You Talking To Me?

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 9 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, now that fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster has escaped from the clutches of Bland Loosener, she heads to Santa Monica's Third Street Promenade armed with her suitcase full of cash ... and starts fucking with the locals ...


EXT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - REAR ALLEY - DAY
Friday makes her way down the alley.
Carries two briefcases.

FRIDAY
Okay. I’m commuting.
Commuting home.
Leavin’ the think tank early --
(beat)
Too much thinking.
Not enough tanking.

She turns the corner, walks onto --

EXT. ARIZONA AVENUE - CONTINUOUS
A smattering of PEDESTRIANS.
Late afternoon on a weekday.

A wild-eyed FILTHY SKELL
stands a few feet away.

Long, matted hair down to his ass.
Like a big piece of butterscotch.

FILTHY SKELL
Do you know the answer? Do you?

FRIDAY
What?

FILTHY SKELL
I said, DO YOU KNOW THE ANSWER?

She glances at the sign he’s holding.
TALK TO JESUS.

FRIDAY
Shut the fuck up.
Stop shouting at me.

FILTHY SKELL
You need to TALK TO JESUS!

Friday blinks.
Cocks her head. Shudders.

Rears back a briefcase, SWINGS --
and CRACKS him in the head.
BANG. He goes down. THUMP.

FRIDAY
Jesus died for somebody’s sins,
but not mine.

EXT. THIRD STREET PROMENADE - DAY
All that’s scary and overpriced about consumerism.
Laid out in a string of overdone chain joints.
Main Street, not.

FRIDAY
Shopping. Let’s go shopping.
Cause when the going gets tough --
(beat)
The tough buy shit.

The liquid-cool sounds of
The Zombie’s SHE’S NOT THERE over --

IN MONTAGE
Friday drifts down the street.

Examining the bright, shiny faces
of shoppers with their bright,
shiny shopping bags.

FRIDAY
walks out of an expensive boutique.
Now dressed in funky urban chic.

Leather boots and hat.
Rubber jacket. Very ‘Mad Maxine.’
Twin leather saddlebags store the briefcases.

AT THE CORNER
the lemmings wait for the light. No cars.

Friday starts walking,
crosses the street.
Turns around. Laughs.

CAMERA follows her walking.
Now with a spring in her step.

She passes an OVERWEIGHT COUPLE
sitting at a sidewalk cafe
eating big, greasy cheeseburgers.

FRIDAY
Better hope Jenny Craig doesn’t catch you.

She passes a CLOWN
holding a bunch of balloons.

As she passes, she POPS one.
Startles him.

FRIDAY
Enough clowning around.
(beat)
What the worst part about
molesting a child in the woods?
Going home alone later.

Passes a BAD STREET MUSICIAN
playing some earnest folk song.

FRIDAY
Curt Cobain is spinning in his GRAVE.

Goes by a BEARDED MAN
sitting on the sidewalk.

Licking the remains of a
fast food clam shell. He BURPS.

FRIDAY
Ah. 'Dining el fresco.'
And with what joi de vive.
Zagat gives it a NINE.

Friday walks by an LEGLESS MAN
in a wheelchair. Holds a cup.

LEGLESS MAN
Help the homeless?

FRIDAY
'The Homeless?' All of them?
What -- are you an organized charity?
And what’s up with the term 'The Homeless?'
Sounds too noble, too PC.
What happened to Bum? Vagrant? Hobo?

She stops. Pulls out her smokes.
Lights one up. Exhales. Ah.

A battered-looking SCUZZY YOUNG PUNK
eyes her from his perch on a park bench.

SCUZZY YOUNG PUNK
Hey, lady. You gottan extra cigarette?

Friday stops.
Fakes being startled.
Looks around mockingly.

FRIDAY
You -- talking to ME?

SCUZZY YOUNG PUNK
Yeah. You gottan extra cigarette?

FRIDAY
Wait. Let me think --
(beat)
Oh, shit -- that’s right.
I left the ‘extra cigarettes’ at home.
(holds up the pack)
These are for me.

SCUZZY YOUNG PUNK
Alright. You don’t have to be such a bitch --

FRIDAY
Nice rap you got, you little fuck.
First you beg, then you fucking INSULT ME?
Do you know how EXPENSIVE cigarettes are?
Do you honestly think I’m just gonna
GIVE ONE to some slacker little PUNK?
You’re young. You’ve got no excuse.
GET A JOB, make SOME MONEY,
and BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING CIGARETTES -- ASSHOLE.

Nearby, PEDESTRIANS stop. Stare.

FRIDAY
Now. If you’ll all excuse me.
I’ve got a meeting.
And I’ve got a lot of preparation to do.

And she starts sauntering on her way --

Where's The Funeral?

Hey there, crime kids. Happy 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 8 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster eludes mercenary Bland Loosener, who gets persued by the cops in a high-speed car chase. Meanwhile, Friday's former squeeze Carrie Love has a most unusual 'close encounter' in a dive bar ...


EXT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - ROOF - day
Zvi lies on a chaise getting a massage from Nymphet.
He adjust his hands-free cell. BOLTS upright.

ZVI
WHAT did you say?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT./INT. BLAND’S SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Bland SWERVES through traffic
on Ocean Avenue going south.

A CLUSTER OF SQUAD CARS follow.
Sirens BLARING.

BLAND
There were cops all over the fuckin’ place.
You said Santa Monica was LIBERAL.

ZVI
So where the fuck are you now?

BLAND
In the vehicle in a high-speed chase,
and they’re chasing ME.

ZVI
You stupid FUCK.
I give you a simple job to do --

BLAND
Don’t worry, I have a bomb up my sleeve.

He reaches into a bag,
yanks out a GRENADE.

Pulls the pin.
LOBS it up through the sun roof,
into the air.

THE GRENADE
lands in the middle
of a trio of PATROL CARS.

BANG. A massive FIREBALL EXPLODES
in a riot of orange fire,
black clouds of smoke --

INT. BLAND’S SUV - MOVING
He turns up the volume on his hands-free.

BLAND
I said, I’m going to have to charge you
for expenses. These are my personal explosives --

Bland LOBS a grenade at the Miatta -- BANG.

EXT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - ROOF - CONTINUOUS
Zvi pulls the earpiece out.

ZVI
Goddammit.
Stupid fuck’s gonna make me go deaf --

EXT. OCEAN AVENUE - DAY
The SUV races down the coastal boulevard.

UP AHEAD
is a ROADBLOCK.
Where did they all come from so quickly?

BLAND
slows down.
Looks to his right. Sees --

EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER - ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS
He brakes hard, YANKS the wheel,
turns onto the pier --

Right into the middle of a
SWARM OF TOURISTS.

HONKS his horn.
YELLS out the window.

BLAND
Civilians, out of the way! Incoming!

JABS his Uzi through the open sunroof.
SQUEEZES the trigger --
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.

People SCREAM.
Start RUNNING.

The SUV speeds up,
pushes through the wake of fleeing bodies.

A bullet CRACKS through the rear window, and
POPS out through the windshield --

BLAND (CONT'D)
Fuck me, Private.

He turns around. Looks, sees --
More SQUAD CARS. Coming right at him.

BLAND (CONT’D)
Tactical maneuvers, SIR.

Bland JAMS on the gas --
and FLIES down the pier.

THE COPS
follow. Sirens BLARING.
Bullets FLYING.

BLAND
reaches into the bag.
Takes out a mouthpiece.
Like divers use for breathing underwater.

BLAND (CONT'D)
Dammit. I really like this vehicle --

EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER - CONTINUOUS
The SUV races down the boardwalk toward the water.

The cops SCREECH to a halt.
Start setting up another road block.

But the gas guzzler keeps going.
Reaches the platform at the end.
FISHERMEN dash out of the way.

INSIDE THE SUV
Bland POPS the clutch --

BLAND
One-hundred and first AIRBORNE, SIR.

And SLAMS his mouthpiece in.

THE SUV
JERKS, and sails up, into the air
over the edge of the pier.

