A Cute Little Latex Number

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 6 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love convinces her ex, patrolwoman Megan Paul to go undercover at Club Fuck and snoop around ... as that was the hangout of her murdered ex-lover, porn star Laura Lang ...


INT. SAMMS' LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Candles flicker. Samms sits
on the couch in his bathrobe.
Lusty, full of joy.

Punches the remote.
Settles back to enjoy the show.
Slips his hand between the folds.

ON THE SCREEN
Klaus stands at the top
of the hill with Chick.

KLAUS
That’s a Bozo no-no.

INT. SAMMS’ LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Samms watches, rapturous, hand moving.

KLAUS (O.C.)
Ready -- speed -- action!

CHICK (O.C.)
AHHHHHHHHH!

He works faster.
A screech -- then a THWAP on the TV.

ON THE SCREEN
Chick lies in a crumpled heap
at the base of the tree.

SAMMS (O.C.)
Ahhh, ahhh, ahh --
(beat)
ARRRRRRGH!

INT. CARRIE'S LIVING ROOM - DAWN
A cozy, cluttered array of color,
comfy furniture, pop culture.
Blondie-like girl pop punctuates the ambiance.

Carrie stretches in her rollerblades,
to die for in short-shorts.
A tiny sports bra.
Helen of Troy. On wheels.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I go for a blade every morning.
Gets the juices flowing, wakes me up.
The sunrise on the ocean is breathtaking.
Spiritual.
(beat)
And my Gold's Gym membership expired.

She rolls out of the room.

INT. CARRIE'S DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Hard rubber wheels hum on the hardwood floor.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I like to maintain a balance in my life.
I work, I play, I rest.
(beat)
I drink, I smoke, I see a shrink --
(beat)
And until a little while ago,
I got laid.

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
She rolls over to the fridge.
Opens it. Gets a sports drink.

CARRIE (V.O.)
It's a Zen thing, clears my head.
And I'm gonna need a clear head,
'cause right now I'm broke.
That knucklehead in Tarzana
is my first client in three months.
Thank god for infidelity.
(beat, stares off into space)
And denial.

EXT. VENICE BEACH BIKE PATH - DAY
Hooky, soaring Brit-pop against the sea,
the sunshine.

Carrie glides like a figure skater
on the freeway in the sand,
beaming, lost in the music.
Joggers pass her and smile.

EXT. VENICE BEACH BOARDWALK - DAY
The strand is throbbing with
TOURISTS, BUMS, VENDORS.

A Gen-Y STREET PERFORMER
plays bad music on a crap guitar.

Carrie and Megan sit on a bench
eating pizza slices.
Revolver begs, eyes pleading.

CARRIE
(to the dog)
The starving act isn't gonna work, babe.
Go take it to Sally Struthers.

She pinches off a piece of pepperoni,
holds it up.

Revolver BARKS.
Carrie pop it in her mouth.

MEGAN
Don't tease her, that's mean.

CARRIE
(mysterious, smiling)
Watch this.

She flings her slice in the air.

The dog jumps --
And wolfs it down in one greedy gulp.

Revolver pants happily.
Carrie pets her.

CARRIE
That's my killer.

The dog BURPS.

MEGAN
She did not just do that.

CARRIE
Hey, she takes after her mom.

She BELCHES.

MEGAN
Stop trying to seduce me.

Pause.

CARRIE
(takes her hand)
I'm so glad you're here, Meg.

She lights two cigarettes,
hands one to Meg.

MEGAN
Thanks.

Carrie takes a drag.
Holds it in. Blows a smoke ring.

CARRIE
Ever been to Club Fuck?

MEGAN
Been there? We fucking busted it.
Some perv was piercing his cock.
Onstage. It was the fucking show.
(beat)
Part of the reason I left vice.

Pause.

CARRIE
That's right, I forgot --

MEGAN
You were there?
(beat)
You never told me you --

CARRIE
That's where I met her.
It was our hangout.
(eyes start to tear)
I wanna go there and sniff around.

Pause.

MEGAN
I forget, what night is it open?

CARRIE
Saturday night.

MEGAN
That's tonight.

CARRIE
Well, whattaya know.

MEGAN
Undercover? I don't have the --

CARRIE
Don't worry about it, babe,
I got a cute little latex number
that's gonna fit you like a glove.

Young, Beautiful And Stupid

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking HUMP DAY. 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 5 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love meets with her new client, kinky film buff Michael Samms. Meanwhile, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Lucka meets with a friend to plot the cinematic demise of his next victim ...


EXT. CARRIE'S PATIO - DUSK
A gorgeous sunset lights up
the horizon over the ocean.

Carrie and Samms sit on her patio
sipping Coronas.

SAMMS
Sharon met her at an audition,
they hit it off.
They were wearing
the same shoes.

CARRIE
What kind?

SAMMS
Of shoes?

CARRIE
Yeah.

SAMMS
I dunno, some foreign name.
Who cares?

CARRIE
I do. You can tell a lot
about a woman from her shoes.

SAMMS
(thinks)
Man-olo --

CARRIE
Blahnik? Manolo Blahnik?
I tried on a pair of those once.
(a delicious memory)
What's the bim's name again?

SAMMS
Monica Lynn.
She's a B-movie actress.
She does that direct to video shit,
you know, girls in bikinis
with semi-automatic weapons.
Pure crap.

Pause.

CARRIE
I love those movies.
I thought she was great in
"Operation Sunscreen."
She's gorgeous.

SAMMS
And a complete dyke.

Carrie lights a smoke.
Burns with contempt.

CARRIE
Maybe they ran off
together somewhere.

SAMMS
No way.
I mean, Sharon's bi,
but she's no lesbo.
Besides, she wasn't into Monica.
Sharon likes brunettes.
Brunettes with real tits.

She takes a long drag.
Exhales a taunting French curl.

CARRIE
That makes two of us.

Pause.

SAMMS
You're hired.

INT. KLAUS' KITCHEN - NIGHT
An art-directed culinary orgy
of marble, chrome and glass.

Spooky, slinky, trance-hop
pulses on hidden speakers.

Klaus sips wine at the gourmet island
with starlet MONICA LYNN (20),
the stuff of blue collar
pin-up calendar dreams.

MONICA
You always have pate' for me, Klaus.
You're such a good host.

She takes a bite, savors it.

KLAUS
Anything for my delicious little starlet.
(beat, surveys his prey)
You look good.
Your boobs are settling nicely.

MONICA
Thank you, darling.
For ten grand, they
better fucking "settle nicely."

ISABELLE, (23) Klaus' yummy trophy wife,
bursts in the room.

ISABELLE
I'm going out with Blaise.
We're going cock-teasing
at the Geffin party.
(icy, sarcastic)
Oh, hello, Monica.
Isn't that a fetching outfit.

MONICA
Thanks, I got it at Red Balls --

ISABELLE
(to Klaus, leaving)
Don't wait up,
we're going to
the Clit Club afterwards.
Ciao, darlings.

MONICA
Jesus, you could cut her attitude
with a fucking chainsaw.

KLAUS
That's not all I'd like to
cut with a fucking chainsaw.
(beat)
So. Tell me how it went
with young Sharon Samms.
She seem like a good prospect?

MONICA
God, yes, she's perfect.
Young, beautiful and stupid.
And she's dying to be in the movies.

KLAUS
Her first starring role.
(beat)
And her last.

A Clockwork Kinky

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 4 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love gets hired by a new client, kinky sound man Michael Samms, who she doesn't know works on demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer's crew. Meanwhile, Klaus and his aide de camp Jorel Amin watch the flesh parade on Sunset Boulevard and plot their next shoot ...


INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
The score from A CLOCKWORK ORANGE. LOUD.

A bland suburban living room
somewhere deep in the Valley.

MICHAEL SAMMS, (36) a piggy-eyed,
shifty slug of a man,
sits on the couch watching TV,
eating chips. Picking his foot.

We see on the coffee table
a stack of DVD’s, a box of Kleenex --
and a tube of lubricant.

A phone RINGS. He ignores it,
eyes glued to the screen.

ON TV
Malcolm MacDowell's eyes
are viciously held open with clamps.

INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Samms gets up, walks,
watching the screen.

SAMMS
Fucking Kubric. Fucking genius.

INT. SAMMS' KITCHEN - DAY
He listens to the answering machine.

KLAUS (O.C.)
Hello there, kinky sound man,
it's your fearless leader.
The shoot's on for tomorrow at eleven.
Be there or be square.
And don't forget
to call the female dick.
She's the next one.

EXT. SAMMS' DRIVEWAY - DUSK
Samms opens the mailbox,
pulls out a large manila envelope.

SAMMS
(kisses it)
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.

EXT. CARRIE'S PATIO - DUSK
A sexy, Chris Isaak-kinda croon washes over --

Carrie. Resplendent on a chaise,
glorious in red lipstick,
shades and a killer bikini.
Her tiny cell phone chirps.

INT. SAMMS' KITCHEN - DUSK
Samms talks on the phone,
holds up a business card.

SAMMS
Yeah, hi -- is this
"Carrie Love, Private Investigations" -- uh --
(squints at the card)
"Fast, cheap and out of control?"

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT. CARRIE'S PATIO - CONTINUOUS
CARRIE
(on the phone)
That's me.

SAMMS
That's a strange way
to advertise your business.

