Mission Accomplished

Happy Saturday, crime busters ... feel like taking a trip to the dark side? A place where the girls are hot, the drinks are strong, and the action never stops? Then get your asses in here, and indulge yourself in That Killing Feeling ...

Onto today's exciting chapter from HIT & RUN HOLIDAY ... where things are really heating up.

First up, we rejoin former Navy Seal/pot smoker deluxe Bland Loosener, who is explaining to his boss, international sex broker/white slave trafficker Zvi Ben-Arut what happened to his stolen car ...

And then we hook up with digruntled, unemployed screenwriter Friday Foster, who has just stolen Bland's car ... and finds a cool million in cold, hard cash on the back seat.


EXT. VENICE APARTMENT BUILDING - SIDE ALLEY - DAY
Bland fingers a number on his cell phone. Listens.

BLAND
Zvi? It’s Bland. We’ve got a problem.
Uh, someone stole my car.

INT. MARINA DEL REY - BEACH CONDO - AT THAT MOMENT
A large, burly, TANNED ISRAELI (45) in white linen listens on the phone.
He’d be quite the catch, gold chains, Rolex --
If it weren’t for the bright, shiny electronic ankle cuff.

This is ZVI BEN-ARUT, international raconteur.
Sex broker. Under house arrest.
Right now pacing, furious. Red-faced.

ZVI
You stupid fuck.
You LEFT THE ENGINE RUNNING?

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

EXT. VENICE BEACH APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

BLAND
Don’t worry, I’ll find it.
I’ll find it.

ZVI
You better. Or else you’re dead.
Understand? Go, now. FIND IT.
Use the tracking device in your fucking LAPTOP.

BLAND
The laptop’s -- in the car.

ZVI
You fucking JAR-HEAD.

BLAND
I’m sorry boss, I fucked up.
I know. I’ll make it right, I promise -- I --

ZVI
What the fuck were you doing?
No, wait -- don’t tell me.
You were fucking SCORING DOPE.

BLAND
It’s medicinal, Zvi -- Gulf War Syndrome -

ZVI
I’ll fucking give you a syndrome.
Get your ass over here, NOW.
(beat)
God help me, but you’re gonna have to
take one of my cars.
(to himself)
God-DAMit.

BLAND
Which one? The SUV? The BMW?

ZVI
Dumb fucking slab of ‘American war hero,’ NO.
You take the bug.

BLAND
But that’s -- a girl’s car.

ZVI
Exactly.
(sneers)
Mission accomplished.

INT. NISSAN SENTRA - CONTINUOUS
Friday pulls the car into an alley.
Parks. Looks around.
No one following her.
Heart pounding.
What to do? Should I -- ?

She notices the pizza delivery cases in the back seat.
Three of them. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

Her stomach GROWLS.
She reaches over, grabs one.
Puts it on her lap.
Opens it, to reveal --

A brand new Apple G-6 laptop.
It sparkles in the sunlight.

FRIDAY
Holy shit.

Friday turns it on.
Places it on the seat next to her.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Can finally check my email --

She grabs another one.
Opens it. Her jaw drops.

The case is stuffed with banded wads of
HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
Holy fuck.

She quickly SNAPS it shut.
Places it under her seat.
WHIPS around.
GRABS the last box.
FLIPS it open, to reveal --

A large pizza.
With pepperoni and sausage.
Steaming hot.

Friday grabs a slice,
wolfs it down hungrily.
BELCHES.

FRIDAY (CONT'D)
So ladylike.

Greasy hands. She needs a napkin.
Searches. Opens the glove box,
and finds --

A 357 MAGNUM.
She GRABS IT.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Come to Mama.

Just then A PATROL CAR creeps by.
Friday deftly slides the gun under the seat.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

The cop stops.
Classic stone-face.
He glances into the Sentra,
sees the pizza box.

FRIDAY (CONT’D)
Hi, officer. Is there a problem, sir?

Black aviator shades glare at her.
What’s he doing?
Looking up her license plate?

COP
Won’t you get in trouble if you eat the pizza?

She realizes. The pizza sign on the car.

FRIDAY
I get it to eat if it’s a no-show.
Must of been some kids, a prank --

COP
Nice perk. Have a nice day.

FRIDAY
Thanks. You too, officer.

He drives away.
Friday sits a moment.
Heart still pounding.

FRIDAY
Holy fucking SHIT.