Friday, January 17, 2014
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 7 of LEGS, Episode 3, white trash trailer park kidnapper Darryl Head calls lottery winner Basil Keko with his ransom demands. Problem is, his kidnapee, Basil's wife Kitty, is diabetic and about to go into insulin shock ...
INT. DARRYL’S TRAILER HOME - DENNY’S BEDROOM - DAY
Wendy stands in the doorway,
holding a gun in her hands.
Darryl’s pants are down around his ankles.
Denny’s in his underwear.
Kitty glares at them,
tied to the bed.
Don’t fucking TOUCH her.
I said I’d go along with a kidnapping,
but rape is crossing the line.
Don’t do anything stupid, sugar plum.
Hand me the gun.
When you PULL YOUR FUCKING PANTS UP.
You too, you fucking retard.
You’re not supposed to say RETARD.
I’m a SLOW ADULT, stupid-face.
Kitty’s eyes go glassy.
She winces as if in pain.
It’s time for my insulin shot.
I’m a diabetic.
What happens if you don’t get it?
Oh, I get tired, hungry, sweaty,
headache, blurry vision, slurred speech --
Well, that’s not too bad.
Then I’ll go into insulin shock
and start having convulsions, go unconcious --
and maybe even go into a coma.
Kinda fucks with your little scheme, huh?
Next time, you might want to do
a little research on your kidnapping victim.
Okay, okay, okay.
I’ll get you some insulin.
How you gonna do THAT?
You can’t just buy it over the counter.
I’ll find a way.
Do you have any candy or cookies?
Anything that has sugar in it?
That’ll help for a little while.
That’s the last of our Bonnaroo Buzz,
Ben & Jerry’s most awesome gnarlyness.
The perfect blend of coffee,
malt, caramel and toffee.
You know how HARD that is to find?
So have Denny go to the store
and get some candy and shit.
Honest to god, if I weren’t here
to supervise you two,
the old bag would be dead by now.
I’m only sixty.
(off their looks)
Didn’t you hear?
Sixty’s the new fifty.
INT. MEG’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Basil, Bernie and Carrie sit around the coffee table
staring at the phone tape recorder sitting on it.
The air was filled like tension.
You could feel it.
Smell it. Touch it. Taste it.
It cut like a dull knife.
My ex-mother-in-law had been abducted,
and there was nothing I could do about it.
Why don’t they fucking CALL?
I’m losing my fucking MIND.
If they harm one hair on her head,
they’re gonna DIE.
The front door opens.
In walks Meg and Ilona.
(looks at Ilona)
This is my new partner, Ilona Ramirez.
You did it.
You’re a cop.
You know her?
I used to bartend at the Clit Club.
Poured generous cocktails.
Had quite a way with a wedge of lime --
Did you -- ?
The relationship was strictly business
between barmaid and lush.
(looks at Carrie)
And I was spoken for back then.
So that’s the tart Carrie left you for.
We’re in HER house.
I’m sorry, Meg.
He didn’t mean it.
Nice to meet you too, Mr. Keko.
Call me ‘Mr. Keko.’
So what’s the scoop?
Have they called with their demands yet?
It’s a power play.
The longer they wait to call,
the more they think they’re in control.
You’re assuming these assholes are that bright.
The fuckers ARE in control.
They got my KITTY.
The phone on the table RINGS.
Basil looks at Carrie.
Turns on the tape recorder.
Basil picks up.
Carefully puts it on speakerphone.
INT. DARYLL’S TRAILER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Darryl sits in a big, ratty
overstuffed wing chair like it’s a throne.
Phone in one hand,
bottle of beer in the other.
Wendy sits on the couch,
timing the call on her watch.
Denny sits next to her,
lighting up the bong.
We see fat lines of white powder
on a mirror in front of Darryl.
Yo, is this the rich dude?