Leave It To Beaver On Meth

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Halloween. 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 DICK & HONEY, our intrepid would-be bounty hunters pay a visit to Simone LeBon, the actress/model mistress of wanted Ponzi scheme fugitive Roland Forsythe. Problem is, Simone's not very bright ...


EXT. TARZANA BOULEVARD - DAY
The Land Rover passes a row of
tiny, identical houses on tiny lots
with tiny yards and tiny cars parked in front.

INT. DICK AND HONEY’S LAND ROVER - MOVING - DAY
Dick and Honey look at the houses
as they drive by.

HONEY
Talk about a cultural wasteland.
If I lived here I’d kill myself.

DICK
It’s like Leave It To Beaver on meth.

HONEY
Father Doesn’t Know Best.

DICK
The Little House On The Shitty.

HONEY
That reference doesn’t work.
This isn’t a prairie.

DICK
That may be, but it’s still funny.

EXT. SUBURBAN TRACT HOME - DAY
Up close, it looks ratty.
Badly needs a paint job.

Dick and Honey
stand on the front step.
He rings the bell.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Just a MINUTE.

The door FLIES OPEN.

SIMONE LEBON (20’s) appears.
Smokin’ hot in shorts and halter top.

Tousled mane of blonde. Blue eyes.
Giant, pneumatic boobs.
Beside her is a stack of LUGGAGE.

SIMONE
Who the hell are you?

HONEY
Simone LeBon, I take it?

DICK
Are you hungry like the wolf?

SIMONE
Hungry like what?
Who’s asking?

HONEY
We’re private detectives,
looking for Roland Forsythe.

SIMONE
(starts to close the door)
Sorry. Don’t know him.

DICK
(sticks his foot in the way)
Really. That’s funny,
because your number appeared
forty-five times on
his phone bill last month.

SIMONE
Oh. Shit.
(beat)
Am I in trouble?

HONEY
No. We’re just looking for him.
He skipped bail, you know.

SIMONE
He DID?

HONEY
Do you know where he is?

SIMONE
Uh -- no. Sorry.

DICK
Going on a trip?

SIMONE
Yeah. I’m -- going to
visit -- my mother.
She’s sick. Real sick.
Has a -- tumor.

DICK
(hands her his card)
If you hear from him,
would you give me a call?

SIMONE
(reads it)
It says you’re a comedian.

DICK
I’m a private investigator
and a comedian.

SIMONE
Say something funny.

Dick looks at Honey.
She gives him a warning look.

DICK
Okay. Adam and Eve are
in the Garden of Eden.
Adam says to Eve,
‘you better stand back,
I don’t know how
big this thing gets.’

SIMONE
Ew.

She SLAMS the door on his foot.
Dick YANKS it out.

She BANGS it shut.
Dick walks around
in a circle, limping.

HONEY
I told you
that joke wasn’t funny.
But no, you had to go
‘full-Shecky Greene.’

DICK
Hey. I love Shecky Greene.

HONEY
I rest my case, your honor.

The One Percent

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 DICK & HONEY, bounty hunters Dick and Honey interview fugitive Ponzi scheme criminal Roland Forsythe's wife Gigi at her Beverly Hills estate, with surprising results ...


EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD MANSION - DAY
A giant, faux-Tudor monstrosity
with well-manicured grounds.

Dick and Honey
stand at the front door.

Honey rings the doorbell.
Dick looks around.

DICK
So this is how
the other half lives.

HONEY
Don’t you mean
‘the one percent?’

DICK
The one percent of what.

HONEY
C’mon, Dick.
You watch TV.
(off his look)
One percent of the country
has ninety-six percent
of the wealth.

DICK
You know I’m
not good with math.

The giant door OPENS.
A regal-looking BUTLER (60’s)
in formalwear appears.
Looks at them askance.

REGAL-LOOKING BUTLER
(British accent)
May I help you, sir?

DICK
Hi. We’re here
to see Mrs. Forsythe.

REGAL-LOOKING BUTLER
May I ask what
this is in reference to?

DICK
I’m an old college
friend of her husband’s.
Just got in town
and can’t get him
on the phone,
so I thought
I’d try his house.

REGAL-LOOKING BUTLER
One moment, please.

He leaves, closing
the door behind him.

HONEY
(imitates him)
'May I ask what this
is in reference to?'

DICK
Hey, that’s not bad.
Maybe we should work
some impressions
into the act.

The door FLIES open.

GIGI FORSYTHE (40’s) appears.
Great-looking, strawberry blonde,
aerobisized, deeply-tanned,
and clutching a scotch
on the rocks for dear life.

GIGI
‘College friend,’ my ass.
If you were looking for Roland,
you’d go to his office,
NOT his house.
Who the fuck are you REALLY?

HONEY
Sorry for the subterfuge,
Mrs. Forsythe.
We’re private detectives.

GIGI
Oooh, check out
‘Hart To Hart.’

DICK
Your husband skipped out
on his bail.
We’re trying to find him.

GIGI
You’ve come to the
wrong place, bucko.
We’re in the middle of a divorce.
The shithead cleaned out
our bank account
and fucking disappeared.
Even my asshole lawyer
can’t find him.
Now I’m gonna to have
to sell the fucking house.

HONEY
Wow. I never knew rich people
swore as much as poor people did.

GIGI
Oh, yeah.
And we’re just as RUDE.

She THROWS her drink
in Honey’s face.
SLAMS the door.

She pulls out a tissue.
Wipes her face.
Gives Dick a look.

HONEY
Was it something I said?

DICK
At least you got booze.
I got cheese --

The Garden Of Earthly Delights

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 DICK & HONEY, we meet Ponzi scheme fugitive Roland Forsythe, hidden away at his Big Bear lair, negotiating for new ID's so he can flee the country. Meanwhile, newly-minted bounty hunters Dick & Honey sit in a crappy coffee shop plotting on how they're going to find him ...


EXT. ROLAND’S BIG BEAR CABIN - DAY
A pictureseque log cabin atop
a snowy hill in the wilderness.

Smoke comes out of a chimney
on the roof.

INT. ROLAND’S BIG BEAR CABIN - DAY
Obviously the digs of
somebody that’s got dough.

ROLAND FORSYTHE (50’s), chubby, bland,
clean-cut, sits on the couch
in front of a roaring fire
talking on his cell phone.

ROLAND
Jorge, it’s Roland --
(listens)
It’s okay.
It’s a prepaid disposable.
About the ID’s --
I’ve decided to
move up my schedule.
Can you get them to me
today instead of tomorrow?
(listens)
Look, I’ll pay you DOUBLE.
(listens)
Terrific. Thanks.
(hangs up)
Greasy, refried wetback
piece of shit.
(beat)
Wonder if a leaf blower
works on snow --

INT. HORRIBLE COFFEE SHOP - DAY
Your typical brightly-lit,
low-rent coffee shop.

A light smattering of
RETIREES and LOSERS
mid-afternoon on a weekday.

Dick and Honey sit in a booth
in a window with coffees.

Dick looks through the file
while Honey works her tablet.

DICK
Okay.
The first phone number
on his cell phone bill
is to his home in Beverly Hills.
We should go talk to his wife.

HONEY
Yeah, but the number in Tarzana
is called alot more.

DICK
Skyrockets in flight?

HONEY
Afternoon delight,
most definitely.

DICK
Twenty bucks says
she’s an ‘actress/whore.’

HONEY
I’m not taking that bet.

DICK
(nods)
So we talk to her, too.

HONEY
I say forget the wife.
He’s taking the mistress
with him, not her.

DICK
You don’t know that.
What if she’s just a
'friend with health care?'

HONEY
You mean
‘friend with benefits.’

DICK
Well, excuse me for
trying out some new material.

HONEY
We’ve got three days
to get three month’s back rent
and you’re cracking jokes?

DICK
Can’t help it.
Comedy’s in my blood.
One of the many reasons
you love me so much.
(off her look)
Have I told you lately
how much I love you?
How beautiful you are?
How the very sight of you
fills my heart with joy?

HONEY
Alright, okay. You win.
We’ll see the wife.
Flattery’ll get you --

DICK
Laid?

HONEY
After we catch this knucklehead.
Then you may enter
the garden of earthly delights.

DICK
Hot socks.
(beat)
Can I bring my hoe?

Like White On Rice

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 DICK & HONEY, would-be comedy team Dick & Honey visit Alabama Brown Bail Bonds, and convince Alabama to hire them as bounty hunters, much to their delight. But there's a catch: now they've got to catch a dangerous criminal ...


INT. ALABAMA BROWN BAIL BONDS - DAY
A small, cluttered office.
Paperwork everywhere.
Poster of Obama.

Alabama Brown sits in
her wheelchair behind a desk,
talking on the phone.

Dick and Honey walk in.

ALABAMA
Now let me get this straight.
My top bounty hunter got
his black ass ARRESTED,
and now you want ME
to bail you out?
(listens)
What were the charges?
(listens)
You beat your WIFE?
Fuck you, Darnell.
You’re on your OWN.
(listens)
I don’t have time for your bullshit.
Now I gotta find someone else
to bring in Forsythe
before he flees the country.
Good-BYE.
(hangs up, sees them)
What do YOU want?

HONEY
We’re looking for work
as bounty hunters.

DICK
And from the sound of that phone call,
it looks like you have an opening.

