Bank Job

Happy Sunday, my hungover pals. Nothing like a little hair of the dog to usher in the Day of Rest.

Screened AEON FLUX last night. I had heard it was pretty awful, but have been tempted from time to time, and I finally succumbed to the notion of Charlize Theron in black vinyl.

I wasn't dissappointed.

The film was just sort-of okay. Nice story, and there was lots of chick-action, but it was kinda cheesy. Art direction and sets sometimes looked very 50's B-movie (maybe that was the intention), and made me giggle more than once.

When all is said and done, it was nice reminder of that I have more than a few cool femme fetales in my ouerve.

So let's get started. Today's scene from GUN-WILD:

The bank job.

Part one of three.

***

EXT. FIRST FISHERMAN’S BANK - NOON

A small-town plain brick building on a Main Street corner.

Rod’s Olds pulls up to the curb in front.

INT. OLDS CONVERTIBLE - CONTINUOUS

On the car stereo, the Ventures’ HAWAII FIVE-O.

Hondo leans over, CLICKS it off.

NET

Hey!

I LIKE that song.

HONDO

This ain’t no TV show.

This is serious shit, girlie.

CAM

That was from a TV show?

ROD

You don’t remember HAWAII FIVE-O?

Jack Lord? Book ‘em, Danno?

CAM

Hawaii-what? Book ‘em who-o?

ROD

I’m getting old.

HONDO

ENOUGH ALREADY.

Who the fuck you think you are, Tarantino?

(SLAPS the seat)

Go check the bank window, Gidget.

Cam opens her door. Gets out. SLAMS it.

CAM

Stop calling me GIDGET. My name is CAM.

NET

(imitates her)

Stop calling me Gidget. My name is CAM.

She drains her beer. BURPS.

HONDO

Excuse me, CAM.

PLEASE go check and see how many customers

are in the bank, PRETTY PLEASE?

CAM

That’s better.

Cam storms over to the bank entrance.

HONDO

Jesus Christ on a stick, what’s got her panties in a bind?

ROD

She told me her story last night.

She’s a runaway --

been on the street since she was fifteen.

HONDO

(big smile)

You mean -- her daddy diddled her?

ROD

Worse.

HONDO

Now THAT’S my kinda girl.

NET

(PUNCHES him in the arm)

SHUT UP.

Hondo stares at her.

HONDO

You mean -- ?

NET

I said SHUT THE FUCK UP.

(beat)

Asshole.

EXT. BANK ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS

Cam goes to the window. Peers inside. Turns around.

Comes back to the car. Leans over the side.

Whispers.

CAM

Only two people. Couple of Juicy Couture

high school bitches sucking machiattas.

HONDO

Piece of cake. Places please, kids. It’s show-time.

Hondo and Net slide on baseball caps. Shades.

Tie scarves around their necks. Pile out of the car.

HONDO (CONT’D)

(to Rod)

See you in the obituaries.

Rod salutes. Drives off.

Hondo and Net walk over to Cam.

Pull their scarves over their noses.

WHIP OUT their guns.

HONDO (CONT’D)

Let’s do it.

Music EXPLODES.

The crazed, white-hot surf/rockabilly reverb

hip-shake of The Reverend Horton Heat’s WIGGLE STICK over --

CAM

BANGS open the front door.

INSIDE THE BANK

She points her gun at the SECURITY GUARD (30),

a young, virile-looking hunk.

What the hell? This ain’t no ‘old fart.’

CAM

Shit.

GUARD

(sees the gun)

HEY!

Cam PISTOL-WHIPS him, CRACK.

He hits the ground.

THE HIGH-SCHOOL GIRLS

Scream. FREEZE in their tracks. Whimpering.

CAM

HANDS IN THE AIR. This is a ROBBERY.

HONDO AND NET

BURST in the door. Sawed-off shotguns aloft.

They both PUMP them. KA-CHINK, KA-CHINK.

HONDO

Nobody FUCKING MOVE!

[To be continued ... ]