CARRIE
It gets attention.
You called me,didn't you?
(beat)
You still there?

SAMMS
Uh, yeah -- I need you to find my wife.
She's been missing since this morning.
She went to have lunch with a friend,
and I haven't seen or heard from her since.
No phone call, no message, no nothing. Zip.
And she doesn't answer text messages.

CARRIE
Wow. That’s serious.

SAMMS
How much you charge?

CARRIE
Five hundred bucks a day.
Plus expenses.

SAMMS
But your slogan is
"fast, CHEAP --

CARRIE
Look, if you can't afford it,
then call the fucking cops.
But guess what --
they won't do jack shit
until a missing person
is missing twenty four hours.
For all you know,
your wife could be
lying in a ditch
with a bullet in her head --
and you're worried about chump change?

SAMMS
Hey, no need for you to get nasty.

CARRIE
Darling, nasty is what you need.
Right now, your wife could be
in the hands of a fucking psychopath.

Samms grins.

SAMMS
You take plastic?

EXT. CAFE TABLE - DUSK
A hand slaps a credit card on a restaurant bill.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal--

EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - THE COFFEE BEAN - PATIO - DAY
Sidewalk tables overflow with a hip, young crowd --
with a liberal sprinkling of Persian-trash.
Klaus and Jorel watch the flesh parade.

JOREL
That one, there.
Check out those legs.

A glossy, reed-thin MODEL TYPE
oozes by their table.

KLAUS
Her breasts are too small.
I like nice, big, boobs.
(beat)
So, did you read the treatment?

JOREL
Of course I did.
Are you fucking crazy?
The "Wheel of Misfortune?"
It's fucking ridiculous.
(lowers his shades)
And did you really think
you could get me to dress up
like Vanna White?

KLAUS
Vanna White?
Who said anything about Vanna White?
I want you to dress up like Idi Amin.

Pause.

JOREL
You have to keep bringing up
my father, don't you.

Tourist Wrangler

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking Monday. 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 3 of LEGS, demented German snuff film director Klaus Speer screens his latest 'creation' in his secret underground studio. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love vows to find Laura's killer, and enlists the help of her ex, patrolwoman Megan Paul ...


EXT. CARRIE'S PATIO - DAY
Two detectives, JESUS VALENTINE
and ROBERT O'HENRY sip designer coffee.
They watch the body get stuffed into a bag.

Valentine, a fireplug of a man
stuffed like a sausage into a
too-small suit lights a smoke
with a click of his Zippo.

VALENTINE
Pretty gnarly tattoos for a chick.

O'Henry, pale, whisper-thin,
squints in the bright sun.

O'HENRY
I'd still fuck her.
(off Valentine's stare)
Not now. Jesus Christ.

VALENTINE
I told you not to
take my name in vain.

Pause.

O'HENRY
I bet she was into kinky shit,
you know? Probably did pornos.

VALENTINE
Those piercing's gotta fuckin hurt, man.
She had her fuckin labia pierced.

O'HENRY
I saw this picture once of a guy
who had his dick pierced?
That's shit's gotta fucking hurt. Shit.
(beat)
What do you think our chances are
of finding the head?

Valentine flicks his cigarette
into the hot tub.

VALENTINE
About the same as me
getting my dick pierced.

INT. VIDEO MONITOR - DAY
Images flash over pounding,
ugly German techno music.

Every fifth image is a tight shot
of a penis on a table.

A hand holds a spike over it --
a wooden mallet comes down --

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - CONTINUOUS
The faint thump-thump-thump
of tweaker club music.

A dimly lit studio crammed with
postproduction equipment.

Klaus and Jorel sit in front of the monitor.
ZIVA, underage, Gothic-gorgeous and
totally pierced pleads her case.

ZIVA
It would mean so much to me, Klaus.
Saturday night is the Equinox,
and I'm supposed to be the sacrifice.

KLAUS
You should have told me earlier.
There's no time to find a, uh --
(turns, checks her out)
-- suitable substitute.
I mean, after all,
you handle the money.

They lock eyes.

KLAUS
I'm sorry, my little rose petal.

She does a slow burn,
grabs the doorknob.

ZIVA
Yeah, right.

And she's gone.

KLAUS
The things I have to do
in the name of dominance and submission.

Klaus gingerly rubs his crotch.

JOREL
Is it healing okay?

KLAUS
Of course. Surgical stainless steel.
(beat)
Those fuckheads at MTV.
They wouldn't know art
if it fucked them in the ass.
(punches a button)
Enough show and tell.
Time to look at the dailies.

A CD slides out.

JOREL
Roll it, Mein Herr.
I'm chubby already.

KLAUS
(takes out disc, grabs another)
And I thought you were
just glad to see me.

He shoves it in. Giggles.

JOREL
We hit the fucking lottery
with this one.

KLAUS
I like the part where
she hits the tree. Hold on.

ON THE MONITOR
we see the road where
the two men were earlier that day.

KLAUS (O.C.)
Our website's gonna get so many hits.

A shrieking Chick flies across the screen.

CHICK
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

She takes a sharp turn,
flails her arms wildly --
plows into a tree with a CRACK --
and flops to the ground
like a ruined Barbie.

JOREL
And people jerk off to this stuff.

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - DAY
Carrie leans against the sink.
Megan sits at the bar across from her.
They clink mugs in a toast.
Megan takes a sip.

MEGAN
(makes a face)
Jesus, Carrie, I said one shot.
(swallows, pounds her chest)
What is that stuff?

Carrie takes a long pull.
Licks her lips.

CARRIE
Goldschlager.
It's a cinnamon liqueur.
It's got gold flecks in it.
(lights new smoke off old one)
Laura turned me onto it.

MEGAN
(sips, a weak smile)
I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry.

Carrie grabs the bottle, pours some more.
Megan watches her drink, helpless.

CARRIE
I'm gonna find her fucking killer.

MEGAN
That could be kinda dangerous, Carrie.

CARRIE
That's why I'm gonna need your help.

MEGAN
But I'm strictly beach patrol.
I'm a tourist wrangler.

CARRIE
And I just lost the love of my life.

Pause.

MEGAN
I haven't seen that look
in a long time.
Since that night you
jumped out of the limo.

CARRIE
I'll be good. I promise.

MEGAN
That’s what I’m afraid of --

Tequila, Cigarettes and Chanel No. 5

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. Are you ready for the weak-end? 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 2 of LEGS, we meet dominatrix Felina Bella Donna and German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer, each plying their 'trade.' Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love grieves the brutal murder of Laura Lang with another ex-lover, patrolwoman Megan Paul ...


INT. MERCEDES SUV - DAY
A beefy BLACK MAN viciously pokes
the DRIVER in the arm.

BLACK MAN
I don't care, stop the fucking car!
I'm gonna be --

He throws open the door and pukes.
The brakes slam.

DRIVER
Must have been a good party.
How come I wasn't invited?

A PARTY INVITATION
proclaims the "15th Annual Fetish Ball."
"Dress to Thrill," the embossed script dares.

INT. KITCHEN - DAY
A perverted, undulating kink-groove.

FELINA BELLA DONNA (29), lithe,
cat-like, opens her mail.

Her chiseled, pale beauty
a sharp contrast with her black vinyl dress --
a glossy outrage on the domestic landscape.

A MALE SLAVE eats from a
dog food bowl on the floor.
She SNAPS his leash.

FELINA
That's a good boy.
Lick it clean.

The brunette bombshell
touches her ear, listens.

FELINA
(whispers)
Stop it. You’re gonna make me laugh.
(listens)
Hey, it’s a kinky job --
but someone’s gotta groove it.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - ROADSIDE - MORNING
A sign reads "Danger. Road Closed.”

The Mercedes SUV enters the frame,
pulls over. Parks.

KLAUS SPEER (50), the driver,
a charming, face-lifted Jeremy Irons type --
Eurotrashy-elegant in leather and Gucci shades,
gets out of the vehicle.

He pulls CHICK (18) by the hand.
Blindfolded and gagged.

Pale flesh goose-pimpled
in a bikini and rollerblades.

JOREL AMIN, (35),
the big black guy we saw vomit,
totes a DV camera.

Massive, a tree trunk.
And dark as night.

JOREL
You trying say no
to Miss Nude America.

KLAUS
Enough about the bimbo.
Time to make movie magic.

CHICK
(through her gag)
M-mmm -- mmm --

JOREL
Such a lovely day.
God, I love my craft.

KLAUS
Ready for a little cinema verite?

EXT. ROAD - CONTINUOUS
The trio stand at the crest of the hill.
The newly paved steep downward incline
beckons ominously.

Jorel sets up the camera.
Klaus slips on a Bozo mask.

KLAUS
Don't start yet. When I say action.
(takes off the gag, to Chick)
Enough clowning around. It’s show-time.

CHICK
Klaus, please, I don't want to die!
I won't tell anyone, I swear!
Please don't kill me!

KLAUS
Shut the fuck up.
You're a cheap little piece of trash.
And you know too much.
You shouldn't have fucked her, baby.
That’s a Bozo no-no.
(beat)
I trust you know how to skate.

JOREL
holds the camera on a tripod.

JOREL
Ready to roll, Herr director.

KLAUS
ties her hands. Takes off the blindfold.

KLAUS
Boogie night-night, Roller Girl.
(beat)
Ready -- speed -- and action!