ALABAMA
(narrows her eyes)
You have any experience?

HONEY
Ever heard of Dog the Bounty Hunter?

ALABAMA
You worked with him?

HONEY
God, no.
But I’ve seen every episode.

DICK
She’s just kidding.
We’re from New York,
where we brought in
serial killer John Wesley Harding,
mobster Tony ‘The Peel’ Bananas
and child porn king Richard Hershey.
So whaddaya say we get to work?
Sounds like you need to
get this Forsythe character, pronto.

ALABAMA
(hands him a folder)
My back’s up against the wall.
I’ll give you a try.
Here’s Forsythe’s bail piece.
It’s got a copy of the bond,
your power of attorney,
copies of his bills, phone records,
you know the drill.

DICK
Of course.

ALABAMA
He was released on a
million-dollar bond,
we paid a hundred-k.
Your commission is the
standard ten-percent.

HONEY
What did he do?

ALABAMA
Ponzi scheme.
Not as big as Madoff’s,
but a billion dollars
ain’t nothing to sneeze at.

DICK
Except if you’ve got allergies.

ALABAMA
What are you, some kinda comedian?
You better get your asses in gear.
He’s probably trying to
leave the country as we speak.
The trial starts in three days,
and the clock is tickin.’

HONEY
We’re on it like white on --

DICK
(GRABS her hand)
Honey --
(to Alabama)
Thanks a lot, Ms. Brown,
you won’t be sorry.

He drags her out the door.
Alabama watches them go.

ALABAMA
Why do I have suddenly this feeling
I just made the biggest mistake of my life?

EXT. ALABAMA BROWN BAIL BONDS - DAY
Dick and Honey walk to the car, ecstatic.

DICK
We did it.
We fucking DID it.
AND she called me a ‘comedian.’

HONEY
How did you think of all those names?

DICK
Don’t you remember I took those
improv classes at The Groundlings?

HONEY
Yeah. You flunked.
They had to drag you from the building
kicking and screaming.

DICK
Go ahead.
Rain on my parade --

Does The Tin Man Have A Sheet Metal Dick?

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 DICK & HONEY, we meet Dick and Honey's agent Morty Schmerzler, who operates out of a shitty little office in a strip mall in the Valley, who gets more than a little upset when they tell him they're about to become bounty hunters ...


EXT. STRIP MALL - DAY
Deep in the heart of the Valley.
A shitty, tiny cluster
of shops on a street corner.

Convenience store. Greasy chicken joint.
Payday Loans. And a cheesy neon sign
over a window with closed blinds:
‘Schmerzler & Associates Talent Agency.’

INT. SCHMERZLER & ASSOCIATES AGENCY - DAY
The receptionist ANNIE CHUNG (20’s)
sits behind a desk
just inside the front door.

Smokin’ hot, tiny, Japanese,
wearing very little clothing,
hair down to her ass. Ouch.

Sitting behind his desk is
MORTY SCHMERZLER (65),
‘agent to the stars.’

Slicked-back hair, craggy good looks.
Right now he’s reading script.

He takes a sip from his flask.
A hit off his cigarette.
Shakes his head in disgust.

MORTY
Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t get past page one.
This is pure SHIT.

ANNIE
(brightly)
'Pure shit?'

MORTY
Yeah. Space Cat On Mushrooms.
‘Adapted from the book.’ HA.
Some fucking book THAT’S gotta be.

The phone RINGS.
Annie answers it.

ANNIE
Schmerzer and Associates.
May I help you?
(listens)
Hold please.
(presses a button)
Howard Fleckstein on one.

MORTY
(picks up)
Howard, how the hell are ya?
(listens)
You do? That’s great --
(listens)
Uh-huh, uh-huh --
(listens)
I have a couple
that would be perfect.
I’ll call ‘em right now
and send ‘em over.
(listens)
No. Thank YOU.

He PUNCHES another button.
Dials.

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. DICK AND HONEY’S LAND ROVER - MOVING - DAY
Dick drives. Honey examines
a small, silver DERRINGER.

DICK
I told you not to bring that.
You don’t have a carry permit.

HONEY
So I won’t carry it.
I’ll keep it in the glove compartment.

Honey’s phone RINGS.
Looks at it.
Puts it on ‘speakerphone.’

HONEY
Hey, Morty --

MORTY
So how did the gig go last night?

HONEY
It was great.

DICK
She’s lying. We sucked.

MORTY
Relax. Everybody bombs the first time.
You’ll get better. So listen,
I’ve got an audition for you.
It’s a radio commercial for
'Fiddler On The Match,'
a Jewish dating service.

HONEY
We can’t do it, Morty.
We’re on our way to
see a bail bondswoman.

MORTY
Oy gevalt, what did you do NOW?

HONEY
We’re late with the rent.
The landlord wants to evict us.
We need to make money, NOW.

MORTY
Then why on earth are you
going to see a bail bondswoman?

HONEY
We’re gonna be bounty hunters.

DICK
(looks out the window)
We’re here.

He pulls the car over. Parks.

MORTY
Wait a minute.
Did you say 'bounty hunters?'

HONEY
Gotta go. Call you later.

Morty looks at his phone
like he’s in pain.

ANNIE
You okay, Morty-San?

MORTY
Can I get back to you on that?

ANNIE
You want -- massage?

MORTY
Does the Tin Man
have a sheet metal dick?
Go put up the ‘closed’
sign and get your tight little
won ton over here.
(low)
I’d like you to show me
the mysteries of the Orient --

Forty-Proof Jizz

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 3 of DICK & HONEY, wannabe comedians Dick Leonard and Honey Almond are trying to figure out a way to raise the money they need to stop their landlord from evicting them, then see an ad on TV for a bail bonds woman, and get an idea ...


INT. DICK AND HONEY’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Dick and Honey sit on the couch
watching TV with cocktails.

They’re both more than
a few sheets to the wind.

DICK
It takes a couple of months
to evict someone,
so we’ve got time
to figure out
how to raise some money.
(thinks)
You think maybe your father --

Honey shoots him a look.
Dick nods. Takes a sip.

HONEY
We could sell
our movie collection.

DICK
That won’t be enough.

HONEY
I’ve got it.
I’ll become a
high-priced call girl.

DICK
I could become
a sperm donor.

HONEY
With the amount you drink,
your jizz would be forty-proof.

DICK
Damn.
I hadn’t thought of that.
(thinks)
Do you get a buzz
after you give me head?

LOUD GUNSHOTS on the TV.
They both look, startled.

ON THE FLAT SCREEN
We see an VERY HOT BLACK WOMAN (40’s)
in a wheelchair holding a
shotgun on her lap
sitting in front of a storefront
with a sign that reads
ALABAMA BROWN - BAIL BONDS.

ALABAMA
This is Alabama Brown,
bail bondswoman.
You say your husband got nicked
stealing some yuppie’s SUV?
Junkie mother up on drug charges?
Skanky crack ho wife busted
for sucking and fucking?
Poppa shoot your momma down
in cold blood?
(beat)
Call one-eight-hundred ALA-BAMA,
and we’ll get that
good-for-nothing outta
the can and back in your plan.

DICK AND HONEY
Look at each other.

HONEY
Are you thinking
what I’m thinking?

DICK
Time to freshen our drinks?

HONEY
We could become bounty hunters.

DICK
You gotta be kidding me.

HONEY
Do you realize
how much money they make?

DICK
Uh, yeah.
Because it’s DANGEROUS,
and they could get KILLED.

HONEY
Details, schmetails --

Does A Bear Do Shots?

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 2 of DICK & HONEY, after bombing at the comedy club, Dick and Honey return home to their West Hollywood apartment, only to get bad news from their landlord ...


EXT. WEST HOLLYWOOD APARTMENT COMPLEX - NIGHT
A brick building on a side street
just off Santa Monica Boulevard.

Dick and Honey stand
at the wrought-iron gate.

Honey punches in the
security code.

HONEY
It’s gonna be a long,
hard road, Dick.
Nobody makes it overnight.

DICK
Comedy is not pretty.

HONEY
Love the Steve Martin reference.

DICK
What were you expecting,
Carrot Top?

INT. APARTMENT COMPLEX - COURTYARD - NIGHT
Dick and Honey walk
toward their apartment.

Pass a waterfall bubbling
into a pool of water.

Get to their door.
Honey pulls out her keys.

The door beside it opens.
Out walks ROBERT LUNA (30’s),
Hispanic, good-looking.

He lights up a smoke.

DICK
Hey, Robert. Que pasa?

ROBERT
We’re watching my screener
of the new Clytemnestra movie.
Show biz perk.

HONEY
That’s the big, black guy
that dresses like a woman?

ROBERT
Yeah. Perry Lester.
He’s a genius.

HONEY
I heard his films were
campy, broad, sentimental
to the point of being maudlin
and riddled with racial stereotypes.

ROBERT
(big smile)
I know.
(beat)
The landlord was here
a few minutes ago
looking for you.
Boy, was he pissed.

DICK
Shit.

EFFEMINATE MALE VOICE (O.C.)
C’mon, Robert.
We wanna see the movie.
Hurry up.

ROBERT
Gotta go. Bye.

He ducks back in.
Closes the door.

High-pitched SHRIEKING
from within.

Dick and Honey exchange glances.

HONEY
I don’t care what you say.
They have every right
to get married.

