Our Dicks Are Bigger Than Yours

Happy Friday, crime freaks. Welcome to the land that time forgot. A place where your darkest desires become sins of the flesh. Where your most unspeakable, depraved dreams can come true ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto todays' joint from LEGS, where the chicks are creamin', the action is steamin', and the bad guys are teaming ...

Just as private eye Carrie Love and undercover Interpol spook Felina Bella Donna are about to capture demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer, insane CIA black ops agent The Bagger shows up on the scene, with some major firepower ...

INT. KLAUS' SOUNDSTAGE - NIGHT

Carrie WHIPS out her Glock. Aims it at Klaus. SHRIEKS with anger.

CARRIE

Shut the fuck up, you fucking headhunter!

You killed her! And now I've got you!

(clicks the safety)

Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker.

The lights flicker. Go out.

IN THE DARK

KLAUS (O.C.)

It would appear the playing field is now level, my hysterical one.

CARRIE (O.C.)

Shut up! Just shut the fucking fuck up!

Twin ultra violet rays ILLUMINATE Klaus and Samms.

ANGLE ON:

Felina. Sporting high-tech headgear.

FELINA

Never leave home without it.

CARRIE

Thanks for shedding a little light on the subject, agent Bella Donna.

Carrie steps into the high beams.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

I'm really starting to groove on this spy shit.

She aims her weapon at Klaus’ head. CLICK-CLICK.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

It's funny, I've never killed a man before --

but now I'm getting kinda wet.

FELINA

Carrie, no! We need him alive.

An insane MALE VOICE cackles in the dark.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)

And so do I.

A strobe FLASHES.

It's THE BAGGER. With a rocket launcher.

And CINDY. Cradling a bazooka.

THE BAGGER

Nobody fucking move.

CINDY

Or we'll rock your world.

KLAUS

Norman, is that you?

THE BAGGER

Ladies, put your weapons down.

Before I give you a fourth input.

Their guns CLATTER to the floor.

CINDY

Looks like our dicks are bigger than yours.

THE BAGGER

Kick them over here.

They do.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

Okay, chickies, on the floor, face up.

So I can see your boobs.

CINDY

Norman? Your name is Norman?

THE BAGGER

Hello, Klaus -- been a long time.

JOREL

slowly crawls on the floor.

KLAUS

steps down from the camera dolly.

KLAUS

I haven't seen you since that Chuck Manson thing.

You're not still mad at me, are you?

How was I to know you had the hots for Miss Tate?

THE BAGGER

I'm not here to rehash ancient history, Speer --

I'm here to bring you in.

(beat)

Unfortunately, alive.

JOREL

inches toward the crucifix.

FELINA AND CARRIE

lie on the floor.

FELINA

(whispers)

When I say "now."

KLAUS

maintains his cool.

KLAUS

My studio has become quite profitable, Norman.

We could make a deal, perhaps a partnership.

I could use someone with your -- skills.

SAMMS

pulls a pistol from the small of his back.

CINDY

taps a stiletto heel impatiently.

CINDY

What is this, fucking prom night?

All this talking's making my trigger finger a little antsy.

(beat)

Norman.

JOREL

reaches a torch lying on the floor.

THE BAGGER

(to Cindy)

Don't call me Norman, bitch!

(to Klaus)

The only deal you're gonna get is on KY jelly

where you're going, Speer. Assume the position.

On the floor, face down, hands on your head.

Klaus starts to move. Samms moves faster. GRABS him.

SHOVES a gun in Klaus' mouth.

SAMMS

I personally kinda like the idea of a deal.

(to Klaus)

Sorry, chief. No hard feelings?

JOREL

lights the torch. Tosses it at the crucifix.

JOREL

How'd you like a little fire, scarecrow?

THE BAGGER

WHIPS his weapon at the commotion.

THE BAGGER

What the fuck?

CINDY

(points weapon at Samms)

Don't move!

FELINA

pokes Carrie.

FELINA

Now --

CARRIE

clicks the cartridge.

Smoke starts POURING OUT.

FELINA (O.C.) (CONT'D)

Throw it, throw it!

She CHUCKS it.

ANGLE ON:

The tiny silver missile lands at the Bagger's feet.

THE BAGGER

SHIT, that’s an Israeli TACTICAL SUPPRESSOR!

HOLD YOUR EARS!

The bomb SCREAMS a decibel-splitting SHRIEK.

CINDY

JESUS FUCKING MARY!

Yippee Kai-Yay, Motherfucker

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters. Feeling a little down? Mad as hell, and can't take it anymore? They why not get your ya-ya's out at the coolest joint in cyberspace, where the assassins are hot, and the semi-automatic weapons hotter ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's blistering chunk of hardboiled pulp from LEGS. Better buckle your bra straps, ladies, and strap on your shoulder harnesses, boys, cause the going is about to get ... tough ...

When private eye Carrie Love and undercover interpol agent/dominatrix to the stars Felina Bella Donna turn the tables on demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and his merry band of perverts ... with a little 'script revision' ...

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

A clock on the wall reads 10:50.

Jesus Valentine and Robert O'Henry sit at their desks.

O'Henry works a crossword. Valentine pours a cup of java.

O'HENRY

I need a nine-letter word for "spy" that starts with the letter "o."

VALENTINE

I don't do that shit.

It's too much like a fucking test.

Valentine pulls out a flask.

Pours it in his coffee.

VALENTINE (CONT'D)

I say we go over there.

He said he'd be back by ten.

It's almost eleven.

O'HENRY

I'm more concerned about your little cocktail there, Valentine.