And shoves her down the hill.
Chick SCREAMS an ungodly howl.

EXT. CARRIE'S PATIO - AT THE SAME TIME
The crime scene hums with POLICE, TECHNICIANS.

MEGAN PAUL, (25), cute, curvy
and freckled in uniform,
sits astride a blonde stallion
like the archetype she is.

Carrie, eye makeup smeared,
pets the horse, in a trance.

MEGAN
I totally freaked out
when they said it was your address.
(trying not to lose it)
So -- are you okay?

CARRIE
I guess I'm in shock.
I don't feel a fucking thing.
You'd think I'd be a mess.
(trails off, on overload)
She's the love of my life.
(pulls away)
Was the love of my life.

Megan dismounts.
Puts her arms around Carrie.

CARRIE
(trying not to cry)
Someone cut off her fucking head.

MEGAN
Come on, let it out.
You'll feel better.

CARRIE
(tears coming)
You're such a good friend, Meg.
I love you so much.

MEGAN
(surprised, hugs tight)
Hey, c’mon -- what else are ex's for?

Carrie lifts her head.
A glimmer of a smile.

MEGAN
Still the bad girl.
You smell like tequila,
cigarettes and Chanel Number Five.

CARRIE
My religion, death and taxes.

MEGAN
C'mon, I'll make us some coffee.

CARRIE
Make it Irish.
(beat)
And hold the coffee --

I Carry A Gun

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Thursday. 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.

Due to popular demand, I have decided to post the Carrie Love trilogy in it's entirety, in order. Part 2 of her story is LEGS (which is also the title of the drama pilot that's right now being shopped in Hollywood, but that's another story).

One last note. This was my second screenplay, written fifteen years ago, so it's a bit -- rough. But this is where I found my voice, and it will always have a special place in my heart. And in my holster.

When we last left Carrie, she had reunited with her porn star lover Laura Lang, but unfortunately, as does happen in crime stories, their relationship soon ends in a most despicable way ...

Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present Chapter 1 of LEGS ...


INT. SHITTY APARTMENT - NIGHT
Swanky music. A nasty, trashy go-go groove.

Somewhere deep in the heart
of the wrong end of Hollywood --

A tiny bedroom in an uproar.
A table lamp sits on the floor,
red light bulb spilling seedy ambiance.

LAURA LANG, (26), cruelly Grace Kelly beautiful,
sits at her vanity putting on her face.
Slowly. Expertly. Perfectly.

It's quite a vision.
Milk white skin caressing black vinyl.
Brutal tattoos. A nasty pout.
Eyes that have seen it all.

Several times.

She paints her mouth a bloody red.
Blots her lips. Licks her teeth.

Kisses the mirror. Rises.
Stretches like a cat.

MIRROR POV
Laura slips on a motorcycle jacket.
A Gestapo cap. Silver mirrored shades.
Snaps chrome handcuffs onto her belt.

Click.

She appraises her ensemble.
Adjusts her hat, just so. Sneers.

AT THE DOOR
the goddess grabs a riding crop.
Storms out into the night.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - SIDEWALK - CONTINUOUS
Shiny black bondage stilettos
clack-clack on the pavement.

She stops. Cocks her head.
What was that?

A strobe flashes, blinding her.
A camera whirs.

Big, thick, dark hands
wrap around her neck -- and squeeze.

She struggles violently,
eyes bugging out.

The beauty thrashes,
pounds on her attacker, to no avail --
her eyes flutter, close,
as she sinks into blackness.

DISSOLVE TO:

A WOMAN'S FACE
Uncommonly lovely.
And a bit weathered
from a trip in the fast lane.

But still, her long chestnut hair,
caramel tan and pillow lips
make most men stare.

And more than a few women.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal --

INT. BEDROOM - DAWN
A brassy detective theme, ala PETER GUNN.

The first light streams in
through the blinds, to reveal --

CARRIE LOVE, (27), a tall, tight
drink of water
in an hourglass-shaped goblet,
asleep like the dead,
sprawled across her thrashed bed.
Mouth open. A trail of spittle.

REVOLVER, a cuddly cocker spaniel
sleeps at her feet.

CARRIE (V.O.)
My god, I look so peaceful.
But when I wake up, look out.
Hangover city.
(beat)
I gotta stop betting people
I can out-drink them.
(beat)
'Cause I always win.

She starts coughing. Leans over.
Grabs a glass of water. Glugs it down.

Throws the covers over her.
Burrows back in.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I smoke too much.
My doctor tells me the only reason
I've gotten away with it for so long
is 'cause I work out every day.

The phone rings.
She yanks it off the hook.
SLAMS it down.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Fucking bill collectors.
Don't they know it's Sunday?

BR-RING.

She whips off the covers,
seizes the phone --
and RIPS out the cord.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I've got this habit of
taking out my anger on appliances.
They love me at Radio Shack.
(beat)
You shoulda seen what I did
to that toaster oven.

She slowly, achingly gets out of bed.
Tries to stretch. Ouch.

We see she's still dressed from her night out.
She unzips her skirt. Peels it off. Tosses it.

CARRIE (V.O.)
The name's Carrie. Carrie Love.
But everyone calls me Legs.
People say my legs are my best feature.
Comes from rollerblading ten miles a day.
Being five foot ten doesn't hurt either.
More legs per square inch.

INT. CARRIE'S BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
She looks at herself in the mirror.
It's not a pretty sight.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I think my best features
are my ironic smile and my rapier wit.
(beat)
But what the fuck do I know?
ost guys just stare at my boobs.

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Carrie watches the Mr. Coffee do its thing.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Ever see those guys
waiting for their methadone?
At least I get to have
more than a little paper cup.

She pulls off her top,
tosses it across the room --

revealing a black bra.
And a leather shoulder holster.

CARRIE (V.O.)
That's right. I carry a gun.

She reaches behind.
Grabs her piece.
Gingerly rubs her spine.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I'm a private dick.
I do Rockford Files kinda stuff,
nothing dangerous.
Guys who cheat on their wives
hire me to prove their wives
are cheating on them.
I also do missing persons --
last week it was some
Beverly Hills asshole trying to
find his junkie son
who swiped his Humvee.
(beat)
It pays the rent.
I've thought about bounty hunting --
I mean, that's where the real bucks are --
but I like breathing,
thank you very much.

EXT. PATIO - DAY
A view of the ocean,
lush with trees and flowers.

On the patio,
a big, old wooden hot tub.
Steam rising.

IN THE HOT TUB
is a headless female body.
Red smears the green water.

A chlorine floater bobs
against an exposed breast --

with a tattoo of a hummingbird
feeding off the nipple.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I'm reasonably happy.
Being a low rent dick
keeps food on the table,
and I get a few thrills
every now and then.
(beat)
I mean, what can I say?
I grew up on The Avengers.

EXT. PATIO - DOOR STOOP - DAY
Carrie squints in the sunlight,
cups her mug with both hands
like it's the Holy Grail.

Revolver runs out onto the patio.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Welcome to my life.
Hope you enjoy the ride.

She sips her coffee.
Looks at the ocean.
Smells the scent.

CARRIE
Another fucking beautiful day
in paradise.

The dog starts barking.
Carrie sees the body. Screams.
Her mug hits the ground -- pop.

CARRIE
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!
Laura, Laura, Laura!
Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She clutches her chest -- and vomits.

The Roulette Wheel Of Love

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Wednesday. 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 the final chapter of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED ... I'm not going to tell you what happens. You'll have to find out for yourself ...

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - NIGHT

ANGLE ON --
Carrie’s gun at the camera.
Bernie’s pair on Sparkle.
Sparkle’s Uzis on Madrid and Bernie.

Sparkle FLIPS a gun
from Bernie to the CAMERAMAN.

SPARKLE
(to Carrie)
Squeeze play -- your choice, hon.
Billy Betacam, or baby Botox.

Pause.

CARRIE
(to the cameraman)
Shut off the camera.
It’ll make her stop.

CAMERAMAN
What? No way.

CARRIE
Shut off the camera,
it’ll make her stop.
She won’t shoot,
it’s gotta be on the air.

CAMERAMAN
No way. She’s got a
fuckin’ gun at my head.

SPARKLE
That’s right, detective --
I’ve got him in my hair-trigger.
And It’s gettin’ itchy.

CARRIE
(to the cameraman)
And I’ve got her number.
She won’t kill anyone else
unless it’s being broadcast --

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A surprised look on Madrid’s face.
Three red stains slowly expand
on her gauzy belly-top.

THE CAMERAMAN
turns to the wounded beauty,
focuses. Excited. Scared.

CARRIE
PUNCHES him. GRABS the camera.
Shuts it off.

INT. NEWSROOM - CONTINUOUS
The monitors go black.

BROCK
Goddammit.

LINA
Fuck me.

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - CONTINUOUS
Sparkle stops. Looks. Confused.
Something shuts down.

SPARKLE
No, no. Turn it back on.
Turn it back on.
(very quiet)
Mommy, please --
let me do it again, please.
I’m sorry I dropped it.
I know I can do better.
(listens to something)
I don’t get another chance?

She gently places a gun at her throat.
The other at her temple.
Closes her eyes.

CARRIE (O.S.)
No! Don’t do it --

SPARKLE
(a whisper)
I’m sorry.
(beat)
I’ll take my ball
and phone home now.
(a whisper)
Bye, bye, Daddy.
Take care of Mommy --

SPARKLE
Squeezes the trigger.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Her head EXPLODES in a SPRAY of RED MIST.

