Say It With Bullets

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.

Another day, another new story on the blog. In Chapter 1 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love is having a blast shaking it on the dance floor of The Clit Club with her squeeze, dominatrix/secret agent Felina Bella Donna ... until some fat fuck with a gun has to go and spoil the fun.


INT. CLUB FUCK - NIGHT
The greasy, chainsaw-psychobilly
tattooed snarl of The Horrorpops’
KISS KISS, KILL KILL bleeds over --

SLEAZY CLUB KIDS
shaking it with abandon.

Strobes FLASH mirror balls
in a kaleidoscope of color.

Lasers CRACKLE go-go dancers
on pillars.

Hot STUD.
Hotter BABE.
Hottest T-GIRL.

Welcome to THE CLIT CLUB.
Home of the free.
Land of the dazed.

CAMERA
finds two HOT CHICKS
shaking it on the dance floor.

The BRUNETTE (30’s)
whirls her hair
like a headbanger on meth.

Runway model bod in a
neon red rubber minidress.

Dances like she’s in ecstacy.
Or crazy.

Maybe a little of both.

BRUNETTE (V.O.)
That’s me on the left.
The one dressed like
a cherry popsicle.
What can I say.
It’s a real turn-on.
Life’s too short,
and you gotta grab
all the cheap, pervy thrills
you can get.

The REDHEAD (20’s)
writhes in synch with Brunette.

Slides her hands
down her partner’s hips.
Eyes flashing.

Shiny, perfect, heart-shaped
face beams with carnal desire.

She leans in.
Kisses her. Hungry.

BRUNETTE (V.O.)
That’s my girlfriend.
Felina Bella Donna.
Met her on my last case.
Part-time dominatrix,
full-time agent for
Her Majesty’s Secret Service.
A lethal cocktail of
brains, beauty and bullets.
Shaken, not slurred.

Brunette pulls back.
Wicked grin.

Grabs Felina’s hand,
pulls her toward the bar.

They sit.
Grab their drinks.

BRUNETTE (V.O.)
The name’s Carrie.
Carrie Love.
I’m a private dick.
A chick for hire.
You got the crime,
I’ll do the time.
(beat)
For a price.

GUNSHOTS ring out.
BANG. BANG. BANG.

Carrie WHIRLS around.
WHIPS OUT her gunmetal-blue
357 MAGNUM.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Oh, almost forgot.
(beat)
I carry a gun.

The music stops. PANDEMONIUM.
SCENESTERS race for the exit.

AT THE BACK BAR
A LARGE HISPANIC MAN has a
GORGEOUS BLACK GIRL by the throat.
SHOVES his gun in her crotch.

LARGE HISPANIC MAN
Fuckin’ BITCH.
You fuckin’ TRICKED ME.

CARRIE
appears next to him.
Levels her piece
against his head.

CARRIE
Put down the gun, Gazpacho.
Nice and slow.
Or I splatter your
refried brains all over
your Saturday night fever-dream.

The fat man looks at Carrie.
Upper lip quivering.
About to cry.

CARRIE
I said PUT -- THE GUN -- DOWN.

LARGE HISPANIC MAN
But, but --

CARRIE
But WHAT?

LARGE HISPANIC MAN
She, she -- tricked me.

CARRIE
Didn’t you know?
Half the cooze in this joint
is for hire.

LARGE HISPANIC MAN
I, I -- thought she
had a -- a dick.

CARRIE
(CLICKS the safety)
Aha, tranny chaser.
Hey. No big deal.
Wait. Let me guess.
But YOU’RE STRAIGHT?

The hulk deftly JAMS
his piece into Carrie’s side.

LARGE HISPANIC MAN
Thas’ right, CUNT.
Whattaya gonna do about it?

His head EXPLODES
like something out of Cronenberg.

Carrie leaps back,
covered in blood, brains.
DROPS her gun.

CARRIE
Fuck!

FELINA
stands across the now empty room.
Lowers her 357 Magnum.

FELINA
You okay, baby?

CARRIE
Yeah.
You?

FELINA
(nods)
When it’s time to say goodbye --
say it with bullets.