Happy Monday, gunslingers. Are you ready for another steaming hot slice of hardboiled pulp, served with a side order of bullets? Then get up from your desk, close the blinds, load your weapon, and surrender the dark, depraved glory at ... That Killing Feeling
Onto today's joint from BLOOD GETS IN OUR EYES, where things get a bit ... messy.
First up, hooker Alona Tal and boozy screenwriter Holly Land are cleaning up the blood from the dead trick Holly 'accidentally' killed ...
Meanwhile, on a safe, surburan Santa Monica side street, Alona's client Gill Sherry must face his wife after their latest liasion, with tricky results ...
INT. ALONA’S SHITTY HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Alona looks at Holly. Drinking vodka from the bottle.
Grimacing. Looking lost.
Gimmee some of that.
We’ve got our work cut out for us.
(hands her the bottle)
What -- do you mean?
Beggar’s on his way.
He said we gotta mop up the blood,
then wrap up the body.
Do me a favor, and go down to the front desk
and ask for some extra towels?
What should I say they’re for?
(takes a swig)
I dunno, make something up.
Tell ‘em we’re having a slumber party.
What are we gonna wrap him up with?
You mean -- like in Goodfellas?
Nah. More like Motel Hell.
EXT. SANTA MONICA SIDE STREET - NIGHT
The moon glows like ghostly spectre through dark velvet clouds.
Not a star in the sky.
A leafy avenue a few blocks from Main Street.
Not the cheap seats, but close.
But still only ten blocks from the ocean.
A late-model Volvo comes tooling down the street. Turns into -
EXT. SUBURBAN BUNGALOW - NIGHT
A small, neat bungalow with a manicured lawn.
And yes, with a white picket fence.
The kinda joint I’ll be able to buy when I sell this screenplay.
The car pulls into the driveway. Stops. Gill gets out.
Weaves up the sidewalk into the front door of the house.
INT. GILL’S BUNGALOW - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
A small, neat room with the typical funky decor of a liberal teacher.
Rows of books on shelves. African art.
Right now, in shadows.
Gill walks into the room.
Puts his briefcase down.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Student conferences run late?
The light SNAPS ON.
In the entranceway stands DONNA (40’s), Gill’s wife.
Still attractive, but looks weary. Worried. Alabaster skin.
No makeup. Could be a cougar, if she tried.
Yeah. Then I had a couple of beers with Brub.
She walks up to him.
Puts her arms around him. He tenses.
A couple of beers? You reek of booze --
Yeah, well -- we had a couple of shots.
He needed to talk. Guy stuff, you know.
How was your day?
The usual. Another exciting day in the chem lab.
She blinded me with science --
There’s Thai food in the fridge.
I could nuke some for you --
(pulls away from her)
Thanks, but I’m beat.
I’m gonna hit the sack.
Gonna go jump in the shower.
See you upstairs.
Be there in a sec.
Turns, and walks away into the rear of the house.
PUSH IN ON Donna's face.
Watching him suspiciously.