And, in slow motion,
like a floating feather --
It HITS the waves like a diver. GLUG.

INT. DIVE BAR - AT THAT MOMENT
Unbelievably dark. Dank. Smoky.

Concrete Blonde’s SCENE OF A PERFECT CRIME
bleeds darkness on the juke.

The BARTENDER (40’S)
wipes off a glass with a rag.

Dead ringer for Lurch.
He leans back.
SPITS chewing tobacco.

Carrie sits on a stool.
Deep in thought.

Nursing a bottle of beer.
She raises two fingers.

Lurch grabs a bottle Kessler’s.
Pours two fingers. Carrie nods.

A WOMAN IN BLACK (24)
emerges from the ladies’ room.

Tall, gaunt, pale.
Still in last night’s outfit.
Tres Goth.

An extra from Nosferatu.
Slides onto her stool.
Next to Carrie.

CARRIE
Where’s the funeral?

WOMAN IN BLACK
Yesterday. I’m a model.
Mortuary brochure.
(itches her arm)
Got to keep the dress --

CARRIE
Was it -- open casket?

WOMAN IN BLACK
(sickly smile)
Only for -- next of kin.

CARRIE
Where’s the wake?

WOMAN IN BLACK
Back at my place.

Carrie drains her glass.
Smiles. Grim.

CARRIE
It’s your funeral --

Smash And Grab

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 7 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, unemployed screenwriter & wanted fugitive Friday Foster gets into a fist fight with her former boss at the think tank ... just as mercenary for the Israeli mob Bland Loosner arrives in the underground garage to try and capture her. But first, Bland has to deal with the cops ... while Friday hides in her car ...


INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - CORRIDOR - DAY
Friday turn a corner into an area
with offices along one wall.
Big glass windows.

Two ASSISTANTS look up.

FRIDAY
You know what they say,
whatever doesn’t kill you --
makes you even more fucked up.
(sees the assistants)
Beverly, Fran -- how’s it shakin’?
They squeeze all the blood
from your stones yet?

BEVERLY, (60’s), surgically altered in Chanel,
red collagen lips in a permanent grimace,
nods like a bobblehead doll.

BEVERLY
Friday, Hi --

FRAN, schoolmarmish, ‘hip’ in designer specs,
skinny with a belly, almost SHRIEKS.

FRAN
FRIDAY. What are you doing --

FRIDAY
Here at the think tank?
Well, let’s just say that
my self-esteem got a bit too high,
and I thought it might be a good idea
to climb back up on the cross for a bit.
Do the martyr thing again.
Whattya think? Sound good?

BEVERLY
Friday.

FRAN
Ha ha ha ha ha --

FRIDAY
Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I’m here for my eleven-o’clock meeting
with a rascally little JEW-BASTARD.

Friday salutes, walks over to a dimly lit office.
PUSHES the door open. HOLLERS --

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Dann Israel. How THE FUCK are ya?

DANN ISRAEL
(50’s) looks up from his computer.
Beady eyes blink behind thick glasses.

Once rugged, now shrivelled.
But still bulky.

DANN
Friday. Hello. What are you -- ?

Friday WHIPS OUT the MAGNUM.
Aims it at him.

FRIDAY
That’s the question of the hour,
you little FUCK.
I’m here to get revenge.
A pound of flesh. Some kicks.
Are you ready to play ‘spin the Ph.D.?’

DANN
Put the gun down, Friday.
Let’s talk about this.

FRIDAY
No. Shut THE FUCK UP
and for once in your
pompous little life LISTEN TO ME.
You worked me to the bone
like a FUCKING DOG.
Well, now it’s payback time, bucko.
Karma comes back, and this time
she’s a pissed-off BITCH.
Now get down on the floor
and spread ‘em, motherfucker.
It’s apology time.

And like something out of
a martial arts movie,
Dann LEAPS UP and LUNGES at Friday.
GRABS her.

They TUMBLE to the floor.
GRAPPLE for the gun.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
No, Goddammit --

Dann tries to put Friday in a CHOKE HOLD.
Friday JABS her elbow into his rib cage.

DANN
Ow!

She FLIES away.
Rolls on the floor. LEAPS UP.

GRABS Dann’s Nobel Prize.
THROWS it against the wall.
SMASH. Glass SPRAYS.

DANN (CONT’D)
No!

FRIDAY
Whoops. Hope you have insurance --

Friday hears something.
Turns, looks, sees --

A PAIR OF ANGRY SECURITY GUARDS
running toward her,
far away down the long corridor.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Shit.
(as she runs out the door)
There will NEVER
be peace in the Middle East!

Friday races down the opposite corridor.
She reaches a door marked EMERGENCY EXIT.
SLAMS the door open.

A SIREN starts WAILING --

INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - REAR ALLEY - MOMENTS LATER
Friday races into the alley.
Stops. Looks behind her. No one.

FRIDAY
Smash and grab. Too easy.

She runs to the end of the alley.
Cars WHIZ past.

Then, just as she’s about to
casually step into the crowd --

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Shit. My stuff -- the car.

INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - PARKING GARAGE - AT THAT MOMENT
The alarm SHRIEKS.
Bland pressed against the wall.

Inches toward the Sentra.
Looks around. Tip-toes up to it.

A SWARM OF SECURITY GUARDS
race into the garage.

BLAND
points the Uzi at them.
CLICKS the trigger. Nothing. Jammed.

THE GUARDS
WHIP out their guns.
Start FIRING at him.

BLAND
runs to his SUV, JUMPS IN.
TEARS ASS out.

FLIES up the ramp.
Tires SCREECHING. Just as --

A TRIO OF SQUAD CARS
race down the incline.
Right at him.

BLAND
JAMS the truck into gear --
and PLOWS THROUGH THEM.

INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - PARKING GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
Friday creeps into the garage.
Shouting in the distance.

Creeps over to the Sentra.
Opens the door. Crawls in.

EXT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - ROOF - AT THAT MOMENT
Zvi lies on a chaise
getting a massage from Nymphet.

He adjust his hands-free cell.
BOLTS upright.

ZVI
WHAT did you say?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT./INT. BLAND’S SUV - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Bland SWERVES through traffic
on Ocean Avenue going south.

A CLUSTER OF SQUAD CARS follow.
Sirens BLARING.

BLAND
There were cops
all over the fuckin’ place.
You said Santa Monica was LIBERAL.

Hell-Hole

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 6 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, unemployed screenwriter Friday Foster has just lost everything and is having a nervous breakdown and stolen a pizza delivery car. Her first stop? To get revenge on her most recent 'boss from hell.' Meanwhile, Bland Loosener, mercenary for the Israeli mob, the owner of the car, is hot on her tail ...


EXT. THE LAMBERT INSTITUTE - GARAGE ENTRANCE - DAY
Friday drives the stolen Sentra down into the underground garage.

EXT./INT. MERCEDES SUV - MOVING - AT THAT MOMENT
Bland drives, talks on his hands-free cell.

BLAND
So where is it now?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - DAY
Zvi sits on the rooftop deck shirtless
in shorts and shades. Smoking a cigar.
Fingers busy working a PDA.

ZVI
(into his cell)
At the corner of Arizona and Fourth.
Just turned north on Fourth --
(beat)
Wait. It stopped moving. Bingo.

BLAND
(looking out his window)
I don’t see it. It must be parking --
(realizes)
Parking garage.

INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - PARKING GARAGE - AT THAT MOMENT
Friday walks to the elevator. Presses ‘up.’

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday. What are you doing here?

She turns, looks, sees --

SUNNY, the Institute’s archivist.
Friendly face framed by long, greyish-blonde hair.
Former hippie, still granola.

FRIDAY
Sunny, hey. Believe it or not,
I’ve got an appointment with Dann Israel.

The elevator doors open. They walk in.
Sunny swipes her key card on the security lock,
presses ‘3.’ The doors close.

IN THE GARAGE
Bland pulls the SUV into a parking space.
Sees the Sentra.

