Balls For Breakfast

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 8 of BLUE HOTEL, dead agent Oscar Goldman's assistant Feo checks with the front desk at the Venice Beach dive hotel where he was killed, to no avail. Meanwhile, wannabe writer Holly Land goes to the local liquor joint to score some vodka ... and walks right into an armed robbery ...


INT. THE STARLIGHT HOTEL - FRONT DESK - NIGHT
A tiny room. Beyond old and weathered. Peeling paint.
A single desk lamp shines over --

THE CLERK (50’s), a tall, skinny,
strange-looking ex-hippie with a
of long white hair.

Bad false teeth.
A hawk-like nose.

Which right now has a finger in it,
digging for gold.

Meet BUNKY MERTZ,
glory days now long-gone.

Natty in a tie-dyed Grafeful Dead T-shirt
and parachute pants.

Film Biz walks up to the counter.
Sees Bunky. Looks worried.

BUNKY
Evenin’. Can I help you?

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
Hi. I’m looking for my boss.
He’s a guest at your --
(looks around distastefully)
Hotel.

BUNKY
What’s his name?

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
Oscar Goldman.

BUNKY
(opens the register)
When did he check in?

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
Last night.

Bunky scans the names with a
long, nicotine-stained finger.

BUNKY
Goldman, Goldman --
(finishes)
Nope. No Goldman.

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
Did you did that kinda quickly.
Do you mind checking again?

BUNKY
Only one person checked in tonight.
(squints)
Greta Bruckheimer.
(grins)
German tourist.

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
(to himself)
Shit. That’s right --
(to Bunky)
Wait a minute.
He was visiting a guest of yours,
not checking in.
Maybe you saw him.
He’s average height, dark hair,
wearing an expensive suit?

BUNKY
Sorry, just got here.
I’m the night man.

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
(sighs)
Okay. Thanks --
(pulls out his card, gives it)
If you see him,
would you please call me?
It’s REALLY urgent.

BUNKY
(nods)
Will do.
(smiles)
Have a good night, man.
(watches him leave, under his breath)
Yuppie capitalist pig --

EXT. STARLIGHT HOTEL - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Film Biz stands on the boardwalk
talking on his smart phone.

FILM BIZ ASSISTANT
Hey, it’s Feo.
I’m flipping out here.
I’ve got the new Parker script
for Oscar to read tonight,
and I can’t find him.
Did he call Nigel,
say where he was going?
(listens)
Shit.
(listens)
Yeah, the new Parker script.
You know what’s gonna happen
if I DON’T get it to him tonight?
(listens)
'Balls for breakfast'
doesn’t BEGIN to cover it --

EXT. DAVEY JONES’ LIQUOR LOCKER - NIGHT
An old, nasty liquor store
on a cobblestoned side street.

A hand-lettered sign in the window
reads NO CHECKS.

A pair of tiny, VICIOUS-LOOKING
GANG-BANGERS (20’s) loiter outside.

Holly eyes them.
Hurries into the store.
In a daze.

INT. DAVEY JONES’ LIQUOR LOCKER - CONTINUOUS
Holly glides over to the counter.
Looks at the row of vodka bottles.

The CLERK, a tall Rasta in shades (30’s)
with dreads down to his waist ambles over.
'No woman, no cry' indeed.

RASTA WEARING SHADES
What can I get you, mon?

HOLLY
Can I get --
(looks)
Two bottles of Absolut?

RASTA WEARING SHADES
(grins)
Absolutely.
(turns, grabs the bottles)
You havin’ a party?

The gang-bangers BURST into the store.
Holding small, piece-of-shit gats.

The taller one RUSHES the counter.
PUSHES Holly out of the way.
She hits the floor, THWUMP.

TALLER, VICIOUS-LOOKING GANG-BANGER
(SHOVES the gun in Rasta’s face)
Open the register, homes -- NOW!

Rasta stares at him wide-eyed.
Must be the sticky kush.

UNDER THE COUNTER
With one hand, he reaches
for a sawed-off shotgun.

BEHIND THE COUNTER
With the other, he opens the drawer.
Starts to grab the cash.

TALL RASTA
Okay, mon -- easy now.
I give you the money --

HOLLY
Lies on the floor.
Staring at them. Freaking out.

TALLER, VICIOUS-LOOKING
Waves the gun, impatient.

TALLER, VICIOUS-LOOKING GANG-BANGER
Hurry up, MOTHERFUCKER.

RASTA
FLIPS the gun up.
SHOOTS Tall’s head off. BANG.

Blood, brains and bone SPLATTER
the display behind him.

His piece goes FLYING,
skitters across the floor --

Landing right next to Holly.
She GRABS it.

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
Races toward the counter. SCREAMING.

Shoots Rasta in the head.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

RASTA
Falls over, dead. THWUNK.

SHORT, UGLY
Races over to the counter.
Scoops up the money into
a plastic shopping bag.
GRABS a bottle of something expensive.

HOLLY
Stands behind him.
Holding her gun in both hands.

HOLLY
(screeches)
DON’T MOVE!
Or I’ll fucking SHOOT!

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
(whirls around)
Fuck you, BITCH.

Holly SHOOTS him in the shoulder.
BANG. He DROPS the bag.

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
What THE FUCK?

HOLLY
SHUT UP!

And she FIRES again.
BANG. BANG. BANG.

Gets him in the arm.
The leg. He falls, GASPING.

The bottle hits the floor. POP.
Booze and blood start to form
a sick-looking puddle.

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
Fucking CUNT. You SHOT ME --

He lies there. Bleeding.
Struggles to raise his gun.

SHORT, UGLY GANG-BANGER
I’m gonna -- kill ---

She moves closer.
Fires again. BANG.

Gets him right between the eyes.
Lights out. Holly SCREAMS.

HOLLY
FUUUCK!

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Holy SHIT.

Holly turns. Looks.
Sees a CROWD OF PEOPLE outside the door.

sticks the gun in her pants.
GRABS the bottles of vodka --

And RACES into the back of the store.

CLOSE ON --
A video camera on the ceiling.
Red light BLINKING.

IN THE BACK ALLEY
Holly runs toward the street.
Stops. Sees a small cardboard box.

Puts the vodka bottles in it.
Hurries on her way.

ON THE BOARDWALK
Holly walks carefully, looking around.

Sees a big CROWD gathering ahead.
POLICE OFFICERS. A NEWS VAN pulls up.

HOLLY
I need a DRINK --

She gets to entrance of the hotel.
RUNS up the stairs.