Can't wait ten minutes till you're off duty?

VALENTINE

Fuck you, man, it's Irish coffee.

(beat)

You should know, you're a fucking Mick.

O'HENRY

Don't fucking start with me, you refried wetback.

Go flee across the border or somethin.’

They stare at each other with utter contempt.

Valentine downs his cup. Gets up. Puts on his jacket.

VALENTINE

Well, I say there's an officer in trouble, and he needs back up.

O'HENRY

He brought back up.

VALENTINE

Yeah, right -- the dysfunctional family picnic.

(goes to the door, turns)

You coming or what?

He shakes his head. Valentine storms out.

O'Henry stares at the puzzle. Thinks. Eureka.

O'HENRY

Operative, that's it -- operative!

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT

Felina commands the stage, twin weapons aloft.

Bernie, still on the cross. Now awake. Still gagged.

CARRIE (V.O.)

Somehow Felina had convinced Klaus to let her direct the show.

I don’t know what she was planning --

but I had a funny feeling it wasn’t a chick flick.

(beat)

It was the role of my life. Literally.

KLAUS (O.C.)

Cue the ambiance!

Billows of fog start rolling in.

KLAUS (O.C.) (CONT'D)

I’m too sexy for the music!

Creepy, German synth-pop music bubbles up.

SAMMS (O.C.)

Speed!

KLAUS

And -- action! Take two!

Felina SHOVES her weapon against Keko’s temple.

FELINA

Detective Keko, do you take Miss Love to be your ex-wife?

To honor and obey for the rest of eternity?

In death after life? For ever and ever?

Keko’s eyes bulge. He thrashes against his restraints.

Samms pushes Klaus on the dolly tracks.

KLAUS

grins like the murderous child he is.

KLAUS

She's a natural.

Carrie approaches the crucifix.

FELINA

And do you, Carrie Love, take Bernie Keko in unholy matrimony?

To go out in flames with him to the very gates of Hell?

CARRIE

Do I have a choice?

(off Felina’s glare)

Alright, alright. I do.

FELINA

By the power invested in me,

I now condemn you to be sentenced to --

Pause.

FELINA (CONT'D)

(whips gun toward Klaus)

Put your hands in the air, Speer.

There's been a little script revision.

(whips other gun at Samms)

You too, agent freak.

Klaus and Samms throw up their hands.

Jorel spins around.

JOREL

What the fuck?

FELINA

(to Carrie)

Here, kittie, kittie -- cover the evil prince.

She FLINGS a weapon to Carrie.

CARRIE

(CATCHES it)

For me? You shouldn't have.

(points it at Jorel)

On the floor, fat boy, or I'll shoot a rabbit out of your pants.

He gets down.

KLAUS

Felina, have you flipped your lid? What's going on?

I thought we were partners!

CARRIE

Shut the fuck up, you fucking headhunter!

You killed her! And now I've got you!

(clicks the safety)

Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker.

Death On Demand

Happy hump day, crime motherfuckers. Are you ready for a blistering hot slab of hardboiled pulp, served a side order semi-automatic weapons? Then you've come to the right place, were the chicks are smokin', and the action is boiling ... at That Killing Feeling

Onto today's joint from LEGS, and hold onto your phallic symbols, kiddies, cause it's gonna be a bumpy night in the dungeon ...

Insane former CIA spook The Bagger is on his way to the crime scene, along with his partner in crime, the murderous, crossdressing assassin, 'Cindy.'

Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love is preparing to appear in the first movie ... which may also be her last ... (seeing as how it's a snuff film.)

INT. CLUB CHERRY - NIGHT

David Bowie/T-Rex 70’s rock at an EAR-SHREDDING volume.

Very glam, very glitter. The packed club is jamming.

Smoke machines. Mirrored balls. Go-go dancers on pillars.

Boys, girls and everything inbetween writhe with abandon.

A COOL GUY and a HOT CHICK twist and shake it.

The babe, (23), mod, waifish, vibrates like a woman possessed.

THE CHICK

stops dancing. Opens her eyes.

Pulls out her BlackBerry.

CLOSE ON --

The LCD display.

"The geese are in flight. Pack your lipstick. Love, Mom."

THE CHICK

YELLS something in the guy's ear. Bolts for the door.

EXT. CLUB CHERRY - CONTINUOUS

She FLIES down the outside staircase.

Six-inch platforms CLATTER, BANG-BANG on the metal steps.

ON THE SIDEWALK

she fingers a number on her cell.

EXT. MULLHOLLAND DRIVE - NIGHT

A candy-apple red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible stops at a light.

Music blares on the stereo.

IN THE CAR

is the Bagger. Singing along.

His phone rings. He answers it.

THE BAGGER

James?

(beat)

Or is it Cindy tonight?

He lights up a Gitanes.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

Cindy -- nice. What are you wearing?

Wait, don't tell me. I like surprises.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT./EXT. CINDY'S MIATTA - CONTINUOUS

We recognize Cindy as the hot chick from the club.

Surprise.

CINDY

I knew I shouldn't have worn heels tonight.

THE BAGGER

The clock's running, girlie-girl, no time to worry about that.

(sips from a flask)

You pack the trunk?

CINDY

Honey, my trunk is always packed.

INT. THE BAGGER'S JAGUAR - CONTINUOUS

He tosses the phone. Shoves in a CD.

The Sex Pistol’s ominous SUBMARINE floods into the car.

He CRANKS IT UP.

The madman cracks open an amyl nitrate ampule.

INHALES it viciously. Sings along at the top of his lungs.