BLAND
Enemy is now in my sights, SIR.
Taking POSITION --

IN THE ELEVATOR

SUNNY
And one of your characters is a
Nobel Prize-winning Ph.D. in economics?

FRIDAY
How did you guess?

The door opens onto a wood-panelled foyer.
Very hunting lodge. Going for studious. Academic.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
You know what they say about
visiting your old high school,
how everything looks so much smaller?

SUNNY
Yes.

FRIDAY
Urban myth.
This looks even MORE self-important.

They start walking down a plush corridor.
Diffused light.

SUNNY
Well, I gotta say,
I admire your courage.

FRIDAY
My courage?

SUNNY
Sure. After quitting like that?

INT. LAMBERT INSTITUTE - WORK STATION - FLASHBACK - DAY
Friday sits in an assistant’s work area.
Harried. Almost unrecognizable in a suit.
Papers piled everywhere.

She gulps coffee.
The phone RINGS.
She PUNCHES a button.

FRIDAY
Dann Israel’s office.
(listens)
'Blachmed Vpni?' Can you spell that?
(listens)
Hold, please.

Another line RINGS.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Dann Israel’s office.
(impatient)
'Oaxa Stanislopopobottomus?'
Would you please spell that?
Over the intercom --

ACCENTED MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday? Who is that on one?

FRIDAY
Uh, Blachmed --

A fourth line RINGS.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Hold on a sec --
(pissy)
Dann Israel's office --
(listens)
'Helmut Fvohngenhoftner?'

She does a take. What?
Erupts into MAD LAUGHTER.

ACCENTED MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday. WHO is on the phone!

FRIDAY
There’s an Arab name Blachmed on one,
‘Oaxa the Greek’ on two, and a German,
Helmut Farfegnugen on three.

ACCENTED MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Which Blachmed? I know three --

Another line RINGS.

FRIDAY
And if they walked into a bar,
I could use it in my stand-up routine.
(answers)
Dann Israel’s office.
(listens)
I’ll be right down.
(over her shoulder)
Your lunch is here, Dann.

DANN (O.C.)
Well, then, go get it.
And when you get back,
we need to go over the schedule grid
for the global conference.
We still have twenty-four meetings to set up.

Friday stands.
Unhooks her headset.
THROWS it down.

FRIDAY
(brightly)
Can’t wait.

IN THE LOBBY
she walks up to the guard desk.
Standing next to it is an EAGER VEGAN CHEF.
Holds a stainless steel food container.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Autumn. Nice to see you.

AUTUMN
Friday. Greetings.
(gestures)
We have steamed cale
in a wheat grass reduction,
lentils in a brisk tofu stir,
and a brussels sprout compote.

BULKY GUARD
Mmmmm. Yummy.

FRIDAY
Took the words out of my mouth.
And the puke.

She turns on her heel.
Marches toward the entrance.

AUTUMN
Where are you going?
What about Mr. Israel’s lunch?

FRIDAY
(stops, turns)
The fuck OUT of this hell-hole.
And you can tell Mr. Pulitzer Prize
he can get his OWN fucking lunch.
(beat)
'Brisk tofu stir?'

God Is A Bullet

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. 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 HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, unemployed screenwriter Friday Foster goes on a mad tear through Santa Monica in her stolen pizza delivery car ... and then decides to get revenge on a former boss ...


EXT. VENICE BEACH - BACK ALLEY - DAY
Friday PEELS OUT of the parking lot
in a SCREECH of rubber.

HITS THE GAS -- and SPEEDS away.
Laughing her head off.

EXT. OCEAN AVENUE - DAY
The Sentra flies up the gorgeous coastline.
Way over the speed limit.
We see the pizza sign is gone.

INT. NISSAN SENTRA - CONTINUOUS
Friday rifles through a CD case on the seat.

FRIDAY
Please forgive me, God.
I’m not myself lately.
(chuckles)
So then, the question is --
(rifles through CD’s)
Ohmigod. I love it. Yes.

She SHOVES a CD in.
PUNCHES play. CRANKS it up.

The biker-snarl of Concrete Blonde’s
GOD IS A BULLET screams with a bullet.

Friday sings along,
POUNDS the steering wheel.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Shoot straight, shoot to kill,
blame each other, blame yourself!
You know god is a bullet,
have mercy on us everyone!

UP AHEAD
the light turns yellow.

FRIDAY
shifts the piece of crap into gear --

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Well, the light
was a little pink, officer --

And FLIES through the intersection.
Cars HONK.

A CITY BUS
SQUEALS it’s brakes.

A WOMAN
pushing a stroller LEAPS out of the way.
The Sentra CRACKS into it.

FLIPPING it into the air.
It lands, BANG --
to reveal it’s empty.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Two points!

She TEARS down Arizona.
Looks in the rearview. No one. Ha.
Stops at a red light at 4th Street.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Hey. I got an idea.
(beat)
No. Not a good idea. They know you.
(beat)
But it would be SO delicious.
(beat)
Better not, you’ve
broken so many laws already --

The light turns GREEN.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
I think a certain pompous,
little fuck-face needs to learn a lesson.

She turns left, heads north.

CAMERA passes storefronts.
Until, at the next intersection, on the corner --

EXT. THE LAMBERT INSTITUTE - CONTINUOUS
A lux, former bank on the corner.
Now a six-story think tank.

A gold-plated sign reads
THE LAMBERT INSTITUTE.

FRIDAY (O.C.)
(sings)
Whoah-oh-oh-oh,
I’m gonna tear your playhouse down ---

Soldier of Misfortune

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 4 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY,


INT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - DAY
Zvi looks out the window at the ocean.
The bright, blue sky.

People on the beach. Their freedom.
Bland stands a few feet behind him.

BLAND
Gnarly waves, sir.
Can’t wait to get the longboard out tonight --

ZVI
Shut up. You stupid FUCK.
Do you enjoy REMINDING ME I’m a PRISONER?

BLAND
No, sir -- I, I -- I’ll shut up, SIR.

ZVI
That’s right, you will shut up,
and stay shut up.
(pulls out keys)
Here.

He TOSSES it.
Bland CATCHES it in a big, calloused mitt.

ZVI
Go. Now. Get MY MONEY.
And the laptop. If somebody finds it --

BLAND
They get free Lolita-on-demand.

ZVI
Get out. NOW.

BLAND
Yes, sir. Sorry, sir --

And he races out of the room.
Zvi shakes his head.

ZVI
Soldier of misfortune.

A pretty young ISRAELI NYMPHET (13) walks in.

ISRAELI NYMPHET
Time for -- massage.

ZVI
Ah. My desert flower.

He goes to the chaise.
Starts disrobing.

Nymphet pads over.
Pulls out a bottle of lotion.

Zvi lies down.
Places a small sheet over his lap.

She squirts oil on her hands.
Starts working on his legs.
A small tent POPS UP in his lap.

ZVI
(sings)
Thank heaven, for little girls --

INT. ZVI’S GARAGE - AT THAT MOMENT
Bland stares at a yellow Volkswagon bug.
The new model. Cute.

BLAND
Might as well just cut off my balls.

He walks over to a big, black, gleaming BMW SUV.

BLAND
Now that’s a VEHICLE.

Pulls out a long strip of metal.
Thin, like measuring tape.

SLIDES it in the window. WIGGLES it.
The lock CLICKS open.

BLAND
(opens the door, gets in)

Command to base, come in, can you hear
me? Ready to roll, sir. Let’s roll ’em.

He leans down.
YANKS out a pair of wires.

STRIPS OFF the ends.
PRESSES them together.
The engine ROARS to life.

BLAND
(strange, loud voice)
Roll one up for ME, sir. Sir, YES SIR.
(guns the engine)
Sound off, one-two, fuck off, three-four.

INT. VENICE BOARDWALK - CRACKED EARTH CAFE - DAY
Friday sits at a table
with an ice tea and a salad.

Furtive in shades and baseball cap.
She works the laptop.

FRIDAY
Damn, this fucker’s fast.

She HITS a button. BEEP.
Stares in disbelief.

FRIDAY
Holy shit.

