Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Deal Or No Deal


Hello, Ruby Tuesday, crime scenesters. Are you ready for another big, thick slab of estrogen-drenched, balls-out spy thriller fun and games? Well, move over Mr. and Mrs. Smith, cause there's a new chick in town, and she's mighty pissed off ... and you'd be too, if you were a NOWHERE GIRL.

Screened an old favorite of mine last night, MR. AND MRS. SMITH. Well, it's not that old, but it sure is a favorite. Good old fashioned spy thriller fun in the form of a married couple, who, unbeknownst to each other, are each secretly one of the two top assassins in the world. If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil the plot ... but let's just say sparks fly when Brad and Angie have to fight each other to the death ... or do they? Mr. Pitt is adorable and quite funny ... and Ms. Jolie is ... well, let's just say she's a work of art. Sexy, dangerous, violent ... and riveting. It's easy to forget what good actors they both are, what with all the press and hype they get. Maybe that's why I don't watch TV, don't read the tabloids ... just experience these two the old-fashioned way, in all their cinema glory ...

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL, and the plot thickens. As stripper-on-the-run Cherry Nation prepares to leave the dive bar to go on her mission, she calls the terrorists to tell them she's on the way ... but then Homeland Security agent April Street arrives on the scene, and just as she's about to arrest Cherry, another intruder bursts in on them ...


INT. SUV - MOVING - NIGHT
April drives the car slowly on the right-hand side,
checks the hand-held PDA.

APRIL
They’re right near here --

INT. JUMBO’S CLOWN ROOM - NIGHT
Cherry pays the BARTENDER (40), an ex-stripper.

CHERRY
Keep the change.

STRIPPER BARTENDER
Thanks, doll.

Stripper Bartender ambles away,
goes behind the bar.

PEELER
What now?

CHERRY
I’m gonna call the guy.
Then we’re gonna see the guy.
Get the money.
(looks down)
And then I can finally get this thing off my wrist.
It’s fucking killing me.

She pulls out a piece of paper. Her cell.
PUNCHES a number.

CHERRY (CONT’D)
Wish me luck.

PEELER
Luck.

CHERRY
(into the phone)
Hello?

INTERCUT WITH:INT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT
Hamad, Kamal and the rest of the terrorists sit and watch
DEAL OR NO DEAL on a huge plasma-screen.

KAMAL
It’s ridiculous.
Greedy Americans.
There is no GAME.

HAMAD
Look at number twenty-seven.
She looks Persian.

Kamal’s phone RINGS.
He gets it. Listens.

KAMAL
Hello, Avi?

CHERRY
No, this is Cherry Nation. Who’s Avi?

KAMAL
What is Cherry -- Nation?

CHERRY
I’M Cherry Nation.
And I have your briefcase.

KAMAL
(to Hamad)
It’s the girl with the package.
(to Cherry)
Where are you?

CHERRY
I’m on my way to see you.
You have the money?

KAMAL
Of course.
(to Hamad)
She doesn’t know who Avi is.
This smells funny.
I don’t like it.

HAMAD
(eyes on the TV)
Not to worry.
If it goes wrong, we kill her.
Then we go visit Avi.

CHERRY
You still there?

KAMAL
You have the address?

CHERRY
Yeah, I’m on my way.

She hangs up.
The reality of all of this is finally sinking in.
Freak-out time.
Peeler puts his hand on top of Cherry’s.

PEELER
You okay?
You look -- scared to death.

CHERRY
Of course I’m fucking scared to death.
Aren’t you?

PEELER
Shit, yeah.

CHERRY
Thanks for doing this with me.
You know, you’re not such a --

The front door BANGS OPEN.
In walks April.

APRIL
Everybody FREEZE.
I’m a FEDERAL OFFICER.

April sees Cherry. Starts walking toward her.

APRIL (CONT'D)
You gave me quite the little goose-chase, girlie.
You’re under arrest, both of you.

A FIGURE IN BLACK
appears in the doorway wearing a motorcycle helmet.
He raises a sawed-off SHOTGUN.

STRIPPER BARTENDER
HEY. NO GUNS ALLOWED!

Monday, June 29, 2009

Bipolar Black Ops

Ah, the start of a new week. Full of promise. Mayhem. Murder. Assassins hell-bent on completing their mission. Spies on the trail of wayward strippers with suitcase nukes. That's right, you guessed it. Just another day in the life of ... NOWHERE GIRL.

Screened a wonderful film last night -- Al Pacino and Johnny Depp in DONNIE BRASCO. Damn, I forgot how good this one was. Also starring Michael Madson, Anne Heche, James Russo and a very young Paul Giamatti. Probably one of Pacino's last really great performances (up there with THE INSIDER). The great Mike Newell directed this true story of Depp as an undercover FBI agent in deep cover in Pacino's crew. Heartbreaking stuff, because, as you probably guessed, he gets in real deep, which affects his family, and, eventually ... oh, wait. Don't want to spoil the ending. If you like true-life mob stories, then this one's for you. Check it out. Two guns up ...

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL.

First up, we finish up stripper-on-the-lam Cherry Nation's scene with Peeler Mardo after she's been pestered by CIA agent Shag Holliday about her whereabouts ...

And then Shag contacts his operative at Langley, the lovely Lark ... because he wants to find out just what the heck is going on with his ex ...


INT. JUMBO’S CLOWN ROOM - NIGHT
Cherry hangs up. Looks at Peeler. Rolls her eyes.

PEELER
That was your ex.

CHERRY
It was that obvious.

PEELER
Hey. Universal language of love.
(beat)
So he’s mad at you?

CHERRY
He was always mad at me.
A real sweetheart,
but overprotective much?
Always keeping tabs on me.
Knew every move I made.
Fucking creepy.

INT. BUNGALOW - KITCHEN - NIGHT
Shag sits at the table with his snack.
Takes a pull on his longneck.
Punches another number on his cell.

SHAG
(listens)
It’s Holiday.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. CIA HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
A maze of dimly lit cubicles and workstations.
Despite the hour, the joint is abuzz
with OPERATIVES and TECHNICIANS.

A BLONDE OPERATIVE (25) takes the call at her desk.
Crosses her long, amazing legs. Leans back.

BLONDE OPERATIVE
Holiday? What’s up? I thought you were --
(chuckles)
On holiday.

SHAG
Funny. Listen. I need you to check surveillance at LAX.
Something went down tonight,
and I need to know what happened.

BLONDE OPERATIVE
Comin’ right up.

She WHEELS AROUND to a bank of nearby monitors.
Fingers CLACK-CLACK-CLACK across her keyboard.
The screens SPRING TO LIFE,
showing images at the airport.

BLONDE OPERATIVE (CONT’D)
Do you have any intel? Airline?

SHAG
Not sure. Flight was going to Vegas.
The subject was supposed to be on it.

BLONDE OPERATIVE
Who’s the subject?

Pause.

SHAG
Cherry Nation.

BLONDE OPERATIVE
The bipolar ex.

SHAG
Don’t remind me.

BLONDE OPERATIVE
Hold on.

SHAG
Thanks, Lark.

Lark PUNCHES IN more information.
A list of airline flights and passenger manifests
FLY ACROSS her computer screen.

LARK
Here we go -- Cherry Nation,
Sky Blue, flight to Vegas,
departing at gate 115 at 9PM.

She WHIRLS AROUND in her chair,
goes back to the monitors.

LARK (CONT’D)
Okay, let’s go back to say, 8:30.

Lark PUNCHES IT in.

THE SCREEN
Shows the airport bar.
The windows EXPLODING with GUN FIRE.

LARK (CONT'D)
Oh, yeah -- that’s right.
I was briefed about this.
Jesus, I need more coffee.

SHAG
What the fuck happened?

LARK
Nothing much.
A suitcase nuke that was meant for
an Al Qaeda sleeper cell
was mistakenly given to the wrong person.

SHAG
Do they say WHO?

LARK
Was supposed to be an undercover operative
from Homeland Security --
but they’re really C-6,
that’s just a cover.
They were acting as the broker
between the supplier and the cell.

SHAG
What the fuck is C-6?

LARK
(low)
It’s a new black ops unit.
Very hush-hush. That’s all I know.
You didn’t hear it from me.

Shag stands. Starts pacing. Head reeling.

SHAG
Cherry said someone gave her a briefcase by mistake.
SHE HAS THE NUKE.

LARK
FUCK. When did you last talk with her?

SHAG
Just now. Shit.
Let me give you her cell number,
you can triangulate her position.

LARK
We’re supposed to back away from this one, Shag.

SHAG
She’s my EX.
And I’m WATCHING HER KIDS.

Pause.

LARK
Give me the number.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Need-To-Know Basis

Ah, Sunday. A day of rest. Well, for some people -- but not his hardboiled chick. Got places to rob, people to kill. Gotta busy day ahead of me. Seems someone handcuffed me to a suitcase nuke, and I've got until dawn to deliver it, or else my family will be killed ...

Didn't screen a crime film last night. Had a production meeting and scouted locations for my film noir A DISH BEST KILLED. Met with an awesome director and actor (you know who you are) who might just help me bring this sucker to the big screen. We watched A NEW TOMORROW, my first film, a political mockumentary (the story wasn't my idea, but I wrote the sucker), and I must say, it holds up. A bit uneven, but it plays well, and has lots of innapropriate laffs.

Well, you know me ...

Onto today's big, heaping slab of spy thriller outrage in the form of NOWHERE GIRL ...

First up, a pretty nifty action set piece involving April Street being purused by her ex-boss ... and then, we meet Cherry Nation's ex ... Shag Holliday ...

EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - NIGHT
A HELICOPTER appears overhead.
April looks up.

APRIL
Whoah. He’s REALLY mad.

She pulls a GRENADE out of her pocket,
and, like a pitcher at the World Series --
HURLS it at the squad car.

BOOM.
It EXPLODES in a massive FIREBALL.
April JUMPS in the SUV,
and TAKES OFF in a SCREECH of rubber.

The chopper follows, SPRAYING the SUV
with MACHINE GUN FIRE.

INT. SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
April feels around under the driver’s seat.

APRIL
Let’s hope he’s got some samples of the merchandise.

She pulls out a huge TACTICAL ASSAULT WEAPON.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Bingo.

April GUNS THE ENGINE.

EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
The car reaches an area full of warehouses, soundstages, strip malls.
The grungy part of Hollywood.

The car HITS a hard right at an intersection,
tires SCREECHING, and FLIES down an alley,
the chopper following.

INT. SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
April sees the loading dock of a warehouse.
She pulls up to it. STOPS.
JUMPS out of the car with the gun.