THE BAGGER

I’m on a submarine mission for you, baby.

I wanna go down on your watery love --

INT. KLAUS' STUDIO - NIGHT

The power is back on. Carrie’s tied to the chair.

Jorel confers with Samms at the control board.

JOREL

Can you lose a couple of the lights?

I'm fucking frying in this thing.

Now I know why priests always look so serious and shit.

They're fucking dying.

Felina huddles with Klaus by the camera.

KLAUS

What a deliciously demented idea --

brilliant, fucking brilliant.

A streaming "Divorce Court" for the information age.

Death on demand.

Felina, when you're good, you're very good.

FELINA

And when I'm bad, I fucking come for hours.

(to Samms)

Hey Triple-X -- can I borrow your phallic symbol?

SAMMS

If I can slip one in the chamber.

KLAUS

Enough witty repartee.

Give her the fucking gun.

And give me a light reading.

She grabs it. Marches over to Carrie. Kneels at her feet.

CARRIE

That's an awfully big assault weapon you have there, Mrs. Peel.

FELINA

All the better to end your enslavement, Miss Moneypenny.

She pulls out a knife. Starts cutting the rope.

CARRIE

They're letting me go?

FELINA

You're gonna be in the movie.

CARRIE

What? I thought you were --

FELINA

I am. Just keep quiet. And do what I say.

Waterboarding For Dollars

Goodby, Ruby Tuesday ... will they every hang a noose on you? Are you looking for some cheap, sleazy thrills? Then you've come to the right place, hardboiled-pulp slicksters, where if you've got the crime, we've got the time ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, and this one's a real motherfucker.

Just as private eye Carrie Love escapes from the clutches of demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer, the lights go out, leaving the crime scene in complete chaos ..

Meanwhile, a cluster of spooks at the Pentagon decide to bring in the most dangerous agent in the history of the agency ...

Ladies and gentlemen, please meet ... The Bagger.

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT

Carrie stands. Free of her ropes. Empowered. Emblazoned.

CARRIE

Prepare to DIE, motherfuckers!

The lights GO OUT.

IN THE DARK:

KLAUS (O.C.)

Nobody move! Felina, grab her.

FELINA (O.C.)

I've already got her.

JOREL (O.C.)

I told you we were using too much juice.

SAMMS (O.C.)

Hold on -- it’s just a fuse.

(stubs toe)

Ow! Shit!

INT. PENTAGON - BRIEFING ROOM - NIGHT

The spooks huddle.

BUREAU CHIEF

We have to get in there, now. Send someone else.

We have to apprehend Speer in the act.

WHITE LAB COAT AGENT

I need him alive -- for research.

ANGRY AGENT

We can’t send Lazenby.

He’s in deep cover with Bin Laden.

HIPSTER AGENT

What about MacNee?

Isn’t he done with that waterboarding school in Fallujah?

WHITE LAB COAT AGENT

I suggest we send -- the Bagger.

ANGRY AGENT

The Bagger? Are you fucking kidding?

HIPSTER AGENT

Have you been sampling the evidence again, Moore?

The agency hasn’t used him since Kennedy.

ANGRY AGENT

He's a time bomb waiting to go off.

Unreliable. Volatile. Completely insane.

The Bagger is the most twisted psychopath

to ever get a security clearance.

BUREAU CHIEF

And your point is?

INT. THE BAGGER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

An achingly romantic Euro-croon over --

A small and dark lair.

A bare red light bulb glows from above.

Moonlight spills in through the blinds.

THE BAGGER (55), a tall, gangly,

preying mantis-like Ichabod Crane of a man.

Right now he’s making love with a WOMAN in bed.

Under the covers. Blonde hair spills over the pillow.

A phone RINGS once. He stops moving.

THE BAGGER

Fuck me.

It RINGS again. Silence.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

NO.

He WHIPS off the covers. GRABS the phone.

We now see his lover. An inflatable love doll.

Open mouth. Lipstick smeared.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

What the fuck do you want?

Do you know what fucking TIME it is?

(beat)

Name three celebrities the American public

doesn't know were assassinated?

(beat)

Fuck you! I'm retired, goddammit!

I'm having a nice quiet evening here with my woman,

minding my own business --

and you have the nerve to ask me to just forget everything?

You stripped me of --

(listens, gets excited)

Klaus Speer? That knucklehead.

I haven't seen him in years.

(beat)

I see. Just over the hill.

(beat)

I can do whatever the fuck I want,

as long as I bring him in alive?

The stick-figure does a little victory dance. Then stops.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

Oh, right. Let me see -- John Lennon --

Princess Diana -- and Sonny Bono.

He hangs up. Looks at the doll affectionately.

Leans over. Sticks his finger inside her.

Slowly pulls it out. Sucks it.

THE BAGGER (CONT'D)

I'm sorry, baby. Gotta go to work.

(takes her hand)

I'll be back before you know it.

Don't go anywhere, okay?

Keep the bed warm for me?

Luc Besson, Eat Your Heart Out

Happy Monday, crime slicksters. Are you looking for some cheap, sleazy thrills? A little hardboiled pulp action to brighten your day? Then you've come to the right place, where the chicks are smokin' hot, and the drinks are stone cold ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, and boy, is this one a motherfucker.

TWO big shock reveals today, kiddies. First up, private eye Carrie Love is stunned to discover that 'dominatrix to the stars' Felina Bella Donna is actually a foreign agent, sent in 'undercover' to bring down demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer ... and is now asking for Carrie's help ...

