Monday, August 13, 2012
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.
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.
(to the cameraman)
Hurry it the fuck up, Dex!
She’ll be here ANY MINUTE.
Take another med, Cherry.
We’ve got time.
(holds up I-pad)
ON THE TINY SCREEN
we see shaky, hand-held footage.
A POLICE SUV winds its way
down Santa Monica Boulevard,
trailed by POLICE CRUISERS.
A MOB on foot, running, shouting.
Blood vessels about to burst.
AZT got ‘em four blocks away!
This is MY FUCKING STORY. LET’S GO --
And -- ROLLING.
ON THE MONITOR
Cherry cocks her head.
Wets her lips.
This is Cherry Blazer,
Action Network News.
We’re here in front the
tony environs of Beverly Hills
where Friday Foster is about to arrive --
The SUV comes into view.
Slowly pushes through the crowd.
Pandemonium ERUPTS. SCREAMING.
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?
Friday is the new Britney!
(SHOVES microphone in her face)
Cherry Blazer, Action Network News!
Friday, how do you feel? Are you okay?
Have the police been mistreating you?
(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.
ON THE LAPTOP
we see what she’s working on --
(aims her weapon)
So many men --
BANG! BANG! BANG!
So few bullets in a gun.
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.
Fucking wax --
IN THE LIVING ROOM
the power CUTS OFF.
IN THE BATHROOM
the water STOPS.
IN THE LIVING ROOM
Friday gets up.
Shouts toward the bathroom.
Blew a fuse! Be right back!
Carrie comes into the room
wrapped in a towel.
Covered in suds.
What happened to the fucking water?!
Don’t know. I’ll go check.
Keep your panties on.
You’re a goddamn laugh riot --