Monday, Monday. So bad to me. You lookin' for unspeakably depraved acts of violence? Hard-hitting, hardboiled action? Murder and mayhem? Then slip into your shoulder holster, pack your favorite piece, and get your ass over to ... That Killing Feeling.Onto today's rip-roarin' espisode of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY ... where shit is really starting to hit the fan. So to speak.
First up, wanted fugitive/screenwriter Friday Foster is taken into police custody in the middle of media firestorm ... as it turns out she's become a superstar, overnight ...
Meanwhile, sleazy network executives try and decide how best to capitalize on her fame ...
As Friday sits in a jail cell ... and has a most horrific encouter ...
With an agent.
EXT. BEVERLY HILLS POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
A MADHOUSE. A throng of MEDIA. PAPARAZZI.
SPECTATORS behind police barricades clamor for a view.
COPS in riot gear PUSH them back. A CHOPPER WHIRS overhead.
CROWD
Free Friday! Free Friday! Free Friday!
MAUI SUMMER (24) stands in front of her CREW with a mike.
Breathtaking in a too-tight, too-short shiny suit.
MAUI
This is Maui Summer, on the scene, here at Beverly Hills police HQ --
A LARGE, BLACK SUV comes into view behind her.
Slowly pushes through the crowd. Pandemonium.
SCREAMING. SHOUTING. PUSHING.
MAUI (CONT’D)
Where Friday Foster is just now arriving by motorcade, in custody --
(sees something)
OMG! Here she is, now!
The rear door of the SUV FLIES OPEN. Out steps --
FRIDAY FOSTER. Bruised and bloodied. Smeared makeup.
Still quite cute. Despite the manacles and restraints.
Tired eyes blink in the sunlight.
GREASY PONYTAILED PAPARAZZI
Friday, over HERE. Smile for ze CAMERA!
RUSSIAN PAPARAZZI
Friday, give smile!
EURO PAPARAZZI
Hey, Friday, bonus points if I pee my pants?
GAWKER
Friday is the new Britney!
MAUI
(SHOVES microphone in her face)
Maui Summer, Friday, Up Close 2Night.
Would you like to make a statement?
Another ANCHORETTE pushes her way in.
CHERRY
(SHOVES microphone in her face)
Cherry Blazer, Action Network News!
Friday, how do you feel? Are you okay?
Have the police been mistreating you?
Friday whips her head around. Stares. Wheels turning.
Raises her handcuffed wrists, a’la Rocky.
FRIDAY
Viva la REVOLUTION, media WHORES!
The crowd ERUPTS in CHEERS.
ON A LAPTOP
we see the media circus. CAMERA pulls back to reveal --
INT. NETWORK CONFERENCE ROOM - AT THAT MOMENT
A dozen glossy NETWORK EXECUTIVES sit around
a large, marble and glass conference table.
Each with a pitcher of water. A blackberry. A laptop.
Glazed, self-satisfied smirks.
ASSISTANTS scurry about, passing out five-dollar coffees.
Four-dollar muffins. Vitamin water. Perks of the elite.
HAUGHTY BABE EXECUTIVE
(to an assistant, tossing a muffin)
I said carob, Maya -- NOT soy!
ARROGANT STUD EXECUTIVE
Jesus, Maya -- who do you think we’re pitching, Donald Trump?
An OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE sits at the head of the table.
Gordon Gecko and Faye Dunaway’s NETWORK bastard offspring.
Spray-tan smug, like some Glengarry Glenn Ross nightmare.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
Friday Foster, people. Catch of the day.
Ripe for the picking. Ideas?
Haughty puts down her muffin. Raises her hand.
HAUGHTY BABE EXECUTIVE
We get the rights to her story, do an MOW.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
WRONG. The TV movie is DEAD.
Get that tight little ass over to Lifetime, NOW. Next?
FAT, EFFEMINATE TOKEN BLACK EXECUTIVE
We put her on Extreme Cooking With the Stars Kitchen Makeover.
(SNAPS his fingers)
Eat my asparagus tip, Rachel Ray.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
WRONG. Her story’s too juicy for that crap.
We’ll leave that for some washed-out former sitcom star.
(to assistant)
Aura. Call Kirstie Alley’s manager.
Find out if she can make a bundt cake --
(to the room)
C’mon people. The sharks are circling the WATER.