ON THE SCREEN
we see a menu.

On it, a selection of UNDERAGED GIRLS (8-13).
A title reads PLAYGROUND PALS.

FRIDAY
Holy shit, this is a jailbait dating website --
(reads off the screen)
‘Hi, my name is Becky,
and I’m a ten -- and I AM ten.
I like pizza, water sports, comic books,
scented lube and sticky bud.
C’mon, baby light my fire until I’m wet?

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Is everything okay?
Can I get you anything else?

A WAITRESS
stands next to Friday’s table.

Holding a tray. Brittle with attitude.
Must be the asymmetrical hairdo.
Or the Yoga T.

FRIDAY
Actually, everything is NOT okay.
And you can go fuck yourself.

A COUPLE at the next table look.

BITCHY WAITRESS
Excuse me?

FRIDAY
I was at this restaurant
a couple weeks ago,
and you served me.
And you weren’t very friendly.
In fact, you didn’t smile at me. Once.

BITCHY WAITRESS
Gee, I’m So sorry.
I didn’t realize --

Friday WHIPS OUT the gun.
Points it at Bitchy.

A woman SCREAMS.

FRIDAY
So, I’m gonna ask you to smile for me.
Pretty please?
With sugar on top?
A big, bright pageant smile?

The waitress DROPS her tray.
CLANG. Frozen, weird smile.

FRIDAY
Now that’s more like it.

She stands. Closes the laptop.
Puts it under her arm.

Places the gun
against the waitress’s temple.

FRIDAY
Bonus points if you pee your pants --

Weapons Of Mass Distortion

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 Chapter 3 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, having lost her home, her girlfriend and her car, unemployed screenwriter Friday Foster has a breakdown ... and steals a pizza delivery car, where she finds a gun, a laptop, and a briefcase full of cash. Meanwhile, Bland Loosener, Israeli mob enforcer, the owner of the car, has to report the theft to his crime boss, who is NOT happy ...


EXT. VENICE APARTMENT BUILDING - BACK ALLEY - DAY
A pizza delivery CAR idles.
A crappy, late model Nissan Sentra
with a cardboard triangle sign on top.

FRIDAY
shudders.
Something goes through her.

She tip-toes up to the car.
Empty. The door’s ajar.
She looks around. No one. Huh.

And, faster than you can
say 'pepperoni', she JUMPS in,

JERKS it into drive --
and TAKES OFF.

Just then, BLAND LOOSENER (27) appears.
Six feet of corn-fed muscle.

Spiky Mohawk. Combat fatigues.
Toking on a fattie.

He nods to the music on his headphones.
Takes a hit. Smiles.

BLAND
Nice. Weapons of mass distortion --
(looks around)
My car! My fucking car!
Somebody stole my fucking CAR!

EXT. VENICE ALLEY - DAY
Friday barrels down the alley
in her newly-stolen wheels.

Right behind the boardwalk,
behind the shops and drunks.

FRIDAY
Thirty minutes or less!
Or we take your FUCKING CAR.

EXT. VENICE APARTMENT BUILDING - SIDE ALLEY - DAY
Bland fingers a number on his cell phone. Listens.

BLAND
Zvi? It’s Bland.
We’ve got a problem.
Uh, someone stole my car.

INT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - AT THAT MOMENT
A large, burly, TANNED ISRAELI (45)
in white linen listens on the phone.

He’d be quite the catch,
gold chains, Rolex --

If it weren’t for the bright, shiny
electronic ankle cuff.

Meet ZVI BEN-ARUT,
international raconteur.

Sex broker. Under house arrest.
Right now pacing, furious. Red-faced.

ZVI
You stupid fuck.
You LEFT THE ENGINE RUNNING?
SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT. VENICE BEACH APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

BLAND
Don’t worry, I’ll find it. I’ll find it.

ZVI
You better.
Or else you’re dead.
Understand? Go, now. Find it.
Use the tracking device
in your fucking laptop.

BLAND
The laptop’s -- in the car.

ZVI
You fucking JAR-HEAD.

BLAND
I’m sorry boss, I fucked up.
I know. I’ll make it right,
I promise -- I --

ZVI
What the fuck were you doing?
No, wait -- don’t tell me.
You were fucking SCORING DOPE.

BLAND
It’s medicinal, Zvi --
Gulf War Syndrome -

ZVI
I’ll fucking give you a 'syndrome.'
Get your ass over here, NOW.
(beat)
God help me, but you’re gonna
have to take one of my cars.
(to himself)
God-DAMit.

BLAND
Which one? The SUV? The BMW?

ZVI
Dumb fucking slab of ‘American war hero,’
NO. You take the bug.

BLAND
But that’s -- a girl’s car.

ZVI
Exactly.
(sneers)
Mission accomplished.

INT. NISSAN SENTRA - CONTINUOUS
Friday pulls the car into an alley.
Parks. Looks around. No one following her.
Heart pounding. What to do? Should I -- ?

She notices the pizza delivery cases
in the back seat.

Three of them.
Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

Her stomach GROWLS.
She reaches over, grabs one.

Puts it on her lap.
Opens it, to reveal --

A brand new Apple G-6 laptop.
It sparkles in the sunlight.

FRIDAY
Holy shit.

Friday turns it on.
Places it on the seat next to her.

FRIDAY
Can finally check my email --

She grabs another one.
Opens it. Her jaw drops.

The case is stuffed with
banded wads of HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS.

FRIDAY
Holy FUCK.

She quickly SNAPS it shut.
Places it under her seat.

WHIPS around. GRABS the last box.
FLIPS it open, to reveal --

A large pizza.
With pepperoni and sausage.

Steaming hot.
Friday grabs a slice,
wolfs it down hungrily. BELCHES.

FRIDAY
So ladylike.

Greasy hands. She needs a napkin.
Searches. Opens the glove box,
and finds -- A 357 MAGNUM. She GRABS IT.

FRIDAY
Come to Mama.

Just then A PATROL CAR creeps by.
Friday deftly slides
the gun under the seat.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The cop stops.
Classic stone-face.

He glances into the Sentra,
sees the pizza box.

FRIDAY
Hi, officer.
Is there a problem, sir?

Black aviator shades glare at her.
What’s he doing?
Looking up her license plate?

COP
Won’t you get in trouble
if you eat the pizza?

She realizes.
The pizza sign on the car.

FRIDAY
I get it to eat if it’s a no-show.
Must of been some kids, a prank --
COP

Nice perk. Have a nice day.

FRIDAY
Thanks. You too, officer.

He drives away.
Friday sits a moment.
Heart still pounding.

FRIDAY
To protect and shit my pants --

The Days Of Wine And Handcuffs

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 Episode 2 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, unemployed screenwriter Friday Foster's life is falling apart. Her heat, water and phone get shut off. Her bank account is overdrawn, and her landlord is evicting her. And, to make matters worse, her car just got repossessed ...


EXT. TINY HOUSE - ALLEY - DAY
Friday walks around the side of the house.
Sees a GRINNING DWP TECHNICIAN
and a SURLY GAS COMPANY GUY.

Grinning holds a large wrench.
Surly examines his clipboard.

FRIDAY
What the fuck is going on?

GRINNING DWP TECHNICIAN
No pay bill-ey, no juice-ey.

FRIDAY
But I, I --

SURLY GAS COMPANY GUY
No cash, no gash.
Lucky for you it’s not winter.

FRIDAY
Wait, wait. I’ll give you some money --

GRINNING DWP TECHNICIAN
Sorry.

SURLY GAS COMPANY GUY
Tell you what you CAN give us --

Surly GRABS his crotch.

GRINNING DWP TECHNICIAN
Yeah, how ‘bout it? You an’ me --

FRIDAY
Get the fuck OUT OF HERE! ASSHOLES!

They saunter off. Whistling.
Snickering. Carrie fumes.
Heads back around to the front where --

She sees Manny McClugg (70’s).
Tall, whisper-thin. Bulging eyes.
Matted hair like white flakes on his misshapen head.

The LANDLORD.

