The Tour De Fuck

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 22 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, torture porn director Phillie Pfugg and his wife Chinette return home from dining at the local Sizzler to discover Phillie's 'production studio' has been trashed. Meanwhile, homicide dicks Bernie Keko and Aya Meir get into a bitch fight at the crime scene ...


EXT. LAUREL CANYON BLVD. - NIGHT
A green, lumbering, old-school HUMMER
makes the trek up the hill.

Followed by Beemers. Porsches.
An Escalade limo.

INT. HUMMER - CONTINUOUS
Phillie’s behind the wheel.
Cleaning his teeth with a toothpick.

Chinette rides shotgun.
Holds a doggie bag.

Looks out the window.
Pensive.

CHINETTE
I really like that place.
It’s a Sizzler, but
it’s in Beverly Hills,
so it’s nicer.

PHILLIE
I figured since you were upset,
we’d do something nice.
Splurge a little.

CHINETTE
You’re the sweetest guy, Phillie.

PHILLIE
You know, once the movie is done,
we’re gonna be fucking rolling in it.
And I’ve already mapped out
the story for the sequel --

He slows, turns,
goes down their driveway.

PHILLIE
Just one scene to go,
and we’ve got lightning in a bottle.

The car pulls into the garage.

INT. PFUGG RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
Phillie stops at the top of the stairs.
Over his shoulder --

PHILLIE
Why don’t you crack open
a box of wine,
I’ll bring up the dailies.

CHINETTE (O.C.)
‘Kay, honey --

He smiles.
Starts down the steps, then sees --

The joint is COMPLETELY TRASHED.
Camera SMASHED.

Videotape in RIBBONS,
like toilet paper in a tree.

A complete DISASTER.

PHILLIE
NOOOOOO!

He races down.
Surveys the damage.
Freaks out.

Sees a note taped to
the cracked plasma-screen.

He GRABS it. Reads --

'Greetings from the Tour De Fuck.'

INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - ROOM TWENTY FOUR - AT THAT MOMENT
A swarm of CRIME SCENE TECHNICIANS
swarm around the room.

Taking pictures.
Dusting for prints.
Gathering evidence.

Bernie inspects Yavo’s body
lying on a gurney.

BERNIE
No way this was self-inflicted.
Not a suicide.

AYA
(points at chalk outline)
Look at the way he fell.
Body position is relaxed.

There was no struggle.
He knew the shooter.

An ANGRY CORONER'S OFFICE TECH
starts to zip up the body bag.

ANGRY CORONER TECH
Enough show and tell.
We gotta get him downtown.
The DA is on fire about this one.

BERNIE
What kind of prints you get, Muller?

MULLER
(looks up from his work)
Oh, only a couple hundred.
Love these hotel room jobs.
Major overtime.

BERNIE
Let me know if you find
any belonging to Carrie Love.

AYA
Carrie Love?
Wasn’t she that homicide dick
that was thrown off the force --

BERNIE
ZIP it, she was my PARTNER.

AYA
At work or at home?

BERNIE
Uh -- both.

AYA
Well, that sure as hell
explains a lot.

BERNIE
And what the fuck is
THAT supposed to mean?

AYA
You not only shit where you eat,
you roll around in it.

Bernie GRABS her shoulders.
SHAKES her.

BERNIE
Shut UP!

AYA
(SLAPS his hands away)
Get your HANDS OFF ME.

Aya GRABS him.
PINS him around.
CRACKS him in a CHOKE-HOLD.

AYA
If you ever lay
your hands on me again,
It’s the end of
your family name, GOT IT?

She GRABS his crotch.
SQUEEZES, HARD --

BERNIE
OW!

And releases him with a flourish.

BERNIE
Bitch.

AYA
Asshole.

She STORMS OUT.
Door SLAMS.

The room breaks into APPLAUSE.

MULLER
Nice one, Keko.
(to the room)
Gentlemen, place your bets.
Methinks they’ll be screwing in --

ANGRY CORONER TECH
I give it two weeks.

EAGER EVIDENCE DETECTIVE
One week.
If that.

PUSH IN ON Muller.
Holding up a bill.

MULLER
Twenty bucks says tonight --