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - NIGHT
Emotionally spent, splattered,
Carrie makes her way through the crowd of
NEWS CREWS, COPS, GAWKING BYSTANDERS.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Another thing about Los Angeles --
this sprawling mass of self-satisfaction
is all about air time.
The ‘big story.’ Ratings.

She passes a REPORTER,
a blonde, grinning jock type.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Fucking vultures --

JOCK REPORTER
Yes! I believe that’s her!
(approaches Carrie)
Detective! Miss Love!
Roger Ditz, KTLA Evening News!
How do you feel?

Carrie PUSHES him away.
Keeps walking.

CARRIE
That’s on a 'need to know' basis, Roger.

Veronica approaches.

VERONICA
Don’t bother begging for my favors, Carrie.

CARRIE
We all use each other, babe.

Lipshitz appears.

LIPSHITZ
Carrie, let me give you a lift home.
You can file your report tomorrow.
You’ve been through --

CARRIE
I’ve been through a bloody blender, Lare.
Please, leave me alone -- no offense --
but I’ve got find someone.

LIPSHITZ
I’ll call you tomorrow morning.

CARRIE
I’ll call you. I’m sleeping in.

She reaches the gauntlet of GAWKING ONLOOKERS.
Pushing, wildly grinning, jockeying for position.

RABID ONLOOKER
Yo, that’s her!

CRAZED ONLOOKER
Carrie, baby! Legs!

Carrie ignores them,
pushes through the crowd.

CARRIE (V.O.)
It’s all about the glitz,
the glamour -- the box office.
Which explains the rage behind
the big, bright smiles.
Why someone jams on the horn
if you hesitate the
tiniest bit at a stoplight.
Why people will spend five bucks
for a coffee and a buck-fifty
for a cookie. A fuckin’ cookie.
(beat)
And which explains all the shitty movies
they keep cranking out.

LAURA
Stands at the corner. Holy shit.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Except this one, of course.

Carrie walks over to this
flaming creature in pink latex.

CARRIE (V.O.)
And there she was, a vision in rubber.
It was as if the heavens opened up
and delivered me evil.
Brought back to me the missing piece
I thought was gone forever.
The thing that made me whole.

Carrie says something to Laura.
Laura tenses. Looks like she’s going to bolt.

Carrie pulls out a pack of smokes.
Shakes out two.

Lights them.
Offers one to Laura --

She snatches it.
Takes a long, deep drag.
Blows smoke in Carrie’s face.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Cause when your self-esteem
is running on empty --
you need another warm body
to fill your tank.

Carrie begs, pleads.
Like her life depended on it.

But then, at this point --
maybe it does.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Nobody’s perfect.
I’m not -- and God knows,
neither was she.

Laura’s eyes burn into her. Considering.

Carrie gets down on one knee --
Giving Laura the view up her skirt.

CARRIE (V.O.)
But we had something most people never have.
Something they only dream about.
(beat)
And should probably stay the hell away from.

Laura pulls a leash out of her purse.
SNAPS it on Carrie’s leather choker.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Some people say such passion
is worth the price.
For me, it was a no-brainer.
(beat)
Call me Lassie.

Laura steps back.
Gives the chain a YANK.

Carrie stands. Goes to her.
And they kiss --

CARRIE (V.O.)
That’s it. Time for me
to ankle this joint.
And it’s about time for you
to get back to your happy little lives.
(beat)
Me? I’ll be right here,
playing craps with my heart --
and spinning the roulette wheel of love.

Pageant Princess From Hell

Happy X, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 31 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, we're reached the next-to-last chapter, where homicide detective Carrie Love faces off with teenage serial Sparkle Plenty, just as her ex-partner arrives on the scene to lend a hand ...


EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
A gridlock of COPS, several NEWS CREWS --
And a crowd of GAWKING SPECTATORS.

Larry PUSHES toward Carrie -- GRABS her.

LIPSHITZ
Are you okay? What’s going on?
How many people are dead?
What’s she like?
Does she have any demands?
Are you okay? Can I get you --

CARRIE
Larry! Slow down. Slow down. Slow down.
(beat)
I’m okay. But there’s dozens of
dead smart shoppers in there --
and one barely breathing bimbo.
And I don’t give a fuck what she’s like --
this pageant princess from hell
is right now in the middle of
a midnight-movie breakdown --
and she’s demanding that we get
the fucking media in there immediately --
so unless you have a better idea --
then I suggest we grab some prime time meat
and do a little dance
with little Missy devil dog.

LIPSHITZ
(gestures around him)
Go get ‘em tiger. Pick a channel.

She looks around at the REPORTERS,
lights, cameras, CREWS.

A MULTI-ETHNIC CREW, 'TELEVISO.'

HISPANIC REPORTER
Mira, mira! Televiso! Televiso!

LIVE AT FIVE -- with a GLOSSY NEWS GUY,
grim -- but excited.

GLOSSY NEWS GUY
Live at Five, Miss Love! Live at Five!

CNN. The big boys.
With a STUNNING NEWS BABE.

STUNNING NEWS BABE
Carrie. Been a long time.

CARRIE
gulps.

CARRIE
Veronica. You got your dream job.
(beat)
You look great.

VERONICA
You never called.

CARRIE
Please, I’ll grovel at your feet later.
Lick your shoes. Anything you want, I swear.
But right now we gotta meet the press.

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - MOMENTS LATER
Veronica and the CREW
creep up to Sparkle on tip-toes.

SPARKLE
Jesus Christ, this is the 'Action News?'
Lighten up, this is the big scoop,
the exclusive -- it’s the fucking sweeps!
Play it right, and your career
goes into overdrive.
Fuckin’ quote’s gonna go through the roof.

VERONICA
(shoves mike toward Sparkle)
Veronica Sawyer, Miss Plenty, CNN.
I must say this the most
unusual interview I’ve ever done.
You’ll have to pardon me
if I’m a little bit scared shitless.

SPARKLE
(crazy smile)
Pleased to meet ya, Ronnie.
And please, call me Sparkle.
It’s truly an honor.
Love that action, love that news.

VERONICA
Do you realize we’re making
broadcast history, Miss -- Sparkle?
Right now at this very moment,
over a hundred million people
around the world are watching us.

SPARKLE
Then take me to your global village, anchor babe.
Lets get that demographic.
(to the cameraman)
Bring it in closer,
I want to hear them gasp --
wanna hear them say, but gosh,
she’s so pretty.

CARRIE
shoves her gun in Veronica’s face.
GRABS her mike.

CARRIE
Before you get your precious footage --
I need to borrow your transmission.

VERONICA
Bitch.
(into the camera)
As you can see, Detective Love
has just commandeered my crew.

SPARKLE
Hey, you can’t shoot her!
I’m gonna shoot her!

INT. ACTION NEWSROOM - AT THAT MOMENT
The ANCHORS and CREW watch on monitors
with uncontained glee.

LINA
Get her! Kick her fucking ass!

BROCK
Shoot the bitch! Shoot the bitch!

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - CONTINUOUS
Carrie gets closer, looks into the camera.

CARRIE
Laura -- I hope you’re watching this.
I just wanna say I’m sorry.
I really fucked up.
What you do for a living is your choice,
it’s none of my business,
and I had no right to judge you.
I just got scared --
that machine almost killed you.
Almost fried what I pray to.
(beat)
At least what you do is honest.
I mean, I fuck people too,
but they don’t have an orgasm.
They just get a slimy sandwich a
nd a scary new roommate.
Please forgive me.
Come back, baby.
My sheets are dry.

KEKO (O.S.)
Well, what have we got here?
One of the dolls get out of her box?

Sparkle WHIPS an Uzi toward the voice,
turns to look.

SPARKLE
Ohmigod, it’s Mr. decaf frappaccino.
So glad you could join the party.
Ready for a little ‘death do us part’ action?

BERNIE
holds twin 357 Magnums.
They glisten in the light.

KEKO
In your dreams, little girlie.
There’s two of us now,
so you better put away those toys
before Mommy catches you.

ANGLE ON --
Carrie’s gun at the camera.
Bernie’s pair on Sparkle.
Sparkle’s Uzis on Madrid and Bernie.

Sparkle FLIPS a gun from
Bernie to the CAMERAMAN.

SPARKLE
(to Carrie)
Squeeze play -- your choice, hon.
Billy Betacam, or baby Botox --

The Family Fuck

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. 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 31 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, we start hurtling toward the exciting conclusion when newly-reinstated homicide detective Carrie Love goes mano-a-mano with teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty at the Bargain Clown Mart, deep in the heart of Hollywood ...


EXT. CORNER OF HOLLYWOOD AND VINE - NIGHT
Carrie’s silver coupe SCREECHES, fishtails right,
then jerks into a tiny parking lot.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal --

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - NIGHT
The bluesy, slinky crawl of
Concrete Blonde’s WOMAN TO WOMAN.

Three-dozen squad cars,
news vans choke the parking lot.

Carrie stands behind yellow police tape
with a bullhorn.

CARRIE
(Loud, over the speaker)
Alright, you Waco-wacko, Una-Bimbo,
Branch Dividian wannabe.
I’m here, I’m queer --
and I’m gonna fuck up your
technicolor, tinsletown world.

