Monday, November 8, 2010
Be It Ever So Humble, There's No Place Like Denial
Happy fucking Monday, crime slicksters! It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In chapter 6 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love, after learning about the shocking sudden death of her father, has to go into the belly of the beast ... and visit her fucked-up family ...
EXT. BEVERLY HILLS MANSION - DAY
A giant monstrosity like something
out of the Addams family on an
acre of land off Sunset Boulevard.
A long driveway behind a gated entrance.
Nice house, too many people home.
Carrie’s car pulls up to the gate.
Be it ever so humble,
there’s no place like denial.
She leans over.
Presses a button on the speaker box.
It’s Carrie. I’m here --
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
It’s about time --
The gate swings open.
She sighs. Drives in.
You can chose your friends --
but you can’t choose your assholes.
INT. MARGO’S ESTATE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Margo sits on the couch with a fresh cocktail.
Eyes burning with fire.
She looks at Carrie in the doorway.
Carrie. There you are.
Go fix yourself a drink if you want one --
Standing next to her is Carrie’s brother TODD, (27),
tall, thin. Receding hairline. Red-faced.
A vein on his temple throbs violently.
Lip curled in smug self-satisfaction.
That’s my brother Todd on the left.
A self-righteous born-again Christian
who tried to work for my father’s brokerage house
but got the boot because he’s a goldbrick.
He’s now a wedding videographer. Banal much?
Carrie goes to bar.
Starts fixing a cocktail.
You sure that’s a good idea?
Nice to see you too, Todd.
(low, to herself)
You get that hairbrush
out of your ass yet?
WHAT did you say?
We’re supposed to be grieving.
I’m not gonna put up with that shit,
you HEAR ME?
NATE (18), walks in the room
carrying a tray of snacks.
A smaller, thinner, calmer version of Todd.
The peacemaker. Trendy in an Arcade Fire t-shirt.
'The Suburbs,' indeed.
And that’s my other brother, Nate.
He was the ‘save the marriage’ baby.
Didn’t work, of course. Never does.
Sweet kid, though.
Thank god he’s not a defensive prick, too --
Ramona made us some crudite --
(forces a smile)
Nate smiles hopefully.
Walks over to Carrie.
Offers her the tray.
She takes a snack. Sips her drink.
How you holding up?
I guess I’m in shock.
I don’t feel anything.
Don’t feel bad.
Runs in the family.
At least I’m not having
an existential crisis --
Mom told me you got into Harvard.
Early admission --
Gonna be hard to leave the nest --
He brings the tray over to Margo.
She inspects it. Takes one.
Puts it on a napkin. Stares at it.
He wants to be a doctor.
I told him he should be a lawyer.
That’s where the real bucks are.
I want to help people, mom.
Not screw them over.
What’s the difference between
a barracuda and an attorney?
One’s a bottom-feeding scum-sucker --
and the other’s a fish.
That’s not funny.
Johnny Carson, now HE was funny.
(raises glass in a toast)
Heeere’s JOHNNY --
Todd eyes them. Picks up a file folder.
Thumbs through it. Clears his throat.
I went online and did a search
of all the best funeral homes in Beverly Hills.
I thought we could get the ball rolling
and pick something suitable --
Carrie picks up her drink.
Walks over to Todd.
Dad didn’t go for that fancy shit, you know that.
He’d want something low-key and discrete.
But I just thought --
Who put YOU in charge?
Last time I looked,
I was the oldest child --
(gets in her face)
Well, you sure as hell don’t ACT like it --
(gets in his)
What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?
I didn’t get fired from my job in DISGRACE
and almost thrown in JAIL.
(POKES him in the chest)
At least my own FATHER didn’t
FIRE me for being LAZY.
How fucking lame IS THAT?
(WHACKS her hand away)
Don’t you DARE fucking touch me --
Children. ENOUGH. The two of you. Honestly.
Can’t you at least PRETEND to get along?
She started it --
Carrie drains her drink. L
ooks at them coolly.
You know what? On second thought,
you go ahead and handle the funeral stuff, Todd.
You were always good at that anal retentive shit.
Go head, have a ball.
Work those sphincter muscles.
I’m sure you’ll choose the casket
that 'everybody has to have' this season --
She walks over to Margo.
Staring in disbelief.
You know I love you, mom,
but if I have to inhale these noxious
fumes another minute,
I’m gonna punch his fucking lights out --
I just got a new case,
and I need to focus on someone
who needs my help,
instead playing the Family Fight Club --
Who needs your help?
A young girl is missing.
Her father hired me to find her.
Oh, dear --
How old is she?
About your age --
Well, that’s perfect.
You can mix business with pleasure again.
Carrie nods. Heads for the door.
Stops. Turns. Looks at Todd.
Thanks for proving my point, little brother.
Weddings, funerals -- it’s a full life, huh?
(to the rest)
Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I’m going to return to the real world.
Because believe it or not,
SOME people want my help --