Then, we discover that Klaus' perverted crew member Michael Samms is also an agent, for an unnamed U.S. black ops unit ...

Better hold on tight, crime hipsters, 'cause things are about to fucking EXPLODE.

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - NIGHT

A surprisingly good castle dungeon set. Dry ice billows.

Moonlight shines through a barred window.

Keko is tied to a giant wooden crucifix on a platform.

Tourniquet around his thigh. Out cold.

Klaus adjusts the camera lens.

KLAUS

Luc Besson, eat your heart out.

Felina ties Carrie's wrists to a chair.

CARRIE

Some date you turned out to be.

FELINA

(under her breath)

Listen carefully, Carrie.

The dominatrix bit is a cover.

I'm an agent with CO-2,

a clandestine Interpol black ops unit.

We've been after this freak for years,

and now I've almost got him --

but I need your help.

(meaningfully)

Comprende?

Carrie’s stunned. Turns her head. Huh?

FELINA

(whispers)

Don't get me wrong.

I still want to fuck your brains out.

CARRIE

But --

FELINA

Shhh. Time for my kittie cat to be strong.

Carrie’s mind reels. Eyes well up. Her lip trembles.

Felina crouches. Ties rope around her ankles.

FELINA

Just do exactly as I say,

and we’ll get out of this alive. Okay?

She nods. Felina caresses her bare ankles,

goes up her calf. Carrie writhes with pleasure.

ON THE CRUCIFIX

Keko slowly comes to. Feels pain.

Sees what they've done to him.

The kindling and wood at his feet.

KEKO

You've got to be the most fucked up

human being who ever walked the earth!

Klaus shoves a mag of film into the camera.

KLAUS

Stop flirting with me.

I'm still not going to sleep with you.

KEKO

My precinct knows where I am,

they'll be here any minute --

let's talk, I can get you a deal --

KLAUS

What do you take me for, a studio executive?

(to Samms)

Mr. Samms, gag the bitch.

She's become quite tiresome.

KEKO

Don't you know what happens when a cop gets killed?

Samms shoves a ball gag in Keko's mouth.

KLAUS

The audience award at Sundance.

JOREL

A distribution deal.

SAMMS

You shoot your load.

FELINA

slips a silver penlight-like object in Carrie's hands.

CARRIE

You want my autograph?

FELINA

It's an assault weapon. You click it like a pen.

They lock eyes. Carrie is terrified.

FELINA

I know. I've been trained to hide my fear.

CARRIE

I’ve been trained to wet my panties.

KLAUS

looks in the camera lens.

KLAUS

Let’s get jiggy for it. Places please!

JOREL

appears on the platform, in executioner's robes.

JOREL

(gravely, to Keko)

Pleased to meet you, the name's Death.

Care for a game of chess?

SAMMS

sits behind the board. Punches a series of buttons.

An ethereal, Gothic chant pulsates.

SAMMS

We be getting medieval now.

KLAUS

looks into the lens. Adjusts it.

KLAUS

Light the tribal torch.

JOREL

ignites it. Touches it to the kindling.

SAMMS

hears something.

Cocks his head. Touches his ear.

INT. PENTAGON - BRIEFING ROOM - NIGHT

A dozen FEDERAL AGENTS sit around a huge conference table.

The BUREAU CHIEF barks into the speakerphone.

BUREAU CHIEF

That was a direct order! Answer me!

Static, silence.

BUREAU CHIEF (CONT’D)

If you do not respond --

we’ll have no choice but to terminate with extreme prejudice.

They stare at the speaker box.

SAMMS (O.C.)

(over static)

Hello? I can barely hear you --

ANGRY AGENT

Fucking freaky, perverted son-of-a-bitch.

We never should have put him back in the field.

Samms whispers into his wristwatch.

SAMMS

Could you repeat that?

You're breaking up on me.

INT. KLAUS’ PRODUCTION STUDIO - CONTINUOUS

Carrie watches the flames. We see the fire in her eyes.

A soaring, sexy, dramatic overture starts. CARRIE’S THEME.

CARRIE (V.O.)

The walls were closing in on me.

I was watching lover number three about to die.

Broiled on the spit like a rotisserie chicken.

Coming soon to a theater near you.

(beat)

Funny thing was -- I felt nothing.

I was in shock, in overdrive.

Phasers set to “stunned.”

(beat)

I had two choices.

I could completely lose it,

and have a raving lunatic padded-cell breakdown --

(beat)

Or I could get my shit together.

She STRAINS against the ropes. Urgggh. Argggh --

CARRIE (V.O.)

Like Linda Hamilton did

at the beginning of the third act of Terminator 2.

The bindings FLY APART.

CARRIE

Holy shit.

She LEAPS UP. Empowered.

Engulfed. Enraged.

CARRIE

Mother-Fucker!

Die, Cheerleader

Ah, Sunday. A day of rest. But not for this hard-drinking, chain-smoking, hardboiled crime slut. No-siree. I toil day and night, scouring the underworld for the most despicable, most depraved action for you, my dear readers ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's steaming slab of ultra-violent pulp. In today's joint from LEGS, private eye Carrie Love and homicide dick Bernie Keko fall in the clutches of demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and his trusty sidekick, Felina Bella Donna, the 'dominatrix to the stars.'

INT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DUSK

Klaus and Keko sit across from each other sipping wine.

KLAUS

Laura Lang, yes, I used her in a music video.

The Genitorturers, I think.

(thinks)

No. It was Die Cheerleader. "Splatter."

(chuckles)

That was a good one.

KEKO

Can you remember when you last saw her?