A crew of WORKERS watch her.
Approach the car.

ANGRY WORKER
Hey, lady. You can’t park here.

SURPRISED WORKER
Shit! She’s got a gun!

The chopper ROARS above them.
Machine guns FIRING.

APRIL
(above the roar)
Stand back! Homeland Security!

She runs into the alley, and FIRES up at the helicopter --
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

UP ABOVE
The chopper EXPLODES in what is now
the requisite massive fireball of flames and smoke.
It CRASHES on the roof of a nearby building,
which IMPLODES.

April lowers her weapon.
Smiles grimly.

EXCITED WORKER
A hot chick like you is Homeland Security?

SMILING WORKER
Where those terrorists?

APRIL
Sorry, fellas. That’s on a need-to-know basis.

EXT. VENICE BEACH BUNGALOW - NIGHT
A lovely 100-year-old Craftsman on a leafy walkway street.
Lit by old-fashioned lampposts.
Steps away from the sand.

INT. BUNGALOW - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Two cute little GIRLS (5) and (7) sleep peacefully.

INT. BUNGALOW - KITCHEN - NIGHT
A MAN rummages in the fridge. Looking for a snack.
He pulls out his cell phone. PUNCHES a number.

Meet SHAG HOLIDAY (35), who if you remember,
is the person we heard Cherry speaking to at the top of the story.
Buff and cut. Too good-looking to be a shower head salesman.

Which is why he's actually a CIA operative.
Oh, and he’s also Cherry’s recent ex.

He RIPS off a turkey leg. Listens.

SHAG
Hey, it’s me.

INTERCUT WITH: INT. JUMBO’S CLOWN ROOM - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
A seedy stripper hangout on the Sunset Strip.
Weird psychobilly on the jukebox.
A sign reeds NO TOP, NO SERVICE.

Cherry sits in a booth with Peeler.
Both have the remnants of burgers and coffee on the table.
Cherry talks on her cell.

CHERRY
Shag.
(beat)
Ohmigod, I forgot to call you.

SHAG
It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were -- okay.

CHERRY
Are you checking up on me AGAIN?
(beat)
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -- it’s been --
(looks at Peeler)
Quite an evening.

SHAG
Something happen?

CHERRY
You could say that.

SHAG
What, your flight get delayed?

Pause.

CHERRY
There was a -- luggage incident.

SHAG
A 'luggage incident?'
What happened?
Are you okay?

CHERRY
I’m fine.
Someone gave me a briefcase by mistake and then split.
Then it turned out that some people want it --

She looks at Peeler.
He shrugs. Go for it.

SHAG
Someone gave you a briefcase -- by MISTAKE?
What have you gotten yourself into?
Are these people chasing you now?

CHERRY
No, no, no. I’m -- delivering it to them.
Then I’m on a plane, promise.
Gotta be at the club tomorrow.
(brightly)
How are the girls?
Did you tuck them in?

SHAG
The girls are fine.
Don’t deflect, Cherry.
I need to know what you --

CHERRY
NO, YOU DON’T.
This is MY life, Shag.
Thank you for watching the kids,
I owe you one.
But what we had is OVER,
and you have NO RIGHT
to give me the third degree.
I’ll call you tomorrow, BYE.

INT. JUMBO’S CLOWN ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Cherry hangs up. Looks at Peeler. Rolls her eyes.

PEELER
That was your ex.

CHERRY
It was that obvious.

PEELER
Hey. Universal language of love.



Saturday, June 27, 2009

Gang Bang

Happy Saturday, weekend warriors. Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me? Are you ready for another installment of that supercharged thrill ride known as KNOWHERE GIRL? Then strap yourself in, cause it's gonna be a VERY bumpy ride ..

Screened a classic film noir last from my collection, as my DVD from Netflix, NORTH BY NORTHWEST was cracked. (Dammit). So I took a trip to SIDE STREET, with Farley Granger and Cathy O'Donnel. Have all four of the Warner Brother 'classic noir' collections, and this is in one of them. Great flick about a young newlywed with a baby on the way working as a temp postal worker (hey, it was the 40's) who steals what he thinks is 200 bucks from a lawyer's office ... but it turns out to be 30 grand of mob money. Whoops. Needless to say, hijinks ensue. Check this one out if you've seen it. Granger is wonderful, and more than a little easy on the eyes ...

Onto today's triple -feature from NOWHERE GIRL ...

In part 1, April Street battles black ops spooke Token Ware ...
In part 2, the terrorist sleeper cell decides it's time for a little homeland rape, and
In part 3, April takes off on the run, and is pursued by her former boss' goons.

EXT. MARDO’S JOINT - NIGHT
April comes out the front door, walks to the curb.
Sees Token’s big, black SUV.
Takes out his keys, presses a button,
and THWIP, the doors open.

APRIL
He won’t mind if I borrow it for a little while.

The front door FLIES OPEN,
and Token RACES toward April,
carrying the chair she cuffed him to.

She JUMPS IN. LOCKS the doors.
Token POUNDS on the window.

TOKEN
Open the fucking DOOR, BITCH!

APRIL
(pulls out her gun)
Back off!

He raises the chair,
and SMASHES it into the driver’s side window,
SHATTERING it. Glass SPRAYS.

April FLINGS the door open,
LEAPS OUT, and KICKS him, WHACK!

He FLIES backward. THUD.
He gets up, chair now gone,
holding his chained wrists apart,
like a weapon.

TOKEN
I’m gonna KILL you.

April SHOOTS him in the head.
BANG. It EXPLODES in a cloud of red mist.

APRIL
Not if I kill you first.
(beat)
Asshole. Now I gotta clean this up.

INT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Hamad sits at the bar, sips from a cut-glass rock glass.

HAMAD
(to the husband)
Excellent scotch.
(holds up the bottle)
Glenlivet.
(to Kamal)
Make a note of it.

Kamal nods. He starts pacing, looks worried.
Hamad opens up a cigar box.
Takes one out. Sniffs it.

RICH HUSBAND
Cuban. Help yourself.

He GRABS a fistful.
SHOVES them in his pocket.

HAMAD
Damn right I help myself.
Hamad shoves one in his mouth.
Starts to light it.

RICH HUSBAND
You’re supposed to cut the --

HAMAD
SHUT UP. I know how to smoke CIGAR.

He BITES OFF the end. SPITS IT out.
Sticks it back in. FIRES it up.
He leans back, smiling. Puffing away.

KAMAL
I am concerned about the -- delivery, sir.

HAMAD
So we have to wait a bit. We are comfortable.
I trust Avi. He comes recommended most highly.

Trophy Wife starts quietly sobbing.

HAMAD (CONT’D)
SILENCE.
One of the guards, SAAD,
grins a brown, broken-tooth smile.

SAAD
She soiled herself, oh holy one.

The other guard, MOHAMMED,
nods solemnly.

MOHAMMED
She smell like wet camel in hot sun.

RICH HUSBAND
Please sir, if you have any decency,
would you please let her get cleaned up
and change into some fresh clothes.
We’re cooperating with you.
(takes off his watch)
Here, take my watch. It’s a Rolex.
It’s worth twenty-five-thousand dollars.

Saad SNATCHES the watch, brings it to Hamad.
He inspects it, smiles, slips it on.

HAMAD
Very well.
(to Saad)
Take the woman to her room,
let her shower and change.

SAAD
And then I have sex with her?

HAMAD
Of course.
(smiles)
We all will.
Here in the States, they call it --
(beat)
Gang bang?

INT. MERCEDES SUV - MOVING - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
April drives down Sunset Boulevard west, into Hollywood.
She pulls out Token’s tracking device, a small, hand-held PDA.
She FLICKS it on. Looks at the screen.

APRIL
Bingo. They’re only a mile or two away.

As the car takes a turn,
another car SWERVES toward her.
Her focus momentarily away from the road,
she doesn’t see it, and the cars SIDESWIPE
each other with a CRUNCH.

The other car pulls over.
April keeps going.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Shit, shit, shit.

A siren WHOOPS behind her.
She checks out the rearview.

IN THE MIRROR
Is an LAPD black and white cruiser.
Cherry lights FLASHING.

APRIL
Pulls over. Stops.
Rolls down her window.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Great. Just great.

A GRIM OFFICER approaches the car.
Leans in the window.

GRIM OFFICER
License, registration and proof of insurance, please.

April goes into her handbag,
hands the officer her papers.
Then shows him her ID.

APRIL
I realize leaving the scene of an accident is a serious offence,
officer, but I’m a Homeland Security agent,
and this is a matter of national security.
(low, urgent)
I need to retrieve a runaway suitcase nuke.

He takes the ID. Inspects it. Hmmm.
April is puzzled,
as this normally opens doors faster than a naked woman.

Then she notices the tattoo on the side of his neck.
Strictly against LAPD regulations.

GRIM OFFICER
Would you please step out of the car, Miss?

APRIL
Sure thing, officer.

She slowly opens the door,
and SMASHES it into his legs.
He BUCKLES, hits the ground.

April DASHES over,
GRABS his piece,
and KARATE KICKS him
in the head with a CRACK.
He goes down.

April retrieves her ID,
still clenched in the officer’s fist.
The other officer gets out the squad car,
starts FIRING at her.

April LEAPS in front of the SUV,
and RETURNS FIRE.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Sledge didn’t waste any time.

A HELICOPTER appears overhead.
April looks up.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Whoah.
(beat)
He’s REALLY mad.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Hasta La Vista, Refried Motherfuckers

Happy Friday, fellow assassins ... it's a beautiful day to climb up on the roof and start picking off pedestrians with a high-powered sniper-scope rifle. So come on up and join me, and be sure to bring extra ammunition, cause it's almost the weekend. And it's time to get the party started ...

Screened a real beaut last night, my man Clint, again, in IN THE LINE OF FIRE. Eastwood is terrif as a Secret Service agent still haunted by not protecting JFK when he was assassinated -- so, when wannabe assassin John Malkovich threatens to kill the prez, and gets all close and personal with Clint, he fights back. Maklo AMAZING as the psycho ... and Rene Russo all warm and fuzzy as Clint's love interest ... but, since this wasn't a Clint joint ... he didn't write or direct ... their 'love scene' was a bit ... stilted. Thank god he stopped making studio swill like this. Maybe this is the one that pushed him away from slick the stuff ... but the movie still works, and it's good old-fashioned fun. Two guns up.

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL. Better hold onto your AK47's kids, cause this one's gonna kick you in the solar plexus ...