IN THE STORE
Sparkle snaps on a 'Mr. Karaoke'
with a squeal of feedback.

SPARKLE
So glad you could make it
to the show, Detective Love.
Or should I say, 'ex-detective Love.'
Now you listen to me, Missy --
save your threats for someone who gives a fuck,
cause there’s a new sheriff in town.
And she’s gonna preempt your regular programming.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

THE PARKING LOT

CARRIE
Go ahead, kill the trust fund thigh-mistress --
like I could give a holy fuck!

INT. TELEVISION NEWS BROADCAST - AT THE SAME TIME
BROCK BRADLEY and LINA DELGADO
sit at the 'Action News' desk.

BROCK
-- When just moments ago,
Homicide Chief Larry Lipshitz
reinstated Detective Carrie Love.
I know we’re not supposed give our opinion, Lina --
but I gotta say, I think there’s gonna be
a lot of controversy over this.

LINA
Give me a break, Brock.
She’s just reclaiming what’s hers.
Like the whispering wind
off the desert of the heart,
Carrie Love is a postmodern heroine
for a vacant world.
Ride the white horse, girlfriend.
Ride the white horse.

What?

BROCK
Well, look who’s the poet.
(touches earpiece, relieved)
We’ve just been given
a late-breaking bulletin. Skip?

INTERCUT WITH:

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
Roving reporter SKIP WHITMAN,
the red headed, almost-albino
man on the scene, squints into the CAMERA.

SKIP
That’s right, Brock.
This is Skip Whitman,
man on the scene here on a
crisp, clear, starry night
here at the Bargain Clown Mart,
deep in the heart beautiful downtown Hollywood.

BROCK
Very descriptive, Skip.
So what the heck’s going on?

SKIP
Well, Brock, in a stunning reversal of fortune,
infamous former-Homicide Detective Carrie Love
has been yanked back onto the force --
and is right now inside the Bargain Clown Mart
having a showdown with the alleged killer,
who we’ve just learned is a
very attractive teenage girl.
The stunning former 'Little Miss Inland Empire'
only made one demand -

LINA
(touches her earpiece)
Holds that thought, Skip --
I’ve just been given another bulletin.
We’ve just learned that Carrie Love
is wearing a to-die-for Gucci
chocolate brown leather mini.

Brock turns, looks at her strangely.

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - AT THE SAME TIME
Carrie walks through the front door, hands in the air.

CARRIE
I’m not carrying. Let the girl go.
We can make a deal.

SPARKLE
There she is -- lookin’ good, Missy. But
where’s the hunka-hunka burnin’ cop-muffin?

CARRIE
He’s on his way. So let’s just calm down.

Sparkle walks over, pats her down.
Gets to Carrie’s hemline.

CARRIE
That’s a restricted area.
I don’t do the casual thing these days.

The killer’s hand disappears up inside.

CARRIE
No wonder you’re killing all your suitors --
you’re one of the ten percent.

Sparkle whips her hand out.
CLICK-CLICKS-CLICKS her weapon.

SPARKLE
'Let’s Make A Deal,' huh?
Wanna play 'The Family Fuck?'
'Who wants to be a dead fuck?'
How ‘bout 'The Wheel of Misfortune?'
Huh? Wanna take a spin?

The vixen swings her Uzis
in the direction of Madrid.

SPARKLE
Don’t shoot, or the nigger gets it.

Pause.

CARRIE
BLAZING SADDLES.

SPARKLE
I’m rilly, rilly impressed.
(beat)
'Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be okay.
I’m your biggest fan.'

CARRIE
MISERY. Cathy Bates makes
James Cahn pee his Hilfigers.

SPARKLE
Ohimgod. Fuck me with a blowtorch.
Pull my anal beads. You’re really good.
You might just have to live.
(beat)
'Envy. My sin was envy.'

CARRIE
Take a powder, kid. SEVEN.
Kevin Spacey, the scene where he’s got
little Gwynie Paltrow’s head in a box.
Kid stuff. That’s the best you can do?

SPARKLE
(pissed off)
'Go ahead, ask yourself, punk --
do you feel lucky?'

CARRIE
You’re kidding me, right?
I thought you’d be gettin’ obscure on me.
That’s my boy, Clint, DIRTY HARRY.
Reason I joined the force, little girl.

Sparkle SNAPS.

SPARKLE
Don’t call me LITTLE GIRL.
I’m NOT a little girl.

CARRIE
Ooh. Looks like I hit a nerve.

SPARKLE
Shut up! You’re ruining it!
This is my movie!
This is my shining moment in the sun --
my climax -- my audience award-winning --

Carrie WHIPS a sliver of a gun
out from under her skirt.

CARRIE
Cut the crap, little girl. I’m on to you.
You’re nothing but a two-bit, dime store floozy
with a couple of semiautomatic weapons.
You don’t fucking scare me.
I’ve been looking death in the face
longer than you’ve needed tampons.
So go ahead, shoot -- c’mon,
hit me with your best shot.

A pin drops.

SPARKLE
No. Not yet. Get a news crew in here.
Now. Or else silver spoon in her snatch
gets it where Daddy does it to her.

MADRID
Hey!

SPARKLE
Shut up!

She EXPLODES in a fusillade of bullets --
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

SPARKLE
You heard me, now!
Unless the action fucking news
is in here in ONE MINUTE --
the heiress gets her rack
frappéd in a 45 caliber blender.

CARRIE'S
eyes flicker. A brainstorm.

CARRIE
Then let me go get one.

SPARKLE
Okay -- march, copper.
Bring me the media.
(beat)
But if you try any funny stuff,
it’s curtains, see?
You try and double-cross me,
and it’s boom, boom, boom, out go the lights --
everybody have fun tonight,
everybody Wang Chung tonight.

Carrie turns to go. Stops. Looks back.

CARRIE
You really gotta get out more often --

Liquor Is Quicker

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking FRIDAY. Are you ready for the weak-end? Then 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 30 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love drowns her sorrows in a bottle of booze, but then she gets a call from her ex-partner Bernie Keko summoning her to the scene of crazed teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty's hostage situation at the Bargain Clown Mart ...


INT. CARRIE’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Our not-so-plucky heroine is sprawled on the couch,
a lump of self-pity.

On the coffee table, a bottle of scotch.
Empty beer bottles. A shot glass --
And Carrie’s big, chrome Glock.

From the TV, we hear LAURA’S VOICE
cry out with fake passion.

LAURA (O.S.)
Yes -- gawd, yes. Fuck me!

Carrie grabs the shooter,
FLINGS it at the screen -- CRACK.

POP. The glass SHATTERS. Smoke curls.

CARRIE
(very drunk)
Fucking -- cunt.
Carrie slowly reaches over.
Picks up the gun.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Girl’s best friend --

She grabs the bottle. Takes a slug.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Pills would be -- much less messy.

Carrie brings the barrel to her crotch.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Wonder if anybody’s ever
blown out their cootch.

Picks up the videotape box.
The title reads HARD CANDY.
Laura’s face grins lewdly.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Oh, yeah -- that’s right.

She FLINGS the box across the room.
Takes another slug.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Candy is dandy --
but liquor is quicker --
(puts the gun to her throat)
But a bullet in the gullet is handy.

The safety clicks.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Dead poet’s society --

She closes her eyes.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Forgive me father,
for I have fucked.

The phone RINGS.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
Fuck you! Go away! Leave me alone!

It BRRR-RINGS again. She stands.
Marches over to the bar.

Ma Bell’s intruder BRRR-RINGS.
She GRABS it.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. MONSTER TRUCK - AT THE SAME TIME
Bernie YELLS into his cell phone.

KEKO
Carrie, it’s Bernie -- don’t throw it!

CARRIE
What? You -- what the fuck do you --

KEKO
The phone! Don’t throw it!
That’s what you do,
so don’t fucking throw it.
Listen to me, we’ve found the killer!

A horn HONKS somewhere in her fog.

CARRIE
You found the killer?
(beat)
Where?

KEKO
In Hollywood.
She’s taken the Bargain Clown Mart hostage.
I’m on the way there now --

Carrie struggles to focus.

CARRIE
You found the -- movie killer?
How many, how many hostages?

KEKO
One.
CARRIE
One?

KEKO
One.

CARRIE
Well, that’s kinda lame.

KEKO
Tell that to the fifty dead customers.

CARRIE
So why you calling me?
I no longer wear the baby blues.
I’m just a civilian,
I haven’t had a bear claw in a week.

KEKO
That might be true.
But our fatal fatale wants you and I
to star in her final flick.
(beat)
Or else she’s gonna kill her last
hostage --

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
A news van idles.

KEKO (O.S.)
Live on the 'Action News.'

CARRIE
Stares at the phone. Sighs.

CARRIE
So I guess this is what they call
a ‘wake up call.

INT./EXT. CARRIE’S OLDS - PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY - DUSK
A postcard sunset. Riot of red, orange and yellow
splashed across the sky, the water.

Carrie races up the coast in a tunnel of palm trees.
She lights a smoke, slides in a CD.

Concrete Blonde’s brutal-biker snarl of
GOD IS A BULLET.