Where’s the BLOOD?
Arrogant Stud raises his hand.
ARROGANT STUD EXECUTIVE
We do a reality show.
Follow her through the legal process, her trial,
and if all goes well, to jail. Up close and humiliating.
(chortles)
And we call it -- American Outlaw.
Oily stands. Starts CLAPPING.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
YES. That’s IT. Everyone give it up for BRANDT.
Future programming guru.
Like a buzzard circling a wounded beast,
ready for THE KILL.
Everyone CLAPS.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE (CONT’D)
So this means we have to get moving. NOW.
The little lady is being booked and body cavity searched --
(beat)
Shit. That would have been GREAT footage.
(rubs his hands)
So let’s MOVE IT, people. Any questions?
A SWEET-FACED JUNIOR EXECUTIVE raises a manicured hand.
SWEET-FACED JUNIOR EXECUTIVE
But isn’t that -- ethically wrong?
To do a show about somebody being humiliated?
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE
Humiliated? Humiliated? HUMILIATED?
(dramatic pause)
Young lady, humiliation pays our bills.
Humiliation puts food on our tables.
We live in a media-saturated age
where the slack-jawed, fresh-scrubbed masses
in the hinterlands are ENTERTAINED
by watching people get humiliated.
The reason?
Because your average Joe and Joette
likes to feel SUPERIOR to the poor,
fat boob clawing for attention, money --
and for what passes as a reasonable facsimile of fame today.
(beat)
Because THEN our advertisers can sell them
GIGANTIC, GAS-GUZZLING TRUCKS they don’t NEED.
BEER that tastes like PISS.
PILLS for imaginary symptoms.
New and improved TOILET PAPER.
(beat)
This is what makes our great nation the most powerful on EARTH.
Our ability to shovel shit down the gullets of our citizens --
and make them ENJOY IT.
(beat)
From the minute they wake up
to the moment they lay their empty little heads on their pillows,
we send them a message.
Don’t THINK, talk on your CELL PHONE.
Go see this movie, YOU’LL GET LAID.
Buy this magazine, find out about that SLUTTY STARLET,
who’s she fucking NOW? Is she in REHAB yet?
(beat)
And its all a smokescreen deregulated
and blessed by our government to cover up what’s REALLY going on.
A genocidal WAR. A plummeting ECONOMY.
The loss of hard-won CIVIL RIGHTS.
The global climate MELTDOWN --
because we just have to have our OIL
and our STEAKS and our VIDEO GAMES and our PORN --
(dramatic)
And our REALITY TV.
He takes a moment. Sips his vitamin water. Leans on the desk.
OILY NETWORK EXECUTIVE (CONT’D)
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the new world order.
A place where ratings are more important than our children’s education.
Where market share means more than a national political discourse.
A place where advertising revenue is the god we pray to.
(beat)
So, I say to you, the cultural elite --
Mr. and Mrs. America DESERVES American Outlaw.
INT. HOLDING CELL - AT THAT MOMENT
Friday paces back and forth. Stops. GRABS the bars.
A GUARD approaches, with an ARMANI SUIT (27).
Armani goes up to the bars. Offers his hand.
ARMANI SUIT
Friday Foster, Lenny Rosen. CMA.
FRIDAY
What do you want?
LENNY
What do I want? What do YOU want?
A book deal? A TV show? How about a biopic?
You’ve got one hell of a story, hot stuff, and baby,
I’m the one who can bring it to the world.
I’ll have you rolling in dough so quick
your head’ll spin faster than Amy Winehouse in a pharmacy.
FRIDAY
Are you for real? I’ve seen ENTOURAGE, okay?
LENNY
I’m as real as it gets, Dirty Harriet.
ENTOURAGE is child’s play.
THIS is the deal, baby -- WOMAN ON TOP.
(quiet, urgent)
You sign with me, and you get the monolith that is CMA,
with its fat, greedy tentacles in every pie, cake
and low-fat non-dairy by-product in the media universe.
(beat)
Want a date with John Meyer? Done.
Jodie Foster? We’ll make an offer.
FRIDAY
I’m more the -- Scarlet Johanssen type.
LENNY
Done deal. SWISH. Three points.
PUSH IN ON Friday. Excited.
FRIDAY
Rockin.’ Show me the dotted line.
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