First up, Homeland Security agent April Street has a final showdown with her black ops boss Sledge Crafton ... and then stripper on the run Cherry Nation has to fend off a pack of gang-bangers on the city bus ...


INT. MARDO’S JOINT - NIGHT
April looks through Token’s pockets.
Finds the handcuff keys.

APRIL
(on the phone)
Sledge. What a pleasant surprise.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. INTELLIGENCE OFFICE - NIGHT
Sledge paces slowly, sipping scotch from a cut-glass tumbler.
BARKS into the speakerphone on his desk.

SLEDGE
Watch your tone with me, GIRLIE.
I’m still your fucking BOSS.

APRIL
Is that MY fucking boss --
or FUCKING my boss?

SLEDGE
Can it, Street, before I can YOU.
What’s going on? You secure the case?

APRIL
Uh -- no. There’s been a little -- problem.

SLEDGE
A little PROBLEM?
So help me Street, if you’ve fucked this up,
I’m gonna have your ass.

APRIL
You’ve already had my ass.
Now listen to me, and don’t interrupt --

SLEDGE
STREET, GODAMMIT --

APRIL
SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!
Avi’s guy Ware came in and fucked everything up!
The girl and the guy who have the case split,
but I’ve got Ware’s tracking transmitter,
and I will FIND THEM and GET IT --
so stop thinking with your DICK,
take a CHILL PILL,
and let me do my JOB.

Sledge HURLS his glass against the wall with a CRASH.

SLEDGE
How DARE you talk to me like that.
I will NOT have it.
I’m dismissing you from the case.
(beat)
And the unit.

APRIL
You’re putting out a burn notice on me?

SLEDGE
See you IN HELL.

He PUNCHES the speakerphone,
sending it FLYING across the room --
where it CRACKS into the wall.

APRIL
Sledge? Boss? You there?

INT. CITY BUS - MOVING - NIGHT
One of those long, red monsters, in sections, like a snake.
Only a handful of passengers.
Cherry and Peeler sit toward the back.
Look at a video monitor.

CHERRY
I didn’t know they had TV on the bus.

PEELER
It’s not real TV. Watch.

ON THE SCREEN
A smiling LATINA gives a pitch about ‘Accidentes Abigados.’

CHERRY
Makes a face.

CHERRY
It’s in Spanish.

PEELER
Welcome to how the other half lives.

The bus STOPS.

A trio of GANG-BANGERS (early 20’s) boards.
They strut down the aisle.
The first one, the LEADER, sees Cherry.
He stops. Nudges the others.
Gold-toothed smiles.

They move slowly, sauntering,
until they reach Cherry and Peeler.
The leader sits in front of them.
The others, behind.

LEAD GANG-BANGER
What'cha got in da case, mommy?

CHERRY
Uh -- nothing.

LEAD GANG-BANGER
Can’t be nothin’, or else you wouldn’ta be cuffed to it.

The SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
sitting behind Cherry FLIPS open a switchblade,
revealing a long knife.

Cherry SHUDDERS.

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
It’s gotta be valuable, riiight?

The other kid, a TALLER, GOOD-LOOKING GANG-BANGER
pulls out a forty-ounce bottle of malt liquor.
Takes a swig.

TALLER, GOOD-LOOKING GANG-BANGER
I say she open it and show us what she got.

PEELER
That wouldn’t be a good idea.

LEAD GANG-BANGER
And why is dat?

The bus JERKS to a stop.
A FAT WOMAN in an wheelchair is getting on.
This will take a little while.

CHERRY
Because it’s a BOMB.

The Leader starts LAUGHING.
Then, the others join in.

LEAD GANG-BANGER
You kiddin’ me.
Why would a nice piece of pussy
like you have a BOMB?

CHERRY
For assholes like YOU.

She LEAPS UP --
and WHACKS Leader in the head with the case, CRACK,
SPINS AROUND, and CRACKS Short, Ugly in the face.

CHERRY (CONT’D)
(to Peeler)
MOVE IT, now!

Peeler JUMPS UP, races toward the exit.
Tall, Good-Looking cowers with fear.

CHERRY (CONT'D)
You want a piece of this, homes?

He shakes his head ‘no.’

CHERRY (CONT’D)
I didn’t think so.
(beat)
Hasta la vista, refried motherfuckers.

EXT. BUS STOP - SECONDS LATER
Cherry and Peeler FLY out the exit door.
RACE down the street.
LAUGHING and WHOOPING.

PEELER
Holy fucking shit!
You CLOCKED ‘em!

Cherry slows down.
Catches her breath.

CHERRY
I don’t know what happened.
It was like something snapped --
and I just DID it.

PEELER
You were great.
And I don’t even feel emasculated.
(beat)
Okay, where to now?

CHERRY
I’m starving.
Let’s grab a quick bite, regroup,
and then deliver this fucker.

PEELER
(staring, big smile)
I’d follow you to the end of the earth.

Cherry stops.
Gives him the eye.

CHERRY
I’m still not gonna fuck you.



Thursday, June 25, 2009

Leave The Driving To Us

Greetings, thrill seekers. Got a heat-seeking bullet for ya. A blast of estrogren-drenched firepower so strong it'll knock your socks off. And your shoes. Maybe your shirt. And probably your pants. So get that tight little butt in here ... and meet NOWHERE GIRL ...

Screened a nifty little crime thriller last night. My man Clint, starring in and directing ABSOLUTE POWER. An amazing cast, including Gene Hackman, Dennis Haysbert, Scott Glenn, Laura Linney, and too many others to mention here. Clint plays a jewel thief who witnesses the drunken President murder his best friend's wife. Let's just say things get a bit sticky from there ... if you haven't seen this one, be sure to check it out ... great stuff.

Onto today's blast from NOWHERE GIRL ...

Better pay close attention, because the plot is starting to thicken ...

In part one, the terrorists are pissed off at Avi Abbas, the Palestinian weapons merchant because delivery of the package has been delayed ...

In part two, April chews out Avi because his op Token Ware gave the package to the wrong person (Cherry) ...

And in part three, Cherry and Peeler make their escape ... on a city bus ...


INT. MANSION - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Kamal clicks his phone shut. Looks at Hamad.

KAMAL
She said there was a delay,
that she was on her way, and then --
the line went dead.

HAMAD
I do not understand.

KAMAL
It sounded like there was a struggle.
Our operation might be comprised.

HAMAD
Give me your phone.

He does.
Hamad PUNCHES a number.
Listens.

HAMAD (CONT’D)
Hello, Avi?

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. DOWNTOWN LOFT - NIGHT
Avi stands out on the balcony, talking on his cell.
He fires up a smoke with a CLICK of his Zippo.

AVI
I assume you are calling to thank me.
And to confirm that payment is on the way.

HAMAD
There has been NO DELIVERY.
This -- woman is late,
and then she calls and says
there has been a delay,
and then there is fighting
and the phone goes dead.
What kind of operation are you running!?

AVI
(smooth)
Please accept my profuse apologies.
I have someone on the way to intercept it as we speak.
All my packages get delivered.
Let me call my man and
I’ll get back to you within the hour.

HAMAD
Very well. I will await your word.
And look forward to concluding this transaction.

INT. DOWNTOWN LOFT - BALCONY - CONTINUOUS
Avi FLINGS his cigarette over the ledge.
Furiously PUNCHES a number on his cell.
Listens.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. MARDO’S JOINT - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
April lies on the floor.
Token, a few feet away, still out like a light.
She opens her eyes. Sits up. Rubs her head.

APRIL
Shit.

The phone in Token’s pocket RINGS.

APRIL (CONT’D)
That might be Avi --
She goes to his jacket, gets the phone.
Listens.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Avi?

AVI
It’s YOU.
What THE FUCK is going on?
What HAPPENED?
Why haven’t you delivered the PACKAGE?
And where is TOKEN?

APRIL
TOKEN gave THE PACKAGE to the WRONG PERSON.
A woman who looks like me.
He was EARLY.
I was ON TIME.

AVI
Where is he now?

APRIL
On the floor. Out cold.

AVI
Where are you?

APRIL
Silverlake.
At the house of the woman he gave the case to.
Or maybe its her boyfriend’s place, I’m not sure.

AVI
There’s ANOTHER person involved in this?

APRIL
Hey, you can thank Ware for that.

AVI
But you have the case?
From the woman?

APRIL
No. They’re gone.

AVI
What THE FUCK?

APRIL
Relax. I’ve got Ware’s transmitter.
I’m gonna go get it.

AVI
But what about Ware?

APRIL
You think I give two shits?
I don’t answer to you.
WARE fucked this up,
and now I’M gonna have to clean up his mess.
(hears something)
I have another call.
I’ll call you back.
(punches a button)
This is Street.

EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - NIGHT
A lonely stretch of Sunset, way east.
Far from the strip.
Cherry and Peeler sit on a bench at a bus stop.
Waiting.
Cherry grips the briefcase
to her chest like it’s a baby.

PEELER
We should figure out a way to
get you out of those handcuffs.

CHERRY
That would be nice.

PEELER
(sees something)
There’s the bus.

CHERRY
Go Metro.
Leave the driving to us --



Wednesday, June 24, 2009

American Bitch

Happy Hump Day, Humpsters. Are you ready to get your hardboiled spy thriller groove on? Ready for a big, heaping slab of non-stop, ass-kicking action? Ready for hot chicks with extremely big weapons and even bigger ... mouths? Well, then get your ass into gear, and check out NOWHERE GIRL!

Screened a classic last night. ROMANCING THE STONE, with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner. I'm doing research for my big-budget adventure story for an A-list producer, and this is source material. Was afraid it was gonna be a bit corny -- hadn't seen it in years -- and boy, was I pleasantly surprised. It really holds up. And you know why? Because it's a great STORY, where the characters go through an ordeal, change -- and eventually hook up. And it's funny. If you want to see an example of good, old-fashioned fimmaking, this is it. Check it out sometime. A true classic.

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL, and boy, do things get heated up ...

In part 1, Homeland Security April Street arrives right in the middle of black op Token Ware's confontation with Cherry Nation ...

In part 2, we meet the terrorist sleeper cell that is expecting delivery of the suitcase chained to Cherry's wrist ...

And part 3, the big fight's exciting conclusion.

For now.


INT. PEELER'S JOINT - NIGHT

TOKEN WARE
Walks into the room.
Holding a sawed-off shotgun.

TOKEN
You should lock your front door.
Open invitation for dangerous criminals.

CHERRY
YOU.

PEELER
That’s the guy who -- ?

TOKEN
I gave you an address to take the case to.
And instead, you come to this rat-trap to fuck this LOSER?