FRIDAY
Manny.

MANNY
Hello, Friday. I’m sorry,
but if I don’t have the rent by tomorrow,
you have to leave. I’m tired of waiting.
You’re four months late.
I can’t carry you any more.

FRIDAY
But, Manny, like I told you, I’ve got a --

MANNY
I’ve had enough of your stories, Friday.
That’s it. I’ve had it. You have until tomorrow.
(weird smile)
Until then.

And he slithers away.

FRIDAY
Stupid old fuck.

She goes to the letter box.
Grabs her mail.

INSIDE THE HOUSE
Friday sits on the couch,
FLIPS through envelopes.
RIPS them open, one by one --

A BILL
from the phone company.
HOW TO RECONNECT YOUR SERVICE.

A SUMMONS
reads NOTICE OF EVICTION.

A BANK SLIP
in red letters. OVERDRAWN ACCOUNT.

A MOVIE STUDIO
letter reads ‘Screenplay ... rejected ... ‘

AN EMPLOYMENT AGENCY
letter reads ‘Position terminated.’

A LETTER HOME
with a hand-written scrawl. ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN.

FRIDAY
whimpers.
THROWS the letter in the air like confetti.
Carrie walks in. Dressed.

FRIDAY
Where are you going?
What about breakfast?

CARRIE
I’m covered in soap.
I’m going home to take a real shower.

FRIDAY
Please don’t go. Everything is --

CARRIE
Everything is WHAT.

FRIDAY
Fucked up. Everything is -- fucked up.
My water and power got shut off --

CARRIE
Great time to quit your job --

FRIDAY
I told you, it was HELL.
That little fuck worked me to the BONE.
I couldn’t take it any more.
Please stay. Please.

CARRIE
Stay? For WHAT? More TORTURE?
You fucking you TIED ME to the bed,
dripped CANDLE WAX on my boobs --

FRIDAY
I got -- carried away, okay?
We were just playing --

CARRIE
Playing? Playing WHAT? 'Guantanamo baby?'

FRIDAY
Silk scarves, Carrie.
They were SILK SCARVES.
I’d never hurt you.

CARRIE
HURT ME, How about making me COME?
I never fucking CAME,
because YOU were fucking JACK DANIELS,
and then PASSED OUT.

FRIDAY
I had a couple of COCKTAILS, okay?
We BOTH did, talk about
the pot calling the kettle --

CARRIE
The DIFFERENCE is, I can HOLD my liquor,
so I don’t fucking PASS OUT while I’m FUCKING.

FRIDAY
After -- what happened at White Line,
I haven’t -- been myself.

CARRIE
Excuses, excuses.
That was weeks ago.
I just got SUSPENDED,
but you don’t see ME living
The Days of Wine and Handcuffs.
(goes to the door)
Later. Much.

And she’s gone.

FRIDAY
NO!

Friday RACES out the door to --

THE BACK ALLEY
but Carrie’s gone. Friday grimaces.
Squeezes her eyes shut.
A car motor ROARS to life.

FRIDAY
My car?

She turns, RUNS around to --

THE DRIVEWAY
where a 1971 Dodge Dart Swinger sits idling.
A BEEFY ASIAN GUY sits behind the wheel.
GUNNING the engine.

FRIDAY
(knocks on the window)
Hey! That’s MY CAR.
What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?

The window slides down a couple inches.

BEEFY ASIAN GUY
It’s the bank’s car now.

FRIDAY
But I sent my last payment --
listen, you gotta help me,
I put a three thousand dollar
sound system in there --

BEEFY ASIAN GUY
(shifts the car into gear)
Material possessions are not the answer.
(beat)
Later, grasshopper --

To Protect And Spend

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.

Today I'm proud to present a new story for your reading pleasure. HIT & RUN HOLIDAY is one of my more outrageous screenplays (but then, aren't they all?). It once again features private eye Carrie Love, but this time the story's not about her. It's about her recent ex-girfriend, screenwriter Friday Foster, who has a nervous breakdown and decides to get revenge on the movie studio that ruined her life. It's DOG DAY AFTERNOON meets NETWORK ... an offbeat satire about Hollywood and the media in the age of social networking. And considering I wrote it about five years ago, I think I can boast that it was a little ahead of it's time ...

In Chapter 1 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, we meet outlaw screenwriter Friday Foster, who's right now arriving for her trial at a Beverly Hills courtroom in handcuffs and chains in the middle of a media circus. Then, we flashback twenty-four hours earlier to find out exactly what happened ...


EXT. BEVERLY HILLS POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
An airbrushed, glorious edifice to wealth.
Palm trees rustle in the breeze
like the icons they are.

A bright, gorgeous, glistening
day in paradise.

But right now it’s a MADHOUSE.
A throng of MEDIA, PAPARAZZI, SPECTATORS
behind police barricades clamor for a view.

COPS in riot gear PUSH them back.
A CHOPPER WHIRS overhead.

CROWD
Free Friday! Free Friday! Free Friday!

A GRIM, SHELLACKED REPORTER
takes position in front of a CREW.

CAMERAMAN focuses on her.
A STYLIST fixes her hair.

SHELLACKED REPORTER
(to the cameraman)
Hurry it the fuck up, Dex!
She’ll be here ANY MINUTE.

DEX
Take another med, Cherry.
We’ve got time.

CHERRY
(holds up I-pad)
Oh, yeah?

ON THE TINY SCREEN
we see shaky, hand-held footage.

A POLICE SUV winds its way
down Santa Monica Boulevard,
trailed by POLICE CRUISERS.

NEWS VANS.
A MOB on foot, running, shouting.

CHERRY’S
eyes BLAZE.
Blood vessels about to burst.

CHERRY
AZT got ‘em four blocks away!
This is MY FUCKING STORY. LET’S GO --

DEX
And -- ROLLING.

ON THE MONITOR
Cherry cocks her head.
Wets her lips.

CHERRY
This is Cherry Blazer,
Action Network News.
We’re here in front the
tony environs of Beverly Hills
police headquarters,
where Friday Foster is about to arrive --

The SUV comes into view.
Slowly pushes through the crowd.

Pandemonium ERUPTS. SCREAMING.
SHOUTING. PUSHING.

CHERRY
And you’re here with me
on the scene! C’mon!

Cherry and the crew PUSH
their way through the crowd to the motorcade.
The rear door of the SUV FLIES OPEN. Out steps --

FRIDAY FOSTER (27). Pixie, choppy blonde.
Bruised and bloodied. Smeared makeup.

Still quite cute.
Despite the manacles and restraints.
Tired eyes blink in the sunlight.

GREASY PONYTAILED PAPARAZZI
Friday, over HERE.
Smile for ze CAMERA!

RUSSIAN PAPARAZZI (O.C.)
Friday, give smile!

EURO PAPARAZZI (O.C.)
Hey, Friday, bonus points if I pee my pants?

GAWKER (O.C.)
Friday is the new Britney!

CHERRY
(SHOVES microphone in her face)
Cherry Blazer, Action Network News!
Friday, how do you feel? Are you okay?
Have the police been mistreating you?

FRIDAY
(raises handcuffed wrists)
Viva la REVOLUTION, media WHORES!

EXT. VENICE ALLEY - TINY HOUSE - MORNING
Titles read ‘24 HOURS EARLIER.’

A tiny, wooden house behind a bungalow
in the rear alley. Tiny living room.
Tinier bedroom. Kitchenette. Bathroomette.

INT. TINY HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Cozy but cramped. Movie posters.
Scripts piled everywhere.

A lovely young WOMAN (27)
sits on the couch with a LAPTOP.

We recognize her as FRIDAY FOSTER.
But she looks almost glamorous.

Her hair is long, a frosted light brunette.
Fetching in black capris and a tiny top.

Right now she’s deep in thought.
Smoking. Conjuring.

ON THE LAPTOP
we see what she’s working on --

FELINA
(aims her weapon)
So many men --

BANG! BANG! BANG!

FELINA (CONT'D)
So few bullets in a gun.

