That Killing Feeling: April 2013

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Monday, April 29, 2013

Friday, April 26, 2013

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 23 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, our story takes a twisted turn when teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty murders a film industry hack she picked up in a club, cuts up his body ... and then pleasures herself ...

INT. SHITTY HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
The kind of room where
you don’t need a black light
to see the stains.

Sparkle sits on the bed,
very pin-up.

In nothing but a teddie
and a big smile.

Presses PLAY on a big boom box
on the night stand.

Some strange, obscure 80's new-wave
song percolates over the speakers.

MALE VOICE (O.S.)
(about the music)
I like this, who is it?
It was in that film --
what was it, uh --

SPARKLE
DollsHead.
The film was 'Random Acts of Architecture,’
a dark little indie coming of age flick
about a teenage girl who has her first orgasm.
She kills the guy who gave it to her --
and then goes on a cross-country road trip
where she has a bunch of episodic adventures
on a journey of self-discovery.

ANGLE ON:

The MAN she’s talking to,
a FILM INDUSTRY HACK (50’s),
scary in black Gucci boxers, cigar.

FILM INDUSTRY HACK
That’s right. I read about that.
(slides onto the bed)
Ever smoke before sex?

SPARKLE
You make me laugh.
Long and hard.
Fucking 'LOL' time, slick.
Can I POKE you?
Wanna cyber-fuck?
Can I instant massage you?
Give it to you up the avatar?
Wanna SOCIAL NETWORK?

She starts laughing maniacally.
Cracks herself up.

FILM INDUSTRY HACK
Oh. My. God.
I totally forgot.
I got this -- thing tonight.
How could I forget.
God, am I an asshole.

She WHIPS out a big, chrome HANDGUN
from behind her back.

JAMS it in his mouth.
Whispers, a’la Dirty Harry.

SPARKLE
You got that right, buster.
Now shut the fuck up
and get on your knees.
It’s time for you to play
'spin the dickhead'
and beg for your fictional life.
Ride the 45 caliber pony.
Time to give a
Chuck Heston blow job,
go down on the NRA --
and swallow.

CLOSE ON --
Her face. Having a ball.

We hear the sickly THWUNK of a silencer, and --
blood splatters her perfect bone structure.

SPARKLE
Cut, print -- that’s a TAKE.

She smiles.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - BATHROOM - DUSK
Sparkle stands naked over the body
in the bath tub.

She’s covered in blood.
Cutting up the body.

CAMERA stays on her as she leans over,
saws off pieces.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
AMERICAN PSYCHO was widely
misunderstood by the critics.
But then, who could blame them?
The book it was based on
was a misogynistic piece
of yuppie masturbatory crap.

She raises up an arm.
Salutes it.

Tosses it in a garbage bag.
Returns to her work.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
The film is actually a black comedy --
a satire of the go-go
Reagan eighties in Manhattan.
It almost derailed when
Leo DiCaprio came on board,
causing the low-budget indie
to bloat overnight into a
fifty-million-dollar mega-production.
Thank god for Leo’s handlers,
because he ended up getting cold feet.

She raises up a leg.
Makes a face.

Chucks it in the bag.
Grabs the saw. Continues.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
As fun as it is,
this flick didn’t completely
satisfy this critic.
I mean, there’s no point to
Jason Bateman’s killing, is there?
He’s just a psycho --
there’s no story, no plot, per se.
It’s completely random.
It’s hilarious, sure, but it’s
the cinematic equivalent of a Happy Meal --
goes down fast, but devoid
of any creative nutrition.

Sparkle saws harder.
This one’s tough.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
This installation -- this piece --
this reinterpretation is
the stuff of real meaning. Of truth.
A commentary on the banalities
of the modern mating ritual.
It is my intention to desconstruct
and then reinvent the American family.
Show the world that you
don’t have to be a victim.
That you can create your own family,
control your own destiny --

The killer cutie finishes. Smiles.
Raises up the Industry Hack’s head --

SPARKLE (V.O.)
And make your own fucking movie.

And kisses him on the mouth.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
The slinky, femme, crime theme
trip-hop groove of DollsHead’s
TOUCH THE MOON over --

IN MONTAGE:
Sparkle glides in from the bathroom.

In a sexy red nightie.
Pink fuzzy slippers.
And a lot of blood.

She goes to the bed.
Places the gut-smeared
fishing hook-knife on the nightstand.
It gleams in a flash of light.

CLOSE ON --
The table.
Crimson hands open a drawer.

Take out a foot-long
'back massager' VIBRATOR.

That’s right, folks --
say hello to the 'Space Needle.'

SPARKLE
lies down on the bed.
Gets ready for lift off.

CLOSE ON --
Her dainty, pretty feet.
With bloody, blue frosted nails.

They arch, stretch like a cat.
A soft sigh. A little kittie-yawn.

The CAMERA SLOWLY PANS UP
tanned, slender legs, as --

the BUZZING starts.
Causing thighs to slightly twitch, part.

SPARKLE’S
face. Eyes closed. Dreamy.
A hint of a smile.

A finger itches her nose,
leaving a smear of blood.

IN MONTAGE:
Sparkle GRABS Bruce Ball by the cuffs --
SLAMS him into a wall with a SHRIEK.

BRUCE
twists and turns in agony
in the scalding shower.

THE VIBRATOR
roto-rooters in gentle circles
on her private place.

SPARKLE
writhes in wave after wave of pleasure.

THE HIPSTER VIDEO CLERK
lies on the floor of the crap hotel room.
Muffled SCREAMS as Sparkle STABS the fuzzy body.

SPARKLE
moans, arches her back

DINA
gagged, tied and bound
in an abandoned restaurant kitchen.

Terrified eyes pleading and screaming --
As her hand is guided into a meat grinder.

THE VIBRATOR
is kicked up a notch. BZZZZZZZZZ.

SPARKLE
moans louder. Eyes clenched shut.

THE FILM INDUSTRY HACK’S
mouth opens. The gun barrel slides in.
BANG. Blood SPLATTERS the wall behind him.

SPARKLE
climaxes, spasms --

SHRIEKS, an animal baying at the moon.

SPARKLE
Mommm-yyyyyyyyyy!

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Tricks Are For Chicks

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 22 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty scares the shit out of a suit who tries to hit on her at a sleazy nightclub. Meanwhile, demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer prepares to shoot a most unusual porno starring homicide detective Carrie Love's squeeze Laura Lang ...

EXT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT
An ugly, gutteral-twisting techno groove --
Curve’s violent, feminine WISH YOU DEAD.

Pain.
Hollywood’s glittering
club-of-the-moment.

Celeb-filled.
Self-conscious.
Fabulous.

A cluster of TRENDIES
lay in wait
behind the velvet rope.

