Wednesday, May 8, 2013
The Family Fuck
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 31 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, homicide dick Carrie Love goes into the belly of the beast when she confronts teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty, who's holding hostages at the Bargain Clown Mart on Hollywood Boulevard ...
INT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART - NIGHT
Carrie walks through the front door,
hands in the air.
I’m not carrying.
Let the girl go.
We can make a deal.
There she is -- lookin’ good, Missy.
But where’s the hunka-hunka burnin’ cop-muffin?
He’s on his way.
So let’s just calm down.
Sparkle walks over, pats her down.
Gets to Carrie’s hemline.
That’s a restricted area.
I don’t do the casual thing these days.
The killer’s hand disappears up inside.
No wonder you’re killing all your suitors --
you’re one of the ten percent.
Sparkle whips her hand out.
CLICK-CLICKS-CLICKS her weapon.
'Let’s Make A Deal,' huh?
Wanna play 'The Family Fuck?'
'Who wants to be a dead fuck?'
How ‘bout 'The Wheel of Misfortune?'
Huh? Wanna take a spin?
The vixen swings her Uzis
in the direction of Madrid.
Don’t shoot, or the nigger gets it.
I’m rilly, rilly impressed.
'Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be okay.
I’m your biggest fan.'
Cathy Bates makes James Cahn pee his Hilfigers.
Fuck me with a blowtorch.
Pull my anal beads.
You’re really good.
You might just have to live.
'Envy. My sin was envy.'
Take a powder, kid. SEVEN.
Kevin Spacey, the scene where he’s got
little Gwynie Paltrow’s head in a box.
Kid stuff. That’s the best you can do?
'Go ahead, ask yourself, punk --
do you feel lucky?'
You’re kidding me, right?
I thought you’d be gettin’ obscure on me.
That’s my boy, Clint, DIRTY HARRY.
Reason I joined the force, little girl.
Don’t call me LITTLE GIRL.
I’m NOT a little girl.
Ooh. Looks like I hit a nerve.
Shut up! You’re ruining it!
This is my movie!
This is my shining moment in the sun --
my climax -- my audience award-winning --
Carrie WHIPS a sliver of a gun
out from under her skirt.
Cut the crap, little girl.
I’m on to you.
You’re nothing but a two-bit,
dime store floozy with
a couple of semiautomatic weapons.
You don’t fucking scare me.
I’ve been looking death in the face
longer than you’ve needed tampons.
So go ahead, shoot --
c’mon, hit me with your best shot.
A pin drops.
No. Not yet.
Get a news crew in here. Now.
Or else silver spoon in her snatch
gets it where Daddy does it to her.
She EXPLODES in a fusillade of bullets --
You heard me, now!
Unless the action fucking news
is in here in ONE MINUTE --
the heiress gets her rack frappéd
in a 45 caliber blender.
eyes flicker. A brainstorm.
Then let me go get one.
Okay -- march, copper.
Bring me the media.
But if you try any funny stuff,
it’s curtains, see?
You try and double-cross me,
and it’s boom, boom, boom,
out go the lights --
everybody have fun tonight,
everybody Wang Chung tonight.
Carrie turns to go. Stops.
You really gotta get out more often --