FRIDAY
smiles. Nice.
She takes a sip of coffee.

IN THE BATHROOM
A WOMAN is taking a shower.

Meet CARRIE LOVE (25), comely, fit.
Legs for days. And nights.

You’d never guess from those
dangerous curves that she’s a cop.
Slippery when wet, indeed.

Right now she’s rubbing a loofah sponge
in exciting places. Intense.
SCRUBBING like her life depended on it.

CARRIE
Fucking wax --

IN THE LIVING ROOM
the power CUTS OFF.

FRIDAY
Shit.

IN THE BATHROOM
the water STOPS.

CARRIE
HEY.

IN THE LIVING ROOM
Friday gets up.
Shouts toward the bathroom.

FRIDAY
Blew a fuse! Be right back!

Carrie comes into the room
wrapped in a towel.

Covered in suds.
Royally pissed.

CARRIE
What happened to the fucking water?!

FRIDAY
Don’t know. I’ll go check.
Keep your panties on.

CARRIE
You’re a goddamn laugh riot --

Cinema Verite

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. 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 24 of LEGS, Episode Two, the exciting conclusion of this episode, private eye Carrie Love posts bail for her girlfriend, porn star Laura Lang at police headquarters. Meanwhile, Laura's director Klaus Speer reveals his evil plans for Laura ...


INT. SHERIFF’S STATION - DUSK
A small, cluttered, drab lobby.

A BORED-LOOKING FEMALE DEPUTY
sits behind the counter.
Carrie hands her a check.

CARRIE
Here you go.
Promise it won’t bounce.

BORED-LOOKING FEMALE DEPUTY
(takes it)
You sure know how to pick ‘em, honey.
(picks up the phone, dials a number)
Alex, it’s Latifah.
Someone’s just posted Laura Lang’s bail.
Can you bring her out?
(listens)
Better not let the chief hear you
talk like that.
(hangs up, to Carrie)
It’ll just be a minute.
(low, conspiratorial)
So what’s the sex like
with a porn star?

CARRIE
If I answer that,
you’ll have to arrest me.

A side door opens,
and out comes Laura.

Makeup smeared, hair a mess.
Eyes red from crying.
She RACES into Carrie’s arms.

LAURA
Carrie --

CARRIE
(hugs her tight)
It’s okay, baby.
It’s gonna be okay.

LAURA
(a whisper)
I’m so glad you’re here --
it was terrible --
they were so mean to me --

They hold each other a long beat.
Then Carrie pulls away.

CARRIE
You wanna stop somewhere
on the way home and
pick up something to eat?
You must be starving.

LAURA
(low)
Honey, I got all I want
to eat right here.

LATIFAH
I heard that.

INT. CARRIE’S PORSCHE - MOVING - DUSK
Carrie and Laura drive home,
both munching on cheeseburgers and fries.

Laura says something.
Carrie BURSTS out laughing.

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT
A dimly lit studio crammed
with postproduction equipment.

We hear the faint thump-thump-thump
of tweaker club music somewhere nearby.

KLAUS SPEER (50’S), German, Jeremy Irons
on Prozac and JOREL AMIN (30’s),
beefy, black as night,
sit in front of the monitor.

CRIMSON (20’s) Gothic-gorgeous
and totally pierced pleads her case.

CRIMSON
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 another hostess.
I can’t find a replacement
on such short notice.
I'm sorry, my little rose petal.

CRIMSON
Yeah, right.

And she's gone.

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

Klaus punches a button on the DVD player.
A disc 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.
(shoves it in, giggles)
We hit the fucking lottery
with this one.

JOREL
I like the part
where she hits the tree.

He PUNCHES a button.

ON THE MONITOR
A steep incline high in the Hollywood Hills.

A young GIRL (18) gagged and
wearing a bikini on Rollerblades
comes FLYING down the road.

She takes a sharp turn,
FLAILS her arms wildly --
PLOWS into a tree with a CRACK --
and FLOPS to the ground.

KLAUS
Breaks out into a big,
perverted smile.

KLAUS
Her first starring role --
and her last.

JOREL
Boogie Night, Roller Girl.

What about the next one?
You said you shot some B-roll stuff.

Klaus grins. Presses EJECT.
Takes out the disk. Grabs another.
Puts it in. Presses PLAY.

KLAUS
Ah, yes -- my little actress.

ON THE MONITOR
We see hand-held footage
looking through a window --
of Laura and Carrie, making love
on the floor of her living room.

KLAUS (V.O.)
Now that’s what I call 'cinema verite.'

Sneaky Little Bitch

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 23 of LEGS, Episode Two, private eye Carrie Love delivers the bad news to her client Marnie Hadar that her Israeli mobster father and brothers were killed in a shootout trying to escape ... to which Marnie has an unexpected reaction ...


INT. CARRIE’S PORSCHE - MOVING - DAY
Carrie drives down Via Marina.
Fingers a number on her cell.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. MARNIE’S MOTEL ROOM - DAY
Marnie and Yago lie in bed under the covers,
Yago fast asleep.

Marnie lights a smoke.
Smiles dreamily.

Her cell phone on the night stand
RINGS. She grabs it.

MARNIE
This is Marnie --

CARRIE
It’s Carrie.

MARNIE
How did it go
with my dad and my brothers?

CARRIE
Not good.

MARNIE
What do you mean 'not good?'

CARRIE
They tried to escape,
we followed them to the airport and --

MARNIE
They’re dead, aren’t they.

CARRIE
I’m so sorry, Marnie.

MARNIE
Are you kidding?
That’s fucking GREAT.

CARRIE
Excuse me?

MARNIE
Now I can be with Yago.

CARRIE
Isn’t he -- your brother?

MARNIE
He’s actually my half-brother.
We have different mothers.

CARRIE
That’s why he was
living at the safe house --

MARNIE
Yeah.
When my father found out about us,
he moved Yago there and
started monitoring my every move.

CARRIE
Why didn’t you tell me about this
when we first talked?

MARNIE
Would you have taken the case?

CARRIE
Good point.
(beat)
Wait a minute.
You WANTED me to kill
your father, didn’t you.
That was the plan all along,
wasn’t it?

MARNIE
Thanks, Carrie.
You’re one hell of a private eye.
Send me your bill, okay?
Laters, baby.

She hangs up.
Carrie looks at the phone. Sighs.

Pulls out a flask.
Takes a long swig.
Wipes her mouth with her sleeve.

CARRIE (V.O.)
How do you like that.
Sneaky little bitch.
And I’ve got no way to prove it.
(another sip)
Growing up in a fucked-up family
not only fucks you up,
it fucks up every relationship
you have for the rest of your life.
It’s like you’ve been imprinted
with this dysfunctional DNA.
You can do years of therapy,
but it’s still there,
lurking under the surface.
Watching. Waiting.
Ready to fuck things up.
(beat)
Look at who I worked with on this case.
My ex-husband and the girl I left him for.
Codependent much?
And my latest client?
Fucking her brother? Hello?

She drains the flask.
Sticks in her jacket pocket.

EXT. MARINA DEL REY - SHERIFF’S STATION - DUSK
A small, brick building right on the water.

Carrie’s car pulls into
the small parking area in front.

CARRIE (V.O.)
And how about my girlfriend?
When I hear the phrase
‘healthy, adult relationship,’
the image of bailing someone out of jail
usually doesn’t come to mind --

Too Late For Peace Talks

Hey there, crime kids. Happy 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 21 of LEGS, Episode Two, bullets fly and blood is spilled when Carrie, Bernie and Meg have their final showdown with Israeli mobster Nuri Hadar and his sons Leron and Tal at Los Angeles International Airport ...


EXT. AIRPORT TERMINAL - DAY
The plane starts to slow down,
but is still heading right for
the giant windows in the terminal building --
and IN SLOW MOTION --

the nose of the plane SMASHES
through the glass as it SCREECHES to a halt,
the metal rims SQUEALING.

ON THE GROUND
Carrie and Bernie’s cars SCREECH
to a stop next to the plane.

The door OPENS,
and a staircase starts descending.