DICK
Excuse me, it’s Adam and Eve,
not Adam and Steve.

HONEY
What about the ancient Greeks?

DICK
You know I don’t like diner food.
(makes a face)
Feta cheese.
What the fuck’s
up with that? Disgusting.
It’s all clumpy and shit --

Honey rolls her eyes.
Unlocks the door.

Sees a yellow piece
of paper underneath it.

Dick follows her eyes.
Sees it, too.

DICK
I’ll get it.

He reaches down, grabs it.
Reads it as they walk in.

INT. DICK AND HONEY’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
A decent-sized room.
Shelves lined with CD’s, DVD’s and books.

Dining table in the rear.
Kitchenette to the left.

Open doorway into a tiny bedroom
in the rear.

DICK
Jesus Christ on a hot dog
on a stick.

HONEY
What is it?

DICK
It’s a three-day notice.

HONEY
That ancient leprechaun,
potato famine fuck.

Dick looks at her.
They lock eyes.

DICK
Copious amounts of alcohol?

HONEY
Does a bear do shots?

She Blinded Me With Algebra

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.

This next story is a bit of a departure for me. I recently wrote a half-hour comedy script for a client, and really had a great time doing it, so my manager suggested I write another one. I'm a big fan of those edgy comedies on Showtime like CALIFORNICATION, NURSE JACKIE and WEEDS, so I thought I'd give it a go.

DICK & HONEY is the story a wannabe stand-up comedy team. Problem is, they're not very funny, and they're having a hard time paying their bills, and because they're landlord wants to evict them for being late with the rent, they desperately look for a quick way to make a buck ... so they decide to become bounty hunters.

Think BURN NOTICE meets MOONLIGHTING, but with an 'R' rating.

In Chapter 1 of DICK & HONEY, they go onstage at the Laff Hut on open mike night, with disastrous results ...


EXT. THE LAFF HUT - NIGHT
A small, run-down comedy club
on the wrong end of Sunset Boulevard.

Not much street action on a week night.
A sign reads: OPEN MIKE NIGHT.
COME ON IN, THE COMEDY’S FINE.

INT. THE LAFF HUT - NIGHT
Very dark. A smattering of tables.
A tiny stage in front of a brick wall.

A handful of PEOPLE are in the audience.
VINCENT ROSETTI (50’S) the club owner,
tall, blonde and smiling comes onstage
and grabs the mike. Taps it.

VINCENT
Is this thing on?
(bad fake laugh)
Welcome to The Laff Hut,
ladies and germs.
We gotta lotta great
comedy for you tonight.
(pulls out a card, reads it)
First up, the comedy stylings
of Almond and Leonard.

He bows, then trots off.

HONEY ALMOND (40) and DICK LEONARD (45)
come onstage.

She’s very pretty, dark-haired
and comely in a black cocktail dress.

He’s natty in a jacket and tie,
good-looking with a crazed look
in his eyes.

DICK
Hey, everybody. I’m Dick.

HONEY
And I’m Honey.

DICK
She’s a honey --

HONEY
And he’s a dick.

They look at each other.
BURST into laughter.

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
You suck.

HONEY
Is it that obvious?

DICK
And she’s very good at it.
I, on the other hand, lick.

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
Fuck you.

HONEY
I’m good at that, too.

DICK
I can attest to that.

HONEY
Some of you
might remember me
as the child star
of the hit TV show
‘What The Heck?’
back in the eighties.

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
That show sucked.

DICK
And you might know me as
the ‘one-hit-wonder’ who sang
‘She Blinded Me With Algebra.’

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
That SONG sucked.

DICK
Hey, pal.
You wanna shut the fuck up?

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
Make me.

DICK
Can’t you see we’re
trying to do our act?

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
Your act sucks.

DICK
Oh, yeah? Fuck you.
Whattaya think of that, huh?

HONEY
Dick --

VOICE IN THE DARK (O.C.)
I think you suck.

DICK
C’mon, fella.
We’re just trying to
do some comedy here.
Is your life so pathetic
that you get your jollies
heckling comedians?

A beer bottle comes FLYING
towards Dick. He DUCKS.
It hits the wall with CRASH.

INT. DICK AND HONEY’S LAND ROVER - MOVING - NIGHT
One of those older models
from the nineties.

Dented and banged up a bit.
A tear in the headrest has
been fixed with duct tape.

Dick drives.
Honey rides shotgun.

HONEY
Well, we didn’t
totally fuck it up.

DICK
Fucking heckler RUINED it.

HONEY
Don’t worry, hun.
We’ll do better next time.
I’m working on some great
new material about
the budget deficit.

DICK
Oooh. I love it
when you get fiscal --

Yippee Kai-Yay, Motherfucker

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 the final chapter of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love visits imprisoned screenwriter Friday Foster in her jail cell, where they bury the hatchet and reignite the flame ...


INT. NEWS STUDIO - DAY
REBECCA DIAZ and JOHNNY MAX
sit at the anchor desk.

Looking like someone died.
Which in fact, is the case --

JOHNNY
We’ve just received
a late-breaking bulletin --

REBECCA
In a sudden
reversal of fortune,
Friday Foster has
renounced her plush environs,
and has moved in
with the general population --

JOHNNY
She’s declared a
complete media blackout.
No press. No cameras.
No interviews.

REBECCA
(gasps)
Oh, the humanity.

JOHNNY
Easy, Becca --
keep your chin up.
(into the camera)
The only thing Friday
requested from the warden --
(dramatic)
Was a typewriter.

REBECCA
(face in her hands)
The horror --

JOHNNY
I, for one, can’t wait
to read whatever the heck
she’s writing.
(beat)
Next up, Mulholland Drive,
where pop princess Tiffney Chubbs
had a complete meltdown,
and attacked the paparazzi
with a garden gnome --

INT. JAIL CELL - DAY
Friday sits on her bed.
Typing on an old manual model.

Deep in thought.
She lights a smoke.
Stares off into space.

THE SHEET OF PAPER READS
Viva la REVOLUTION,
media WHORES!

FRIDAY
smiles. Grim.
Starts CLACK-CLACKING
on the keys.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday.

She turns, looks, sees --

CARRIE.
Standing in front
of the bars.

FRIDAY
Carrie, what are you --

CARRIE
I just got out
of the hospital.

A GUARD appears.
OPENS the door.

GUARD
You’ve got ten minutes.

CARRIE
(hands him a wad of cash)
I owe you one.

GUARD
No shit.

He ambles away.

FRIDAY
It’s great to see you.
You look -- great.

CARRIE
Really?
After six hours of surgery --
(beat)
I -- can’t play basketball
for awhile.

FRIDAY
You don’t play basketball.

CARRIE
True. But I got reinstated.
Got a citation from the mayor.
Courage under fire.

FRIDAY
That’s great.
I’ve got news, too.
Apparently some defense fund
hired Gloria Alred,
who is moving for a mistrial,
something about a biased jury --
all the media attention --

CARRIE
Wow.
Good luck with that.

The women stare at each other.
Wheels turning.

CARRIE
I’m sorry lost my temper.
I got -- scared.
And the shower, the soap --

FRIDAY
I know.
It’s okay.
It was my fault.

CARRIE
Hey.
I brought you something.

Carrie digs into her bag,
pulls out a book.
Hands it to her.

CARRIE
So you don’t forget me.

FRIDAY
(reads the cover)
'Bridget Jones Diary.'
Funny.

CARRIE
And this --
(hand her another book)
Is so you don’t forget you.

FRIDAY
(reads the cover)
'The complete works of
THE MARQUIS DE SADE.'
Holy shit, THANK YOU.

They hug.

CARRIE
Just don’t get all
Geoffrey Rush in Quills on me.
You’ve got a long
writing career ahead of you,
and I don’t you
smearing excrement
all over it.

FRIDAY
Deal.

They pull apart.
Friday chucks Carrie
under the chin.

CARRIE
Baby, I think this is
the start of a
beautiful friendship.

Friday and Carrie stare
deeply at each other.
Misty-eyed.
FRIDAY

Yippee kai-yay, motherfucker.

And they BURST INTO LAUGHTER --

The Freak Of The Day

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 41 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, media doyens Barbara Sawyer and Diane Walter viciously fight over who gets to interview imprisoned screenwriter Friday Foster in her cell ...


EXT. COURTHOUSE - SHAKY CAM - DAY
Friday is led along with a row of prisoners
in chains into a waiting transport vehicle.
She turns. Gives us THE FINGER.

A FAT, SLACK-JAWED SUBURBAN FAMILY
watches the show on TV.
Eating their dinner on trays.

FAT DAD
That Friday shure is a dish --

FAT LITTLE GIRL
Mommy, what’s a ‘Media Whore?’

FAT MOM
Shut up and eat your Hot Pockets.

THE TONIGHT SHOW - AT THAT MOMENT
JAY LENO cocks his head.
Points his giant chin. Smiles.

JAY LENO
This was in the news, did you see it?
A WOMAN, right here in LA,
pulled a GUN on a waitress,
and demanded an APOLOGY,
said the waitress wasn’t POLITE.
(beat)
I’d hate to see what she’d do
if the ORDER was wrong --

LATE NIGHT WITH DAVID LETTERMAN - CONTINUOUS
Dave sits at his desk.
Flashes a gap-toothed smile.