INT. PAIN - BAR - CONTINUOUS
Sparkle sits on a bar stool,
sips a chilled Twisted Nipple.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
Okay, here’s the thing.
I’m gonna spell
it out for ya.
No subtext here,
just the straight poop.
Ready on the poop deck!

A DOLCE AND GABANNA SUIT
slides onto the next stool.

DOLCE AND GABANNA SUIT
Hi, there.

SPARKLE
What’s the hub-bub, bub?

The MBA stares, confused --
then recovers.

DOLCE AND GABANNA SUIT
40’s noir.
Love it.
You must be a writer.

SPARKLE
As if. What-ever.
Gag me. Your bad.
We must not do lunch.
Have your people
tell my people
to shove it up your ass.
Buh-bye. Bigger, better offer.
(sips drink, off his look)
'Tex' Avery, 1950’s.
Cartoons, big fella.
Big fucking Bugs Bunny --
whassup, doc.
Silly rabbit,
tricks are for chicks.

Pause.

DOLCE AND GABANNA SUIT
Uh -- right.
(pulls out prescription bottle,
hands it to her)
Here.
Take a couple of these.
They’ll level you out.

He leaves,
muttering to himself.

SPARKLE
(sings)
Your love is
giving me bad medicine --

She sips her cocktail.
Lights a Dunhill.
Laughs to herself.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
'Kay.
Gonna smash all your
precious little myths.
Yes, my dad was a closet case
that drowned himself
in Iron City beer
and Broadway musicals --
and yes, my dear, sweet mama
finger-fucked her
precious little
beauty pageant prisoner.
(beat)
But that’s not
why I’m doing this --
no way, Jose.
This chick’s not into it
for some kind of
emotionally scarred
payback kinda thing.
This ain’t no party,
this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around.
It’s just -- fun.
It’s a high.
Better than coming.
(beat)
C’mon, admit it.
You’ve got someone in your life
you’d like to do bodily harm to,
maybe even kill.
Your neighbor, someone at work.
Maybe, if you’re
really blessed, an ex-lover?
Or, if you’ve been chosen,
found your calling --
a relative.
(beat)
Yeah, that’s a good one.
Blow em up.
Imagine how great it feels
to totally obliterate
the demented creators
of your misery and pain.
It’s like having a big bowl
of instant karma,
served with mother’s milk --
and Daddy’s banana.

INT. SOUNDSTAGE - DAY
A real soundstage.
A surprisingly good set.

This is a porno with a budget.
Production value. A CREW.

Laura is on a chrome gurney,
very Barbarella in plastic and vinyl.

Bored look covering her dread.
Her creeping panic.

KLAUS
Take number 4 and 5
up a bit more, please.

BURLY GRIP
Brighter? More brighter?

KLAUS
No. Make it darker.
So we can’t fucking see her.
(mutters to himself)
Non-union idiot.

LAURA
What are you,
taking a fucking light reading?

KLAUS
Hold your horsies,
my little turtle-dove.
(to a tech)
Let’s try the music.
Check the levels.

TECH (O.S.)
Scary gothic Nazi tunes
coming right up.

The soaring, over-the-top
stormtrooper-in-love sound of
Ultravox’s LOVE’S GREAT ADVENTURE
blasts at full-volume.

KLAUS
Ja. Too sexy for my fucken T-shirt.
(to a PA)
The dry ice!
Start the dry ice!

A dense fog sweeps into frame.
Circles his waist.

Klaus hands Laura a CONTROL BOX,
demonstrates the knobs.

KLAUS
This one controls the amps --
this one for the watts --
this, for the frequency modulation --

LAURA
And the Energizer Pussy
just keeps on getting electrocuted.

KLAUS
You snicker now,
my bitter Fraulein,
but you have never
scaled the heights that
the Pandora Box will take you.
Never felt such pleasure,
such ecstacy, such bliss.

Laura slowly turns a knob,
gets a JOLT in her privates.

LAURA
Ow, FUCK! Bollocks!
(beat)
Fuckin’ bliss is gonna
blow my bloody fusebox.

KLAUS
Yes! She’s angry!
That hurts!
But it feels so good!
Ach de lieber -- mein chubby!
(throws up his arms)
Speed! Roll video! Magic time!

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Look Who The Cat Fucked In

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 DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, suspended homicide detective Carrie Love and her partner/ex-husband Bernie Keko meet with police chief Larry Lipshitz, who plays them a tape teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty left at the scene of her latest grisly 'installation' ...

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - LIPSHITZ’ OFFICE - DAY
Larry sits behind his desk.
Sips his designer coffee.

LIPSHITZ
Damn, that’s good.
Who knew Ethiopia had such --

A sharp KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
on the door.

LIPSHITZ
Come in.

It opens.
Bernie strides in.

Stops.
Looks behind him.

KEKO
Carrie. C’mon.

Carrie shuffles in.
Dishevelled.
Stinking of last night.

CARRIE
(low)
Hey, Chief.

LIPSHITZ
Jesus, look who the cat fucked in.
Nice outfit.
Where’s your shopping cart?

She goes to a chair.
Pours herself into it.

CARRIE
Didn’t know the rules applied
when I’m suspended.

KEKO
I found her in a bar, Chief --

LIPSHITZ
Can it, and sit your ass down.
This is serious business.
I’ve got no time for your
‘Divorce American Style’ crap.
(to Carrie)
You’re here Carrie because
we believe you were the
last person to see Ms. Daerr alive.

CARRIE
How could that be?
She was here at the station,
and tons of people were --

LIPSHITZ
Ramirez has a surveillance tape
from the morning she was killed.
(beat)
You really get around, don’tcha.

Busted.

CARRIE
(turning red)
Look, I can explain --

LIPSHITZ
And I don’t wanna hear it.
I could give a holy fuck.
I just want you
to listen to this tape --
and tell me if Daerr
said anything or did anything
that could shed some light
on this madness.

He points to a boombox on his desk.
Punches ‘play.’

SPARKLE (V.O.)
Hey there, film freaks!
Welcome to Murder Fone!
If you know the name of the
grisly dead body
you want to see, press ONE.
If you know the name of the movie
that’s being depicted, press TWO.
And if you know the name of
the brilliant auteur, press THREE.

