Severance Package

Happy Thursday, crime busters. Are you ready for a balls-out, action-drenched kick to the solar plexus? A blistering, no-holds-barrd fight scene that'll grab you by the throat and won't let go? Then it's your lucky day ... when you go on a ride with NOWHERE GIRL

Screened one of my all-time favorite films last night. Hitchcock's NORTH BY NORTHWEST, starring Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint and James Mason. A PERFECT film. So much so, that my next project is going to be an homage to this classic. Grant stars as a man mistaken for someone else, and is pursued by murderous spies. Problem is, the man he's mistaken for, doesn't exist. He's a decoy set up by the FBI. Classic setpieces that Hitch asked the screenwriter Ernest Lehman to put in the script -- the crop duster sequence, the shots at the UN (which he had to steal, as the UN never gave permission for film shoots), and of course the climactic chase scene at the end on Mount Rushmore. I could on for hours and hours about this film, about the symbolism, the witty dialogue, the pacing, etc., but don't worry, I won't bore you. But know this, the film ends with a kiss, and it just doesn't get much better than that. Three guns up!

Onto today's joint from NOWHERE GIRL, and this one's a real pip. Not much explanation here. Just a big, fucking fight scene.

Enjoy.


INT. JUMBO'S CLOWN ROOM - NIGHT
April sees Cherry. Starts walking toward her.

APRIL (CONT'D)
You gave me quite the little goose-chase, girlie.
You’re under arrest, both of you.

A FIGURE IN BLACK appears in the doorway
wearing a motorcycle helmet.
He raises a sawed-off SHOTGUN.

STRIPPER BARTENDER
HEY. NO GUNS ALLOWED!

April WHIPS her head around.
Sees the intruder.

APRIL
Shit, DUCK!

Cherry and Peeler HIT the floor.
April FLIPS over the table,
and they all get behind it.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Don’t fucking MOVE.
Stay HERE.

The shotgun BLASTS.
The table top SPLINTERS.

April ROLLS across the floor.
Gets behind the bar,
where Stripper Bartender trembles on the floor.

She pulls out her Sig Sauer,
FIRES a hail of BULLETS.
They BOUNCE off Intruder's kevlar vest.

THE FIGURE
BLASTS again at the bar.
Bottles SMASH.
Glass goes FLYING.

APRIL
Returns fire. Aims for his head.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
But the bullets BOUNCE off his helmet.

BEHIND THE TABLE
Cherry whispers to Peeler.

CHERRY
Let’s get the fuck out of here.

PEELER
I’m right with you.

They scuttle across the floor to the back door.
Push it open.

The shotgun BLASTS.

BEHIND THE BAR
Bottles and glass go FLYING.
Booze is pouring everywhere.

April finds an intact bottle.
Opens it. Pours it on a cleaning rag.
Stuffs it in the bottle.
Pulls out a lighter.

APRIL
I love the smell of napalm on a stripper pole.

And LIGHTS IT.
A ROAR of flames WHOOSHES straight up.

She HEAVES IT at the figure.
He CATCHES IT in a gloved hand.

INTRUDER IN BLACK
Sorry, baby. Fire-resistant.

He TOSSES it out the front door,
where it EXPLODES,
taking out a parked car in a BALL OF FLAME.

APRIL
Who THE FUCK are you?!

INTRUDER IN BLACK
I’m from human resources.
And this is your severance package.

He PUMPS the gun. FIRES.
April DUCKS behind the bar.

INTRUDER IN BLACK (CONT’D)
Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Another BLAST.
It hits a tap.
A geyser of beer WHOOSHES up.

BEHIND THE BAR
April looks around.
Sees an aluminum baseball bat.
GRABS it.

APRIL
Deja vu all over again.

THE INTRUDER
Walks toward the bar.
PUMPS the gun. FIRES.

And, as he reaches it,
he leans over, pushes the shotgun down --

April FLIES UP, SWINGS the bat,
and SMASHES it into his head with a CRACK.
He weaves a little. Stunned.

April JUMPS OVER the bar.
CRACKS him in the crotch.
He goes down, reeling in pain.

She GRABS his gun.
KICKS him in the stomach.
The HEAD.
He goes out like a light.

APRIL (CONT'D)
I’m filing a claim for HARASSMENT.

She GRABS him by the leg.
DRAGS him over to the stripper pole.
Pulls out handcuffs.
CLICKS him to the brass rail.

She looks around.
Sees that Cherry and Peeler are gone.
Shit.

APRIL (CONT’D)
Fuck.

A SIREN wails outside.
She dashes toward the back.

STRIPPER BARTENDER
HEY. Who’s gonna pay for this MESS?

She stops. Turns.

APRIL
Write your congressman.