CARRIE (V.O.)
This is the part where I
have my showdown with the beast.
(CRANKS it up)
Let me tell you a story.
I have a girlfriend who works at a movie studio.
And this mini-major had a big hit movie.
Made 150 million bucks.
It was one of those 'dumb' comedies.
Even had the word 'dumb' in the title.
So, when it comes time to make the sequel,
the suits --

She turns onto Sunset Boulevard.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Well, actually, they don’t wear suits anymore.
Every day is 'casual Friday' in show biz nowadays --
so let’s call them, 'business casuals.'

The Porsche races by the Beverly Hills Hotel.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So these business casuals come up
with this brilliant, creative idea.
Let’s not use the original writer.
Since we’d kill to be able to
come up with an idea, something, anything,
a germ of something that might possibly resemble
an original thought in an alternate universe --
we’ll have some input.
Some ego-driven bastardization
of the creative process.

Carrie flies by the Cinerama Dome.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So now I feel like the fucking writer
who got fired from the very thing she created.
I got pink-slipped out of my life.
My girlfriend’s gone, fucked that up.
I lost my job, really fucked myself
in the ass with that one --
and I only got it back because
I’m being summoned to the climactic scene
by the villain --

The car turns left, heads North up La Brea.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Who in this case is the
evil spawn of Jon-Benet Ramsey
risen from the dead,
hell-bent on shooting her own
B-movie meltdown in some kind of
post-apocalyptic Hollywood Babylon.
(beat)
Don’t drop your popcorn, kids --
cause the hero’s about to lose it.

She stops at a light.
Looks at herself in the rear view.

IN THE MIRROR
Carrie’s eyes burn.
They blink, flicker madly.

Her hand WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAPS
the dashboard.

CARRIE
(screams)
No! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!
I will NOT be a passive protagonist!

Carrie JAMS on the horn --
HONK, HONK, HONK, HONNNKKK.

She TAKES OFF into the traffic --

Say Hello To My Little Fren

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 29 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty takes the Bargain Clown Mart hostage, killing almost every 'smart shopper,' and then starts negotiating with a survivor, heiress Madrid Marriot. Meanwhile, homicide detective Bernie Keko gets carjacked on the way to the scene, and has to find new wheels ...


INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - CHECK OUT REGISTER - NIGHT
Sparkle stands on the counter top.
With enough firepower to
clog Joel Silver’s arteries.

SPARKLE
Mr. and Mrs. America,
and all ships at c-word --
citizens, lend me your fucking ears!
You’re gonna give me what I want,
or I’m gonna starting killing you!
One at a time. Slowly. Painfully.
(beat)
We’re gonna have a lotta fun.

SCARED CASHIER
Please don’t kill me.
Please. Take anything.
What do you want? Money?
Take the money,
we don’t fucking care,
it’s not our money,
take the fuckin’ money!

SPARKLE
I don’t want your fucking money!

STORE MANAGER
Then what do you want?
Just tell us!

SPARKLE
I want you to --
(Pacino as SCARFACE)
Say hello to my ‘lil fren.

She points twin pink Uzis at the hostages.
They start CRYING, SCREAMING.

SPARKLE’S
eyes flutter. Scrunch close.
Major chemistry kicking in.

SPARKLE
I love the -- smell of napalm --

SCARED WOMAN
Grab her, quick!
She’s on something!
She --

Sparkle’s eyes FLASH open.
The madwoman LOSES IT.

SPARKLE
No! That’s a Bozo no-no!

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Bodies HIT the ground with a
WHUMP, THWAP, WUMP, WUMP, WUMP.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Glass SPRAYS, BREAKS, SMASHES, TINKLES -- CRASHES.
Silence. She smiles a nasty pout.

THE CARNAGE
is complete, total devastation.
Bodies. Blood. Debris.

Except for a PRETTY YOUNG WOMAN (18),
propped up against a wall.

She leans forward, bleeding, confused.
In shock.

CLOSE ON --
A gold necklace on her throat.

Tiny gold-lettered spray of diamonds reads 'Madrid.'
The women stare at each other, searching for --

SPARKLE
Hey. Aren’t you --

MADRID
My father’s gonna have your head
on a pinstripe platter.
Do you realize who the FUCK --

SPARKLE
Of course, bitch, you’re Madrid Marriot,
I love you! You fuckin’ rule!
I love your show! You still coming out
with that fab line of super-cool tote bags?

MADRID
They’re not fucking TOTES.
They’re rebuilt vintage English saddle bags.
(beat)
Please don’t kill me.
I’m throwing a benefit tonight.

Sparkle lowers her guns.

SPARKLE
Are you kidding?
You’re my hostage, cutie.
You’re gonna be my Patty Hearst.
We’re gonna make herstory.
(beat)
What’s the charity?

MADRID
(startled)
Uh -- COMP.

SPARKLE
What, free tickets? Hotel rooms?
Vegas slicksters on a binge?

MADRID
It’s for -- Children of Murdered Parents.

PUSH IN ON Sparkle. Delighted.

SPARKLE
Then whadya say we make a
charitable contribution, hot stuff.

EXT./INT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - BERNIE’S SUV - DUSK
The buzzsaw pussy-splatter of Fur’s cover of
Blondie’s X OFFENDER over --

Bernie and Valentine speed down the Strip like a bullet.
They SCREECH to a stop at a light.

VALENTINE
(sees something out the window)
Shit, that kid’s gonna throw a rock at --

CRASH. Valentine’s window SPRAYS
into a million pieces.

A vicious-looking gang-banger
jams an AK-47 at Valentine.

GANG-BANGER
Yo, bitch!

Valentine deftly pulls a
Smith & Wesson from his boot.

VALENTINE
Nice gat, what you pay for that?

GANG-BANGER
Shut da fuck up, this is a
fuckin’ car-jackin,’ muthafucka!

Valentine GRABS the gun barrel in a blur of fury,
BANGS it against the window jam --

SHOVES his piece in the kid’s throat.

VALENTINE
Problem with that rifle shit
is the length of the weapon,
makes it hard to --
(BANGS the kid’s head)
Maneuver.

His body CLUMPS to the ground, WHUMP.

KEKO
That little FUCK smashed my WINDOW.

VALENTINE
Gee. You could say something like,
‘good job, Valentine. Nice reflexes.‘

BERNIE
Shut up! Let me think!
(beat)
You stay here with the perp,
wait for another unit,
I’m gonna find another vehicle.

VALENTINE
You get to go, and I have to
stay here and fucking wait?
No way, I’m always the one who --

BERNIE
Valentine, you stupid fuck!
I HAVE to go there,
she ASKED me to, remember?

VALENTINE
(surly)
Better hurry up then,
could be some Dog Day Afternoon shit goin’ on.

Bernie opens the door, jumps out.

BERNIE
You actually make me miss the muff-diver.

Valentine puts two fingers in his mouth,
wiggles his tongue.

BERNIE
stands at the curb.
Looks at the sprawl of cars
creeping slowly in a crunch
of prime-time traffic. Sees something.

BERNIE
Always wanted to drive one of those --

A MONSTER TRUCK
towers over the other vehicles.
White trash pride.

Bernie runs up to the passenger door.
YANKS it open.

BERNIE
(flashes his badge)
Outta the car! Police business!

He GRABS the DRIVER,
a frat-boy looking hulk, THROWS him out.

FRAT BOY
Hey! You can’t do that!

Bernie SLAMS the door.
Looks down at the kid.

BERNIE
I just did, jar-head!
Go drink some beer
and beat up your girlfriend.

He JAMS the truck into gear.
ROARS onto the sidewalk --

Guilty By Ass-ociation

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking HUMP DAY. 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 28 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Bernie Keko and his new partner find teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty's 'secret lair.' Meanwhile, Sparkle begins her siege at the Bargain Clown Mart on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood ...


EXT. SANTA MONICA BOULEVARD - CIRCUS OF BOOKS - NIGHT
Bernie’s SUV slows, slides into a parking space
in front of a row of storefronts.

The detectives get out. Walk to a doorway.
Faint club music THUMP-THUMPS from within.

VALENTINE
It’s the right address.

KEKO
This is a book store.

VALENTINE
Yeah, but check out the tweaker tunes.
Fits the profile.

Jesus flings his banana peel onto the sidewalk.

KEKO
Hey. Someone could slip and fall on that.

VALENTINE
Just like in the cartoons, man.

KEKO
(rings the buzzer)
We’ve checked every fucking club in Boy’s Town.
I’m starting to feel guilty by ass-sociation.
Whattaya say if this isn’t it, we go snag a burger?

VALENTINE
How about -- pizza?

KEKO
(rings again)
The pork thing?

VALENTINE
(shrugs)
Hey. We’re the pigs.

The door OPENS. A small, skinny MAN appears.
Boyish in jeans and striped sleeveless-T.
Perfect, cropped beard.

SKINNY MAN
I’m sorry. We’re closed on Mondays.

KEKO
(flashes his badge)
Detectives Keko and Valentine.
Can we have a moment of your time?

SKINNY MAN
(eyes flashing)
Honey, you can have more than that.

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - DUSK
The trippy, pretty drone of Morrissey’s
SHOPLIFTERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE.

A warehouse full of cheap, giant-sized foodstuffs.
'Topsy the Clown' proclaims TRIPLE COUPON’S SUNDAY.

INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - CONTINUOUS
The too-brightly lit bottom rung of retail crap
is fairly bustling with low-rent, food stamp SHOPPERS.