They exchange glances.
Lipshitz rolls his eyes.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
Time’s up! BUZZZZZ.
(beat)
Pathetic.
You rubes probably watch reality TV.
The cultural scourge
of this once-great nation.
(beat)
I’m talking Brian DePalma, people!
Brian Fucking De-Palma.
The. Man. Gimmee five.
Gimmee some skin.
Gimmee some skin flick.
(beat)
DRESSED TO KILL was unleashed on the world
by Paramount Pictures back in ‘82.
Although most critics initially
dismissed it as a blatant,
cheesy Hitchcock rip-off,
it more than holds up today as
an erotic, beautifully shot mis en scene --
a pre-postmodern noir of elegant pacing.
It briefly let Angie Dickinson shine again
in a ‘brave performance’ --
(beat)
And it was a fucking brilliant plot device
to have what seemed to be a major character
sliced and diced like that thirty minutes in --
(beat)
Poor, bloody, sexy baby
in creamy beige lying in the elevator,
shredded to ribbons --
(beat)
So, I said to myself, ‘self?
How can I top that?
(giggles)
Guess the meat grinder
takes it to the next level, huh.
(beat)
Don’t worry.
I thought of making
deviled sandwiches out of her --
but even I have some limits.
Crazed, genius serial killer, oui --
depraved cannibal, no.
(beat)
Oh, and Carrie --
you and Bernie better
get your shit together.
‘Cause the end of the third act
is gonna get very messy.

Silence.

CARRIE
I feel sick.
(beat)
And oddly hungry all of a sudden.

LIPSHITZ
Did Daerr mention
anybody she was mad at?
Or who was mad at her?
Her ex, maybe?
I mean, seeing as how
she was a muff-diver,
you might have some insight
into the matter.

Carrie shoots him a look.

LIPSHITZ
Nothing?
Well, look -- here’s the deal.
She’s made it personal,
has some fucked up thing
for you and Bernie.
But unfortunately for me,
you’re off the team for now.

CARRIE
I’d come back to work
if you asked me nicely.

LIPSHITZ
I want you to go home
and think, think hard.
And get your shit together.
Don’t spiral down into
a black void of sex,
alcohol and despair.
(friendly)
‘Cause if you do,
I’ll kill ya.

Carrie stands. Nods.
Goes to the door.
Called on her shit.

CARRIE
I will.
(beat)
Nice to see you, Chief --

And she’s gone.
Larry gets up.

KEKO
I think you got to her, Lare.

LIPSHITZ
Let’s just hope
she doesn’t get to herself.
(points at the door)
I want you and Valentine
to keep checking out those clubs.
It’s our only lead.

KEKO
(as he leaves)
Don’t worry.
We’ll get the bitch.

LIPSHITZ
So what does she want
with Love and Keko?
Must’ve had a FUCKED UP childhood --

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Days Of Wine And Lesbos

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Monday, April 22, 2013

Dirty Little Secrets

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 DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Carrie Love and porn star Laura Lang check out the perverted pleasures at Club Fuck ... and then take them home to the bedroom ...

EXT. CLUB FUCK - NIGHT
The filth-sleaze go-go of the
Thrill Kill Kult’s DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS over --

A faceless warehouse on the
cheap end of Santa Monica Blvd.

Laura pulls Carrie
behind the velvet rope.

ON THE WOMEN
Laura, an SS erotic piece of art.
Carrie, just getting her feet wet
in something too short, too tight.

LAURA
Ready to get totally depraved?

CARRIE
Yes, please.

INT. CLUB FUCK - FRONT BAR
A carnival of perversion.
The fall of Rome. Fellini, on tap.

The magic couple sip cocktails.
Hands all over each other.

CARRIE
It’s the nipple clamp version
of the Star Wars alien bar.
(beat)
I love it.

LAURA
(takes her hand)
Then c’mon, love --
let’s tighten the screws.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR
The throbbing groove of
The Thrill Kill Kult’s BLUE BUDDHA.

In a hailstorm of strobes,
an earthquake of music,
Carrie and Laura shake it,
grind -- delirious. Intoxicated.

CARRIE
(sings along)
Ultra flesh, is what we want --

IN MONTAGE:

ON A BANQUETTE AT THE REAR BAR/LOUNGE
they hold hands.

Laura leans over, whispers something.
Carrie ERUPTS with laughter.

IN THE 'PLAY ROOM'
The girls watch the demonstration.

A TRIBAL MASTER deftly flogs a
young ANDROGYNOUS BOY
on his panty-clad privates --

AT THE FRONT BAR
Carrie and Laura order drinks.
Stare at each other.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR
The kinky sounds of the
Thrill Kill Kult’s SEX ON WHEELZ.

The women twist and shake.
Bump and grind.
Slither and slide.

IN MONTAGE
An 'almost there, but not quite'
VALLEY COUPLE stare.

Two tweaky ecstasy GAY CLUB BOYS leer.
A SCARY GOTH GUY and GIRL
slide up next to them.

FROM ABOVE
The lovers do their mating dance.

IN THE BOOTH
the DJ YELLS something at the LIGHT BOY.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR
a spotlight HITS the girls.
They don’t notice, entranced.

Laura takes Carrie’s neck in her hands.
KISSES her mouth.

They stop dancing. Kiss.
Devour. Melt. Merge.

And, as CAMERA starts a
slow circular pan around them --

Laura GRABS Carrie’s hair.
Pulls her head back.

Bends into her neck.
Starts sucking. Biting. Feasting.

Strobe lights EXPLODE,
spinning shards of pulsing passion.

INT. PLAYROOM - MOMENTS LATER
The scary, depraved goth-ooze of Daniel Ash’s
COMING DOWN bubbles under the dark dankness.
Last call. Final fix.

Carrie and Laura stand stage right.
A DOMINATRIX unshackles an
underage-looking nymph
in a Girl Scout uniform.

Laura unclips a leash.
Hooks it to Carrie’s collar.

CARRIE
gulps. Part fear. Part wet.

LAURA
gives a little yank.
Pulls her up onto the stage.

Guides her over to a large wooden cross,
like a big ‘X’.

CARRIE’S EYES
flicker. Liquid. Innocent.

At least for now --

Laura places Carrie’s left wrist
on the cross.

Into a shackle.
SNAPS it shut.
Then does the other.

The blonde reaches up to the
zipper at Carrie’s throat.

Slowly unzips it --
all the way down.

The glistening black vinyl flies open --
Revealing lingerie. Bare, trembling skin.

Goosebumping. Glistening.

Laura reaches down.
Places Carrie’s left ankle on the cross.

SNAPS the shackle shut.
Then the right ankle.

She stops.

Takes a black leather-gloved hand,
strokes Carrie’s calf.
Our heroine shudders.

Then slowly, achingly --
goes up, up Carrie’s leg.

Reaches her soft, milky thigh.
Stops.

CARRIE
quivers.
Bites her lip.

Closes her eyes.
A tear of pleasure trickles down.

Yes.
Laura’s hand continues on it’s journey.
Reaches Carrie’s panties.

Stops.
Carrie’s hips buckle.
She can’t take it.

Please.

LAURA
stands up abruptly.

Boots CLOMP, CLOMP over to
a rack of instruments.

Paddle. Whip. Riding crop.
Cat-o’-nine tails.

