The Game

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. 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 36 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, after having more than a few cocktails, homicide detective Carrie Love heads to the shooting range to blow off a little steam ...


INT. BEVERLY HILLS GUN CLUB - FIRING RANGE - NIGHT
Rows of stalls with targets,
too brightly lit. Empty.

Except for Carrie.

Messy drunk in a slip
of a cocktail dress, heels, shades --

And a gleaming 357 Magnum
out of a Guy Ritchie wet dream.

She lowers her sunglasses.
Scratches an itch in her eye.
We see she’s been crying.

CARRIE (V.O.)
It’s easier to see after
you’ve had a few cocktails.

She slides them back up.
Takes aim. And --

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

THE TARGET
A ‘Smiley face’ smack
dab on the figure’s head.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER (O.S.)
Hey, you!
Breakfast at Tiffany’s!
You better put dat thing down
before I call da cops!

CARRIE
stops, turns --

CARRIE
I am a fucking cop!

And swings her weapon toward him.
He raises a sawed-off shotgun.
Click-click.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER
That’ll be the last move
you ever make, lady.

Carrie lowers her weapon.
Whips off her shades.

ANGRY HISPANIC OWNER (CONT’D)
Oh, hi Carrie --
I didn’t recognize you.
You clean up good.

CARRIE
Thanks, Enrique.
I’ll be done a few minutes. ‘Kay?

ENRIQUE
(big smile)
You got it, Legs.

He bows, leaves.
She takes out more bullets, reloads.

CARRIE (V.O.)
My life has become
a trashy cult film.
I have more death, betrayal,
seedy glamour and
sexual situations
in my life than any
ten women in this town.
(beat)
And this is Los Angeles.
(beat)
The only place on earth
where you fall in love --
and your partner thinks
she’s taking a meeting.
But you still fall,
and you fall so hard,
it makes you lose all sense of
judgment, morals, self-esteem --
and any desire to play the
game of life by the rules.

She slowly SPINS AROUND --
aims up, up, and --

ANGLE ON --
A row of ceiling lights.

Bullets hit them, one by one.
POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, POP.