IN THE PLANE
Leron and Tal stand
at the top of the steps, holding Uzis.

See Bernie, Carrie and Meg
get out of their cars.

Start SPRAYING THEM
with MACHINE GUN FIRE.

ON THE TARMAC
Carrie, Bernie and Meg
DUCK behind Bernie’s car.

ON THE STAIRS
Leron and Tal start
walking down the steps,
continuing to SPRAY the cars
with bullets.

The windows EXPLODE.

BEHIND BERNIE’S CAR
Bernie turns to Carrie.

BERNIE
They got us pinned down here.

Carrie looks around.
Sees a baggage handler cart nearby.

CARRIE
I got an idea.
Cover me.

Bernie and Megan nod.

Start RETURNING FIRE,
as Carrie DASHES over to the cart.

Hops on the side away
from the gunfire. Reaches up.

Turns on the engine.
Crouches low, presses down
on the gas pedal with one hand,
grabs the steering wheel with the other --
and drives around the cars and the plane.


She gets to the other side, jumps off.
Ducks under the plane
-- and SHOOTS at the boys in the leg.

NURI AND TAL
Get HIT.
GRAB their thighs.
SCREAM in pain.

BERNIE AND MEG
POP UP from behind the car
and SHOOT them both in the head.

BANG. BANG.
They hit the ground, THWUMP, THWUMP.

NURI stands in the doorway.
Sees this.

Runs back inside the plane.
Carrie comes up from under
and RACES up the stairs after him.

INSIDE THE PLANE
Nuri ducks to the side of the doorway.

And, as Carrie RUNS in,
GRABS her around the neck
in a choke hold.

She tries to pull his arm off,
but he’s too strong.

Her face starts turning red.
She STOMPS on his foot.

His grip loosens a bit.
Takes a big gulp of air and
HEAD BUTTS him from behind,
but this just makes him ANGRIER,
and he YANKS his arm across her neck, HARDER.

She GASPS, struggling to breathe.
Her hands desperately search
for something to use as a weapon.

They find a FIRE EXTINGUISHER,
RIP it off the wall,
and CRACK him on the head with it.

Stunned by the blow,
Nuri RELEASES her.
He staggers a bit.

Carrie breathes in gulps of air,
pulls out her gun.

Nuri raises his.
They both take aim.

NURI
It would appear to be stalemate,
my impetuous one.

CARRIE
Guess it’s too late
for peace talks, huh.

He suddenly gets RIDDLED
with bullets from behind.

His body JERKS like a puppet
in a dance of death --
until he HITS the floor, THWUMP.

Bernie and Meg appear in the doorway,
guns drawn.

Carrie looks at Nuri’s body.
Then at them.

CARRIE
What took you guys so long?

BERNIE
Well, last time I stopped
a guy from killing you,
you gave me shit about it.

MEGAN
I got tired of arguing with him a
bout whether or not
we should come save you.

CARRIE
Wow. I’m really feeling the love --

Fly The Friendly Skies

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 20 of LEGS, Episode Two, Carrie, Bernie and Meg chase Israeli mobster Nuri Hadar and his sons, who right now are trying to escape in a charter airplane ... but Carrie has other ideas ...


EXT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY
The Hummer is parked in front of a
charter plane hanger with
an Israeli flag across the top.
A private jet sits nearby.

Carrie’s Porsche,
followed by Bernie’s Crown Vic,
followed by a hoard of SCREAMING SQUAD CARS
race toward the plane.

IN THE COCKPIT
Leron and Tal sit at the controls.
Start flipping switches.
Nuri sticks his head in the cockpit.

NURI
Hurry the fuck up.
We must GO, NOW.

LERON
Time to fly friendly skies.

He PULLS BACK on a lever.

ON THE GROUND
The plane starts taxing away
from the hangar.

EXT. HANGAR CORRIDOR - DAY
Carrie’s Porsche and Bernie’s sedan
start following the plane on either side --

Carrie on the left,
Bernie on the right.

INT. CARRIE’S PORSCHE - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Carrie talks to Bernie on her cell.

CARRIE
We gotta stop them from taking off.
Got any bright ideas?

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. BERNIE’S CROWN VIC - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Bernie drives like a madman.
Talks on his cell.

BERNIE
Just heard on the radio
the cops are setting up
a roadblock on the runway,
so why don’t we box ‘em in?

CARRIE
Why don’t we just
shoot their fucking tires?

BERNIE
That’s a big ten-four, little lady.
Commence firing.

She looks at Meg, who nods.
Pulls out her service revolver.

EXT. AIRPORT ROADWAY - DAY
The plane picks up speed,
starts taxiing toward the runway.

ANGLE ON --
Meg leans out her window.
Starts FIRING at the tires.

ANGLE ON --
Bernie drives with his right hand.
Starts SHOOTING at the tires with his left.

ANGLE ON --
The bullets PING-PING-PING
off the wheel guards, the struts.

INSIDE THE PLANE
Nuri looks out the window.
Sees them.

NURI
Goddammit.

EXT. AIRPORT RUNWAY - DAY
A phalanx of SQUAD CARS get into formation
on the runway to form a roadblock.

INT. AIRPLANE COCKPIT - CONTINUOUS
Nuri comes back into the cockpit.
Shouts at the boys.

NURI
They’re shooting at tires.
You need to lose them, NOW.

TAL
Lose them?
How we supposed to do THAT?

LERON
I have idea.
Hold onto testicle --

And he TURNS the steering wheel
into a HARD LEFT.

EXT. AIRPORT ROADWAY - CONTINUOUS
The plane suddenly turns toward
the commercial terminal area,
heading right toward a line of planes.

Carrie also makes a HARD LEFT,
just misses getting clipped by the wing.

Bernie’s car turns,
while Meg and Bernie continue FIRING.

CLOSE ON --
Meg FIRES.
She gets the left tire. BANG.

CLOSE ON --
Bernie FIRES.
He gets the right tire. BANG.

THE PLANE
SCREECHES on the rims.
Heads toward the terminal.

IN THE PLANE
Leron furiously fights
to control the plane,
but he’s having a hard time
with the tires out of commission.

NURI
What are you DOING?
Turn away, turn away.
We’re going to hit BUILDING.

LERON
Is no good, I cannot TURN --

NURI
(to Tal)
Then hit fucking BRAKES.

Tal JAMS his foot on the pedal.

TO BE CONTINUED

Leave The Driving To Us

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 19 of LEGS, Episode Two, it's 'the mother of all car chases' when Carrie, Bernie and Meg, along with a horde of cops cars, chase Israeli mobster Nuri Hadar and his sons Tal and Leron in their Hummer through the marina ...


EXT. SPEEDWAY - DAY
The Hummer ROARS north,
the others behind it, catching up.

IN THE PATROL CAR
Mike drives like a maniac.
Clifford grabs the radio.

CLIFFORD
This is unit One-Adam-Twenty-Three.
We’re in pursuit of kidnapping suspects
travelling in a yellow Hummer
heading north on Speedway.
Send all available units.

IN THE HUMMER
Tal drives.
Leron rides shotgun.
Nuri leans forward.

NURI
(to Leron)
Call Shelly at airport.
Tell him to have jet ready.

LERON
(pulls out cell phone)
You got it, pop.
(dials number, listens)
Shelly? It’s Tal --
(listens)
Yeah, we’re on our way to airport.
We need plane ready --
(listens)
I know is short notice --
(listens)
TWO Asian chicks? Damn.

AERIAL POV
The Hummer ROARS down the street,
weaving through traffic,
followed by the patrol car,
Carrie’s Porsche and Bernie’s Crown Vic.

It turns right at a side street
going south --

EXT. OCEAN STREET - DAY
The monster-car barrels
down the narrow street.

Up ahead, we see a small, steep, narrow,
one-lane bridge that curves over
the first of the four remaining
Venice canals.

IN CARRIE’S CAR
Carrie turns to Megan.
Shakes her head in disbelief.