DAVE LETTERMAN
Top Ten Reasons
To Take A Movie Studio Hostage --

APPLAUSE from the audience.
Laughter. CHEERING.

DAVE LETTERMAN (CONT'D)
Number ten,
my parents took the studio tour,
and all I got was this PISTOL --

THE CRAIG FERGUSON SHOW - CONTINUOUS
Craig Ferguson paces the stage.
Goofy grin.

CRAIG FERGUSON
And then she HIJACKED a CAR.
Yes! It’s true! NOOOOOO,
she’s not in a GANG.
She’s a SCREENWRITER.
(eyes dart back and forth)
Can you imagine what could have happened
if she was a DIRECTOR?
Michael Bay, eat your HEART out.

SPINNING NEWSPAPER HEADLINES --

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER
REBEL CHICK HIT IN STICKS

VARIETY
FRIDAY’S NIGHT FLIGHT CLIMBS HEIGHTS

THE LA TIMES
AMERICAN OUTLAW NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET

PEOPLE
FRIDAY’S SECRET LIFE

GUNS AND AMMO
THE BEST THIGH HOLSTER.
FRIDAY FOSTER PICTORIAL.

INT. JAIL CELL - AT THAT MOMENT
Large, private. Tres outre.
Giant Persian rug. Lux furniture.

Private bath. Plasma-screen.
Plants. Workout equipment.

With Friday is DIANE WALTERS (50’s),
glam doyenne of network reportage.

Beige face pulled back.
Glacial smile.

She blinks, looks up from her notes.
Brow furrowed. Taps her pencil.

A CAMERA CREW shoots the action.

DIANE
Do you have -- any regrets, Friday?

FRIDAY
Are you kidding?
I’ve got the number one show on TV.
A book deal. A biopic.
Two of my screenplays have been greenlit --

DIANE
But you’re in a federal lockup --

FRIDAY
For what -- ten years?
I’ll get out in 5 to 6 for good behavior.
I can do that standing on my head.
(gestures)
This is not exactly the Hanoi Hilton, Diane.

DIANE
But what about your freedom, Friday.
Don’t you miss that?

FRIDAY
Freedom’s just another word for NOTHING.
When I was free, I was fucking BROKE.
Totally stressed out.
Desperate. Creatively stymied.
And look at me now.
I’m a media superstar.
Last time I looked,
it was the American dream.
You're not anybody in America
unless you're on TV.

DIANE
(quiet, intense)
So, Friday -- we’ve seen The Crying Game,
Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Transamerica.
Tell me, how do you want your story
told on the big screen?
How is your story -- different?

FRIDAY
What the fuck?

DIANE
Well, I imagine you’ve had a rough life.
Filled with -- pain.

FRIDAY
Why are you bringing THAT up?
We didn’t go over that
in the pre-interview.
I’m not in PAIN.
I’m in PRISON.

A FIGURE appears in the doorway.
Livid. It’s BARBARA SAWYER,
(60’s) Diane’s rival.

Pulled back even tighter.
Rheumy eyes flicker fiercely.
Wizened claws in fists clenched tight.

BARBARA
Stop the fucking camera.
This is MY interview!

DIANE
Barbara.
Nice to see you.
We’re almost done.
You can do the second interview.
(beat)
Nice blazer.
Ross Dress For Less?

BARBARA
SECOND interview?!
Now you listen to me,
you hagged-out sack of menstrual memories --
get your cottage cheese ass
the FUCK outta here.
I booked this interview FIRST.

DIANE
But I’ve already got the footage, Babs.
Why don’t you go back to Hollywood.
I hear Lindsay Lohan is free.
Or at least, reasonable.

BARBARA
You fucking HACK.
Did you make her CRY yet?

Diane SMACKS Barbara in the face.

DIANE
Shut the fuck up, you OLD CRONE.
This is MY story!

BARBARA
(SLAP)
Dried up COLOSTOMY BAG, it’s MINE.

DIANE
(SLAP)
Oh, YEAH?

BARBARA
(SLAP)
YEAH.

DIANE
(SLAP)
WHORE.

BARBARA
(SLAP)
CUNT.

FRIDAY
LADIES, LADIES -- STOP IT.
Jesus fucking Christ,
you’re PATHETIC.

Diane and Barbara WHIP
their heads toward Friday.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
(shakes her head)
Neither one of you is getting my story.
You’re parasites, leeches.
Look at you, clawing
at each other like wild animals.
Get THE FUCK out of my cell, NOW.

BARBARA
How DARE YOU.
We are THE MEDIA.
We CREATED you,
and we can DESTROY you.
We eat arrogant little shits
like you for BREAKFAST.
In the grand scheme of things,
you mean NOTHING. Nada. ZIP.
You’re disposable,
the FREAK of the day.
It’s about the JUICY STORY, not YOU.
Nobody cares about YOU. Nobody.

DIANE
You’re playing with fire, Missy --
and now you’re going to fucking BURN.
We’re gonna get ELLIOT SPITZER on your ass.
(to Barbara)
C’mon, let’s go check out
Tiffney Chubbs’ place.
Maybe we can get a quote
before she’s taken away on a gurney.

They scurry away.
Muttering to themselves.

FRIDAY
What the fuck have I done?
I’ve become what I hate.
(beat)
Time for a major plot twist.
(goes to the bars)
GUARD --

Fifteen Minutes Of Shame

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 40 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, it's a media circus outside the Beverly Hills courthouse when fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster learns her fate before the judge ... and then stars in the first episode of her new reality show 'American Outlaw.'


EXT. BEVERLY HILLS MUNICIPAL COURTHOUSE - DAY
The by now ubiquitous MEDIA CIRCUS.
The day of the locust.

The day of reckoning.
They shoot horses, don’t they?

A swarm of NEWS VANS.
COP SUV’S, PATROL CARS.

SPECTATORS crush against
the BARRICADE like fans
at the Oscar red carpet.

Media HELICOPTERS swirl in the sky.
Did I mention it was a zoo?

CAMERA
glides along a
row of REPORTERS,
each with their crew.

REBECCA DIAZ,
Crime Time News anchor.
Dazzling smile. Dimples.

REBECCA
On this sun-drenched day
in Beverly Hills --

CHERRY BLAZER,
Action News Network.
Thrusts her chest out.

CHERRY
Friday Foster is waiting
to hear the verdict --

COOPER TUCKERSON,
INN News.
Cocks his salt-and-pepper
J. Crewcut. Eyes blazing.

COOPER
From the jury in
the packed courthouse --

BLITZ WOLFOWITZ,
MSMSM online. Chubby.
Glasses. Grey beard twitching.

BLITZ
Where earlier today
she pleaded guilty --

DIEGO LUNA,
network veteran. Smarmy. Oily.
Mustache glistening.

DIEGO
At which point the spectators
in the courtroom erupted in CHEERS --

LEWIS BLACK
stands in front a van
that reads LAFF LAND.
Royally pissed.

LEWIS BLACK
So JUDGE LITO had to CLEAR OUT
the fucking COURTROOM,
including all THE MEDIA.
Goddammit, people --
WHAT THE FUCK?

LIVELY MANN
Smirks. So totally excited.

LIVELY
So I ask you,
Bob and Betty Nielson,
what do YOU think?
Should Friday Foster
be locked up?
Or let go with a
slap on the wrist?
(winks)
You decide.
Call, right now --
1-800-Free-Friday.
That’s 1-800-Free-Friday.
Operators are standing by --

IN THE COURTROOM
Friday sits at a table
with her ATTORNEY.
Facing the JUDGE.

A STENOGRAPHER
click-clicks on her keyboard.

The DISTRICT ATTORNEY
paces. Looks out
at the empty courtroom --

Except for a small
VIDEO CREW to
the left of the Judge.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY
What the fuck
is taking so long?
She plead guilty.

A BAILIFF
comes through a door in the back.
Walks up to the judge.

Hands him a note.
Judge Frito reads it.

JUDGE FRITO
The jury has reached a verdict.
(to the jury foreman)
What say you, jury foreman?

The JURY FOREMAN (50),
egg-shaped, quietly intense,
eyes dancing with delight,
reads from a piece of paper,
finger pointed in the air
like the orator
he wishes he could be.

JURY FOREMAN
We the Jury,
find the defendant,
Friday Foster,
guilty as charged.
(beat)
We recommend
two years of probation.
As she’s a celebrity and stuff.
(a whisper)
Any way I can
get an autograph?

Judge Frito BANGS his gavel.

JUDGE FRITO
Quiet in the court!
We’ll have no celebreality
pandering in MY courtroom.
(looks at Friday, stern)
On behalf of the State of California,
we the people sentence Friday Foster
to ten years in a maximum security
correctional facility.

People GASP.

JUDGE FRITO
Do you have anything
to say for yourself, Ms. Foster?

Friday STANDS.
Faces the judge.

FRIDAY
Yeah.
(pumps a fist)
Attica! Attica! Attica! Attica! Attica!

THE CAMERAMAN
whispers to the LIGHTING TECHNICIAN.

CAMERMAN
She’s a natural --

JUDGE FRITO
(BANGS his gavel)
BAILIFF. Take the prisoner AWAY.

A SNAZZY THEME SONG over TITLES:
AMERICAN OUTLAW.

RYAN SEACREST
Welcome to -- AMERICAN OUTLAW --

SHAKY HAND-HELD FOOTAGE --
Friday is taken down a corridor
in manacles and restraints.