A raggedy, eye-liner smeared EMO KID
grabs a container of FROSTY-WHIP,
and SHOOONK-SHOOONK, SNORTS it up his nose --

Crumples to the floor, rushing --
white cream on his face.

IN ANOTHER AISLE
a FAT WOMAN picks up a gallon-sized jar
of Cheese Wizzard. Looks around.
Screws it open. Dips a finger, tastes. Mmm.

Suddenly -- POP -- and a bullet CRACKS
into the side, sending it to the floor with a CRASH.

FAT WOMAN
What the fuck?

AT THE OTHER END OF THE AISLE
is SPARKLE. Brandishing a pair of pink Uzis.

SPARKLE
Hey, there -- hefty hideaway,
c’mon and join the party.
You like animal balloons? --
cause I’m gonna tie you up in knots.

THE FAT WOMAN
freezes in her tracks.

SPARKLE
Yo, chubbo. Got some angry clowns
wanna have a word with you.

INT. CIRCUS OF BOOKS - SECOND FLOOR CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
Skinny leads Keko and Valentine down a hallway.

SKINNY MAN
She is a bit odd --
but she always pays her rent on time.
Sometimes early. Real cute.
Looks like Britney.
Has a lot of visitors.
If only I could get that kinda action --

They get to her door.
Skinny fishes out his master key.

SKINNY MAN (CONT'D)
(tries to open the door)
Fucking cunt must’ve changed the lock.

KEKO
(looks at Valentine)
I’ve got an idea --

VALENTINE
One, two --

And they KICK DOWN the door -- BANG.

SKINNY MAN
Hey!

KEKO
(hands him his card)
City will pay for it --

INT. SPARKLE’S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
Keko, Valentine and Skinny regard the decor.

SKINNY MAN
Ooo. I LOVE what she’s done to the place.
Gotta real queer eye --

KEKO
(to Skinny)
Would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?
Might turn out to be a crime scene.

SKINNY MAN
(goes to the door)
I’ll go make some coffee.

And he leaves.

VALENTINE
I think he likes you.

KEKO
Fuck you.
(looks around)
It looks like that guy’s place
who was caught jerking off in a movie theater.

They start searching the joint.

VALENTINE
Pee-Wee Herman. Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.
Loved that show. Did you know that
Cowboy Curtis was played by a
very young Lawrence Fishburn?
(does impression)
I know you are, but what am I? ARRRRGHH!
(beat)
Most people don’t realize that Paul Reubens
is a gifted comic actor who created
a vast array of hilarious characters,
but was unfortunately typecast as Pee-Wee.

KEKO
And you’re going to be typecast
as an asshole who won’t shut the fuck --
(beat)
Hey, check it out.

He points at Sparkle’s pink I-Mac.

On the screen:

TO DO:
Clean weapons.
Shower and change.
Fill the tank.
Take Clown Mart Hostage.
(Arrive at ‘magic hour’ for best coverage.)
Reunite Carrie and Bernie.
Kill them.

KEKO AND VALENTINE
stare at the monitor.

KEKO
What the fuck is the ‘Clown Mart?’

VALENTINE
Discount store on Sunset.

KEKO
Then let’s go shopping.
Time for the blue light special --

You Talkin' To Me?

Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 27 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, teenage serial killer Sparkly Plenty prepares for her final showdown with disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love ... whether she likes it or not ...


EXT. CIRCUS OF BOOKS - NIGHT
Bonnie Tyler’s deliciously over-wraught pop epic
IF I WAS A WOMAN (AND YOU WERE A MAN) over --

A little red store on Santa Monica Boulevard
with apartments above.

A TRANNY HOOKER walks by,
stumbles in her platforms.

CAMERA PANS UP, focuses on a window, ZOOMS INTO --

INT. SPARKLE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Bonnie’s being played on a pink Barbie stereo
in a tiny room in a child-like explosion of clutter.

Movie posters and photos cover the walls.
AMERICAN PSYCHO. HEATHERS. CARRIE. RE-ANIMATOR. LOVE STORY.

Head shots of Karen Black. Crispin Glover.
DeNiro in TAXI DRIVER. Bugs Bunny.

Sparkle sits at her Sears workstation.
Works a pink I-Mac, clack-clacks on the keyboard.

SPARKLE
Download this, hot stuff.
Gig me on a gaga-byte.

CLOSE ON --
The bulletin board behind the computer.
Covered in news clippings.

FEMME DETECTIVE FOULS OUT,
with a glam shot of Carrie.

GOLDEN COP COUPLE HITS THE SKIDS,
with a photo of Bernie and Carrie
getting a medal from the Mayor.

HOLLYWOOD HACK BOILED LIKE TURNIP.
VIDEO CLERK HUMAN PIN-CUSHION ON VINE.

TRUST FUND FILLY FILLETED.
TEN-PERCENTER POPPED IN TREACHEROUS TRYST.

The song ends.

SPARKLE
goes to the stereo.
Puts on a new CD.

The sunshiny, super-pop of A-Ha’s
THE SUN ALWAYS SHINES ON TV starts --

And, in her own little private disco,
she dances to the music with complete abandon,
lost in the sugary synthesizers.

SPARKLE
(sings along)
Hold me -- believe in me -- touch me --
the sun always shines on T.V. --

Sparkle strikes a pose --
somewhere between Travolta in
'Saturday Night Fever'
and the Olsen twins on ecstasy.

SPARKLE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It was destiny. Fate.
The Gods pulled up my skirt
and gave it to me good.
I had a vision. A mission.
A poison pen pal from hell.
I realized that Carrie Love and Bernie Keko
were the parents I could never have.
(beat)
I knew it the minute
they walked in the store --
and into my heart.
All of a sudden it became like, s
o clear what I needed to do.
I had to bring them together again.
(beat)
So I could tear them apart.

INT. CIRCUS OF BOOKS - SPARKLE’S APARTMENT - DUSK
The catchy hair-metal of the Scorpion’s
cover of the Who’s I CAN’T EXPLAIN.

A riot of stickers. Mean People Suck.
Get off the Phone and Drive.
Free Dana Plato. Bitch on Board. Wax Bush.

INT. SPARKLE’S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - DUSK
As the MUSIC continues, we see --

A vision in dayglow fuschia battle fatigues.
Giant pink ten-inch moon-boot platforms.

Centerfold makeup, fake lashes.
Some kinda Spice Girl on acid
from 'Taxi Driver' hell.

She pours a shot of Jaegermeister,
raises it.

SPARKLE
You’re very good.
(downs it)
Come on, ma!
I’m trying to do my thing down here.
I got a big show to get ready for.
(beat)
Alright, I’ll turn it down.

She BURSTS into hysterical laughter.
Opens the medicine cabinet,
takes out a bottle.

Shakes out a handful of pills.
GULP. Pours another glass.

SPARKLE (CONT’D)
What’s so fuckin’ funny? Huh?
What’s so fuckin’ funny about me?
What -- do I make you laugh, huh?
Do I a-muse yoo?
What am I, some sorta clown?
Make you fuckin’ laugh? What.
What’s so fuckin’ funny about -- me.

The psychette GIGGLES.
Then remembers something.

Takes a red Bozo nose out of her pocket.
Pops it on.

SPARKLE (CONT’D)
(at her reflection)
But Mommy, I don’t want to go the circus,
the clowns are scary. They make me cry.

She GRABS a set of hair clippers,
FLICKS it on -- BUZZZZZ.

SPARKLE (CONT’D)
Well, then -- take me to the big top.

And starts shaving the side of head,
long, beautiful blonde hair cascading in waves,
floating like feathers --

SPARKLE
scrapes off foam with a pink razor, revealing --

A big, beautiful blonde mohawk.

IN THE MIRROR
SPARKLE
You talkin’ to me?
You -- talkin to me ?
(beat)
Me? You talkin’ to -- me?
(raises gun, sticks it in her mouth)
‘Cauhz tha no-uhn elth heah.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD - PAWN SHOP - DUSK
The Thrill Kill Kult’s nasty, naughty BADLIFE.

CARRIE (V.O.)
You know Hollywood is actually
a pretty shitty part of town.

A crappy, bile-green 1970
Dodge Dart Swinger pulls up, parks.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It’s nothing but pawn shops,
guitar shacks, tourist shit,
strip joints, star maps,
sleazy bars, street trash
and hustlers of indeterminate gender.

Sparkle gets out. Locks the car. Looks around.
No one notices, no one looks. She blends.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
A far cry from the
'land of celluloid dreams.'

We follow the young woman
marching down the sidewalk.
No one looks at her twice.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Not only is it a mecca for the
sea of humanity yearning to be famous --
it’s also a vicious black hole of hell,
sucking in a staggering array of psychotic,
self esteem-challenged social misfits,
driven by rage, sin --
and a pathetic desire to be famous.
(beat)
Almost none of them make it, of course.
So the town is strewn with the litter
of faded dreams, broken hearts,
and a hell of alotta whores.

Sparkle reaches a store.
An old, original facade.
THE BARGAIN CLOWN MART.

She smiles devilishly.

SPARKLE
Well, alrighty then.
Let’s check out what’s under the big top --

Godamn Fucking Frankenstein

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking MONDAY. 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 26 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, after a night of drowning her sorrows in her favorite dive bar, disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love gets an emergency call from her lover, porn star Laura Lang, calling from the set ...