KLAUS

Last I heard she went back to London.

She had a little problem getting off the horsie.

Keko is puzzled. Klaus pantomimes shooting a syringe.

Felina arrives with Carrie. Arms around her prize.

FELINA

Klaus, darling, look what I found.

(licks Carrie’s neck)

Mmmm, kibbles and bits, kibbles and bits.

KEKO

Carrie, what the fuck is going on?

CARRIE

Bernie -- I, ah --

KLAUS

It would appear that she's stumbled

into the arms of one the villains.

Felina cackles. Keko reaches for his gun.

SAMMS (O.C.)

OFFICER! Put your HANDS IN THE AIR!

You're UNDER ARREST!

SAMMS

brandishes a pair of Uzis. Jorel, a steadicam.

SAMMS

C'mon, motherfucker. Gimmee a reason.

Keko raises his hands.

KEKO

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

What is this, Halloween?

FELINA

(SNAPS handcuffs on Carrie)

I've got the broad.

CARRIE

Hey!

KLAUS

Gentlemen, I'm so glad you could join us.

(beat)

I always get so excited

on the first day of principal photography.

KEKO

We know all about your little home movies, Speer.

Back up is on the way. You’ll never get away with this.

KLAUS

Mr. Samms, show him what the director thinks of TALENT.

Samms FIRES a round into Keko's thigh, BANG.

Keko falls to the floor. YELPS in pain.

Presses his hands on the wound.

KEKO

You fucking SHOT me!

KLAUS

Get his weapon. And the one in his boot.

Samms takes the guns. Jorel comes in for a tight shot.

KLAUS (CONT'D)

(to Felina)

And how is your sex object?

Felina reaches in Carrie's jacket. Grabs her Glock.

FELINA

Disarmed.

(beat)

And completely disarming.

I Love The Smell Of Estrogen In The Morning

Happy Friday, crime sluts. Are you ready for a big, steaming slab of hot and cold running hardboiled pulp? Ready to rock the fucking Casbah? Then get your boot-heels over to the coolest joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, where the hunters are now the prey ... when private eye Carrie Love and homicide dick Bernie Keko fall into the clutches of demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and 'dominatrix to the stars' Felina Bella Donna ...

INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Carrie and Bernie check out the luxe digs.

KEKO

I wonder what the mortgage is on this place.

Carrie stares at a Helmut Newton --

an Amazon astride a naked model on all fours wearing a saddle.

CARRIE

Now that’s what I call riding Western.

KEKO

I prefer riding bareback.

(loud whisper)

There's a camera on us. Keep smiling.

CARRIE

(quietly)

Where is it?

(loud)

I never knew putting your feet in the stirrups

could look like so much fun.

KEKO

(whisper)

Above the doorway.

(loud)

She must be really feeling her oats.

CARRIE

(loud)

I forgot how funny you were.

(whisper)

I'm gonna go powder my nose.

I'll be back in five.

ON A VIDEO MONITOR

in black and white.

Carrie slowly moves through the foyer.

EXT. KLAUS' GARAGE - CONTINUOUS

Felina's boots tap-tap-tap down the spiral staircase.

Black vinyl glistens in the moonlight.

INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Klaus delivers the wine on a tray. Elegantly demented.

KLAUS

I thought perhaps you might change your mind.

It is, after all, the cocktail hour.

He looks around, sees Carrie's gone.

KEKO

(bad fake laugh)

She had to use the ladies’ room.

Takes forever. You know women.

KLAUS

(weird smile)

All too well.

She’s probably fascinated with the bidet.

KEKO

(takes glass of wine)

What the fuck. I'm almost off duty.

IN THE FOYER

Carrie walks into a darkened doorway.

INT. EXERCISE ROOM - CONTINUOUS

She gropes around in the dim light,

bumps into a Stairmaster.

A sultry voice purrs nearby.

VOICE (O.C.)

Hey there, sexy -- feel like a little cardio?

CARRIE

(jumps, startled)

FUCK.

The lights SNAP ON. It's Felina.

FELINA

Did my little kittie get lost

on her way back from the litter box?

CARRIE

Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.

Pause.

FELINA

Feels good, doesn't it.

EXT. POOL - PATIO - AT THAT MOMENT

Samms and Jorel march on the flagstones in military fatigues.

Faces blackened. Armed to the gills.

SAMMS

I love the smell of estrogen in the morning.

Smells like victory.

JOREL

Stop it, you're making me homesick.

My father loves Bobby Duvall.

INT. EXERCISE ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Felina strokes Carrie's cheek. Inflamed. Transfixed.

FELINA

I've missed you. You haven't called me.

(beat)

The milk went sour.

She kisses Carrie deeply.

Pulls away. Surveys the damage.

CARRIE

(heart pounding)

I've been -- working.

FELINA

(takes her hand)

Well, you know what they say.

She softly kisses it. Carrie trembles.

CARRIE

Wh-what do they say?

FELINA

All work and no play makes Jill a very horny girl.

Your Vice Is My Command

Happy Thurdsay, noir freaks. Ready to take a trip to a place so dark with hardboiled pulp that it'll make your hair stand on end? Then belly up to the crime scene ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, where things are about to explode ...

Lipstick lesbian private eye Carrie Love, along with her ex-husband, homicide dick Bernie Keko arrive at the estate of demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer to question him ... but don't realize that they're walking right into a trap ...

EXT. MAIN HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - NIGHT

Carrie and Keko in the doorway.

She opens her bomber jacket.

Adjusts the Glock in her belt. Keko rings the bell.