A row of COPS HOOT and JEER
at her as she goes by.
She sees the CAMERA CREW.

FRIDAY
What the (BEEP) are you DOING?
(BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.)
You said you weren’t going to
(BEEP-BEEP) shoot this part!

CAMERMAN
We lied.

Our Lady Of Water Retention

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 39 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, now that fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster is safely behind bars ... and a media superstar ... everyone else involved in the hostage situation gets their fifteen minutes of fame ...


INT. TV STUDIO - DAY
It’s the ELENA! talk show.
The set faces a CHEERING CROWD.

At the apron of the stage stands ELENA (40’s),
the star. African American. Rotund.
Puffy. Beaming. Self-possessed.

ELENA
Hel-lo! Thank you all for coming!

The crowd GOES NUTS.

ELENA
We have a special surprise for you today.
Live, via remote, from
Our Lady of Water Retention
in Los Angeles -- Carrie Love!

The audience goes INSANE.

CARRIE’S FACE
appears on a large monitor stage left.
She’s lying in a hospital bed.

She looks fine.
Great, in fact. But puzzled.

ELENA
Carrie! Hi, it’s Elena!
How are you feeling?

CARRIE
Elena?

ELENA
That’s right!

CARRIE
My agent said I was gonna be
on ‘America’s Top Bounty Hunter.’

ELENA
No, you’re here with ME, Elena!
And we’re live, in front
of a studio audience.
Oh, gosh -- this is so EXCITING.
How are you feeling?
You look great. It’s a miracle,
after the ordeal you’ve been through --

Carrie picks up her cell phone.
Furiously PUNCHES a number.

CARRIE
Lenny, it’s Carrie.
Why am I on ELENA?
(listens)
No, no, no --
I said I’d THINK about it.
What about Bounty Hunter?
(listens)
Well, hell -- I’m on so many
fucking painkillers I make
Andy Dick look like Dakota Fanning --
(listens)
But I HATE Elena!
She’s a phony, pompous, bloated,
sanctimonious tub of BULLSHIT.

ELENA
(waves her arms)
CUT, CUT, CUT!

The screen goes BLACK.

A SMIRKING WOMAN
cradles a feminine hygiene product.

SMIRKING WOMAN
I feel fresh. Smell fresh --
(beat)
And my husband says I taste fresh.

INT. TV STUDIO - BARRY BING LIVE - ON ANOTHER CHANNEL
BARRY BING (70’s), pale, crusty, lizard-like,
sits at his desk.

Squints into the camera.
Beady eyes flicker
behind monstrous glasses.

BARRY
Good evening,
and welcome to Barry Bing Live.
In our studio tonight,
we have two members of the press
who were there at the front lines,
up close and personal,
during The Siege At White Line Pictures.
(sickly smile)
Evenin’, fellas --

CAMERA widens to reveal --

KELLY KLAVAN and HOWARD JONES
sitting across from him.

KELLY
Hi, there.

HOWARD
Barry.

BARRY
(nods at Howard)
Howard Jones is the cameraman
who was shooting footage
for Crime Time News.
And lived to tell about it.

HOWARD
Actually, Barry --
I’m a lighting technician.
And the real crew didn’t go in,
as our cameraman passed out
after climbing six floors
on an empty stomach.
Carrie Love took his place,
along with Kelly here.

BARRY
(looks at his notes)
That’s right, that’s right --
(squints at Kelly, nods)
Also here tonight is Kelly Klavan,
who aided and abetted rogue
homicide detective Carrie Love.

KELLY
That’s true, but I didn’t
know she was suspended.
I thought I was acting
as a concerned citizen.

BARRY
(glares)
Uh-huh, uh-huh --
(beat)
So, uh -- how are you doing now?
Are either of you experiencing any --
post-traumatic stress disorder?

HOWARD
Oh, gosh, no.
I think it’s safe to say that it was --
(smiles at Kelly)
The most important day in my life.

KELLY
We’re getting married!

Barry fidgets. Uncomfortable.
Face reddens.

BARRY
I see --

KELLY
It’s legal now in California.
We’re so excited!

HOWARD
Why the pained look, Barry?
You’ve been married what,
eight times?

KELLY
Maybe it’s gas.
(pulls out a pill bottle,
shakes one out)
Here, take one of these.
They work like magic.

Barry looks into the CAMERA.
Glowers.

BARRY
We’ll be back in a moment.
But first, a word from
our sponsor, GARLIQUE.

EXT. THE PALM - FRONT ENTRANCE - AT THAT MOMENT
Jimmy Jack comes out of the restaurant.
Hands his ticket to the valet.

Pulls out his I-Phone.
Checks his email.

His HULKING ATTORNEY (30’S) comes out.
Lights up a smoke.

HULKING ATTORNEY
Remember. Say nothing.
You had a lapse of reason.
Weren’t right in the head.
If the media gets wind of this --
(beat)
What’s that called?
Baron von Munchhausen Syndrome?

JIMMY JOE
(punching buttons)
Fucking spam’s givin’ me a syndrome.
(beat)
No, that’s the Terry Gilliam film.

An AZT CREW appears. LIVELY MANN,
(20’s) blonde, Carson Cressley on speed,
SHOVES a mike in Jimmy’s face.

Camera WHIRS. Photographers
CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.

LIVELY
Jimmy Jack, Lively Mann, AZT.
Would you like to make a statement
about your fling with notorious outlaw
Friday Foster?

JIMMY JOE
Get the FUCK outta my face
before I rip yer fuckin’ HEAD OFF.

HULKING ATTORNEY
Watch yourself --

LIVELY
Jimmy Joe, chill.
Didn’t you know that TG is 'the new bi?'
Arrianna Huffington is
calling it 'tranny chic.'
Rumor has it they even
have their own mafia --

JIMMY JOE
Rumor has it you’re a dead queer
if you don’t shut the fuck up.

HULKING ATTORNEY
JIMMY JOE.
(to Lively)
We have no comment.

LIVELY
No comment on this juicy story, Jimmy Joe?
We’ve got you on tape kissing Friday.
You have a thing for her?

JIMMY JOE
A THING?
You wanna see a THING?

He pulls out his GUN.
Aims it at Lively.

JIMMY JOE
This interview is OVER.
(points it at Lively’s crotch)
Unless you’d like a little
gender reassignment --

LIVELY
(screeches, to the crew)
Okay, that’s it!
Get in the van, NOW.

They scramble away.
Get in their SUV.
GUN the engine.

LIVELY
Asshole!
You’re gonna hear from my LAWYER.

HULKING ATTORNEY
(GRABS Jimmy’s gun)
Gimme that fucking thing. Jesus Christ.
You wanna get arrested again?
I already fucking bailed you out
once today.

Pause.

JIMMY JOE
What the fuck.
Let’s go get some whores.

HULKING ATTORNEY
NOW you’re talking.
That’s the Jimmy Joe
I know and love --

Up Close And Humiliating

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 38 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, now that fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster is behind bars after holding a movie studio hostage at gunpoint, she's become a media superstar, we take a peek behind the curtain at a certain network who wants to exploit her sudden fame. Meanwhile, in jail, Friday meets with her new agent ...


INT. NETWORK CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
A dozen glossy NETWORK EXECUTIVES
sit around a large, marble and
glass conference table.

Each with a pitcher of water.
An I-Pad. A smart phone.
Glazed, self-satisfied smirks.

ASSISTANTS scurry about,
passing out five-dollar coffees.

Four-dollar muffins.
Vitamin water.
Perks of the elite.

HAUGHTY BABE EXECUTIVE
(to an assistant, tossing a muffin)
I said carob, Maya -- NOT soy!

ARROGANT STUD EXECUTIVE
Jesus, Maya -- who do you think
we’re pitching, Andy Dick?

An OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
sits at the head of the table.

Gordon Gecko and Faye Dunaway’s
NETWORK bastard offspring.

Spray-tan smug, like some
Glengarry Glenn Ross nightmare.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
Friday Foster, people.
Catch of the day.
Ripe for the picking. Ideas?

Haughty puts down her muffin.
Raises her hand.

HAUGHTY BABE EXECUTIVE
We get the rights to her story,
do an MOW.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
WRONG. The TV movie is DEAD.
Get that tight little ass
over to Lifetime, NOW. Next?

FAT, EFFEMINATE TOKEN BLACK EXECUTIVE
We put her on Extreme Cooking
With the Stars Kitchen Makeover.
(SNAPS his fingers)
Eat my asparagus tip, Rachel Ray.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
WRONG. Her story’s too juicy for that crap.
We’ll leave that for some washed-out
former sitcom star.
(to assistant)
Aura. Call Kirstie Alley’s manager.
Find out if she can make a bundt cake --
(to the room)
C’mon people.
The sharks are circling the WATER.
Where’s the BLOOD?

Arrogant Stud raises his hand.

ARROGANT STUD EXECUTIVE
We do a reality show.
Follow her through the legal process,
her trial, and if all goes well, to jail.
'Up close and humiliating.'
(chortles)
And we call it --
'American Outlaw.'

Oily stands. Starts CLAPPING.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
YES. That’s IT.
Everyone give it up for BRANDT.
Future programming guru.
Like a buzzard circling a wounded beast,
ready for THE KILL.

