Thursday, March 10, 2016
A Room With A View
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.
In Chapter 14 of FRANKENSTEIN IN LOVE, science genius nerd Frankie Stein and former head cheerleader Shayla Petrie, back from the dead, have their 'first date' ...
INT. FRANKIE’S BASEMENT LAB - NIGHT
The sickly-sweet shag-carpet
‘soft rock’ sound of Bread’s
I WANT TO MAKE IT WITH YOU over --
Frankie and Shayla, sitting at a
small card table having a candlelit dinner.
Frankie wears a sports coat.
Shayla, one of Frankie’s mother’s old dresses.
And tons of garish make-up, poorly applied.
She turns her head to look at something,
and the scarf that hides
her smashed-in skull slips off.
Frankie barely notices.
So I said to Josh,
‘I said nitrate, NOT titrate.’
He chuckles, pleased with his joke.
Shayla cocks her head.
Pokes at her food with her fork.
Don’t -- understand.
Silly me. I’m sorry.
Let’s talk about something else --
(notices she hasn’t eaten)
You don’t like fish sticks?
I can fix you something else --
I’m not -- hungry --
What ARE you hungry for?
Hungry -- for you.
Oh. Wow. Uh --
Would you -- like some more wine?
He grabs his glass. DRAINS it.
She looks at hers.
Had -- enough. Goes right -- to my head.
She clumsily stands up.
KNOCKS OVER her glass with a stiff arm.
It hits the cement floor and SMASHES.
She looks at the broken glass sadly.
Then her hand.
I’m -- sorry.
It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.
He gets up. Takes her hands in his.
Looks in her eyes tenderly.
Starts singing along.
Life can be short or long,
love can be right or wrong --
(cocks her head)
Have anything -- more upbeat?
Uh, yeah -- sure.
He goes to the mini-stereo.
Starts rifling through the CD’s.
Shayla starts shuffling over
to her makeshift ‘bed.’
I’ll be -- waiting --
Frankie GULPS. Chooses one. Puts it on. Punches PLAY.
We immediately recognize the opening strains of
Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s RELAX (DON’T DO IT).
He strikes a pose.
Hey-EY, uh-huh --
Starts doing a strange dance to the music.
Part David Bowie, part Pee Wee Herman.
Relax, don’t do it --
when you wanna get to it --
Shayla sits on the bed, watching him. Amused.
Starts pulling her dress up, revealing
the scars and injuries on her body.
A BULGE in his crotch starts GROWING.
Holy shit --
He pulls out his wallet.
Digs out an ancient condom.
Shayla sees it. Giggles.
TOSSES her dress to the floor.
Don’t need -- that.
He goes over to the bed,
still moving jerkily to the music.
When you wanna come --
when you wanna COME --
Shayla grins lustily. Reaches over.
GRABS his crotch. His body JERKS.
Face goes WHITE. Shayla feels something.
Cocks her head. Looks at her hand.
Then at the stain on his jeans.
So -- soon?
Omigod. I’m SO SORRY.
That’s -- okay. I’m -- used to it.
She starts getting back into her dress.
Frankie goes to the stereo. Shuts it off.
You have -- a smoke?
No, but I can get one. My mom smokes --
Shayla’s eyes wander around the room.
No -- view.
No -- windows.
I want -- a view.
Yeah. Feel -- trapped.
Well, we can’t have that.
He stares off into space, thinking. Then --
I’ve GOT IT. It’ll be PERFECT. The TREE HOUSE.
Tree -- house?
Can you say 'love nest?'