She grabs the cat-flogger.
Takes a breath.

The women lock eyes.
Laura smiles.

Slowly raises it.
CRACKS it in the air.

Carrie reacts.
Hands grip the restraints.

Laura walks over.
Kisses her.

Whispers sweet naughties.
Returns to her position --

And starts making love
to her trembling slave-girl.

Gently swirls the dozen
soft deerskin straps like a flag --

And softly whacks Carrie’s tummy.
A tickle. A tease.

Carrie jerks with pleasure.
And again, crack -- on her shoulder.

Crack, on Carrie’s thigh.
She moans softly. Surprised.

Uhhh.
INT. CARRIE’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT MORNING
The fragile, subterranean croon of
David Bowie’s cover of GOD ONLY KNOWS over --

In the bedroom,
softly lit with a lone candle.
Carrie’s handcuffed to the bedposts.

In the same outfit.
But the dress is gone.

Laura kneels before her
on the foamy comforter.
Flogging Carrie gently.
Delicately.

And on each swirling
whissssk of the soft straps --
Carrie jerks with new pleasure.

Without the visual,
it sounds just like lovemaking.

Because it is.

Laura’s flogging quickens.
Softer. Closer. Deeper.

Carrie writhes. Moans.
Starts to reach climax --

Pause.

And she HOWLS AT THE MOON.
A carnal, animal bray.

SHRIEKS like a banshee virgin
finally finding release.

Starts crying, sobbing from so much.
Laura THROWS the flogger to the floor.

Reaches up.
Unfastens Carrie’s wrists.

Throws her arms around her.
Holds her there.

PUSH IN on their faces.
Simple. Pure. Perfect.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Liquid Lunch

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Splendor In The Ass

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

The Other White Meat

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 16 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Bernie Keko investigates yet another one of teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty's victims. Meanwhile, as police chief Larry Lipshitz gives a press conference about the murders, we discover disgraced detective Carrie Love in bed with witness Dina Daerr watching it on TV... as is her porn star flame Laura Lang, in bed with her director ...

INT. FARMER’S DAUGHTER MOTEL - BATHROOM - DAY
At the crime scene,
BERNIE inspects Bruce’s steaming body,
char-broiled to a crisp --
like a big, bright red lobster.

Joining him is Detective JESUS VALENTINE,
a fireplug of restless anger
stuffed into the cheapest suit in the world.

KEKO
(wrinkles nose)
Pee-yoo.
Haven’t seen a scalding in awhile.
Talk about 'well done.'

VALENTINE
Smells like my mama’s cooking.

KEKO
The other white meat?

VALENTINE
No, rice and beans, man.
Got so fucking sick of
rice and fucking beans --
was dyin’ from that shit.
Saturday night was the one night
we’d have something different.
I can still smell it -- the sausage.

KEKO
That’s what I said,
'the other white meat.'

Jesus stares at Bernie, uncomprehending.

KEKO (CONT’D)
Pork, Jesus. Pork.

VALENTINE
You think just because I’m
a fucking Mexican we had fucking pork?
Well, fuck you, we were different,
man, we had -- Pizza.
Dominos, Shakey’s, Little Caesar’s,
even Wolfgang Fuckin’ Puck.
We ran the gamut on that shit.
(beat)
Weird. He smells like fucking pizza.

KEKO
Hey, I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to -- you know.

VALENTINE
(looks at the body)
Must be Italian or shit.
Got that European 'bathe once a week'
kinda thing goin’ on.
(beat)
It’s fuckin’ uncivilized, man.
No wonder the killer did it
in the fucking shower.

INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
From behind, we see Laura’s beautiful tush.
She turns toward us, grabs a razor --
and steps into the shower.

IN THE SHOWER
The razor slides across a shiny, perfect thigh.

LAURA
(sings)
On the night you murdered love --

A TELEVISION NEWS BROADCAST
A stiff, HANDSOME ANCHOR and a gorgeous
LATINA ANCHORWOMAN, shellacked hair,
grim frozen smile,
lean into THE CAMERA --

HANDSOME ANCHOR
We take you now to a press conference
in front of police headquarters, where --

LATINA ANCHORWOMAN
Brock Bradley is on the scene --
(dramatic pause)
Brock -- we’ve been told Larry Lipshitz,
chief detective, LA homicide --
is going to make a statement.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - FRONT STEPS - NIGHT
A gaggle of PRESS, ONLOOKERS and
COPS surround a podium crammed with mikes.
Larry Lipshitz takes a swig of Maalox.

BROCK BRADLEY
a vacant John Tesh on steroids
grips his mike, cocks his head,
gazes into THE CAMERA.

BROCK
That’s right, Lina.
They’re about to start any minute now --

YELLING MAN (O.S.)
Fuck you, stop pushing!
Unfair to the Guild!
Writers have rights!

HANDSOME ANCHOR
Holy homicide, Brock --
what the heck’s goin’ on down there?

BROCK
Well, there’s a couple of
protest groups out here, Biff --
one of them’s a group
from the Writer’s Guild --
they’re saying it’s
unfair to blame them,
and refer to the killings as
'cinema copycat crimes' --

LINA
And what’s the other group, Brock?

BROCK
I’m glad you asked, Lina --
protesting against Hollywood
marketing violence to children --
the Christian Unified Nation of Teachers.

The beauty spells out
the letters to herself. Gasps.

BROCK (CONT'D)
There’s Lipshitz.

BIFF
And not a moment too soon.

EXT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - FRONT STEPS - CONTINUOUS
Larry tugs at his tie, loosens it.
Looks at the crowd.

LIPSHITZ
Thank you all for coming.
I know these are scary times we’re living in,
dark days in the city of angels.

He takes out a scrap of paper,
puts on his glasses.

SARCASTIC REPORTER
'City of angels?'
Who do you think you are,
Raymond Chandler?

LIPSHITZ
Nice to see you too, Mim.
What’s the matter,
didn’t get any last night?
(to the crowd)
I’m going to read a statement.
There’ll be no questions --

INT. KLAUS SPEER’S ESTATE - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
Klaus lies sprawled on his king-sized canopied bed.
Swirls, sips cognac from an oversized snifter.
Watches the telly.

KLAUS
(to someone offscreen)
The fucking police have nothing.
Nothing. Just this, this -- statement.
It’s incredible, I tell you.
The killer’s some kind of twisted genius.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
Takes one to know one.

KLAUS
Flattery’ll get you -- anything you want.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
(sexy)
You’ll come in and help me douche, then?

KLAUS
Come back to bed, my little vixen --
I like your natural, animal -- scent.

He chuckles, eyes light up with mischief.

FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
You Germans --

Laura walks in, naughty smile --
and naughtier lingerie.

LAURA
Are such kinky, naughty little devils.