Everyone CLAPS.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
So this means we have to get moving. NOW.
The little lady is being booked
and body cavity searched --
(beat)
Shit. That would have been GREAT footage.
(rubs his hands)
So let’s MOVE IT, people.
Any questions?

A SWEET-FACED JUNIOR EXECUTIVE
raises a manicured hand.

SWEET-FACED JUNIOR EXECUTIVE
But isn’t that -- ethically wrong?
To do a show about
somebody being humiliated?

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
Humiliated? Humiliated? HUMILIATED?
(dramatic pause)
Young lady, humiliation pays our bills.
Humiliation puts food on our tables.
We live in a media-saturated age
where the slack-jawed,
fresh-scrubbed masses
in the hinterlands are ENTERTAINED
by watching people get humiliated.
The reason? Because your average
Joe and Joette likes to feel
SUPERIOR to the poor, fat boob
clawing for attention, money --
and for what passes as a
reasonable facsimile of fame today.
(beat)
Because THEN our advertisers
can sell them GIGANTIC,
GAS-GUZZLING TRUCKS they don’t NEED.
BEER that tastes like PISS.
PILLS for imaginary symptoms.
'New and improved' TOILET PAPER.
(beat)
This is what makes our great nation
the most powerful on EARTH.
Our ability to shovel shit
down the gullets of our citizens --
and make them ENJOY IT.
(beat)
From the minute they wake up
to the moment they lay their
empty little heads on their pillows,
we send them a message.
Don’t THINK, talk on your CELL PHONE.
Go see this movie, YOU’LL GET LAID.
Buy this magazine, find out
about that SLUTTY STARLET,
who’s she fucking NOW?
Is she in REHAB yet?
(beat)
And its all a smokescreen deregulated
and blessed by our government
to cover up what’s REALLY going on.
A genocidal WAR.
A plummeting ECONOMY.
The loss of hard-won CIVIL RIGHTS.
The global climate MELTDOWN --
because we just have to have our OIL
and our STEAKS and our
VIDEO GAMES and our PORN --
(dramatic)
And our REALITY TV.

He takes a moment.
Sips his vitamin water.
Leans on the desk.

OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
Ladies and gentlemen,
welcome to the new world order.
A place where ratings are more important
than our children’s education.
Where market share means more than
a national political discourse.
A place where advertising revenue
is the god we pray to.
(beat)
So, I say to you, the cultural elite --
Mr. and Mrs. America DESERVES 'American Outlaw.'

INT. CITY JAIL - HOLDING CELL - DAY
Friday paces back and forth.
Stops. GRABS the bars.

A GUARD approaches,
with an ARMANI SUIT (27).

Armani goes up to the bars.
Offers his hand.

ARMANI SUIT
Friday Foster, Lenny Rosen. CMA.

FRIDAY
What do you want?

LENNY
What do I want?
What do YOU want?
A book deal? A TV show?
How about a biopic?
You’ve got one hell of a story,
hot stuff, and baby,
I’m the one who can
bring it to the world.
I’ll have you rolling in dough
so quick your head’ll spin faster
than Amy Winehouse in a pharmacy.

FRIDAY
Are you for real?
I’ve seen ENTOURAGE, okay?

LENNY
I’m as real as it gets, Dirty Harriet.
ENTOURAGE is child’s play.
THIS is the deal, baby --
WOMAN ON TOP.
(quiet, urgent)
You sign with me,
and you get the monolith that is CMA,
with its fat, greedy tentacles in every pie,
cake and low-fat non-dairy by-product
in the media universe.
(beat)
Want a date with John Meyer? Done.
Jodie Foster? We’ll make an offer.

FRIDAY
I’m more the -- Eva Green type.

LENNY
Done deal. SWISH. Three points.

PUSH IN ON Friday. Excited.

FRIDAY
Rockin.’ Show me the dotted line.

Viva La Revolution

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 37 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster is arrested on the roof of White Line Pictures and brought to Beverly Hills police headquarters where the media has descended after her exploits have gone viral, to discover she's now a 'superstar' ...


EXT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - ROOF - MOMENTS LATER
Friday and Jimmy Joe stand on the roof.
Look down at the carnage in disbelief.

JIMMY JOE
The meek shall inherit the Earth.
FRIDAY
More like steal and destroy shit.
Check out the brothers
with the big-screen TV --

JIMMY JOE
So why did you do it?
Movie deals fall apart every day.

FRIDAY
Weren’t you listening?
They fucking outed me.
Now everybody knows --

A PAPARAZZI
sits on a nearby roof.
Shooting video footage of them.


A CHOPPER
circles above. WHIRRING rotors.
They look up.

JIMMY JOE
Go, RIDLEY.

CARRIE
It’s about deus ex machina TIME.

Friday and Jimmy Joe race over.
DUCK under the rotors --
as a SWARM of SWAT OFFICERS pile out.
Two GRAB Friday.

MENACING SWAT OFFICER
Friday Foster, you are UNDER ARREST.
You have the right to remain silent --

JIMMY JOE
Friday!

A BURLY SWAT OFFICER
grabs Jimmy Joe by the arm.

BURLY SWAT OFFICER
Stand back. She’s ours.

JIMMY JOE
I’m comin’ with ya --

BURLY SWAT OFFICER
NO. Stay right where you are.

Jimmy Joe REARS back,
PUNCHES Burly -- SMACK.

BURLY SWAT OFFICER (CONT’D)
HEY.
(GRABS Jimmy Joe)
Okay, asshole -- you got your wish.

And he DRAGS Jimmy Joe onto the chopper.

Zippy, peppy music over TITLES:

UP CLOSE 2NIGHT!
Edited in a blender, JUMP CUTS:
Palm trees. The Hollywood sign.
Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

The Santa Monica Pier.
The Cheetah Lounge.
The Beverly Hills Hotel.
The Laugh Factory.

Seated behind a massive, shiny desk, a
WILDLY SMILING BUFF ANCHOR and a
PREENING, AIRBRUSHED ANCHORETTE lean toward us.

WILDLY SMILING BUFF ANCHOR
Good evening, this is Harry Hart --

PREENING, AIRBRUSHED ANCHORETTE
And I’m Mary Wally.

Harry takes a sip from his mug.
Smiles.

MARY
What’s in the mug, Harry?
A little pick-me-up?

HARRY
You little rascal.
Why, it’s only water.
Who do you take me for, Pat O’Brien?

They both LAUGH MANIACALLY.

MARY
Today in Beverly Hills,
infamous fugitive Friday Foster
was taken into custody --

HARRY
After being apprehended
on the roof of White Line Pictures.

MARY
We go now to the story,
live as it unfolds --

HARRY
Live at Beverly Hills Police Headquarters.

MARY
Live at Beverly Hills Police Headquarters

MARY
You stepped on my line, Harry.
You sure that’s only water?

Harry takes a sip.
Winces like it’s strong.

HARRY
Whoo --
(toasts)
Take it away, Maui --

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
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!

MAUI SUMMER (24) stands in front of
her CREW with a mike.

Breathtaking in a too-tight,
too-short shiny suit.

MAUI
This is Maui Summer, on the scene,
here at Beverly Hills police HQ --

A LARGE, BLACK SUV
comes into view behind her.

Slowly pushes through the crowd.
Pandemonium. SCREAMING. SHOUTING. PUSHING.

MAUI
Where Friday Foster is just now
arriving by motorcade, in custody --
(sees something)
OMG! Here she is, now!

The rear door of the SUV FLIES OPEN.
Out steps --

FRIDAY FOSTER.
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
Friday, give smile!

EURO PAPARAZZI
Hey, Friday, bonus points
if I pee my pants?

GAWKER
Friday is the new Lindsay!

MAUI
(SHOVES microphone in her face)
Maui Summer, Friday,
Up Close 2Night.
Would you like to make a statement?

Another ANCHORETTE pushes her way in.

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 whips her head around.
Stares. Wheels turning.

Raises her handcuffed wrists,
a’la Rocky.

FRIDAY
Viva la REVOLUTION, media WHORES!

The crowd ERUPTS in CHEERS.

Escape From LA

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 36 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster gets accosted by a nasty group of vicious gang-banger looters as she tries to escape White Line Pictures in the middle of a race riot ... and gets a little assistance from her old friend 'Menthol' ...


INT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Friday looks out the window.
Sees the RIOTERS pouring into the building.

FRIDAY
We gotta get the FUCK outta here,
or else we’re dead white meat.
(to Jimmy Joe)
Where’s that fucking AMBULANCE?

JIMMY JOE
(closes his cell)
Fucking riot, they’re all busy --
said it would be about an hour.

FRIDAY
An hour?
We DON’T HAVE AN HOUR!

DON
Like I could give two fucks.
(to Hans)
Hans.
You drive your Hummer to work today?

HANS
Yah, of course --

GARY
Great idea.
The parking garage is secure.

HANS
And ve make like Escape From LA.

DON
Shut up, Hans.
Gimme your fucking keys.
(takes keys, to Friday)
You’re on your own, bitch.
Good luck getting out of here alive.

They race outta there.
The assistants follow.

Friday strokes Carrie’s hair.
Rocks back and forth.

FRIDAY
Everything in my life turns to shit.
(to Jimmy Joe)
We’ve gotta do something.
(a lightbulb POPS)
Hey. You’ve got
rich and famous friends.
Any of ‘em have a chopper?