CAMERA pulls back to reveal --

A video camera above them, red light blinking.

CARRIE

That gold Jaguar is hers.

KEKO

Let me do the talking.

You're too emotionally involved.

CARRIE

What if he recognizes me?

It'll look suspicious if I don't --

The door opens. It’s Klaus.

No sign of recognition.

KLAUS

Good evening.

How may I help you?

Did you get lost?

These hills can be very tricky.

KEKO

Are you Klaus Speer?

KLAUS

Last time I looked, yes.

KEKO

I'm detective Keko, Santa Monica homicide.

(flashes badge, indicates Carrie)

This is my partner, Detective Love.

We'd like to ask you a few routine questions.

Can we come in and talk to you for a few minutes?

KLAUS

Of course, please, come in.

Anything to assist law enforcement.

I believe in good citizenship.

ON A VIDEO MONITOR

in black and white, Carrie and Keko stand in the foyer.

JOREL (O.C.)

It's the chick-dick and the cop.

SAMMS (O.C.)

Two dicks for the price of one.

Weapons CLICK-CLICK. CLICK-CLICK.

INT. KLAUS' LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Museum furniture. Sexual art, photography everywhere.

A view of the city below. Carrie looks out the window.

KEKO

Nice -- place you got here.

KLAUS

It stirs the creative juices.

Please, have a seat,

make yourselves comfortable.

Can I get you something?

Coffee, tea, a glass of wine perhaps?

KEKO

I'd love a glass of water, thanks.

CARRIE

I'd love a glass of wine. Please.

Klaus raises an eyebrow. Keko glares at Carrie.

KLAUS

A woman after my own taste. White or red?

CARRIE

White, please. Thank you.

KLAUS

(as he leaves)

Your vice is my command.

KEKO

A glass of wine, Carrie?

What the fuck do you think you're --

CARRIE

Bernie, chill. I'm just buying us a little time.

A cork POPS in the next room.

INT. KLAUS’ KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Klaus pours wine. Talks on his hands-free cell.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. PRODUCTION STUDIO - CONTINUOUS

Felina wears a headset. Fixes her face. Fresh red lips.

FELINA

But what about my fiery love scene --

the Joan of Arc thing?

KLAUS

There's been a change of plan.

A new storyboard.

We're gonna do JOHN of Arc instead.

FELINA

The cop?

KLAUS

We have to. He knows something.

FELINA

But what about my screen kiss? You promised.

KLAUS

Of course, of course.

You come down first, play with your little mouse.

Have her say cheese for the camera.

FELINA

Meowww.

KLAUS

Tell the boys to make their entrance in five minutes.

(beat)

We've made a better mousetrap.

Young, Nubile Women With Semi-Automatic Weapons

Happy Hump Day, crime humpsters. Are you ready for another steaming slice of hardboiled pulp, served with a chaser of cold blue steel? Then you've come to the right place, where the chicks are hot, and the bodies are cold ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's blistering joint from LEGS, where the action is picking up ... fast.

Private eye Carrie Love has just identified her ex-lover, patrolwoman Megan Paul's body at the morgue, and she decides to tag along with ex-husband/ex-partner homicide dick Bernie Keko ... and confront the suspects ...

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - DUSK

Klaus, Felina, Samms and Jorel sit at a large conference table,

watching a big screen expectantly.

SAMMS

I love dailies.

KLAUS

But these are nightlies.

MONITOR POV:

Everyone is riveted. Except Felina, pale, uneasy.

KLAUS

See the look on her face?

The unspeakable horror -- the helplessness.

She knows she is about to die.

(beat)

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

INT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK

Keko paces the hallway. Carrie leaves the ladies' room.

Ghostly. Red-eyed. White t-shirt water-stained.

KEKO

Are you okay? Can I get you some coffee?

CARRIE

Thanks, but that'll just come right back up again.

Let's get the fuck out of here. I need some air.

(starts walking)

I've been puking so much lately you'd think I was pregnant.

EXT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK

Carrie breathes in the night air. Coughs a smoker’s hack.

KEKO

Well, maybe you are.

When was you're last time you had your --

CARRIE

Bernie. I don't even own a turkey baster.

They walk toward the car.

KEKO

That’s right, I forgot. No tab A. Just slot B.

CARRIE

(stops in her tracks)

It just fucking kills you, doesn’t it.

Baby rooster pouts cause he’s not allowed in the hen house.

KEKO

(opens car door)

C'mon, get in. I'll drive you home.

She stands, frozen. Angry. Stubborn. Determined.

KEKO (CONT'D)

Get in, your shirt's all wet, you'll catch a cold.

INT. SQUAD CAR - CONTINUOUS

Carrie’s eyes scan the familiar equipment.

The radio. Blinking lights. Nightstick. Shotgun.

She makes a decision.

CARRIE

(quietly)

I'm coming with you.

KEKO

You can't come with me on a --

CARRIE

Yes, I can. And I'm going to.

KEKO

Carrie --

CARRIE

I found the suspects.

(beat)

I know the suspects.

They stare at each other.

He turns the ignition. Sighs.

KEKO

You said Queens Road?

EXT. PRIVATE ROAD ENTRANCE - DUSK

A steep, curved incline high in the Hollywood Hills.

An elegant wrought iron sign reads QUEENS ROAD. PRIVATE.

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - DUSK

The gang watches: Klaus, the proud director.

Jorel takes notes. Samms, mesmerized. Felina, bored.

ON THE MONITOR

Megan's head in the sand. Her eyes slowly open.

She looks around. Looks up. SCREAMS. A wave crashes.

