Friday, June 9, 2017
A Cold One
Hey there, crime kids. TGIF. 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 3 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, we meet undercover officer Carrie Love, on the job in Venice Beach. Meanwhile, wannabe film director Bruce Ball tries to wrangle a uncooperative bimbo ...
EXT. VENICE BEACH ALLEY - DAWN
An acid-jazzy crime theme bubbles under --
The barest light of dawn.
A streetlight SNAPS off.
In a filthy alley behind
'Hollywood Pizza,' a Boardwalk dive.
A WOMAN sleeps --
a living pile of rags.
FEMALE VOICE (V.O.)
The worst part about sleeping outside
is that you never feel rested
when you wake up.
You just lie there
because there’s nowhere to go.
And besides, it’s fucking cold out.
CAMERA PUSHES IN on her.
Underneath, despite the filth,
we see she’s young. Pretty.
FEMALE VOICE (V.O.)
So you just lie there and remember
what it was like before this happened.
You think about things
like a hot shower. A hot breakfast.
Reading the paper with a
cup of coffee and a pack of smokes.
A HOMELESS MAN approaches on
tip-toes, touches her blanket --
And she LEAPS UP, FLASHES her badge,
POINTS her gun at him.
Hold it right there, motherfucker!
You just messed with the wrong chick.
Assume the position!
Shit, lady -- I mean, officer,
I wasn’t doing nothing, I was just --
He looks down at the big wet stain
spreading on his crotch.
Jesus fucking Christ,
look at yourself.
Get outta here.
Don’t let me see you
around here again.
The man hobbles away in a panic.
The chick sits back down.
(into the camera)
You didn’t think I was homeless, did you?
(pulls out a bottle)
The name’s Carrie, Carrie Love.
I carry a badge.
(toasts, takes a sip)
Just getting into character.
INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE - NIGHT
Dean Martin’s YOU’RE NOBODY UNTIL
SOMEBODY LOVES YOU over --
A small tri-level house converted
into a groovy work space.
BRUCE BALL, six-feet of attitude
in a tiny, squishy body, is testing talent.
The auteur squints into the camera lens.
It’s called getting into character.
Okay. You are so fucking excited
about drinking the delicious
Genuine Cold Ice Draft Lager
that you’re about to come.
This is the best fucking beer
you’ve had in your short, meaningless life.
A pretty young MODEL (18) holds
a can of beer, vaguely insulted.
Topless, covers her nipples
with her other arm.
When I get really thirsty,
I gotta have a cold one.
The bim drops her arm,
rubs the can on her breasts.
But when I get really hot,
I reach for a--
No, stop! This isn’t a porno.
Why are you rubbing it on your boobs?
Have you ever seen that
in a beer commercial?
But you said you wanted me to come.
I said LIKE you were gonna come,
it was a metaphor, a --
SULTRY FEMALE VOICE(O.S.)
Bruce, I hate to interrupt,
but that weird German guy just called.
The shoot? Was it about the shoot?
In walks DINA DAERR, production VP.
The kind of woman who spends more
on her haircut than
most people’s car payment.
Flashes a 100-watt smile.
Arches a perfect, razor-thin brow.
Yeah, he said the call time
has been moved up,
you’re supposed to be there --
(looks at watch)
Hot stuff, my first feature.
You’re going to go work on a movie?
Yeah. I’ll see if there’s a part for you.
Let you know.
(to the model)
You might not want to be
in this kinda flick.
Why not? What’s it called?
Burt glares at Dina.
Eyes yell at her to shut up.
Harry Bottom and the Sorcerer’s Pole --