Friday, February 20, 2015
The Prodigal Son
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 45 of FILLMORE, Slim goes out on the town in Harlem to blow off steam, but gets nabbed by federal marshal who arrests him for skipping bail back in Frisco ...
EXT. HARLEM STREET - NIGHT
Slim’s dressed like Clint Eastwood in denim and
a long, leather duster and cowboy hat.
He moves down the street.
Down the street, Bernie chats with a HOOKER on the corner.
Slim sees him. WHIPS OUT a pair of guns. Takes aim.
Thinks a moment. Puts them back in their holsters.
Your lucky day.
INT. HARLEM NIGHT CLUB - NIGHT
A LOUD soul-funk groove over a packed joint
stuffed with people having a good time.
SHOUTING and LAUGHING amidst the noise.
Slim sits at the bar with OTHELLA (20’s),
a gorgeous chick with a huge Afro, resplendent in
vinyl hip-huggers and barely-there halter top.
Othella Grier. You sure you haven’t done any modeling?
That line work on all the girls?
That ain’t no line, baby. I’m gonna take you to Hollywood.
Bernie walks by, not noticing Slim.
He turns and looks.
Saw you on the street, motherfucker.
Gave you a pass. Better watch your back.
Points a finger at him like a gun.
Bernie gives him a look. Disappears into the crowd.
EXT. HARLEM NIGHT CLUB - NIGHT
Slim and Othella come outside. He walks her over to his car.
Opens the door for her. Starts to walk around the back of the car --
when he sees a RAGGEDY-LOOKING WHITE GUY (30’s)
in jeans leaning against a tree.
RAGGEDY-LOOKING WHITE GUY
Hey, man. Wanna buy some weed?
(stops, looks at him)
He keeps walking around the car to get to the driver’s-side door.
Raggedly-Looking follows him.
Sure? I got some primo Thai stick --
(opens the door)
Get the fuck out of my face. I said NO.
(grabs him, shows his badge)
Federal Marshal. I have a warrant for your arrest
for skipping bail in San Francisco.
He SNAPS cuffs on him. Starts dragging him away from the car.
HEY. Where you GOING?
I knew he was no good. Fast-talkin’ motherfucker.
INT. JAIL CELL - NIGHT
Slim stands in an empty cell, grabbing the bars,
looking at Sergeant Cole on the other side.
I tol’ you, I ain’t Clarence Sims.
Just sit tight while they run your prints and ID.
Then we’re gonna take a little trip.
Cole chuckles. Walks away.
INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - OFFICE - NIGHT
A pretty female OFFICE CLERK (20’s) sits a desk chatting with
another FEMALE CLERK (30’s), drinking cups of coffee.
PRETTY OFFICE CLERK
Darryl got tickets to see Curtis Mayfield.
Cole appears in the doorway. Knocks on the door jam.
Both clerks turn and look.
Can I help you?
(flips his badge)
I’m with the US Marshals. I’d like you to run
someone’s ID and prints if you’ve got a moment.
Sorry. Computers are down.
When will they be up?
Don’t know. Maybe tomorrow --
Welcome to Harlem.
EXT. SLIM’S JAIL CELL - NIGHT
Cole stands in front of the bars. Pulls out a cigarette.
Offers one to Slim. He takes it. Cole lights them up.
Computer’s down. Couldn’t run your ID,
so I’m taking you to San Francisco in the morning.
(off his stare)
After we get there, if you can prove you’re not Fillmore Slim,
we’ll give you some dough and spring for a plane ticket back, okay?
No hard feelings?
Slim takes a drag of his cigarette.
INT. SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY
Dick Gamble and Norm wait at the gate.
Cole and NEW YORK COP (30’s) walk out with Slim,
hands cuffed behind him.
Gamble and Norm break into big smiles. GRAB his arms.
We’ll take it from here, fellas.
Welcome home, Slim. Seems like old times, huh?
The prodigal son returns.
And they WHISK him away, feet barely touching the ground --