Tuesday, August 11, 2015
The Universal Language Of Stoned
Happy Tuesday, 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.
In Chapter 17 of AFTERHOURS, Silverlake hipster dealer Mickey Mertz's business partner Harry Dill arrives on the scene looking for Mickey, and is disappointed to find out he's dead ... and that now he's a hostage, too ...
INT. AFTER HOURS CLUB - EARLY MORNING.
Danny unlocks the door. YANKS it open.
Aims his sawed-off at Excited Male Voice.
Shut the fuck up
and get your ass in here.
In walks HARRY DILL (60’s), dishevelled,
with shaggy hair and a beard.
Natty in flip flops, board shorts
and a ratty tie-dyed t-shirt
that makes The Dude look sophisticated.
Go over there and sit with the others.
(stares at the gun)
I can dig it. Tight security.
Chill. I’m cool. I’m cool.
(looks at the others)
(sees Angel’s stump)
Whoah. Dude’s missing an arm.
Now that’s what I call a fucking party.
Sit down and shut the fuck up.
So where’s Mickey? In the head?
Mickey’s dead. SIT.
He’s DEAD? Wh-what h-happened?
Danny PUNCHES him in the stomach.
Harry doubles over.
Dude. That fucking HURT.
Why’d you have to do that?
Cause I told you to SIT DOWN
and SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Harry nods. Takes a seat.
Why did you want to see him?
What the fuck was so important?
We got raided by the Feds.
All of our inventory was seized.
I barely escaped and was
coming to warn him.
Didn’t answer his cell
so I knew something was up --
(looks at Danny’s gun)
But not something like this.
Did you rob a bank or something?
Why does everybody think
we robbed a fucking BANK?
How did you know he was coming here?
He told me. We’re business partners.
I procure the inventory
and he distributes it.
Some cat who works here is a customer.
Dude. My heart’s beating a mile a minute.
Mind if I smoke out?
You know, weed.
You can have some, too.
Chill you right out.
That’s actually not a bad idea.
He pulls a joint out of his pocket.
LIGHTS IT with a click of his Zippo.
Takes a big hit. Hands it to Danny.
He takes a toke. Holds it in. Nods. EXHALES.
(hands it back)
That’s good shit.
Oh, yeah. OG Kush from Humbolt.
None of that hydroponic bullshit.
I mean, sure it gives you a great high,
but it’s gone an hour later.
This shit’ll give you a body-shizzle
that’ll last all night.
(stares at Bettie)
Sugar Magnolia, blossoms blooming.
I’m in the presence of the Dark Goddess.
That’s me. Can I get a hit?
It would be an honor.
Weed is the universal language of stoned.
He passes it to her.
She takes a ginormous hit. Holds it in.
(low, to himself)
Who am I gonna get to move my product?
(looks at Danny)
Can I -- ask what happened?
My partner accidentally blew his head off.
Got nervous, thought he was hitting on him.
Pulp Fiction, ahoy.
(looks at the group)
Which one is he -- or she?
He’s not here. He went out to get some food.
A hostage situation with snacks. Far out.
So -- you’re not gonna let me go.
Now you’re catching on.
Guess it’s safer here than back at my place.
Joint’s crawling with DEA.
Sounds like it’s your lucky night.
Hey. If you’re given lemons --
Can we have some tunage?
You mean -- music?
Soothes the savage beast.
This IS a club, daddy-o.
Great idea. We get high, listen to some music,
then have something to eat when Vin gets back.
You’ll be relaxed and refreshed
for when you make your escape.
Okay. But no dancing --