Nobody One Fucks With Our Cheerleaders

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 37 of FRANKENSTEIN IN LOVE, Chet and Beck race over to the dive sex motel where Frankie and Shayla are holed up ... as well as an angry mob, led by Shayla's parents. Meanwhile, the shit hits the fan when Shayla remembers who she was ... and what Frankie did to her ...


INT. POLICE SQUAD CAR - MOVING - NIGHT
Chet drives. Beck looks at him.

BECK
So how far away is the motel?

CHET
Not far. Take us about fifteen minutes.
(reaches for the radio)
Better call this in.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE - NIGHT
One of those quaint main hubs
as seen in countless movies and TV shows.

We see the bank. City Hall. The barber shop.
Drug store. Sheriff’s office.
General store. Post office.

A group of ANGRY VIGILANTES have gathered
near the entrance to a small city park.
Their faces eerie in the streetlight.

BRUB
He’s taken my DAUGHTER
and made her into a FREAK.
That little blind boy was MURDERED --
and his best friend
Josh Bohner is MISSING.
Probably killed HIM, too.

RED-FACED REDNECK
Let’s go GET HIM.

IRATE GUY
Yeah, let’s fuckin’ LYNCH him.

BULKY DYKE
NO ONE fucks with OUR cheerleaders.

RED-FACED REDNECK
That’s RIGHT. Let’s STRING ‘EM UP.

A tall, skinny GAS STATION ATTENDANT
runs up to them waving his arms.
Excited as hell.

SKINNY GAS STATION ATTENDANT
HEY. I jus’ heard on the police scanner
that Frankie and Shayla are over at
the Camelot Motel on Old Country Road.
headin’ over there NOW.

BRUB
C’mon, LET’S GO.

IRATE GUY
Yeah, let’s GET ‘EM.

Everyone RACES over to their
cars and trucks, piles in,
REVS their engines and TAKE OFF.

Standing behind a nearby tree
see Del Dunn.

She RUNS over to her news van.
JUMPS IN, and FOLLOWS them.

INT. CAMELOT MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Frankie and Shayla lie in bed.
Frankie’s completely spent,
eyes narrow slits.

Shayla puffs on a cigarette.
Eyes ON FIRE.

SHAYLA
I can’t believe you made it
to round five. What a trouper.
(looks at him)
After I finish my smoke,
let’s go again.

FRANKIE
(looks at her)
Will you -- go steady with me?

SHAYLA
Go steady?

FRANKIE
Yeah. I’d never hit you --

Pause.

SHAYLA
HIT me --
She looks around at the room.
Wheels turning. Remembering.

SHAYLA
Wait a minute. I know this room --
(looks at Frankie)
You’re FRANKIE STEIN.

FRANKIE
Uh --

SHAYLA
You’re that fucking NERD.
You’re not my BOYFRIEND.
What the FUCK?

Frankie BOLTS UPRIGHT.
HOPS off the bed.

FRANKIE
Wait a minute. I can explain --

SHAYLA
Explain? Explain? EXPLAIN?

She JUMPS off the bed.
Goes to the mirror.
Looks at herself.

SHAYLA
I’m Shayla Petrie.
I was the HEAD CHEERLEADER.
The fucking PUMPKIN QUEEN.
What the FUCK happened to me?

Frankie stares at her.
Deflated. Gestures helplessly.

FRANKIE
Willis threw you out of his truck --
you were drunk, and got hit by a car --
and died.

She stares at him, open-mouthed.
reeling.

SHAYLA
Then if I DIED, then what the fuck
am I DOING HERE?

FRANKIE
I, uh --
(beat)
Brought you back to life.

SHAYLA
Why?

FRANKIE
Because I love you --