INT. DINA’S BEACH HOUSE - BEDROOM - AT THE SAME TIME
Watching the news coverage is --
Dina, snuggled in bed with Carrie.

LIPSHITZ (O.S.)
This devil, this animal -- and bring him --
or her -- to justice once and for all.
And make the (BLEEP)ing streets
safe once again for
our law-abiding citizens.
(beat)
Pardon my metaphor. Sorry.

DINA
Your boss is an angry man.

CARRIE
You’d be angry too if you were my boss.
(grabs cigarette, lights up)
Be right back. Gotta pee.

She climbs out of bed.
Pads over to the bathroom.

DINA
You’re gonna miss all the fun.

IN THE BATHROOM
Carrie sits. Pees.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Didn’t see that one coming, did you?
You thought I was the hero?
Well, I’m sorry to puncture your balloon.
Tip your fucking applecart --
but life doesn’t always have a happy ending.
Now if you’ll excuse me --
I’ve got a thoroughbred
waiting for me in her bed.
And I’d like to give her a little sugar.
(beat)
Cause when the going gets tough --
the tough get laid.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Freaky Fido

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 15 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Bernie Keko visits the morgue to examine teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty's latest victim, and is horrified at the viciousness of the crime. Meanwhile, suspended detective Carrie Love and porn star Laura Lang meet cute at Club Fuck ...

INT. MORGUE - DAY
Brightly lit, antiseptic.
Deep-freeze cold.

Bernie stands by the door,
listening on his cell phone.

Two Medical Examiner PARAMEDICS,
KENNY, white, and KENDRICK, black,
wheel in a BODY BAG on a gurney.

KENNY
You get your skins?
She give you a lil’ somethin-somethin?

The cultured, British national stops the cart.

KENDRICK
(quiet, nasty)
You redneck git -- I’m from London,
stop with the bloody Ebonics.

Bernie talks into his cell.

KEKO
Carrie, if you’re there, pick up.
I know you’re mad,
and I don’t blame you,
but something’s happened.
We need you to --
(beat)
Fuck.
(sees the body)
Is that the motel room -- ?

KENNY
Freak show? Uh -- yeah.
Goddamn thought I’d seen everything.
Fucking Alpo time, dude.

KENDRICK
I must say I was impressed
with the attention to detail.
The victim is not only wearing
a choke chain and a collar,
but according to his tags --
it would appear he’s had
all his vaccinations.

KENNY
Rows and rows of the shit.
We’re talking major hypodermic action,
fuckin’ AIDS five-hundred.

KEKO
(walks over)
Open up the cinch-sack.

The big Jamaican-Brit zips open
the grey plastic, revealing --
the HIPSTER CLERK.
Wearing the dog costume.

KEKO
Kinky. Disembowel freaky Fido.

Kendrick zips down
the furry body, revealing --

The clerk’s chest.
Stippled with rows of
vicious puncture wounds
like bloody dominoes.

KEKO
Whoever did this skipped
their anger management class.
(looks closer)
It looks like a -- pattern.

KENNY
Like someone played a buncha
'pick-6’s' on his six-pack.

KENDRICK
(to Kenny)
I told you -- it’s a message.
(to Bernie)
It’s the killer’s autograph.

Bernie stares at the human pincushion.
Gets an idea.

KEKO
(to Kenny)
Take off your shirt.

KENNY
What?

KEKO
(whips out a gun)
I said take off your shirt,
you fucking rube.
In case you haven’t noticed it,
we’ve got a human chia pet here
leaking out the evidence.

He clicks the safety.
The good ol’ boy strips off his top.

Bernie grabs the pale blue cotton,
places it on the body.

CLOSE ON --
Rows of red wounds.
Stippled in patterns.

The crimson dots bleed.
Start to connect. Form words.

I’d like to thank the Academy,
my Mom, God, my agent --

EXT. CLUB FUCK - NIGHT
A smallish grey building
deep in the bowels of Hollywood.

A pulsing, industrial grind
bleeds outside from within.

INT. CLUB FUCK - CONTINUOUS
Carrie sits at the bar,
drowning everything.

Sorrows. Joy. Hopes.
Dreams. Self-esteem.

She pours a tall shot
from a bottle of Jagermeister.

Toasts the throng.
Downs it.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Figures I’d get stood up.
I knew it was too good to be true.
Fucking porn star --
(pours another shot)
I once had a shrink who said
I lived in my own little world.
That I’ve lived most of my life -- alone.
(downs it)
Well, maybe that’s because
everyone I’ve ever fucking known --
except my mom and my dog --
ended up letting me down.
Makes a girl a little finicky
about who she hangs out with.
And the way I look at it,
I’m pretty good fucking company.
(pours another)
But the thing is --
there’s just one problem.
It’s not working anymore.
(raises glass)
It seems that whenever
I try to do things my way --
it blows up in my fucking face.

And she slams it.
Grimaces. Closes her eyes.

EXT. CLUB FUCK - LATER
Party kids spill onto the sidewalk.
Carrie weaves out the door.

Fumbles in her purse,
pulls out a smoke.

LAURA
There you are.

CARRIE
Oh, hi.
(beat)
I never -- found you in there.

LAURA
(teasing)
That’s a shame.
I had my top off for an hour --
before I got busted.

CARRIE
Uh -- security?

LAURA
No. My date.
He finally found me.

CARRIE
(looks around)
Where’s he now?

LAURA
(evil)
I finally lost him.

CARRIE
Oh.
(beat)
So --

LAURA
So?

CARRIE
So -- can I get --
your phone number?

LAURA
(writes on Carrie’s hand)
Don’t wash it off, now.
(doesn’t let go)
You’ll regret it.

CARRIE
Thanks.

LAURA
(squeezes)
Call me.

CARRIE
I will.
(beat)
So -- I guess, um --

Long pause.
There’s no one else in the world.

LAURA
So -- aren’t you gonna kiss me?

CARRIE
(melts)
Uh -- yeah.

They kiss. Soft. Tender.

APPLAUSE.
They break apart.

A CROWD OF ONLOOKERS
cheer.

Carrie looks down.
Embarrassed.

LAURA
You better go home,
Miss Legs, and get some rest.
(beat)
I got plans for you.

PUSH IN on Carrie’s face.
Suddenly sober.

CARRIE
(whispers)
P-p-plans -- for me?

Monday, April 15, 2013

Dirty Little Girl

Friday, April 12, 2013

Lady Dick

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 13 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, suspended homicide dick Carrie Love enlists the help of a friend to continue her investigation, teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty has fun with her latest victim, and detective Bernie Keko listens to a tape made by Sparkle found at her latest crime ...

EXT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - PARKING LOT - NIGHT
From a distance we see Dina
chatting with her GUCCI ATTORNEY.
Definitely the 'big guns.'