IN THE STUDIO

Felina stands. Goes to the door.

FELINA

If you're going to watch it again I'm going outside for a fag.

She leaves.

JOREL

What got her bloomers in a bind?

SAMMS

You know women, she's probably PMS-ing.

KLAUS

Well, there is a connection between the moon,

the tides, and a woman's --

A doorbell RINGS.

Felina rushes back in.

FELINA

Guys, there's a big, fat cop car out there.

KLAUS

Everyone remain calm.

There's no need to panic.

I'll go talk to the fuzz.

(beat)

Jorel, monitor us on the video, put in a fresh tape.

Michael, prepare the TWAT arsenal.

We’ll do it in digital video.

(as he leaves)

Ach -- I just love improvisation.

Jorel picks up the steadicam.

Samms races into the back room.

FELINA

I'm afraid to even ask --

but just what the fuck is the TWAT arsenal?

JOREL

It was a take-off we did on SWAT.

Samms emerges -- armed to the teeth, Rambo-like.

SAMMS

There's just something about

young, nubile women with semi-automatic weapons.

Dangerous Curves

Happy Tuesday, crime motherfuckers! Are you ready to get your harboiled-pulp groove on? Ready for a PUNCH in the gut? A swift KICK in the head? Then get your skinny, little asses over to the coolest joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, where things get a little ... tender. Emotional. Poignant, even.

You see, Carrie's ex-lover, patrolwoman Megan Paul's dead body has just been discovered at the beach ... so Carrie meets with her ex-husband/ex-partner Bernie Keko ... to apologize for being ... a bit of a bitch.

EXT. PERRY'S BEACH CAFE - DAY

A burger stand at Santa Monica beach.

Bernie Keko sits at a table sipping coffee,

watching the flesh parade.

EXT. VENICE BEACH BIKE PATH - CONTINUOUS

Loud, catchy girrrl-punk.

Carrie skates like a bat out of hell to the music.

A demon vision in a barely-there bikini.

Dangerous curves, indeed.

Men pass her, do double-takes.

A BICYCLIST wipes out.

But she's oblivious.

On a mission from God.

Or someone.

UP AHEAD

a group of overweight TOURISTS block the path.

CARRIE

(yells)

On your left!

Startled, confused, they each move in different directions.

Carrie almost falls, barely squeezes through.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

(over her shoulder)

Touristas! Go back to Pepperidge Farm!

She continues north. Pumps harder.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Do you believe in karma?

Megan has fucking disappeared.

When I went to her house this morning to apologize,

I found another fucking crime scene.

(beat)

Poor Bosco got it right between the eyes.

No disclaimer about animals not being harmed on this beat.

And this is only the middle of act two.

(beat)

Lately I feel like the cops should just

put that yellow tape around my life.

CLOSE ON --

Carrie’s face.

A tear trickles down below her shades.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Please. You gotta forgive me --

I'm the hero, remember?

You're supposed to root for me.

Don’t give up on me yet.

EXT. PERRY'S BEACH CAFE - CONTINUOUS

Carrie glides onto the patio. Spots Keko. Wheels over.

CARRIE (V.O.)

Good 'ol Bernie, still looks ridiculous in plainclothes.

(beat)

I hope for his sake he's packing.

It's open season on my ex's.

She WHOOSHES up to his table. Stops on a dime.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

Good day, officer. This seat taken?

KEKO

Do you have a license for that bikini?

I might have to give you a citation.

CARRIE

For what? Reckless tan lines?

She sits. Grabs his cup of coffee. Takes a sip.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

You don't mind, do you?

KEKO

I never did, did I.

Memories linger. She blows her nose into a napkin.

CARRIE

Thanks for coming.

I'm sorry about the scene at the station -- I was --

KEKO

(softly)

You don't need to explain, Carrie, it's okay.

I mean, after all you've been through --

CARRIE

I shouldn't have brought her along.

(beat)

I'm sorry.

KEKO

Apology accepted.

(beat)

You should show your soft side more often.

It's very appealing.

CARRIE

(blushes slightly)

Thanks.

(lights a cigarette)

Then as long as everyone around me keeps dying,

I'll be fucking irresistible.

Keko takes a smoke. She gives him a light.

CARRIE (CONT’D)

I thought you quit.

Pause.

KEKO

You know, we still don't have a positive I.D.

on the dead female at Point Dume.

It might not be her.

CARRIE

But she was a cop, for chrissakes.

They know her.

KEKO

It's not so easy -- they, uh --

cut off her hands -- and, uh -- her head.

Carrie JERKS, drops her cigarette in Bernie’s coffee. Pssst.

KEKO (CONT'D)

We were wondering if she had any -- uh, you know --

CARRIE

Distinguishing marks. You need my I.D.

KEKO

Yeah.

(beat)

I’m sorry.

She looks away. Bites her lip.

CARRIE

Thanks -- but sorry doesn't even begin to cover it.

From Here To Depravity

Happy Monday, crime slicksters. Welcome back, my friends, to the hardboiled pulp that never ends ... where your deepest desires become sins of the flesh ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, and this one's a real shocker. Better put down that hot pocket. You might burn yourself.

In today's installment, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer captures private eye Carrie Love's ex, patrolwoman Megan Paul, and then shoots his latest cinema verite ... which has an unspeakable climax ...

EXT. BUNGALOW - NIGHT

A techno crime theme percolates over shaky,

hand-held footage of an old bungalow

behind the Venice boardwalk.

Jorel carries a steadicam on his shoulder.