CHERRY
I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go.
We got shot at, at the airport, and, and --

PEELER
We were -- just leaving.
Please don’t shoot us.

TOKEN
(to Cherry)
Did I say you could take SOMEONE WITH YOU?
This isn’t a DATE. We’re dealing with TERRORISTS here.
There’s a TIME-TABLE. And now you’re LATE.
You think an AL QAEDA SLEEPER CELL
is just gonna HANG AROUND ALL DAY and WAIT?

A GLOCK
Appears next to Token’s head.
The safety CLICKS.

WOMAN’S VOICE (O.C.)
Put the gun down, slowly.

APRIL
Stands in the doorway.

Token lowers the gun.

APRIL
You gave the case to the wrong chick, doll.
(looks at Cherry)
Jesus Christ. You could be my sister.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - MANSION - NIGHT
A glass and steel monstrosity right outta ENTOURAGE,
high on a cliff, jutting out into the sky on stilts.

INT. MANSION - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
The very definition of ritzy. The room is fucking HUGE.
An amazing view of Los Angeles twinkles below.

Seated in front of a roaring fire is HAMAD KHARRAZI,
head of this particular Al Qaeda sleeper cell.
His second-in-command, KAMAL AESEFIJ, stands before him.
Both wear ‘Hollywood casual’ jeans and polo shirts with jackets.

KAMAL
We have heard nothing yet, sir.

HAMAD
American BITCH.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Excuse me.

HAMAD
I told you to be SILENT.

CAMERA PULLS BACK to reveal --
The homeowners.

A RICH HUSBAND (50’s) and his TROPHY WIFE (20’s).
Seated on another sofa across the room.

Right now being held at gunpoint by
TWO AFGHANI TERRORISTS with Uzis.
Dressed in hip-hop baggies and baseball caps.

TROPHY WIFE
I’m sorry, but I, I --
need to use the -- ladies’ room.

HAMAD
Stay where you are!
You can piss yourself for all I care!

KAMAL
I have an idea.

HAMAD
And what is your IDEA?

KAMAL
Well, as you know,
I am a bit of what they call
a tech-head here in the states.

HAMAD
Yes, I know.
You went to university.

KAMAL
Ball State, sir.
Excellent humanities and science programs.

HAMAD
I am growing impatient, Kamal --

KAMAL
Well, since she called us on the cell phone,
we can return the call with the push of a button.

HAMAD
We CAN?

KAMAL
But of course, it’s stored on the phone.
I suggest we -- call her.
Find out what the story is.
Fuck Avi.

HAMAD
BRILLIANT.
Call her IMMEDIATELY.

Kamal smiles. Pulls out his cell.
Punches a button. Listens.

KAMAL
It’s ringing --

INT. MARDO’S JOINT - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
April holds her gun against Token’s head.

TOKEN
It was an honest mistake.
She looks just like you.

APRIL
I said PUT THE GUN DOWN, NOW.

TOKEN
I will if you do.

CHERRY
(to Token)
Please don’t shoot me.

APRIL
He won’t shoot you,
not when you’re carrying a suitcase nuke.

CHERRY
A suitcase wh-what?

PEELER
Holy SHIT.

TOKEN
Why did you TELL HER?

April’s phone RING-RINGS in her pocket.

APRIL
Shit.

RING-RING

Token moves on April.
She PISTOL-WHIPS him. THWUMP.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Stay RIGHT THERE.

RING-RING

April WHIPS out handcuffs,
CUFFS him to a chair, CLICK-CLICK.

While Cherry’s busy, Peeler tip-toes away.
She pulls out her cell. Answers it.

APRIL (CONT'D)
This is Street.
(listens)
There’s been a delay.
I’m on my way.

From behind, Peeler SMASHES
April on the head with a lamp.
She reels, and goes down.

CHERRY
NICE. Let’s get the fuck OUTTA HERE.

PEELER
Maybe we should -- call the cops?

CHERRY
Are you fucking kidding?

PEELER
But --

CHERRY
(holds up the case)
You know how much this is WORTH?
I say we deliver it ourselves.

PEELER
And what, take the money?

CHERRY
Hell, yeah.

PEELER
Won’t that be -- kinda dangerous?

PUSH IN ON Cherry.
Dollar signs in her eyes.

CHERRY
Probably.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Rules of Procedure

Welcome back to the scene of the crime, kids. Time to get your spy thriller groove on. Got hot chicks with submachineguns, black ops studs with a little something extra in their pants, and a hell of a lot of firepower, right here ... on NOWHERE GIRL.

Screened a real pip last night, Jason Statham in THE BANK JOB, directed by Roger Donaldson, and also starring the delictable Safron Burrows. Terrific true story of a secret government plot by the British Royals to cover the dalliances of Princess Margaret caught on film in flagrente, and used by a drug dealer/pimp/Malcom X-wannabe for blackmail. Their solution? Get a bunch of slimy thugs to rob the bank. And they succeed ... with suprising results. Great film, and proof that Jason can act. Methinks he might have the stuff to become the new Steve McQueen ...

Onto today's rip-roaring page-turner from NOWHERE GIRL ...

First up, Homeland Security agent April Stree is hot on the trail of April Street, but still has time to get chewed out by her boss ...

And meanwhile, stripper Cherry Nation has escaped to Peeler's Mardo's joint in Silverlake, where they are about to have an unexpected visitor ...


INT. TAXI CAB - MOVING - NIGHT
April drives down city streets.
Talks into her hands-free.

APRIL
I TOLD you.
Someone got there before I did.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. INTELLIGENCE OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
SLEDGE CRAFTON (50), beefy ex-Marine,
now gone to seed, leans toward the speakerphone on his desk.
Strokes the ugly scar that crisscrosses his face.
Angry. Beet-red.

SLEDGE
You really fucked this up, Street. GODDAMIT.

APRIL
Hey! The traffic was FUCKED on the 405.
And I was ON TIME.
The fucker was EARLY,
and he gave the package to SOMEONE ELSE.

SLEDGE
Another heartbreaker? Like yourself?

Pause.

APRIL
Look, chief. We did it one time.
It was a mistake. I was grieving --

SLEDGE
Didn’t you ever wonder why I took you on?
(BANGS on the desk)
A fucking STUNT WOMAN with NO experience?

APRIL
But you said I --

SLEDGE
I fucking said what you wanted to hear.
I wanted to get in your pants from day one.
And against all odds,
I molded you into one of our top operatives.
(beat)
Until now.

APRIL
For your information, BOSS,
I’m right now approaching the house
of the person who has the package.
I WAS calling in for back up.
But never mind. I’ll handle it myself.
You can go FUCK your rules of procedure.

SLEDGE
Now THAT’S the feisty lass I groomed for greatness.
You get that case, AND make the delivery,
I MIGHT JUST consider keeping you on.

PUSH IN ON April.
Royally pissed.

APRIL
Wow. Does that mean I can still come to the company picnic?

EXT. SILVERLAKE STREET - BUNGALOW - NIGHT
A decrepit pre-war bungalow on a street with similar small houses.
Classic cars and bicycles dot the landscape.

Peeler opens the front door, ushers Cherry in.

PEELER
It’s not much, but I call it hovel.

INT. MARDO’S JOINT - CONTINUOUS
Classic hipster combination of Ikea,
found threadbare furniture.
Ironic art. Plants. Pizza boxes.
Giant plasma screen, though.
And a decent stereo.

Cherry walks around. Inspecting.

CHERRY
Not bad for a guy. Not filthy.
(stops, looks at him)
I’m not fucking you, you know.

PEELER
I wasn’t -- thinking you --
(beat)
You want me to fix you a chai latte?

CHERRY
Gag me. You gotta beer?

PEELER
Sure thing.

Peeler wanders into the kitchen.
Cherry goes to the couch. Plops down.
Puts the briefcase next to her.
Pulls out the envelope. RIPS it open.
Pulls out the instructions. Reads.

Peeler comes in with two large bottles of beer.

PEELER (CONT’D)
(hands one to her)
Here you go --

CHERRY
(takes it, looks)
What the hell kinda beer IS this?

PEELER
Flat tire. Microbrew.

CHERRY
I bet you listen to a lot of Beck.
(holds up the piece of paper)
We gotta take the briefcase to this address.
But I don’t where it is.

PEELER
Let me see.

She hands it over.
Peeler reads it.

CHERRY
Where is it?

PEELER
Dude. That’s in the Hollywood hills.

A FIGURE IN BLACK appears in the window.
Then disappears.

CHERRY
Will you go with me?

PEELER
I don’t -- have a car. It’s in the shop.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
That’s okay. I do.

TOKEN WARE
Walks into the room.
Holding a sawed-off shotgun.

TOKEN
You should lock your front door.
Open invitation for dangerous criminals.

Monday, June 22, 2009

In Over Her Head

Happy Monday, crime scenesters. Get ready for twice the fun, twice the guns ... and twice the smokin' hot action today on NOWHERE GIRL. Did I mention there's also twice the hot chicks with semi-automatic weapons? Strap yourself in, and come along for the ride ...

Screened a real winner last night -- Micheal Mann's MANHUNTER, starring William Peterson and Joan Allen -- the first, original version of RED DRAGON. Great, thrilling stuff. The origin of Hannibal Lector -- and yes, Anthony Hopkins will always be remembered as Hannibal, but if you haven't seen Brian Cocks' turn as the serial killer, you're in for a treat. And the scene where the killer hunts down a blind Joan Allen to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida will go done in cinema history as one of the great movie climaxes of all time ...

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL, and this one's a corker.

In part 1, Cherry and Peeler escape the airport in a cab ...
In part 2, April commandeers her own cab, and is hot on their trail ...
And in part 3, we meet Token Ware, the 'tall, ugly thug' who chained Cherry to the suitcase ... and the man he's working for ...


INT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - BAGGAGE CLAIM - DUSK
The porter GRAPPLES April in a bear hug.

APRIL
Let me GO.

The porter SQUEEZES TIGHTER.

PORTER
You gotta SLOW DOWN, lady!

APRIL
I’m a GOVERNMENT AGENT.

PORTER
Bull-shit.

She FLINGS his arms away.
CRACKS him in the jaw. THWUMP.
Notices a crowd of ONLOOKERS.
Shows her ID.

APRIL
Homeland Security.
Keeping America safe.

And TAKES OFF.

A PAIR OF LITTLE BOY TWINS
Stand nearby holding hands with their mother.

TWIN #1
I wanna be like HER when I grow up.

TWIN #2
But she’s a GIRL.