CARRIE
charges outside, muttering to herself.

CARRIE
Why don’t you just whip them out,
see who’s got the bigger --

She sees Dina. Stops.

The brunette beauty
and her lawyer shake hands.
He leaves.

Dina sees Carrie.
Turns, briskly goes to her car.

CARRIE
turns around. Sprints off toward --

A SURVEILLANCE SUV
A tricked-out monstrosity with blackened windows.
Carrie RAPS a drumbeat. Then again.
The door opens with a PFFUT, and --

Out pops ILONA RAMIREZ,
a curvy bullet of a woman
stuffed into a leather catsuit.

Armed to the gills.
Packing, too.

ILONA
Hey there, spitfire.
What’cha got on the grill?

CARRIE
I need to borrow your van.
(pulls out wad of cash)
Rent it, actually.
I’m on hiatus.

ILONA
I told you, it’s not a van,
it’s a fuckin’ SUV, girlfren --
got eight cylinders, microwave DSL,
heat-seaking stealth mikes.
This is the law enforcement shit, lady dick.

CARRIE
Please accept my profuse apologies --
(ton of subtext)
Ilona.

ILONA
Put away the bankroll.
I’m driving.

CARRIE
This could be dangerous, Lona.

ILONA
Yeah, right.
That’s what you said
that night on the beach in San Juan.

CARRIE
Don’t remind me.
I’m still having lower back problems.

EXT. 'THE INTERNATIONAL' MOTEL - NIGHT
Ridiculous. Flags from around the world
painted on a cinder block bunker.
Behind a gas station in 'The Hood.’ Hello.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult’s
DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS.

Sexy -- oozing promises of pleasure.
Pain. Release.

The HIPSTER VIDEO CLERK
is in a human-size dog costume,
tied up with electrical tape on the couch.

The head sits nearby.
Sparkle fastens a ball gag in his mouth.

SPARKLE
Good boy, that’s a good boy.
Now we’re gonna play a few tricks.

The clerk jerks up, stands.
Fights against his restraints.

Sparkle WHACKS him on the ass
with a wooden paddle.

SPARKLE
(whacks on each 'bad')
Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad -- boy!
No treats for you!
(WHACK)
I told Mama not to
get a stray from the pound.
She pulls out a huge, gleaming,
hooked fish-gutting knife.

SPARKLE
Now look what you’re making me do.

The boy’s eyes flash frightened tears.

SPARKLE
I know, it makes me cry
when we have to put doggie to sleep.

INT. POLICE STATION - LIPSHITZ’ OFFICE - NIGHT
Bernie sits across from Larry’s desk.

A half-dozen HOMICIDE DETECTIVES
stand around, chatting, drinking coffee.

Lipshitz looks like shit,
eyes hollow sockets.

He pulls out a brown bottle.
Pours some into his coffee.
Takes a sip.

LIPSHITZ
(to Bernie)
My wife was crying last night,
couldn’t get any sleep,
we were up all night --
(beat)
We gotta get this -- succubus, Bernie.

KEKO
I’m there like white on rice, Lare.

LIPSHITZ
Thanks for the banality, Bernie.
It’s oddly comforting.
(looks around)
Alright, everybody listen up.
We got another tape.
(beat)
Actually, it’s a CD.
The killer’s gone digital.

WISEASS DETECTIVE
Let’s hear it,
I’m getting a chubby already.

LIPSHITZ
Shut the fuck up MacDonald, you prick.
You think this is funny?

MACDONALD
No, sir --
I was just trying to lighten the mood.
They say that humor during a time of crisis --

KEKO
Why don’t you go to the morgue, MacDonald,
get laid, and leave us to the detecting.

MACDONALD
Fuck you, Keko --
you’re just pissed off cause your wife
went bearded clam-digging.
(bad Brit accent)
Shall we shag-carpet-munch now,
or should we shag-carpet munch later?

The detectives chuckle.

LIPSHITZ
SHUT UP.

Silence.

LIPSHITZ
Now pay attention -- this one’s a doozy.

He goes to a boombox, punches a button.
The sexy coo of Donna Summer’s
LOVE TO LOVE YOU BABY oozes into the room.

LIPSHITZ
Dammit.

COLACCHIO
Love the gay disco, chief.
Somethin’ you wanna tell us?

LIPSHITZ
Fuck you. It’s my daughter’s --
(changes CDs)
Okay. Now everybody shut the fuck up.

Lipshitz hits the ‘play’ button.
The Ramones come on,
the catchy pop-punk of PET SEMATARY.

JOEY RAMONE
(singing)
I don’t want to be buried,
in a pet cemetery,
I don’t want to live my life again --

The music fades, and we hear --

SPARKLE (V.O.)
(sings along)
And the night when the wolves cry out,
listen careful, and you can hear me shout --
I don’t I don’t want to be buried,
in a pet cemetery --
(giggles)
Thanks for tuning in.
It’s time to par-tay, dog-gone it.
(laughs)
Damn, I crack myself up.
Gotta watch that.
A shredded corpse is no laughing matter,
isn’t that right, awficer?
(sings)
Hey, officer Krupke,
I feel pretty, oh so pretty --

KEKO
Broad babbles more than Courtney Love on crank.

SPARKLE (V.O.)
Paramount Pictures released
PET SEMATARY in 1988, a solid base hit.
The ten million dollar budget was well spent,
considering that it grossed
twenty-five million domestically --
and that’s not counting
international and ancillary revenues.
(beat)
Steven King doesn’t consider it
to be a good adaptation of his novel,
since the director went with a semi-comedic tone,
which hurts the scare factor, I must say.
(beat)
But still, it’s good, clean, sick fun.
A personal fave.
Two thumbs up my vag, thas’ fah shure.
(beat)
Today’s installation is an example
of what happens when a petty little dog turd
uses his power over people.
Well, this is the end of the line,
chopping down the family cherry tree, bub.
Buster Hymen time.
(spooky)
Don’t forget --
to spay and neuter your pet.

Then, the sickly sound of a
knife making rapid puncture wounds --
THWIK-THWIK-THWIK-THWIK-
THWIK-THWIK-THWIK-THWIK.

A chill runs through the room.
Keko leans forward, in shock.

LIPSHITZ
Here’s where it really gets good --

SPARKLE (V.O.)
Film is a collaborative art --
but since I’m an orphan,
I need parenting, guidance.
A firm, loving hand to --
to stop me before I --
(beat)
I’ve got my adoption papers.
Can the 42nd Precinct’s golden couple
save me before the end of the third act?

KEKO
Holy shit.

LIPSHITZ
Whaddaya think, Daddy?

KEKO
I think -- I gotta go find Carrie.

LIPSHITZ
First go take a look at the body.
And brace yourself.
Crime scene tech still
can’t keep anything down.