JIMMY JOE
Fuck, yeah.
(pulls out his cell, dials)
Yo, Ridley?
Yeah, it’s me, Jimmy Joe.
(listens)
Oh, nothin’ much,
just about to be stormed
by an angry mob of marauding rioters --
an’ we gotta lady thas’
been shot in the belly.
How you doin?’
(listens)
Beverly Hills.
Over at White Line Pictures.
You still have that chopper?
(looks at Friday)
All gassed up an’ ready to go?
And you sure yer not usin’ it?
(listens)
Yer in Morocco with Russell? Nice.
So kin I borrow it?
It’s an emergency.
(listens)
Thanks, Ridley-boy.
I owe ya one.
(listens)
I gotta think about it. Thanks.
(hangs up, to Friday)
Ridley’s gonna let me
borrow his personal chopper.
It’s on its way over.
(beat)
An I got a part in his next picture --
if I want it. Not sure if I wanna
play a Shiite terrorist, though.

FRIDAY
Ridley -- ?

JIMMY JOE
Scott, yeah.
We’ve wanted to work together for years.
Just haven’t found the right project.

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

A horde of feet STOMP
down the hallway outside.

FRIDAY
Shit.

Jimmy Joe puts a finger
to his mouth -- shhhhhhhh.

A BIG, UGLY GANGSTA
sticks his head in the room.

BIG, UGLY GANGSTA
(to the rest outside)
Hey. In here.
We gotta couple-a live ones.
(sees Bland)
He dead?

FRIDAY
Just resting.

BIG, UGLY GANGSTA
(sees Carrie)
She dead?

FRIDAY
Almost.

Three more LARGE BLACK GUYS walk in.
Carrying pipes. Knives.

BIG, UGLY GANGSTA
(sees Friday)
That’s the bitch’s been on da news.
I’m gonna hit dat.
Have my first celeb-ritee.

LEERING GANGSTA
Back off. I’m doin’ her first.

KNIFE-WEILDING GANGSTA
Homes, they three inputs --
we kin have a gangsta gang-bang.

Friday VIBRATES. JUMPS UP.
Raises the Uzi --

FRIDAY
(sings)
'Baby was a black sheep,
baby was a whore,
baby, baby, baby, baby’s
got her finger on the trigger!'

And starts SHOOTING at THE CEILING --

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

Large chunks of ceiling tile
SPRAY through the air.

The GANGSTAS duck.

Friday’s guns SWEEP across the WINDOWS --
IMPLODING them in a SHOWER OF GLASS --

CRASH, SMASH, TINKLE, SPRINKLE,
BASH, BANG, CRASH, SMASH.

She sneers. Lowers her weapons.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Baby-baby-baby was a rock-n-roll nigga.

From the floor, BIG, UGLY whimpers.

BIG, UGLY GANGSTA
Shit. Pissed my pants.

KNIFE-WEILDING GANGSTA
Bitch is fuckin’ crazy.

LESTER
pokes his head in.

LESTER
What the bloody fuck was that?

FRIDAY
Lester. What are you doing here?

LESTER
What do you think?
The American Dream --
Looting and pillaging.
And it’s ‘Menthol.’ Nice, huh?
You gave me the idea --
(points at the assembled gang)
This here is my posse.
Da Nica-tine.

FRIDAY
Well, your fucking posse almost RAPED me.

MENTHOL
Gentlemen, meet Friday Foster,
as seen on TV.
One bad motherfucker.
You don’t wanna mess with her.

FRIDAY
Word to my peeps.

MENTHOL
(sees the blood on Carrie)
We have to get her IN HOSPITAL.

FRIDAY
No shit, Shaquile.
But there’s no ambulances.
They’re all busy,
thanks to YOUR FUCKING RIOT.

MENTHOL
My riot?
I didn’t shoot bloody RIDIKULUSS.
White men did.

JIMMY JOE
He’s gotta point
.
FRIDAY
Okay, okay.
Years of oppression, I get it.

Menthol goes to the door.

MENTHOL
Come. We’ll escort you.
(to Big, Ugly)
Jamal, you carry the bleeding girl.
And apologize to Ms. Foster
for threatening to defile her loins.

Jamal goes to Carrie.
Picks her up.
Looks at Friday, baleful.

JAMAL
I’m sorry -- Friday.

FRIDAY
You should be.
You’ll never know my splendor.
(to Menthol)
‘Defile my loins?’

MENTHOL
So I was an English major --

Unfriendly FIre

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 35 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, mercenary Bland Loosener finally catches up with fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster, still holding the film executives hostage in their conference room. Meanwhile, outside, the race riot has gotten bigger, and is now making it's way into the building ...

INT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Carrie and Friday watch the riot going on outside
through the window.

BLAND
runs into the room.
Waving a gun.
He sees Friday.

BLAND
There you are!
Where is my money?
I want MY MONEY!

FRIDAY
(points her guns at him)
I don’t HAVE it.
I SPENT it.

Carrie slides along the wall,
gets behind him.

BLAND
You’re a LIAR.
I don’t BELIEVE you.

FRIDAY
Then we have a problem, don’t we?
So shut THE FUCK UP
before I BLAST YOU
with UN-FRIENDLY FIRE.

BLAND
Oh, yeah?
You and what ARMY?

Carrie GRABS him.
WRENCHES his arms back behind him.

SNAPS on cuffs.
Friday PUNCHES him in the face.
Lights out.

FRIDAY
Support our troops. Not.

CARRIE
So that’s how you
take care of things?
Violence? I had him HANDCUFFED.

JIMMY JOE
Ah, c’mon --
that was self-defense.
Looks like he had it comin.’

CARRIE
Self Defense?
Had it coming?
She TERRORIZED a restaurant.
Then a think tank.
Smashed a PULITZER PRIZE.
Hijacked a CAR.
And, is in possession of
ILLEGAL WEAPONS.

FRIDAY
Well, if you’re going to nitpick.
(beat)
You walked out on me.

CARRIE
I was -- covered with soap.
And you were -
(beat)
I’m sorry I split on you.
I, I --
(beat)
Can’t handle the kinky stuff.

FRIDAY
It’s about control.
And letting go of it.
Not pain. I never hurt you.
You’re just afraid of
what turns you on.
'Naughty schoolgirl', hmmm?

CARRIE
I just want vanilla
some of the time, you know?
Hearts and flowers?
Candlelit dinners,
watching bad rom-coms -

FRIDAY
That can be arranged.
I do have an Enya CD,
you know --

Carrie stares at Friday.
Practically quivering.

CARRIE
I could really use a cigarette.

Friday pulls out her pack.
Slides out two.

Fires them up. Inhales.
Hands one to Carrie.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
Thanks.

Carrie takes a long drag.
They stare at each other.

FRIDAY
We could go for a trial run.
No strings. Come with me.
Break the rules.

Pause.

CARRIE
Goddammit.

FRIDAY
You know you want to.

CARRIE
You’re an evil temptress.
(beat)
But you know that.

FRIDAY
Come, little moth --
into the flame.

CARRIE
I’m a cop, Friday.
If I go with you,
I can kiss my badge goodbye.
It’s all I have.
My dad was a cop.

FRIDAY
So -- what.
You’re gonna -- arrest me?

CARRIE
I don’t have to.
A swarm of heat
will be here any minute.

FRIDAY
(softly)
Yeah.
(to the executives)
Okay.
We’re gonna ankle this joint.
You’re all free to go.

DON
It’s about fucking time.

A sharp CRACK through the window.
A bullet WHIZZES by.
Carrie clutches her stomach. OOF.

CARRIE
Huh?

A red stain appears on her shirt.
Starts growing.

FRIDAY
NO.

Friday takes Carrie in her arms.

CARRIE
(tiny voice)
I’ve been -- shot.

FRIDAY
Shhhh. It’s gonna be okay.
(to the group)
Somebody call a fucking ambulance!

Jimmy Joe pulls out his cell.
Punches in 911.

CARRIE
Funny -- I don’t feel anything.

FRIDAY
Shhhh, save your strength.
You’re in shock.
(to Jimmy Joe)
Well?

JIMMY JOE
It’s jus’ ringin’ and ringin’ --

EXT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - FRONT ENTRANCE
A large mob of UNRULY RIOTERS
POUND on the front door.

Mr. George stands behind the glass.
Shakes his fist.

MR. GEORGE
Heathens! Go away!
We haff nothin here
for yoo to take!

A HUGE BLACK GUY KICKS the door.

HUGE BLACK GUY
I saw dat ‘Drive-By 3!’
It wazza piece-a SHIT!
I want my money back!

LOUD BLACK GUY
You be dissin’ niggaz
wit dat SHIT!

He lifts a FIRE EXTINGUISHER
and SMASHES IT through the door.

The Natives Are Restless

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 34 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, just as fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster gets her apology live on TV from the film studio executives she's holding hostage at gunpoint, the cops arrive and demand that she give herself up ... but then get interrupted by a full-blown race riot in the streets ...

INT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - CONFERENCE ROOM - Dy
A DEEP, MALE VOICE BOOMS
over a loudspeaker from outside.

DEEP, MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday Foster!
This is the police!
We have you surrounded!
Come out with your hands up,
and you won’t be hurt!

FRIDAY
Damn. They really say that?