EXT. TAXI STAND - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Cherry DASHES over to a gypsy cab.

CHERRY
TAXI!

She GRABS the door,
WHIPS IT OPEN, JUMPS in.

Peeler piles in after her.
SLAMS the door.

INT. TAXI - CONTINUOUS
Cherry BARKS at the DRIVER,
a frightened-looking Turk.

CHERRY
Let’s GO, c’mon!

TURKISH CABBIE
Wherefor you wish to go?

CHERRY
I don’t care!
Just get us the fuck OUTTA HERE.

PEELER
Silverlake, please.
(to Cherry)
You’ll be safe at my place.

TURKISH CABBIE
Silverlake it is.

EXT. TAXI STAND - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
April RACES up to a cab.
OPENS the driver’s side door.
FLASHES her ID.

APRIL
Homeland Security!
I’m taking your cab!
Outta the car!

The FAT CABBIE looks at her.
Takes a bite of his candy bar.

FAT CABBIE
Fuck you, lady, I’m not --

April GRABS his arm,
starts PULLING him out of his seat.

APRIL
C’mon, move it, you FAT FUCK.

With all her might,
April YANKS him out.
He HITS the pavement.
She JUMPS IN.

Fat lies in the street like a beached whale.
He FLAILS around, trying to right himself, get up.

APRIL (CONT'D)
(out the window)
Some patriot YOU are.

And she GUNS IT and ROARS away.

EXT. 405 FREEWAY - NIGHT
A large, black MERCEDES SUV flies down the carpool lane.

INT. SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
The Tall, Ugly Thug we met earlier is behind the wheel.

Meet TOKEN WARE, former CIA, now black ops gun for hire.
He takes a sip of designer coffee. Flips open his blackberry.

TOKEN
Avi? It’s Ware.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. DOWNTOWN LOFT - CONTINUOUS
A secure HQ in a plush loft space.
Several ARMED OPERATIVES mill about.
Scan computer screens. Clean weapons.

Their LEADER looks out the high rise window
at the city lights while talking on his Bluetooth.

AVI
You make the drop?

Meet AVI ABBAS (45). Palestinian ex-pat.
Now international arms dealer.
He lights up a Gitanes. Checks his Rolex.

TOKEN
Yeah. Broad was acting funny, though.

AVI
What do you mean funny?

TOKEN
Hard to say. Gut feeling.
Like she was in over her head.

A BIG, YOUNG SPOOK comes over to Avi.

BIG, YOUNG SPOOK
Sir, you need to see this.
He PUNCHES a remote.
A sixty-inch PLASMA SCREEN snaps on.

INT. NEWSROOM - CONTINUOUS
A SERIOUS TALKING HEAD sits at the news desk.

SERIOUS TALKING HEAD
-- where at Los Angeles International Airport,
a gunfight broke out at a sports bar.
We go now to Charlie Huston, live at the scene.

EXT. AIRPORT TARMAC - CONTINUOUS
Reporter CHARLIE HUSTON stands in from of the open bar window.
We can see a CRIME SCENE CREW is working.

CHARLIE
Thanks, Rolf.
(dramatic pause)
One hour ago a team of military operatives
opened fire on this airport bar,
killing three people and injuring two.
Witnesses say the men were shot and killed
by a young woman who then left the scene on foot --

AVI
Shut it off.

The spook does.

TOKEN
Pulls his car over to the side of the road.
Stops. Pulls out a LAPTOP. Boots it up.

AVI
Paces, worried.

AVI (CONT’D)
You better check on the girl.
Make sure she’s alive.
And delivering the package.

TOKEN
I’m one step ahead of you.
(punches buttons, looks)
She’s going east -- instead of north.

AVI
Find her. And find out what the fuck is going on.
We’re taking about a million dollars.
She might be trying to sell it someone
else for a higher price.

TOKEN
Duplicitous bitch.
That’s why she was a bit off.

AVI
Doo-plicitous?

TOKEN
Means two-timing.
Double-crossing.
(beat)
Like your wife.

AVI
We must show respect for the dead,
Mr. Ware.

Token does a ‘take.’ Looks quizzical.

TOKEN
Even when you killed them?



Sunday, June 21, 2009

Keeping America Safe

Happy summer solstice, crime victims. Come out of the light and into the dark. There's a stripper on the run and really hot espionage vixen awaiting you in NOWHERE GIRL. Come along for the ride. If you dare ...

Screened a thing of beauty last night. Peter Yakes THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE, from '73, with Bobby Mitchum, Peter Boyle and the great Alex Rocco. Subperb, hardboiled crimester about selling guns, robbing banks, double crossing, and drinking. Ha. Think I might watch it again tonight with the commentary, that's how much I loved it.

Onto today's blast from NOWHERE GIRL. Homeland Security agent April Street arrives at the scene, and all hell breaks loose ...

INT. AIRPORT BAR - LAX - DUSK

The door FLIES OPEN. April RACES into the room.
WHIRLS AROUND. Stops. Holds up her badge.

APRIL
Homeland Security, everybody FREEZE!

People stop talking. Look.
April pulls out a photograph.
Starts showing it around.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Has anyone here seen THIS MAN?
It’s a matter of national security.

April shows it to the bartender.
He shakes his head ‘no.’
She goes to Cherry and Peeler’s table.

CHERRY
Ohmigod.

APRIL
You SAW him? He was HERE?

Cherry slowly puts the briefcase on the table.
April stares at it, at the handcuffs.
Then looks at Cherry more closely.
Their resemblance.

APRIL (CONT’D)
I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me, Miss.

CHERRY
But he said he’d hurt my family if I didn’t --

The wall of windows EXPLODES in a HAIL OF BULLETS.
Cherry and Peeler JUMP, hide under a table.

April HITS the floor, ROLLS away.
Slides behind the bar.
Pulls out twin giant SIG SAUER HANDGUNS
and starts FIRING.

Cherry and Peeler start crawling toward the entrance.

Two HUGE GOONS in black BOUND IN.
A red DOT appears on the forehead of the first one.
His head EXPLODES in a red mist.

APRIL
Smiles. Takes aim at --

THE OTHER GOON
Who FIRES at April.

She DUCKS behind the bar.

CHERRY AND PEELER
Make it to the doorway.
Crawl away.

THE GOON
RACES toward the bar.
SPRAYING his Uzi.
Bottles FLY, SMASH.

BEHIND THE BAR
April crawls to the end.
GRABS a baseball bat.

THE GOON
Stealthily creeps up toward the end of the bar, where --

APRIL
CRACKS him on the head.
The goon goes down, THWUMP.

APRIL
Sorry, fella -- seventh inning stretch.

She looks around.
Sees that Cherry is gone.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Shit.

And RACES toward the door.

INT. AIRPORT CORRIDOR - AT THAT MOMENT
A drum-and-bass big-beat by The Crystal Method PUMPS over --

Cherry and Peeler.
TEARING ASS down the moving walkway.
The briefcase BANGING against the railing.

PEELER
Where are we going?!

CHERRY
The fuck OUTTA here!

CAMERA FLIES BACKWARD, WHIPS AROUND --
So that we see April at the other end.
She SEES THEM.

APRIL
Motherfucker.

And she starts TEARING ASS after them.

CHERRY AND PEELER
Reach the end of the moving sidewalk.
A sign reads BAGGAGE CLAIM.

Cherry GRABS Peeler’s hand.
JERKS HIM toward it.

CHERRY
C’mon!

They CLATTER down the stairs.

APRIL
Reaches the end of the sidewalk.
Looks around.

APRIL
Shit.
Think, think, think --

She sees the sign.
RUNS to the top of the stairs,
sees Cherry and Peeler going down,
and TAKES OFF after them.

CHERRY AND PEELER
Hit the bottom.

Cherry BANGS into a porter. OOF.

PORTER
HEY!

CHERRY
Sorry!

She GRABS Peeler’s hand,
and they RACE AWAY.

PORTER
SLOW DOWN, bitch!

APRIL
BANGS into the porter.

PORTER (CONT'D)
OW, hey!

He GRAPPLES her in a bear hug.

APRIL
Let me GO.

The porter SQUEEZES TIGHTER.

PORTER
You gotta SLOW DOWN, lady!

APRIL
I’m a GOVERNMENT AGENT.

PORTER
Bull-shit.

She FLINGS his arms away.
CRACKS him in the jaw. THWUMP.

Notices a crowd of ONLOOKERS.
Shows her ID.

APRIL
Homeland Security.
Keeping America safe.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Baby's In Black

Get ready for an explosive blast of estrogen firepower in the form of sultry, deadly government agent April Street, hot the trail of terrorists, black op agents, assassins ... just another day for NOWHERE GIRL.

Screened a real clunker last night. My god. Holy fucking shit. FREEDOMLAND, with Sam Jackson and Julianne Moore. (Sorry, Julianne, we're Facebrook friends and all, but all you seem to do on there is play 'Mafia Wars. Maybe you should spend more time reading scripts.) A VERY depressing story about a woman who kills her child, lies about it, and says a black guy carjacked her. Politically correct racial outrage ensues. Shut it off after 90 minutes in -- I really gave it a chance -- but it was Friday night, and slitting my wrists is no longer an option. FUGGEDABOUTID. Ug.

Onto today's rip-roaring episode of NOWHERE GIRL -- where we next meet Homeland Security agent April Street, who not only makes that agency suddenly cool, she'll get you incredibly hot ...


INT. AIRPORT SECURITY CHECKPOINT - AT THAT MOMENT
A long line of weary TRAVELLERS wait in line.
An ANGRY-LOOKING GUARD waves a metallic wand
across a FAT MAN’S suit. The detector SHRIEKS.
Angry’s face lights up.

DOWN THE CORRIDOR
A WOMAN is SPRINTING toward us.

Meet APRIL STREET (20’s). Eyes burning fire.
Tall and foxy, with legs for days. Baby’s in black.
But how can she run so fast in stiletto heels?

As she runs, she KNOCKS over shit.
PLOWS into a ELDERLY MAN.

APRIL
(British accent, over her shoulder)
Sorry! Government agent!

She gets closer.
We see she’s a dead ringer for Cherry Nation.
Like sisters. What’s going on here?

April RACES up to the checkpoint.
Flashes her ID.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Homeland Security!
Outta THE WAY!

An open-mouthed guard takes a look at the badge.
Fancy stuff. Holograms and shit.

OPEN-MOUTHED GUARD
Sure thing, uh --

APRIL
MOVE IT, Kojak.
This is a NATIONAL EMERGENCY --

She KNOCKS HIM OVER
and RACES down the corridor.

