Thursday, June 30, 2011
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.
That’s a Bozo no-no.
INT. SAMMS’ LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Samms watches, rapturous, hand moving.
Ready -- speed -- action!
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.
Ahhh, ahhh, ahh --
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.
I go for a blade every morning.
Gets the juices flowing, wakes me up.
The sunrise on the ocean is breathtaking.
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.
I like to maintain a balance in my life.
I work, I play, I rest.
I drink, I smoke, I see a shrink --
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.
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)
EXT. VENICE BEACH BIKE PATH - DAY
Hooky, soaring Brit-pop against the sea,
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.
(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.
Carrie pop it in her mouth.
Don't tease her, that's mean.
She flings her slice in the air.
The dog jumps --
And wolfs it down in one greedy gulp.
Revolver pants happily.
Carrie pets her.
That's my killer.
The dog BURPS.
She did not just do that.
Hey, she takes after her mom.
Stop trying to seduce me.
(takes her hand)
I'm so glad you're here, Meg.
She lights two cigarettes,
hands one to Meg.
Carrie takes a drag.
Holds it in. Blows a smoke ring.
Ever been to Club Fuck?
Been there? We fucking busted it.
Some perv was piercing his cock.
Onstage. It was the fucking show.
Part of the reason I left vice.
That's right, I forgot --
You were there?
You never told me you --
That's where I met her.
It was our hangout.
(eyes start to tear)
I wanna go there and sniff around.
I forget, what night is it open?
Well, whattaya know.
Undercover? I don't have the --
Don't worry about it, babe,
I got a cute little latex number
that's gonna fit you like a glove.