lose a couple of the lights?
I'm fucking frying in this thing.
Now I know why priests always look so serious and shit.
They're fucking dying.
Felina huddles with Klaus by the camera.
What a deliciously demented idea --
brilliant, fucking brilliant.
A streaming "Divorce Court" for the information age.
Death on demand.
Felina, when you're good, you're very good.
And when I'm bad, I fucking come for hours.
Hey Triple-X -- can I borrow your phallic symbol?
If I can slip one in the chamber.
Enough witty repartee.
Give her the fucking gun.
And give me a light reading.
She grabs it. Marches over to Carrie. Kneels at her feet.
That's an awfully big assault weapon you have there, Mrs. Peel.
All the better to end your enslavement, Miss Moneypenny.
She pulls out a knife. Starts cutting the rope.
They're letting me go?
You're gonna be in the movie.
What? I thought you were --
I am. Just keep quiet. And do what I say.