INT. AIRPORT BAR - AT THAT MOMENT
Cherry looks at the Hipster.
Unsure of what to do.

CHERRY
I need your help.

HIPSTER
You in some kind of trouble?

Cherry raises her wrist.
Exposing the handcuff, and the case.

CHERRY
You might say that.

HIPSTER
Holy shit. Are you a --
(leans over, whispers)
A spy?

CHERRY
(lowers it)
Hell, no. I’m a dancer.
Some asshole just cuffed me to this -- briefcase.
Said I needed to deliver it to someone.
If I didn’t, he’d --
(tears up)
Kill my family.

HIPSTER
Holy shit.

CHERRY
You keep saying that.

Pause.

HIPSTER
I’m -- Peeler.

CHERRY
What?

PEELER
My name.
Peeler. Peeler Mardo.

CHERRY
Oh. I’m Cherry.

PEELER
You certainly are.

Pause.

CHERRY
Look, I need your help,
not your hitting on me, okay?
He threatened MY FAMILY.

PEELER
Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m a guy.
(beat)
So where are you supposed to deliver it?

The door FLIES OPEN.
April RACES into the room.
WHIRLS AROUND. Stops.
WHIPS OUT her badge.

APRIL
Homeland Security, everybody FREEZE!
Anybody moves, and I'm gonna Gitmo your ASS.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Incident At Gate 7

Happy Friday, gunslingers. What a great way to start the weak-end -- a little early. A brand, spanking-new story is awaiting you kids. NOWHERE GIRL -- a balls-out, hardboiled, femme-driven spy thriller, straight from my demented mind. Get ready for the joyride of your life ...

Whew. Tons of stuff going on. Have a director and producer interesting in shooting my film noir A DISH BEST KILLED -- which I will post here at a later date -- but since it's also lesbian-tinged, I want to show you all that I can write hetero people. (Ha.) That's right kids, this new one is for the masses. Needless to say, I''m totally stoked to be starting up my second film. We're still in the preliminary 'taking a meeting' phase, but I promise to keep you posted as things develop ...

But first let me tell you about a cool little British flick I screened last night, THE FOURTH ANGEL, a nifty little thriller with Jeremy Irons, Forest Whitaker and Jason Preistly (!). A ripping good time was had with this one. To say anything about the plot would give too much away ... but I WILL tell you this ... if the idea of Jeremy Irons with an AK47 submachine gun gets you excited, then see this film. SOON. It's THAT good.

Drumroll, please. Hold onto your secret decoder rings, kiddies, cause today I'm unveiling NOWHERE GIRL, the spy thriller from hell. Balls-out, non-stop action from start to stop.

Brace yourself ...

Oh, did I mention one of the main characters is a former porn star, now stripper?

Well, Cherry Nation makes Jason Bourne look like a piker ...


INT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - BAR - DUSK
One of those bland watering holes for travelers
who aren’t picky about ambiance. Or their cocktails.

A WOMAN (20’s) sits a table near the windows, watching the planes.
Unbelievably hot, with long, long black hair. Reckless curves. Sleek. A gazelle.
Meet CHERRY NATION. Exotic dancer. Future entrepreneur.
Single mother of two.

Right now she’s sipping a whiskey sour and talking on her cell phone.
She tugs on her miniskirt.

CHERRY
Thanks for watching the kids for me, Shag.
I owe you one.
(listens)
Yeah, the money is fucking AMAZING.
I’m getting close to having the amount I need
to quit dancing and open the store.
(listens)
My MEDS? Mind your own business.
(listens)
Okay, okay -- I’ll call you when I get to Vegas.

She feels something in the small of her back.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Don't move.
I have a gun pointed at the base of your spine.

CHERRY
What the fuck?

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Don't speak. Just listen.

CHERRY
But --

The gun CLICKS.

Camera PULLS BACK to reveal --

A TALL, UGLY THUG in shades and a trench coat
seated at the table behind her back.
He smiles. Not a pretty sight.

TALL, UGLY THUG
I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,
girlie, and I don’t care. Get off the fucking PHONE.

She clicks it shut.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Good girl. Now listen carefully.
The briefcase is next to your chair.

He FLIPS an envelope on her table.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Take this. In it, you’ll find an address.
Take the briefcase there. Got it?

CHERRY
Listen to me, I think you’ve got the wrong --

TALL, UGLY THUG
If you don't deliver the package by sunrise,
we’ll kill you. And your family.
(nudges her with the gun)
GOT it?

She nods. Frightened to death.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Lower your left arm.
Put it near the case.

She does.
We hear a SNAP, CLICK.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
If you change your mind,
or go to the cops,
your family will DIE.
GOT it?

Cherry nods slowly.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT'D)
Good girl. Now you’re being smart.
I’m gonna leave now,
and you’re gonna keep facing the window.
DO NOT MOVE. Understand?

CHERRY
Y-yes.

TALL, UGLY THUG
One last thing. DO NOT open the briefcase.
If you do, you’ll die.
(beat)
Enjoy your cocktail.

He stands.
And in one fluid movement, he’s gone.
Cherry vibrates in her chair, shaking.
Blinking back tears.

She raises her hand.
We see she’s clutching the briefcase.
And that she’s been handcuffed to it.
She puts it back down.

A good-looking HIPSTER
slides into the chair next to her.
Studiously messy hair.
Five-hundred dollar torn jeans.

HIPSTER
These airport bars kinda suck,
don’tcha think?

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Your Columbine Or Mine?

Hold onto your hat, kids ... cause it's time once again for your favorite crime joint, That Killing Feeling. Today we're gonna be wrapping up things up on the latest story, so you don't wanna miss one ... so get yer tight asses in here ...

The time has come to pull the plug on WILSHIRE BOULEVARD on this blog. Not that I don't want to post the whole thing, but my manager advised me against it, as someone might steal it. Now, I know there's a snowball's chance in hell of this happening, but I gotta do what he says. But I won't leave you in the lurch. If any of you (and that means both of you) out there would like to read the ending, send me an email at parker.carole@gmail.com, and I'll shoot you a copy.

Tomorrow I'm gonna start serializing my big-budget spy thriller NOWHERE GIRL. Methinks you're gonna love it, because it's balls-out, hardboiled action from start to finish. And did I mention its REALLY violent? Oh, yeah -- and there's tons of hot chicks. Good times.

So, without any further, adieu, let's catch up with Carrie Love, who, along with Jenny Lane, are about to confront the ones who framed her for murder ...


EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - CANAL - NIGHT
The moon glimmers on the inky black waterway like thick brush strokes.
Five of WHITE GEESE float by, single file.

Jenny and Carrie sit on an old sofa under a tree. Watching.

JENNY
The guy in that five-million dollar home
on the other side bought them for his wife.
(beat)
Only the kids pay any attention to them.

CARRIE
Did you feel his pulse?

JENNY
No, I freaked out. I just split.
Then I called you.

CARRIE
He’s probably okay.
We could go to my place,
check the police scanner --
(realizes)
Shit.

Carrie closes her eyes.
Quietly shaking.

JENNY
(takes Carrie’s hand)
Stay here tonight.

CARRIE
I can’t drag you into this.

JENNY
I’m ALREADY into this.

CARRIE
(opens her eyes)
I guess you are.

JENNY
(sits up)
Come on, let’s go in.
I’m getting cold.

CARRIE
(pulls her back down)
Can you just -- hold me a sec?

They embrace.

Three soft GUNSHOTS RIP through the sofa
just above Jenny’s head --
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

JENNY
(jerks up)
What was THAT?

CARRIE
(pulls her down)
Someone’s shooting a B-B gun at us.
Stay down. Don’t move --

Carrie GRABS the top of the couch.
Then Jenny. Does a roll.
Pulls the sofa down over them.
They crouch low. Listen.

More shots THWIP, THWIP, THWIP
into the cushions.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
How very Columbine.

JENNY
Who are they shooting at?
You or me?

CARRIE
I don’t know.
But we have to get the fuck out of here.
My car is across the street.
Which car is yours?

JENNY
The gold BMW, two spaces down.

CARRIE
You have a beemer --

JENNY
Don’t get excited. It’s a ‘72.
That bucket of bolts cost me more in repairs
than what I paid for it.

CARRIE
But it’s -- working, right?

EXT. CANAL - AT THAT MOMENT
Across the canal, a FIGURE IN BLACK crouches down.
Rifle poking through the wooden fence along the footpath.

THE COUCH
is lifted, tilted, tipped up on end.

THE GUNMAN
squeezes off a series of SHOTS --
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Jenny’s vintage gold BMW PEELS RUBBER, and flies away.

INT. JENNY’S BEEMER - MOVING - NIGHT
Carrie drives like a demon.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Enough crying in my cocktail.
Fucking around playing footsie.
I still had my work. Still had this case.
And it was time to get my shit together and do what I do best --
crack this sucker wide open.

She FIRES UP a smoke, and --

JENNY
Careful, there’s a --

PUNCHES the gas.

JENNY (CONT’D)
Stop sign.
(grips the door)
Where are we going?

CARRIE
To Gay Flender’s joint.

JENNY
But didn’t you say you suspect her of --

CARRIE
I did. I do.

JENNY
And that she set you up?
Won’t she be --

CARRIE
Not if she’s distracted.

The girls exchange looks.
Carrie, excited. Jenny, scared.

JENNY
Oh, no you’re not. I’m not gonna --

CARRIE
Yes, you are.
All you have to do is talk to her
about how Modi hit you,
and that you’re thinking of suing,
but if you could get your job back --

PUSH IN ON Jenny.
Eyes darting. Pensive.

JENNY
I could -- do that.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Cock-Blocked

Happy hump day, crime victims. You ready to get your hardboiled/pulp groove going ... because its time for another daily dose of noir, shot right between your legs. Better watch your step, because the bodies are piling up, the clocke is running out, and it's no time to be squeamish ...

Screened a nice little flick last night ... Johnny Depp in NICK OF TIME, directed by John Badham. A box office bomb, and JD's first attempt at a mainstream role. Tight little crime flick that takes place in real time ... seems that Chris Walken and his evil chick friend have kidnapped Johnny's daughter ... and they force him to assassinate someone. A real nail-biter. Quite the sleeper. Very suspensful. A shame this one died on the vine, cause it's just great.

Onto today's nail-biter from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. Homicide Dicks Bernie Keko and Aya Meir are ... quite literally ... hot on private eye/murder suspect Carrie Love's trail ...