DEEP, MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday Foster, I REPEAT!
Come out RIGHT NOW,
hands on top of your head --
or we’re COMING IN AFTER YOU!

Silence. Worried looks all around.

FRIDAY
Who’s gotta cell phone I can use?

Everyone pulls theirs out.
Offers them.

FRIDAY
My god.
Reach out and touch me.

She takes Jimmy Joe’s.
Fingers a number --

FRIDAY
Hello? 911?
(listens)
Yeah, can you put me through
to the cop who’s outside
White Line Pictures
yelling over a bullhorn?
(listens)
I’m the one in the building
with a semi-automatic weapon
and a 357 Magnum that he’s yelling at --

EXT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - FRONT ENTRANCE - DAY
AN OLD, BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
holds a cell phone to his ear.

OLD BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
Hello? Ms. Foster?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:
Friday pulls open the blinds.
Looks out the window.

FRIDAY
Hey, it’s me. Call me Friday.
What’s the 411, homes?
Can I get a shout-out?

OLD BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
(to himself)
I’m too old for this shit.
(into the phone)
We’ve got a situation here -- Friday.

FRIDAY
Understatement much?

OLD BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
So what are we going to do about it?
Are you going to come out and
surrender like a good citizen?

FRIDAY
I get it --
you’re the Morgan Freeman character,
the voice of affirmative action reason.
Cliched, but it still works.
When done well.

OLD BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
'Morgan Freeman character?'
(hears something)
Wait a minute.
I’ve got another call coming in --
(presses call-waiting)
Ridikuluss has been assassinated?
By WHITE COPS?

A large BOOM outside.
Friday looks, sees --

A MOB of marauding RIOTERS
swarm the street.

100% ‘of color,’
they SMASH AND GRAB goods from stores.
SHOOT GUNS in the air. Light FIRES.

WHOOP and HOLLER.
It’s scary. Out of a movie.

Oh. Wait a minute.

FRIDAY
It’s Rodney King time all over again.

Everybody crowds around the window.
Looks.

CARRIE
The natives are restless.

JIMMY JOE
They’re keepin’ it real,
up in the stolen TV.

OLD BLACK POLICE SERGEANT
(on the phone)
But we’ve got a hostage situation here.
I can’t just leave and --
(hears something, looks)
Holy shit. I see ‘em. Alright, goddamit.
(hits call waiting)
This is your lucky day, lady.
Stay in the building where you’re safe.
We’ll come back and get ya later.
(beat)
Hello? Friday? Ms. Foster?
(shuts off phone)
Friday. What hippie-ass
shit kinda name is that?

INT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - CONFERENCE ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Everyone watches the big-screen TV.
On it --

A RED-FACED ANCHOR
glares into the CAMERA.

Twitching with anger.
Self-righteousness.
Right-wing bravado.

RED-FACED ANCHOR
-- while leaving the downtown courthouse
after appearing for an arraignment on a
weapons product-placement parole violation,
hip-hop artist Ridikuluss was assassinated
in cold blood in broad daylight
by rogue police officers.
(beat)
Unfortunately, rival news channel
Crime TV was on the scene,
and aired footage of
the shooting moments later.

REBECCA
Go, team. GREAT footage.

CARRIE
But they’re not cops.

JIMMY JOE
How kin ya tell?

CARRIE
The swastika tattoo on the neck?
Dead giveaway.

RED-FACE
shakes his head.

RED-FACED ANCHOR
Mayor York has declared martial law,
an immediate curfew, and is
suspending all valet parking in the city.

JIMMY JOE
Damn.

Rebecca goes to Carrie.
Takes the camera.

REBECCA
Okay, that’s it. Gotta jam.
Bigger, better story, folks.
(shouts)
Howard! Scott!
Get your lazy asses in here!

FRIDAY
You can’t just -- leave --

REBECCA
Oh, yes I can.
You got your apology.
Story over. Nice little piece,
but no shoot-out with the cops,
no suicide, no mayhem.
Let’s face it, your ‘siege’
had a lame ending.

Howard and Scott appear in the doorway.

REBECCA (CONT’D)
Come on, fellas.
We gotta riot on our hands.
Move it, move it, move it.

They race over,
grab their equipment.

FRIDAY
'Lame ending?' LAME ENDING?

REBECCA
Don’t take it personally, hon.
I mean, think about it, you’re alive.

She goes to the door.
The crew follows. Then Kelly.

CARRIE
Where are you going?

KELLY
Life-changing epiphany.
(to Howard)
Coffee, later?

HOWARD
How do you take it?

KELLY
Uh -- black?

They leave.
Friday goes to the window.
Looks at the carnage.

FRIDAY
Jesus fucking Christ.
How am I gonna get outta here?

Like Chunks In Sauce

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 33 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster has taken film studio executives hostage at gunpoint in their conference room. The TV news crew she asked for has arrived to tape their apology for killing her movie deal ... when they suddenly get interrupted ... by the cops.


INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Jimmy Joe holds his piece on the group.
Smiles.

DON
You realize you’ve killed your chances
of starring in ACTION MOVIE 2 --

JIMMY JOE
Fuck your piece of shit ACTION MOVIE.
I’m only here because my
agent begged me to.
(beat)
Like I would co-star with Lil’ Nig.

HANS
Jimmy Joe.
Put ze gun down.
Let’s talk about zis.

JIMMY JOE
Sorry, Girlie-man --
but the lil’ lady asked me
to keep ya’ll covered,
an in tha int-rest of
keepin’ ya’ll alive,
I’m gonna do jus’ that.

GARY
Fucking redneck.
This isn’t a goddamn movie, Jimmy Joe.

FRIDAY (O.C.)
Hell, no -- it’s A LOT more fun.

FRIDAY
comes in.
Followed by Rebecca,
holding her mike.

Carrie behind the camera.
Kelly FLASHES the light.

Friday goes to the
head of the table. Sits.

REBECCA
Coming to you live
from White Line Pictures, ‘
The Siege: Crisis in Development Hell.’

FRIDAY
(to the executives)
Don’t you just love it
when the media gives cool names
to wars and disasters?
(to Rebecca)
Cue the GRAPHICS.
Take me to the global village.
Let’s get that DEMOGRAPHIC.

REBECCA
ROLL CAMERA.

Rebecca raises her mike.
Cocks her head.
Full of importance.

REBECCA (CONT’D)
This is Rebecca Diaz, Crime TV,
reporting to you live
from White Line Pictures --
where Friday Foster has
taken the top executives hostage.

FRIDAY
Damn straight.
We shall overcome.
Redemption song.
Free Nelson Mandella.
I have a dream.
All that shit.

REBECCA
As you can see,
our captor is quite eloquent --
and irreverent.

FRIDAY
I’m a writer --
what do you expect?
‘Hi, Mom?’

REBECCA
No, but I’m rather surprised
at your flip attitude,
and that you seem to be having fun.
You’re not even scared.

FRIDAY
Scared? Can you say EMPOWERED?
(points Uzi at her)
Enough fucking around,
let’s hurry this up.
Before I spray your shellacked head
like chunks in sauce.

REBECCA
Okay, okay -- so, tell us,
what are your demands?

FRIDAY
All I want --
is this Hollywood hack --
(points gun at Don)
To apologize for ruining
my fucking life.

REBECCA
(whirls to the camera)
And in a stunning surprise,
we’ve learned that
Friday’s demand isn’t money,
or anything material,
not even a movie deal.
(pause for effect)
She just wants an apology.
In these consumer-driven modern times,
it’s refreshing to see someone who --

CARRIE
Enough with the reportage.
Let Red apologize.

FRIDAY
Carrie?
First at the club, and now here?
What are you, fucking stalking me?

CARRIE
I want to help you.
If you surrender, maybe I
can help you get a deal,
get a lighter sentence.

REBECCA
Wait a minute.
Now I know where I’ve seen you --
you’re that cop that got suspended,
it was all over the news.

KELLY
Are you kidding me?
That means we’ve been breaking the law.

CARRIE
Well, if you want to split hairs.

KELLY
No wonder you wanted to help her --
you’re an outlaw, too.

FRIDAY
Kelly? Kelly Klavan?
What are YOU doing here?
What is this?
Former-FUCK week?

KELLY
Friday.
Nice to see you. I’m, uh --
here to tell your story.
I’m a journalist, too, you know.

Friday stares at Kelly.
Then Carrie. Head reeling.

JIMMY JOE
Well, shit --
I kin read the subtext here.
If these two were willin’ ta
risk their lives tryin’ to help ya,
ya must be one helluva lover.

FRIDAY
I’ve had no complaints.

DON
What is this, the fucking View?

GARY
It’s more like Jerry Springer.

HANS
Fuck Jerry Springer.
Is like Dr. Phil.
And I HATE Dr. Phil. Fucking QUACK.
Fat fucking tub of lard with DIET BOOK.

FRIDAY
Everybody SHUT UP. Let’s DO IT, NOW.
(to Carrie and Kelly)
Lights, camera -- ANGER.

THE CAMERA
shoots Don. In close up.

FRIDAY (O.C.) (CONT'D)
I’m waiting --

DON
As the chairman
of White Line Pictures,
I’d, uh -- like to apologize --

A DEEP, MALE VOICE BOOMS
over a loudspeaker from outside.

DEEP, MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday Foster!
This is the police!
We have you surrounded!
Come out with your hands up,
and you won’t be hurt!