Before we get to today's joint from LEGS, I'd like to say a few things about this story. It was written 13 years ago, back when I was first learning my craft, finding my voice, so this particular screenplay has some problems. Like act three. Like the ending. It's too over-the-top ... but I thought it would be fun for some of my fans (okay, both of you) to see the origin of Carrie Love. Now that it looks like part three of the trilogy -- WILSHIRE BOULEVARD -- is going be made into a film soon, I'm looking at this story with a view to a serious rewrite.
So, I'd like to wrap this one up soon, but I don't to leave you in the lurch. What I'm going to do is cherry pick certain key scenes and bring you to the exciting conclusion.
So without any further adieu, today's installment from LEGS, wherein ...
Private eye Carrie Love and Interpol agent Felina Bella Donna check out their new set of wheels, the James Bond Astin Martin ... and head off in pursuit of demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer ... while Klaus commandeers the limousine of a certain twisted indie filmmaker ...
INT. B'S GARAGE - NIGHT
Carrie, Felina and B admire a beautiful, gold vintage car.
And this, of course, is the Aston Martin.
(strokes the fender)
Now that's a bitchin' set of wheels.
The term "bitchin'" hardly does it justice, Miss Love.
This is a perfect machine. A work of art.
This vehicle has a history.
And it goes from zero to ninety in four seconds.
Get inside. Let's see how it fits.
Twist my dick.
She gets behind the wheel. Buckles up. Totally stoked.
I'd say it's a perfect marriage.
Say, isn't this the same kind of car that James Bond --
My darling, sweet detective, it IS the same car.
Felina jumps in. Looks around. Opens the glove box.
Cubby gave it to me after the shoot
because I was able to persuade Jill St. John to --
So it still has all the gadgets and who-zits in it, then.
Yes, indeed. Except for the ejector seat.
I had that disengaged.
It seems that a cellular phone transmission will activate it --
and, well, in this town --
I must say, you two look positively smashing.
Right out of a bloody spy flick.
Go ahead, start her up.
Carrie turns the key. The engine ROARS.
But aren't you going to us show how to work all the --
My dear girl, didn't you see the movie?
INT. KLAUS' KITCHEN - NIGHT
A siren SCREAMS somewhere not too far away.
Klaus opens a drawer. Pulls out a gun. A bottle of pills.
He downs a handful. Stuffs it in his pocket.
Goes to the freezer. Takes out a pair of bowling ball bags.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - ROAD - NIGHT
A lone street lamp. Crickets chirp.
Klaus stands in the middle of the road.
A flash of headlights strikes him in the eyes.
A black super-stretch limousine screeches to a stop.
window slides down.
The PONYTAILED DRIVER leans over.
Jesus Christ, buddy, I almost ran over you.
You should be careful.
He notices Klaus' wild, disheveled look.
Is everything okay?
My car broke down, and I was wondering --
(whips out a gun)
If you'd give me a lift.
EXT. B'S DRIVEWAY - NIGHT
The Aston Martin takes off.
He's on the run. People are after him.
And he's going to Club Fuck? Why?
So he can give one last spanking?
Darling, he owns the place.
That's where he does postproduction.
INSIDE THE CAR
How could I be so thick?
It was right in front of my fucking face.
Felina lights two smokes. Hands one to Carrie.
Carrie takes a long drag. Smiles sadly at Felina.
Come on, tell me. What is it?
Laura told me she was dating the owner of Club Fuck,
but she broke it off --
When she met me.
EXT./INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT
Klaus leans in the window.
Or did I catch you at a bad time.
He clicks the safety on his Ruger.
No, not at all, please, get in.
Just don't shoot me, man,
please don't fuckin' shoot me.
Klaus climbs in.
JAMS the weapon under the driver's chin.
We're gonna take a left at the turn and go down the hill.
And no monkey companies, got it?
M-monkey business? I'm cool, I'm cool.
The partition separating the back compartment slides down.
Smooth, 70's soul music softly THUMPS.
SITTING IN THE REAR
are QUENTIN TARANTINO and HARVEY WEINSTEIN.
They hold cocktails and cigars.
What are you fucking doing,
buying girl scout cookies?
We're gonna be late for the screening!
They see Klaus, and the gun.
Great, asshole, just great.
Don't you know not to pick up hitchhikers,
especially in the fucking hills?
Let me guess.
You've written a screenplay.
Klaus points his gun at the men, GIGGLES maniacally.
Shut the fuck up, boy wonder.
This is isn't one of your stupid movies.
Now listen, you little punk.
Do you know who the fuck I am?
I'm Harvey Weinstein!
I buy and sell scumbags like you for breakfast!
I fucking slow dance with the devil!
Sorry fat boy, you have to talk to my agent.
Klaus SHOOTS the driver in the head, turns around, GRINS.
Weinstein and Tarantino are in SHOCK.
He leans over, opens the door, SHOVES the body out.
Not bad for a cold reading, huh?