PUSH IN on Bernie’s face.
Not excited.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Seventh-Inning Stretch

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 12 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Carrie Love gets suspended for her 'unorthodox interrogation techniques.' Meanwhile, teenage serial killer Sparkly Plenty visits her local cult video store looking for some 'inspiration' ...

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - CORRIDOR - EXIT - NIGHT
Larry chases after Carrie and Bernie.

LIPSHITZ
I hate surprises, Legs.
Tell me what she said.

CARRIE
(pushes the door open)
We can’t tell you yet, Lare --
don’t want to let the
cat out of her pants.
But I promise, when I do --
you’ll be the first to know.

KEKO
(blocks the door)
She’s lying, Carrie.
You’re so full of shit
it makes my head spin.
(to Larry)
We got bupkiss, chief.

CARRIE
'Bupkiss?' Nice vocabulary.
Get the fuck out of my way.

KEKO
Nice mouth. Officer.
(to Larry)
She promised Miss Range Rover immunity --
and all she did was give up her boss.

CARRIE
I’ll give you something
if you don’t get out of my way.

LIPSHITZ
Stop right where you are, you two.
You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.

CARRIE
The Ricky Ricardo routine
isn’t gonna work this time, chief.
Just let me do my job.
Don’t I always get results?

Pause.

LIPSHITZ
I like you Carrie,
I really like you.
In spite of your attitude,
your insults, your total disregard
for procedure -- I like you.
(beat)
That’s why this kills me.
But I’m afraid I’m going to
have to ask for your
badge and your gun.
You’re suspended for a week.

CARRIE
What?

KEKO
Yes!

CARRIE
You’re suspending me?

LIPSHITZ
Like a Catholic girl
who’s been caught with her hand
in the cookie puss.
(beat)
Your badge and your gun, Carrie.
Please.

She bitterly, painfully --
hands them over.

LIPSHITZ (CONT’D)
You wanna know what the straw was
that bent the camel’s dick?

CARRIE
To be honest with you, Lare --
I could really give a shit.
There’s a copycat serial killer
working her way through the
hot 100 movie murders --
and you’re gonna take me
out of the game?

LIPSHITZ
Consider it a seventh-inning stretch.
(beat)
Daerr’s lawyer hit the roof.
You kept the ice princess
in a holding cell for an hour --
and then an interrogation room for three.
Without counsel. A phone call.
Or a trip to the fucking head.
When the shyster finally got to her,
after her father called him --
she’d wet her pants.

KEKO
That’s a shame.
Those were nice pants.

CARRIE
I was trying a new strategy.

KEKO
Nicotine withdrawal’s a bitch.
And so are you.

LIPSHITZ
Do you know who the fuck
her father is?

CARRIE
Some rich asshole?

LIPSHITZ
Think dinosaurs.
Feel-good concentration camp comedies.
Cuddly, sexless aliens.

PUSH IN on Carrie’s face.
Light bulb flickering.

DISSOLVE TO:

An E.T. T-SHIRT.
Faded. Original owner.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal --

INT. FARMER’S DAUGHTER MOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
The shirt is worn by a PRETTY MEXICAN MAID (18).

She pushes a cart
in front of Sparkle’s door.
KNOCK-KNOCKS.

IN THE BATHROOM
Bruce jerks against his restraints.
BANG, BANGS on the pipe.

IN THE HALLWAY
The maid hears something, but --

ANGRY MALE BOSS (O.S.)
Effie! I toldya to clean up the bathroom in 12 --
the crime scene is gone,
and you gotta get the brains right away,
before they hard’n up.

PUSH IN ON the maid’s face.
She closes her eyes.

IN THE BATHROOM

CLOSE ON --
Bruce’s eyes. Bugged out.
In terror -- and tears.

INT. VIDEO STORE - NIGHT
Sparkle cruises the aisles.
Home at last.

A SIGN
reads CULT.

SPARKLE
picks out a DVD, examines it.

THE TAPE
reads in glorious Technicolor,
THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE.

SPARKLE
makes a face. Nope.

SPARKLE
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Again.

ANOTHER DVD
reads THE HONEYMOON KILLERS.

SPARKLE
rolls her eyes. As if.

SPARKLE
Kitch me with a spoon.

DISSOLVE TO:
Movie art.

Shimmering with light.
PET SEMATARY.

Sparkle hugs it to her chest.
Absolutely delighted.

SPARKLE
See Spot. See Spot run.
(beat)
See Spot’s brains
splattered in the street.

AT THE COUNTER
A snotty, HIPSTER CLERK
looks at Sparkle’s selections.

HIPSTER CLERK
'Pet Sematary.' Funny movie.
Props to Mary Lambert.

SPARKLE
(weird smile)
Watch it, bub.
Comedy isn’t pretty.
It can kill ya.

HIPSTER CLERK
(looks at the register)
You’re, uh -- credit card declined.

SPARKLE
No way. Do it again.
Machine’s fucked up.

HIPSTER CLERK
I’ve tried it twice, doll.
You’re maxed. Tough toenails.

SPARKLE
(too nice)
Well then, you have a --
great day, there, Mister.

EXT. VIDEO STORE - NIGHT
Sparkle lies in wait in
the rear alley behind a dumpster.

SPARKLE
We guarantee.
You’ll go home happy.

The back door opens.
Out walks Mr. Cool.

Sparkle JUMPS him.
JABS a STUN GUN to his neck.

SPARKLE
I wanna talk to you
about your late return policy --

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Stump The Chick

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 11 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty plays a nasty game with wannabe director Bruce Ball, her latest victim. Meanwhile, homicide detective Carrie Love uses a rather unorthodox interrogation technique on Dina Daerr, Bruce's 'head of production' ...

INT. FARMER’S DAUGHTER MOTEL - BATHROOM - DAY
Some perverse Serge Gainsbourg
60’s go-go groove over --

Bruce Ball gagged and handcuffed
under a SCALDING HOT SHOWER.

Twisting and turning in agony
in a cloud of steam.

Sparkle talks into a microcassette
in her glitter-nailed fist.

In the other,
a big, shiny BUTCHER KNIFE.

SPARKLE
PSYCHO was released by
Universal Pictures in 1960.
It made forty-million at the box office,
a big hit back then,
especially for a black and white picture.
It made a star out of Tony Perkins --
and gave us the Bates Motel,
where check-out time is for good.

A muffled SCREAM under the duct tape.

SPARKLE
And that’s our victim.
A petty, immature little man
with a big mouth.
Someone who looks at women as objects --
not as people.

A loud KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK at the door.

ISRAELI MANAGER (O.S.)
Miss Plenty!
Turn yo-ur museek down!
I’m not goink to tell yoo again!

