Monday, June 20, 2011
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.
(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.
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
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.
-- 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.
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.
Well, look who’s the poet.
(touches earpiece, relieved)
We’ve just been given
a late-breaking bulletin. Skip?
EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
Roving reporter SKIP WHITMAN,
the red headed, almost-albino
man on the scene, squints into the CAMERA.
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.
Very descriptive, Skip.
So what the heck’s going on?
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 -
(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.
I’m not carrying. Let the girl go.
We can make a deal.
There she is -- lookin’ good, Missy. But
where’s the hunka-hunka burnin’ cop-muffin?
He’s on his way. So let’s just calm down.
Sparkle walks over, pats her down.
Gets to Carrie’s hemline.
That’s a restricted area.
I don’t do the casual thing these days.
The killer’s hand disappears up inside.
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.
'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.
Don’t shoot, or the nigger gets it.
I’m rilly, rilly impressed.
'Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be okay.
I’m your biggest fan.'
MISERY. Cathy Bates makes
James Cahn pee his Hilfigers.
Ohimgod. Fuck me with a blowtorch.
Pull my anal beads. You’re really good.
You might just have to live.
'Envy. My sin was envy.'
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?
'Go ahead, ask yourself, punk --
do you feel lucky?'
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.
Don’t call me LITTLE GIRL.
I’m NOT a little girl.
Ooh. Looks like I hit a nerve.
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.
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.
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.
She EXPLODES in a fusillade of bullets --
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.
eyes flicker. A brainstorm.
Then let me go get one.
Okay -- march, copper.
Bring me the media.
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.
You really gotta get out more often --