CARRIE
He’s going over the fucking CANALS --

THE HUMMER
Gets to the first bridge.
An old, VW Bug ahead of them
chugs up to the top, engine whining.
The Hummer ROARS up it.

IN THE HUMMER
Tal keeps driving,
big smile on his face.

NURI
Idiot. I TOLD you
we shouldn’t go this way.

TAL
No problem. Watch this --

THE VW BUG
Tries to pull to the side to make room,
and the Hummer SMASHES into
the left rear fender, BANG --
and the Bug goes FLYING
in the air and SPLASHES
in the canal.

THE HUMMER
Drives down the other side of the bridge.
Another car approaches, sees it,
CAREENS into the side alley.

THE PATROL CAR
FLIES up the bridge --
briefly soars in the air --
and HITS the pavement,
following the Hummer.

SIDE POV
Carrie’s Porsche FLIES OVER the bridge,
BANGS on the pavement on the other side,
as does Bernie’s Crown Vic.

IN BERNIE’S CAR
Bernie WINCES as the car
hits the road. BANG.

BERNIE
Asshole’s gonna pay for the damages.

IN CARRIE’S CAR
She YELLS OUT as the car
BANGS on the pavement.

CARRIE
WHOO-HOO.
Leave the driving to US.

AERIAL POV
The vehicles FLY the second bridge,
PEDESTRIANS and BICYCLISTS LEAPING
out of the way --
then the third bridge.

EXT. VIA MARINA - DAY
A boulevard that twists and turns
around the marina.

The Hummer cruises around the curves,
followed by the gang.

IN THE HUMMER
Nuri angrily shakes his fist at Tal.

NURI
They’re still behind us.
Can’t you LOSE them?

TAL
Not to worry. I have idea.

LERON
You TRYING to scare us?

EXT. VIA MARINA - DAY
The Hummer nears an intersection
marked BIKE CROSSING.

It turns right onto a narrow BIKE PATH
that snakes around the marina boat slips.

The squad car follows them,
then Carrie’s car,
then Bernie’s Crown Vic.

EXT. MARINA BIKE PATH - DAY
The Hummer BARRELS down the bike path.
Up ahead, a pair of CYCLISTS leisurely pedal.

Tal HONKS his horn.

They turn and look,
DART off the path.

The squad car follows.
Then Carrie’s Porsche.

Then Bernie’s car,
bringing up the rear.

EXT. FISHERMAN’S WHARF - DAY
A series of tacky, touristy shops and restaurants
at the south end of the marina.
The vehicles pass by in a blur.

EXT. PLAYA DEL REY - BIKE PATH - DAY
The Hummer takes the path to the
other side of the channel into Playa del Rey,
the other vehicles in hot pursuit.

EXT. PLAYA DEL REY - BIKE PATH - DAY
The vehicles FLY down the narrow strip
heading toward the shore,
PLOWING THROUGH a group of BICYCLISTS --

until they reach an intersection
where it meets the beach bike path
in the sand going south.

The Hummer makes the turn and
ROARS down the bike path.

The other vehicles SCREECH to a halt.
Everyone JUMPS out,
watches the Hummer drive away.

BERNIE
God-DAMMIT.

MIKE
(cell rings, answers it)
Yeah.
(listens)
No shit.
(to the group)
Just got word that Flowers
died in the hospital.
They’re now wanted for murder.

BERNIE
Great. But we don’t know
where the fuck they’re GOING.

CARRIE
I know where they’re going.

BERNIE
Were you planning on
sharing it with us?

Carrie points at a plane
taking off overhead to the south.

CARRIE
Airport.

Everybody exchange glances.
RACES over to their vehicles. JUMPS in.

TURNS AROUND and TAKES OFF --
just as a HOARD OF SQUAD CARS arrive.

Like Taking Blintz From A Baby

Happy Friday, crime kids. Bet you are wondering where I was the last couple of days. Well, my internet was down, and things got pretty grisly there for awhile. But have no fear, because it's once again time 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 18 of LEGS, Episode Two, Carrie, Bernie and Meg surround Israeli mobster Nuri Hadar's safe house where he's hiding out with his sons Tal and Leron, but when they tell them to come out with their hands up, the goons smash through the garage door in their Hummer and make their escape ... with Carrie and the gang in hot pursuit ...


INT. NURI’S SAFE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Leron sits at table, hunched over Yago’s laptop.
Nuri and Tal sit on either side of him, watching.
Leron smiles. Points.

LERON
Is Marnie’s Friendbook page.

Nuri and Leron crane their necks to look.

TAL
She has four-thousand friends?

LERON
(points)
Is because of risque photo on profile.

NURI
Is disgraceful.
She’s hardly wearing any clothing.

LERON
Well, is taken at beach --

NURI
But is just string on bottom.

TAL
Is called 'thong,' pop.

OUTSIDE
Carrie, Bernie, Meg, Mike and Clifford
huddle in front of the garage facing the street.

CARRIE
Okay. There’s only three exits --
(to Mike and Clifford)
You two stay here and watch the garage.
(off their nods)
Bernie, you go around the back
and cover the exit onto the beach.
(off his nod)
Meg and I will go the front door.

MEGAN
This time with our guns drawn.

INSIDE THE HOUSE
Tal works the mouse.
Points at the screen.

LERON
Over here is where I send her
‘private message.’

TAL
What are you gonna say?

LERON
I invite her to big, Hollywood party,
but I have to give invitation in person.

NURI
Brilliant.
You are chip off new kids of block.
(to Tal)
You get detective’s address?

TAL
Like taking blintz from baby.

IN BACK OF THE HOUSE
Bernie takes position
near the rear entrance.

AT THE GARAGE
Mike and Clifford face the garage doors,
guns drawn.

AT THE FRONT DOOR
Carrie and Meg stand on
either side of the door,
guns at the ready.

Carrie leans over,
RINGS the buzzer.

INSIDE THE HOUSE
The doorbell RINGS.
Nuri, Tal and Leron look.

NURI
Who could that be?

LERON
Probably one of Yago’s loser friends.

NURI
(to Tal)
Go get rid of them.

Tal nods. Jumps up.
Trots off toward the front door.

NURI (CONT'D)
(to Leron)
Speaking of Yago,
where IS that lazy fuck?

OUTSIDE
Carrie PRESSES the buzzer again.

TAL (O.C.)
(electronic)
Hello? Who is there?

MEGAN
This is the POLICE.
We’ve got the place SURROUNDED.
Open the door, NOW.

TAL (O.C.)
Hold on a sec.
Be right with you.

Carrie and Meg exchange glances.
Carrie grabs her cell phone.
Punches a number. Listens.

BERNIE’S
Phone rings. He answers it.

BERNIE
What’s up?

CARRIE (O.C.)
Asshole’s stalling.
Watch the door. Get ready.

CARRIE
Turns to Meg.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
I’ve got a feeling
they’re gonna try something.

Meg nods.
Carrie RINGS the buzzer again.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
NURI HADAR. This is the POLICE.
Open that fucking door RIGHT NOW,
or we’re COMING IN.

INSIDE THE HOUSE
Tal RACES over to Nuri and Leron.

TAL
Is cops.
They have house surrounded.

LERON
How the FUCK they find us?
What are we gonna do?

NURI
Calm down.
You forget about Hummer in garage.

LERON
To the HUMMER.

BEHIND THE HOUSE
Mike turns to Clifford.

MIKE
How much you think
a place like this costs?

CLIFFORD
A couple million at least.

MIKE
Jesus.
Imagine living right at the beach.

CLIFFORD
I don’t have to.
I’m further up in Venice.
Cute little bungalow.
Not ON the beach,
but right across the street.
You should come over
and hang out sometime.

MIKE
Do you have a hot tub?

A YELLOW HUMMER comes CRASHING
through the door -- BANG.
Wood goes FLYING.

Mike and Clifford start SHOOTING.
Carrie, Meg and Bernie come RUNNING.

Everybody JUMPS into their cars
and gives chase --

the patrol car in the lead,
then Carrie and Meg in Carrie’s Porsche,
then Bernie in his Crown Vic.