EXT. BAR - NIGHT
The Gas Lite,
a crappy Santa Monica dive.

The sound of a sloppy bar band
spills out from within.

A ponytailed BIKER BOUNCER
stands out front, smokes.

Two pretty COLLEGE GIRLS
approach him, huddle in the cold.

BIKER BOUNCER
(toothy grin)
ID, please.

PRETTY COLLEGE GIRL
(takes out license)
Hi. Is there a band tonight?

BIKER BOUNCER
Yeah, The Chollos. Blues band.

The door FLIES OPEN,
and out stumbles Carrie. Obliterated.

CARRIE
(to the bouncer)
G’night, Eddie.

Eddie tips his cap,
checks out her legs.

Carrie swerves, looks at
the fresh-faced young flesh.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Whoa. Hi. Let me guess -- UCLA?

PRETTY COLLEGE GIRL
(not shy)
Loyola Marymount.

PRETTY COLLEGE GIRL 2
We’re good girls.

CARRIE
(devouring with her eyes)
That’s a shame.

PRETTY COLLEGE GIRL
C’mon, Debbie -- I’m cold.

They giggle, rush inside.
Carrie stops, stares at the door.

EDDIE
You okay?

CARRIE
Yeah. Just thinking about
the combination of drugs
it’d take to get those two
in the sack.

INT. CAR - NIGHT
Carrie sits behind the wheel
of her monster ‘68 Olds.

Fumbles for a cigarette.
Her cell bleats.
She fishes it out, listens.

CARRIE
Laura? Slow down, slow down --
what’s the matter?
(listens, horrified)
Hold tight, I’ll be right there.
(listens)
It’s okay, it’s okay,
it’s gonna be okay.
I’ll be right there,
just hold on.

Click. The line goes dead.

CARRIE
Goddamn fucking Frankenstein.

EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
A small bunker in the shadows
of the wrong side of the 101.

Carrie pulls in, parks amidst
a handful of shitty cars.

And a big, black BMW SUV.

INT. CARRIE’S CAR - NIGHT
She downs the last of her
grande with triple espresso.

Shudders. Gets out of the car.
Throws the cup at the SUV.

INT. WAREHOUSE - SOUNDSTAGE GREEN ROOM- NIGHT
Laura is curled up in a ball
on a couch in a dark corner
wrapped like a wraith in a white sheet.
Pale. Small. Damaged.

Carrie rushes in, goes to her.

CARRIE
Baby, there you are --
are you okay? Are you okay?

She wraps her arms around
the wounded bird.

LAURA
I don’t feel so good, Care.
That -- bloody machine.

CARRIE
I’m so sorry, baby,
I’m so sorry. C’mon,
I’m taking you home.

With surprising strength,
Carrie picks her up, cradles her.

LAURA
You carry me --
across the threshold?

CARRIE
I’ll carry you
to the end of the earth.

EXT. CARRIE’S APARTMENT - BACK PATIO - NIGHT
Carrie and Laura soak in Carrie’s hot tub.
Steam rises off the water, their shoulders.

Behind them, a perfect full moon
lights the sky, the ocean, their faces.

LAURA
This is so good.
Every bone in my body
is bleedin’ thrashed.

CARRIE
(goes to her, holds her)
You’re okay now, no more
evil German directors
flipping the switch on my baby.

They kiss.

LAURA
Mmm. At least not until tomorrow.

CARRIE
It must be the full moon.
I thought I just heard you say
you’re going back there.

LAURA
I have to -- or else
I won’t get paid, love.

CARRIE
You gotta be kidding.
Don’t worry about the money --
(beat)
Move in with me for a while.

LAURA
Move in with you? Shack up?

CARRIE
Just for a little while.
We can try it out.
And you can maybe --
go back to being a stylist.
You always say how much
you loved it back in London.

Pause.

LAURA
That was up until my lover,
my business partner fucking O-D’d on me
and fuckin’ killed himself!
How fucking dodgy.
Of all the -- I thought you were --
I mean, you’ve slept with
half the girls I work with --
and you now live up to
the bloody cliche?
You’re just like all
the other civilians!

Laura gets out of the tub.
Naked in the moonlight.
Steam rises off her perfect body.

CARRIE
Wait -- DON’T GO!

LAURA
Thanks for the tub.
I feel really good all of a sudden.
Like a weight’s been
taken off my shoulders.

She darts over to the door, goes in.
Carrie sits. In shock.

CARRIE
Holy shit.

Carrie jumps out,
grabs a towel,
races to the door --
to discover it’s been locked.

CARRIE
The bitch. She wouldn’t.

EXT. HOUSE - CARRIE’S APARTMENT - FRONT DOOR - NIGHT
Carrie jiggles the doorknob.
POUNDS on the door.

CARRIE
Laura! Let me in!

MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Whoa. Let me guess.
Lesbian drama?

Carrie wheels around to face --

A uniformed PRIVATE SECURITY GUARD.

SECURITY GUARD
Know the feeling.
Wife left me couple years ago --
for her gyno.
(beat)
Nice towel.

A Guy Ritchie Wet Dream

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 25 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, we get a rare glimpse of exactly WHY a serial killer does what they do ... when teenage murderer Sparkle Plenty gets out the vibrator ... and gets her rocks off. Meanwhile, disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love takes our her frustrations ... at the firing range.


INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
The slinky, femme, crime theme trip-hop groove
of DollsHead’s TOUCH THE MOON over --

IN MONTAGE:
Sparkle glides in from the bathroom.
In a sexy red nightie.
Pink fuzzy slippers.

And a lot of blood.

She goes to the bed.
Places the gut-smeared
fishing hook-knife on the nightstand.
It gleams in a flash of light.

CLOSE ON --
The table. Crimson hands open a drawer.
Take out a foot-long 'back massager' VIBRATOR.

That’s right, folks --
say hello to the 'Space Needle.'

SPARKLE
lies down on the bed.
Gets ready for lift off.

CLOSE ON --
Her dainty, pretty feet.
With bloody, blue frosted nails.
They arch, stretch like a cat.

A soft sigh. A little kittie-yawn.

The CAMERA SLOWLY PANS UP
tanned, slender legs, as --

the BUZZING starts.
Causing thighs to slightly twitch, part.

SPARKLE’S
face. Eyes closed. Dreamy.
A hint of a smile.

A finger itches her nose,
leaving a smear of blood.

IN MONTAGE:
Sparkle GRABS Bruce Ball by the cuffs --
SLAMS him into a wall with a SHRIEK.

BRUCE
twists and turns in agony
in the scalding shower.

THE VIBRATOR
roto-rooters in gentle circles
on her private place.

SPARKLE
writhes in wave after wave of pleasure.

THE HIPSTER VIDEO CLERK
lies on the floor of the crap hotel room.
Muffled SCREAMS as Sparkle STABS the fuzzy body.

SPARKLE
moans, arches her back.

DINA
gagged, tied and bound in an
abandoned restaurant kitchen.

Terrified eyes pleading and screaming --
As her hand is guided into a meat grinder.

THE VIBRATOR
is kicked up a notch. BZZZZZZZZZ.

SPARKLE
moans louder. Eyes clenched shut.

THE FILM INDUSTRY HACK’S
mouth opens. The gun barrel slides in.
BANG. Blood SPLATTERS the wall behind him.

SPARKLE
climaxes, spasms --


SHRIEKS, an animal baying at the moon.
SPARKLE
Mommm-yyyyyyyyyy!

INT. BEVERLY HILLS GUN CLUB - FIRING RANGE - NIGHT
Some swanky, techno-Euro crime theme.

Rows of stalls with targets,
too brightly lit. Empty.

Except for Carrie.
Messy drunk in a slip of
a cocktail dress, heels, shades --

And a gleaming 357 Magnum
out of a Guy Ritchie wet dream.

She lowers her sunglasses.
Scratches an itch in her eye.
We see she’s been crying.

CARRIE (V.O.)
It’s easier to see after
you’ve had a few cocktails.

She slides them back up.
Takes aim. And --

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

THE TARGET
A ‘Smiley face’ smack dab
on the figure’s head.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER (O.S.)
Hey, you! Breakfast at Tiffany’s!
You better put dat thing down
before I call da cops!

CARRIE
stops, turns --

CARRIE
I am a fucking cop!

And swings her weapon toward him.
He raises a sawed-off shotgun. Click-click.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER
That’ll be the last move
you ever make, lady.

Carrie lowers her weapon.
Whips off her shades.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER (CONT’D)
Oh, hi Carrie -- I didn’t recognize you.
You clean up good.

CARRIE
Thanks, Enrique.
I’ll be done a few minutes. ‘Kay?

ENRIQUE
(big smile)
You got it, Legs.

He bows, leaves.
She takes out more bullets, reloads.

CARRIE (V.O.)
My life has become a trashy cult film.
I have more death, betrayal,
seedy glamour and sexual situations
in my life than any ten women in this town.
(beat)
And this is Los Angeles.
(beat)
The only place on earth
where you fall in love --
and your partner thinks
she’s taking a meeting.
But you still fall,
and you fall so hard,
it makes you lose all sense of
judgment, morals, self-esteem --
and any desire to play the game
of life by the rules.

She slowly SPINS AROUND --
aims up, up, and --

ANGLE ON --
A row of ceiling lights.

Bullets hit them, one by one.
POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, POP.