AT THE DOOR
she opens it a crack
against the tiny chain.

SPARKLE
Oh gosh, I’m sorry Mr. Shlomo --
I guess I got that disco fever again.
I’ll keep it down, I promise.

ISRAELI MANAGER (O.S.)
Yoo better!
Else yoo have to leave, yoo hear me?
Yoo play that weird music, too loud,
alla time, too loud!

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY
Dina sits alone at a table.
She picks up a pack of smokes.
Empty. SLAPS them down.

CARRIE (O.S.)
She’s going nuts by now.
It’s been three hours.

KEKO (O.S.)
Withholding nicotine.
Don’t remember learning
that one at the Academy.

Dina stands.
Walks over to mirror
filling the opposite wall.

Regards her reflection.
Adjusts her hair.

DINA
(to the mirror)
I know you’re back there.
I want my lawyer.
This is unconstitutional.

BEHIND THE MIRROR
in the darkness backlit
by the interrogation lamps --

KEKO
You hear that?
Lipshitz is gonna
pass a kidney stone.
We can’t just hold her
and not question her.

CARRIE
(looks at her watch)
Yes we can.
She’s gonna spill her guts
faster than a horny heiress
on a Barbara Walters special.
(beat, to the door)
C’mon -- let’s play stump the chick.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Carrie lights a smoke,
takes a deep drag.
Exhales. Smiles.

CARRIE
You’re full of crap.
Someone killed Miss Runner-Up,
wanted to kill you --
and we both know who it was.
I’ve heard of loyalty to your boss --
but this is bordering on the domestic.

DINA
Bruce didn’t do it.
This white trash Paris Hilton --

KEKO
-- Just wandered in,
killed your actress,
and hung you up like a pinata
while Zalman King made his getaway?

DINA
Fuck you.
I want to call my lawyer.

Carrie shakes out a smoke.
Teases her with it.

CARRIE
Shhhhh. Don’t worry.
I know you’re innocent.
I can smell it.
(holds it up to her nose)
Mmm. Even better after sex --

Something passes between them.

Dina GRABS the Marlboro.
Carrie lights it.

DINA
You promise me immunity?
Cut me a deal?

CARRIE
Is Lindsay Lohan back on Rodeo Drive?

DINA
Okay. Okay. Okay.
(takes a drag, orgasmic)
We were supposed to be
shooting a fake snuff film,
Bruce said we were using blanks,
but what he didn’t tell me was --

INT. FARMER’S DAUGHTER MOTEL - BATHROOM - AT THAT MOMENT
Bruce lies in the tub,
trussed up like a pig on a spit.

He moans.
Sparkle leans over,
blows him a kiss.

SPARKLE
Playing with you is
like eating a box of chocolates.
(beat)
Afterwards you gotta
stick your fingers down your throat.
(beat)
Now don’t move a muscle,
Mr. Murder victim.
I want you to stay right here
while I go shopping.
I’m gonna bring home a big surprise --

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The House Of Mirth

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 10 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide detective Carrie Love and her partner/ex-husband Bernie Keko search wannabe director Bruce Ball's basement soundstage and make a horrific discovery ...

EXT./INT. CARRIE’S PORCHE - DAY
A surf-guitar cop theme
percolates under the action.

The ‘61 coupe whizzes around
curves on Sunset Boulevard.

CARRIE
(on cell phone)
I’ve got a score to settle with him,
the little fucker.
I can’t wait to --

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT./INT. BERNIE’S LINCOLN SUV - CONTINUOUS

KEKO
(on cell phone)
What? Rough him up a little?
Punch out his lights?
Do the tough girl,
macho cop thing you do so well?

CARRIE
I seem to remember a time
you liked the tough girl,
macho cop thing.
Used to beg me for it.

KEKO
That was the problem, Carrie --
having to beg.

CARRIE
Well, you know what they say
about passion, bucko.
(beat)
Sometimes you feel like nuts --
sometimes you don’t.

CLOSE ON --
Carrie’s face.

She smiles mysteriously,
goes off somewhere.

Remembering --

EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - DRIVEWAY - FLASHBACK - DAY
Carrie stands at her car.
Opens the door. Slides in.

LAURA (O.S.)
So you’re going to leave
without saying goodbye.

LAURA
stands in front of the house
at the top of the steps.

Mock-hurt.
Insinuating.
Hands on hips.

CARRIE
turns, looks. Gulp.

CARRIE
(heart beating wildly)
I was looking for you,
but you were -- you were --

Suddenly Laura’s right beside her.

LAURA
Working?

CARRIE
Uh -- yeah.

Laura leans into the car window.
Inches away.

LAURA
I’m going to Club Fuck tonight.
I’ll be with a date, but it’s a ruse.
(beat)
Doing anything tonight?

EXT. BALL’S PRODUCTION OFFICE - DRIVEWAY - DAY
Carrie and Bernie get out of their cars.
SLAM the doors.

CARRIE
And here we are.
The House of Mirth.

KEKO
It looks so -- suburban.

They walk to the door.
Carrie RINGS the doorbell.

KEKO
I wish we had a warrant.

CARRIE
(rings again)
Fuck the warrant.
We’re going in.

They look at the door.
No response.

CARRIE
(pushes the door open)
C’mon, maybe we can catch
the little shit in the act.

INT. BALL’S PRODUCTION OFFICE - BASEMENT STAIRS - CONTINUOUS
Twin flashlights sweep across the darkness.
Carrie and Bernie creep down the wooden steps.

CARRIE
Little perverts’ got
quite a setup goin’ on here.

KEKO
Think this guy saw
'Silence of the Lambs?'

CARRIE
Found it.

The lights SNAP ON.

KEKO
Holy fuck.

IN THE CORNER
is the dead MODEL,
still in her chair.
A bloody puppet.

A clapboard on her lap
reads 52 PICK-UP.
DELETED SCENE.

CARRIE (O.S.)
I think I’m gonna be sick.

KEKO (O.S.)
Fuck, there’s another one.

IN THE OPPOSITE CORNER
Dina dangles from a noose.
Dressed like a cheerleader.

Eyes closed forever.
And the poor baby wet her pants.

A clapboard on her waist reads
HEATHERS. BLOOPER REEL.

CARRIE’S
lips quiver. Livid.
About to explode.

CARRIE
Of all the twisted --
fucked up -- depraved --

KEKO
The killer’s one hell of a freak.

CARRIE
This goes way beyond that.
She thinks she’s creating -- art.

Carrie goes to the
gently swinging body.

KEKO
Don’t touch her.
She’s evidence.

But she does.
And flinches.

CARRIE
And still warm.

KEKO
Check her pulse.

Dina’s eyes SNAP open.

DINA
My pulse is fine.
But my neck is
fucking killing me --

That Killing Feeling