EXT. THE HORSE HEAD - NIGHT
Carrie walks out the front door. Lights a smoke.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I was cocked-blocked by a skirt.
First time for everything. It was just as well --
I mean, I was just going through the motions.
Sex with a stripper is like having desert for dinner.
Tastes great, less filling --
but you’re hungry again a couple hours later.
And besides, I have a damsel in distress to attend to.
(beat)
And right now, she’s about all I have left.

BERNIE (O.C.)
It’s right down here.
A real dive, one of her favorite places --

CARRIE
(hears him)
Shit.

She pulls down her hat.
Walks quickly in the opposite direction.
DUCKS into a TATTOO PARLOR.

BERNIE AND AYA
appear in front of the bar.

AYA
Disgusting. I can smell it from out here.

BERNIE
(fondly)
I know --

INT. TATTOO PARLOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Carrie walks up to the counter.

Behind it, a HUGE, TATTOOED BRUTE
looks her up and down. Wipes his mouth. Leers.

TATTOOED BRUTE
Hey, mamma -- how 'bout a little ink?

Carrie pulls out her GUN.
Waves it in his face.

CARRIE
I’m lookin’ for the back entrance, DOG.

TATTOOED BRUTE
You sure? I gotta fresh needle --

She marches past him toward a curtained-off doorway.

INT. THE HORSE HEAD - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya approach the bar.
Case the joint. Take seats.

Scary bartender ambles over.
Clocks them immediately.

SCARY BARTENDER
What can I do for you, officers?

BERNIE
(pulls out a photograph)
Have you seen this woman?

SCARY BARTENDER
(looks at it)
Can’t say I have.

AYA
You sure?

SCARY BARTENDER
I’d sure as hell remember HER.

Bernie frowns.
Puts the picture down.
Checks his watch.

BERNIE
Hey. It’s six. I’m starving.

AYA
It’s that late already?

BERNIE
(to Scary)
You still have those -- horse burgers?

AYA
HORSE burgers?

SCARY BARTENDER
(wistful)
We usedta. Gotta new owner.
Now just have beef.

BERNIE
I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger, bloody-rare,
with the works.
(to Aya)
You -- hungry?

AYA
Starving.
(to Scary)
Can I get a veggie burger?

SCARY BARTENDER
Sorry. No veggie.

AYA
I’ll just have some fries, thanks.

Scary nods. Goes off to fix the grub.

CURVY (O.C.)
Hey. I saw this girl. She was just in here.

CURVY
stands next to Bernie.
Picks up the photo. Squints.

CURVY (CONT’D)
Her hair is different, got this dykey
Jodie Foster thing now, but that’s her.

BERNIE
Holy shit. How long ago was she here?

CURVY
She just left.

AYA
Which way did she go?

CURVY
Hell if I know --

They LEAP off their stools. RACE toward the door.

SCARY
appears from the back with the food.

SCARY BARTENDER
Hey! Where ya GOIN’?

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

A Hell of a Woman

Greetings crime hipsters. What's the deal? You feel like taking a little trip to the dark side? Ready for a blast to your solar plexus? A little heat under the collar? Well, then you 've come to the right place. A place that time forgot ... on That Killing Feeling.

Screened a real pip last night. Brian De Palma's THE UNTOUCHABLES, from 1987. Back before he lost his mind ... or his talent .. I dunno. (I think THE BLACK DAHLIA killed his career .. I mean, Hillary Swank as a femme fatale? Last time I looked, hot, killer dames didn't have horse teeth.) Hadn't seen this one in eons, and it's aged really well. A young-looking Kevin Costner, Sean Conner, Andy Garcia and Charles Martin Smith go up against Bobby DeNiro's Al Capone, and the dark, nasty fun begins. Classic sequence on the library steps with a baby carriage cribbed from THE BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN -- love those homages. Go, Brian, go. So what the F happened? You lose your mojo? I dunno ... (ever seen RED MARS? Ug.) Check this one out when you get a chance, and light a candle ... maybe some day he'll get his fire back. Here's hoping.

Onto today's joint from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD -- and you better start savoring these, because pretty soon I'm going to have to pull the plug. My manager doesn't want me posting the whole screenplay on the net, as some knucklehead might try and steal it. (As if.) Not to worry, I've got another story I'm about to unleash on you. But for now ...

Let's rejoin private eye Carrie Love, where she loves to hide out. In a dive bar ...


EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - THE HORSE HEAD - SUNSET
Classic dive bar. A couple of OLD DRUNKS smoke butts in front.
Shivering in the brisk air of the beach at dusk.
An OLD HOMELESS HIPPIE (60) in a top hat shuffles by.
Holding up his pants at the crotch. Weaves slightly.

Carrie walks toward the bar.
Stops. Peers inside.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Some shamus I turned out to be.
On the lam, holed up like grifter
out of a Jim Thompson fever dream.
A Hell of a Woman, my ass.
I wasn’t on the case, the case was on me.
I wasn’t following leads, they were following me.
Suspects? I was the fucking suspect.
And now I was on a tear, a bender, a non-stop trip to hell.
Cause when the going gets tough, the tough --
(beat)
Go to happy hour.

INT. THE HORSE HEAD - CONTINUOUS
Unbelievably dank and dark. Broken ceiling fan.
Scary-looking BARTENDER watches a ball game
on a shitty little black-and-white.
Two DRUNK LOCALS sit nearby nursing their beers.
The jukebox spills out the scuzzy guitar shards
of Urge Overkill’s SISTER HAVANA.

An off-duty CURVY STRIPPER drinks and twists, oblivious.
Celebrating some private party.

Carrie slides onto a bar stool.
Eyes Curvy’s moves.

CARRIE
(to herself)
I’m in a Roger Corman movie --

The BARTENDER leans over.
Glares. Barely whispers.

SCARY BARTENDER
What’ll it be?

CARRIE
Heinekin, double shot of bourbon.
Kessler’s, if you got it --

SCARY BARTENDER
(nods, grim)
Kessler’s. Smooth as silk.

He turns to get her order.

HISPANIC MALE VOICE (O.C.)
How ya doin,’ mommy?
Haven’t seen you in here before --

Carrie looks left. Then down, at --

A GUY IN A WHEELCHAIR
near her stool. The wannabe lothario grins, wolfish.
Takes a slurp of beer. Looks up. Beady eyes leering.

CARRIE
Sorry, Mack. I don’t do the ‘Coming Home’ thing.
But slide me your digits, and I’ll give ‘em to Jane Fonda.

Scary returns with the drinks. Sees Wheelie-Boy.

SCARY BARTENDER
Leave the babe alone, Rodriguez, okay?

Carrie SLAPS down a ten-spot.
Slides off her stool.

CARRIE
Watch my change, will ya?
(to Rodriguez)
What do you call someone who’s
HIV-positive in a wheelchair?
Roll-AIDS.

She turns, walks toward Curvy.
Scary ROARS with laughter.
Downs her shot. Sips her beer.
Moves to the music.

Curvy senses Carrie’s presence.
Turns. Stares. Likes what she sees.
Starts dancing for her.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
Where’s a pole when you need one?

CURVY
Can I get a hit offa that?

Carrie hands her the beer.
Curvy takes a long, luxurious swallow.
Holds the bottle against her forehead.

CURVY (CONT’D)
Thanks. I needed that.

CARRIE
Makes two of us.

Curvy smiles.
The deal is closed.
Carrie’s cell phone RINGS.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Hold that thought.
(answers it, listens)
Jenny.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:INT./EXT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - BALCON
Jenny leans on the railing with a stiff cocktail.
Looks at the canal. She turns toward us.
We see she has a black eye.

JENNY
(into the phone)
How are you? You -- okay?

CARRIE
Yeah. Hold on a sec.
(covers the phone, to Curvy)
Be back in a sec. Business call.
Why don’t you go warm up a bar stool for me?

Curvy smiles.
Trots off to the bar.
Carrie sits at a table.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
I’m back.

JENNY
(jittery)
That’s just -- just great.

CARRIE
What’s going on?
You sound -- strange.

JENNY
Modi and I got into a big fight and he fired me,
I went to his place after work to try and get my job back,
we argued some more, he hit me,
and I pushed him, and he, he --
(beat)
Fell. He hit his head. He’s, unconscious.

CARRIE
No way.

JENNY
C-can you come over?

CARRIE
(looks off camera at Curvy)
Shit.
(sighs)
Be right there.
(clicks the phone shut)
Damn. Stripper-interruptus.

Monday, June 15, 2009

What The Fuck Are You Looking At?

As Elvis Costello once sang, 'Welcome to the working week.' And you know what that means, don't you? You betcha. It's time for another amazing chapter of that hardboiled/pulp story I like to call WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. So, strap yourself in, buckle up tight, and get ready for the ride of your life.

Screened a classic from the 70's last night, THE GAMBLER, featuring James Caan, along with a raft of classic actors including Jimmy Woods, Lauren Hutton (!) and a baby-faced Paul Sorvino. Terrific cautionary tale written by my man James Tobak about the perils of gambling. Not to give anything away, but I was squirming in my seat watching Caan fuck up his life betting all his money on losers -- several times. Terrific stuff. They just don't make 'em like that anymore ... Rent it if you've never seen it. A real classic.

Onto today's joint from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD today, and this one's a corker. The plot is heating up -- as Bernie and Aya are closing in on Carrie ... quite literally ...


INT./EXT. UNMARKED POLICE CAR - MOVING
The car cruises Speedway.
A narrow street just behind the Venice Boardwalk.
It passes BUMS, young HIPSTERS. SURFERS.
Bernie’s behind the wheel. Aya sips a designer coffee.

BERNIE --
and the bartender looks at the guy and says,
‘Hey. I was talking to the duck.’

Bernie ROARS with laughter.
Aya does a slow burn.

BERNIE (CONT’D)
C’mon, that’s funny.

AYA
You fucking sneak. I was driving.

BERNIE
Payback for stopping at Star-FUCKS.
How can you drink that shit?
It looks like a milk shake, not a COFFEE.

Bernie’s cell phone RINGS.
He pulls it out. Listens.

BERNIE (CONT’D)
Keko here --
(beat)
Holy shit.

AYA
What?

BERNIE
(to Aya)
Martune’s dead --
(listens)
We’ll be right there, chief --
(hangs up, to Aya)
Step on it, baby.
We’ve got another body.

AYA
(does a ‘take’)
You called me -- baby.

PUSH IN ON Bernie’s face.
In pain. Confused.

BERNIE
Don’t get used to it.

INT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - ELEVATOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Carrie rides down. Pulls out her Glock. Checks the chamber.

EXT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - CONTINUOUS
Bernie and Aya’s car pulls into the front entrance. Parks.

IN THE LOBBY
the elevator doors open.
Carrie walks out.
Then hears --

BERNIE (O.C.)
-- homicide detective Keko,
and this is detective Meir.
We’d like to see the register.

Carrie FREEZES in her tracks --

CARRIE
Shit.

Turns, and walks toward the garage exit.
Goes through a door.

AT THE FRONT DESK
Bernie and Aya look through the book.

BERNIE
Than Dong Ng, Werner and Hilda Schmidt,
Lucia Greco -- fucking United Nations.

The officious PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK (22) nods stiffly.

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Well, Venice Beach IS a major vacation destination.

AYA
Do you have a photocopier?

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Sorry. There’s a Kinko’s about a mile away, on Lincoln.

BERNIE
Fuck that --
(to Aya)
You stay here, write down all the names
going back the last twenty-four hours.
I’m gonna go scope out the parking garage.

AYA
Gee, thanks, officer.
You go prowl why I stay here
and do the secretarial work?
I think NOT.
(shoves the book at him)
YOU write down the names
while I go check out the garage --
(off his stare)
If she happens to be down there,
she WON’T recognize ME, GET it?

The clerk watches. Amused.

BERNIE
That’s -- a good idea.
(to the clerk)
What the fuck are you looking at?

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Code Blue

What's that? You thought I forgot about you? Heaven forbid. It might be Sunday, but that doesn't mean I'm asleep at the wheel. And I've got just the thing for a lazy weekend afternoon ... a fresh, steamin' hot chapter from Wilshire Boulevard.

Didn't screen a movie last night. Was reading a book. How many people can say THAT about their Saturday Night? I'm re-reading some of Dashiell Hammet's short stories, looking for one to adapt for the screen. Haven't found the right one yet, but I'm having a great time. If you haven't read his stories, you should. I'm now into a great collection called 'The Continental Op.' Check it out sometime. You won't be disappointed.

Onto today's joint from Wilshire Boulevard, and this one's DARK. Beware, my sweet ... because Carrie Love is about to get revenge from Paul Martune, the jerk that burned down her house ...


INT. SANTA MONICA HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR - DAY
A bustling hallway right out of ER. DOCTORS, NURSES, TECHS
weave in and out like ants marching up the hill.

A DOOR opens to a room marked NURSE’S LOUNGE.
A tall, thin NURSE strides briskly into the throng.
Starched white hat atop chunky blonde locks.
She stops. Turns. Looks.

It’s CARRIE.
Looks at the door numbers. Searching. Aha.

A DOORreads ‘134.’
A female hand pushes it open, and we go into --

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Dark with the lights out. Drapes pulled.
Quiet, except for the machines chirping.
Lights blinking.A hulking FIGURE lies on the bed.
Tubes and wires inserted.
Large wooden FRAME is affixed to its head
with a series of bolts, like scaffolding.
Like it’s under construction.

It’s MARTUNE.
Being rebuilt. Like beachfront property.

Carrie tip-toes up to the bed.
Turns on the light.
Martune doesn’t react.
Sleeping the dreams of morphine bliss.

CARRIE
Wakey, wakey, RISE AND SHINE.
It’s time for your SPONGE BATH.

Martune’s eyelids flicker.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
And then maybe take a little BLOOD.

His eyes slowly open. Try to focus.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Take your RECTAL TEMPERATURE.
With a FUCKING KNIFE.

Martune tries to speak, but he’s drugged to the gills.
His voice comes out sideways, like a ventriloquist.

MARTUNE
Cahrrie -- Lohv --

CARRIE
That’s right, buster -- it’s me.
Here to wake you from the dead.
Cause we’re gonna have a little party.
Play ourselves a little game --
‘confession junction.’

She pulls a small dictating recorder from her pocket.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
(into it)
Testing, testing -- one, two, three.
Is this thing on?
Golly gee, officer, I was only going ninety.

Carrie pulls out her GLOCK.
Aims it Martune’s head.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Don’t worry. This is just for insurance.
I’d rather just turn off your life support.
More dramatic. And less messy.

MARTUNE
Yoo -- funkin’ -- bih.
She places the dictaphone on the pillow beside his head.

CARRIE
All I want is your confession,
and then I’ll leave you alone.
(beat)
Maybe.

With great effort, gaining strength,
Martune grimaces.

MARTUNE
You stole -- ma girfren.’

CARRIE
Well, that’s the problem with a menage et trois, big guy.
It’s rarely an even three-way.
Two of them really get into each other,
and leave out the third.
Nine out of ten times,
it’s the two women,
leaving Mr. ‘I Just Wanna Watch’ out in the cold.
And in your case,
poor little baby was sick of your smug shit
and jumped on the first life preserver she could find.
(beat)
Me.

Carrie pulls out his IV tube.
Martune winces in pain.
Reaches for the call box on the bedside table.

MARTUNE
I’m gonna -- call -- security.

Carrie GRABS the box.
Places it out of his reach.

CARRIE
Enough. Pipe down. Sit still.

She raises the gun.
Places it against Martune’s temple.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
You’re gonna spill it. NOW.
(CLICKS on the recorder)
Talk to me, Jesus. Tell me about the fire.

MARTUNE
Shit, no -- don’t shoot, don’t shoot.

CARRIE
All of a sudden you can talk?

MARTUNE
(looks at the missing IV tube)
Morphine -- I need -- morphine.

CARRIE
Give me your statement. NOW.
Then you can take a trip to paradise city.
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.

Carrie CLICKS the hammer.

MARTUNE
Okay, okay. DON’T SHOOT.
(exhales)
I started it, okay?
I burned down your house because you stole my girlfriend.
I LOVED that girl, and you -- took her AWAY from me.

CARRIE
Aw, isn’t that touching.

She PISTOL-WHIPS him, CRACK.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
So you torch my DREAM HOME.
(seething)
Last question, asshole.
You killed Slobotnik, didn’t you?

Martune blink-blinks. Frightened.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
(raises the gun)
You want more of this?
ANSWER ME.

MARTUNE
Okay, alright. I shot -- Kip.

CARRIE
Why?

MARTUNE
He -- made a pass at me.
Said he was -- in love with me.
I -- snapped.

Carrie smiles. SNAPS off the recorder. Stands.

CARRIE
Well, I guess that wraps it up.

MARTUNE
Please, morphine -- I’m in pain.

Carrie looks around.
Sees a small washcloth on the bed post.
She balls it up. SHOVES it in his mouth.
Leans over. Re-inserts the IV tube into Martune’s arm.
His eyes cry out with immediate relief.

CARRIE
See? I’m not a totally bad person.
(beat)
I may not be a health care professional,
but I play one on TV.

One of the monitors starts BEEP-BEEP-BEEPING.
Oscilloscope patterns dance madly on the screen.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Shit.

She presses the call button.
Then hurries out of the room.

IN THE CORRIDOR
Carrie looks at her clipboard. Starts moving.
Blends into the crowd.

A MALE VOICE
rises above the din on the PA.

URGENT MALE VOICE (O.C.)
CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE,
room 134, cardiac arrest!
Move it, move it, STAT.

PUSH IN ON
a VIDEO CAMERA on the wall.
Red light on.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Liquid Breakfast

Happy Saturday, crime aficianados. Feeling a little violent? Got a mean streak? An itch that can't be scratched? Then shake your tailfeather over to the coolest joint on the web. That Killing Feeling. Open for business, serving the finest in hardboiled pulp. Shaken, not slurred.

Screened a big, fat, fun, stupid action movie last night -- SWAT. Now, in case you're wondering why I'm watching pretty much nothing but big budget crime stuff like this, well -- there's a method to my madness. I'm still a student of noir and classic films, but right now I'm doing research. I wanna write one of these. In fact, my next screenplay, after I"m done with a draft of LITTLE GIRL BLUE, is gonna be one.

So I'm researching.

Back to SWAT. I had no interest in it when it came out -- sounded stupid. A big-screen version of a questionable TV show from the 80's? Well, guess what. It works. Sam Jackson, LL Cool J, Michelle Rodriguez, and a pre-rehab Colin Ferrell are terrific in this fast, violent shoot-em-up Check it out if you haven't ..

Onto today's bleak scene from WILSHIRE BOULEVARD. Carrie goes to the beach with a bottle, and calls Gay Flender, wife of a certain dead movie producer. The plot indeed thickens ...


EXT. VENICE BEACH - SHORELINE - ROCKS - AFTERNOON
Carrie sits on the rocks watching the waves.
The surfers doing their thing.
She drinks from a new bottle. Winces.
Pulls out her cell phone. Dials. Listens --

CARRIE
Gay?
(listens)
Yeah, it’s me. Your pigeon. Your frame.
Tell me why you did it.
I want some answers, NOW.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Gay paces the floor. Smoking a cigarette.
A Cheshire cat.

GAY
Answers? To what?
I hired YOU to get ME some answers --

CARRIE
Don’t play dumb with me,
you vacant, airbrushed strumpet.
I’ve been framed for your husband’s murder,
and I’ve got a funny feeling
you had something to do with it.

The door opens. Modi slides in.
Sees Gay’s on the phone.
Gay raises a finger, ‘shushes’ him.
Presses ‘speakerphone.’
Softly places the receiver in its cradle.

GAY
You mean to tell me you think
I hired you to find my husband’s killer,
and then I FRAMED you?
That doesn’t make sense.

CARRIE
Yeah. Kinda like one of your late husband’s
fucking piece-of-shit movies.
A bad rip-off of THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE.
Oh, wait -- that’s quality source material.
This reeks of Jackie Collins.
Maybe Danielle Steele.

Carrie BURPS.

Modi shoots Gay a look.
Gay shakes her head.

GAY
Kinda early in the morning for cocktails, detective.
And I don’t like your attitude.
Consider yourself fired.
Go find yourself a gutter to roll around in.

CARRIE
Not so fast, bitch.
We’re going to ‘take a meeting.’

GAY
I’m sorry, but my schedule’s pretty full.
Booked solid the rest of the month.

CARRIE
Not at your office, dummy.
You think I’m gonna walk into a trap?
Somewhere neutral.
I’ll let you know where.
And when. And watch your back.
One way or another,
I’m gonna getcha-getcha-getcha.

She hangs up. CLICK.
Drains the bottle. Wipes her mouth.
FLINGS it into the sea.
Slowly, carefully stands up.

CARRIE (CONT’D) (V.O.)
But first, let’s pay a little visit to the hospital.
Visiting hours are almost over,
and I need to go pay my disrespects.