Samms holds a strobe. Klaus leads the way.

He slips on a pig snout half-mask,

which covers his eyes and nose.

KLAUS

(into the mike)

Tonight on our show,

a lovely officer of the law

will die a bizarre death

at the hand of a twisted filmmaker.

(dramatic pause)

What makes this murder even more chilling,

more unspeakable,

is that you’re going to see it

through the eyes of the killer.

They approach the door.

Klaus starts picking the lock.

INT. MEGAN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Megan's crashed out.

A huge ROTTWEILER snores at her feet.

The bedroom door slowly opens.

Kinky crew shuffles in.

KLAUS

(whispers)

Shit.

The canine lets out a rumble.

Some poodle dream.

JOREL

Nice doggie --

The dog stirs. Wakes.

GROWLS ominously.

The strobe FLASHES.

Camera WHIRS.

Klaus pulls out a gun.

SHOOTS the dog -- THWAP.

It YELPS.

Megan bolts upright.

Blinded by the lights.

MEGAN

Who's there?!

What the fuck are you --

Klaus CHARGES the bed.

JUMPS on her.

CRAMS a rag in her mouth.

She STRUGGLES violently.

Shakes. Then goes limp.

VIDEO POV

KLAUS

(big smile for the camera)

Coming up next,

our fallen angel takes flight to the beach --

where she has her last stand in the sand.

EXT. BEACH - DAWN

A secluded cove somewhere south of Malibu.

Sun is rising. Dappled pink and grey streaks smear the sky.

Waves CRASH against the rocks in a spray of foam.

Megan is buried in the sand up to her neck,

gagged, eyes terrified.

A breaker POUNDS behind her,

then washes over her head.

She WHIPS her head back and forth.

Seaweed on her eyes.

Klaus shoots with the steadicam. Samms holds a boom.

Jorel reflects the available light with a white board.

JOREL

It's getting light out.

We gotta get outta here

before the fucking joggers come by.

KLAUS

Before the climax?

What are you, a story analyst?

Another wave CRASHES on top of her.

Then rolls away.

Her neck SNAPS -- crack.

Goes limp. Eyes forever frozen.

KLAUS (CONT'D)

Fade to black.

Klaus zooms in, circles around her.

Samms rushes over to Megan's lifeless head.

Takes out the gag.

KLAUS (CONT'D)

What the fuck are you doing?

Get out of the shot!

SAMMS

I'm gonna resolve the character arc!

He pulls down his pants --

as another wave crashes down.

KLAUS

delighted, grins lewdly.

KLAUS

Maybe we call this one --

(beat)

"From Here to Depravity."

Here's Reaching Up Your Skirt

Welcome to the weak-end, crime-fuckers. It's that time once again. A time for murder, mayhem, and depraved sex that'll make your hair curl. So belly up to the hardboiled bar ... at That Killing Feeling ... if you know what's good for you.

Onto today's depraved joint from LEGS. Well, actually, this one ain't that depraved. More like -- bleak. You see, private eye Carrie Love gets into a big fight with her ex, patrolwoman Megan Paul in a bar, and then blood and liquor flow ...

INT. DIVE BAR - NIGHT

An old, dirty, dimly lit dump in a Venice alley.

80’s hair metal plays on the juke.

Carrie and Megan sit at the bar with cocktails.

LUPE, (40), the bartender,

a curvy fireplug of Hispanic splendor,

watches a soccer game on a tiny TV.

CARRIE

Can I get another shot, Lupe?

The mix-mistress holds up a finger, saying "just a minute."

MEGAN

How come we never came here?

CARRIE

I come here to drink. Do a Garbo.

(beat)

Consider yourself on the list.

The Latin beauty POUNDS on the bar.

LUPE

(at the TV)

Puente, fuckin maricon!

Go back to fuckin' Havana, shit-head!

(calm, to Carrie)

Comin' right up, Legs.

What about your date?

Can I freshen your spritzer, hon?

MEGAN

(blushes)

I -- I'm okay, thanks.

Lupe pours a shot of Jagermeister, slides it over.

Sets the bottle down on the bar.

CARRIE

(takes it, toasts)

Here's reaching up your skirt.

She slams it down. Shudders.

MEGAN

Carrie, I know you're upset,

but how are we gonna solve this case

if all you do is run to a bar every time you get scared?

CARRIE

Gimmee a fucking break.

Laura's gone, dead.

I hired one of the killers --

then I fucked one of the killers --

then I saw one of America's bloodiest home videos.

(beat)

I think I have the right to have a couple of cocktails.

MEGAN

I know, but I don't think

getting completely fucked up is a way to --

CARRIE

And what if I don't care what you think, huh?

You think I care what you think?

It's not like it was, Meg, we're just working together.

Ouch. That hurt. Megan stands. Slides on her jacket.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

Oh, so now you're gonna split, huh?

That's okay, go ahead, leave, I'll be fine by myself.

I'm a big girl, and I'll be just fine by myself.

MEGAN

I'm outta here.

Gonna leave the big girl alone with her bottle.

(beat)

All of a sudden I feel like a need a shower.

CARRIE

Then why are you still here?

MEGAN

It's called love, you fucking drunk!

Ever heard of it?

You might wanna check it out sometime!

CARRIE

(screams)

What the fuck did you just --

MEGAN

Shut up, Carrie, just shut up!

I'm sick of your fucking drama!

(points at the bottle)

You've made your choice.

I hope the two of you are happy.

She WHIRLS around.

MARCHES toward the door.

CARRIE

(over her shoulder)

I've known all along that you still wanna fuck me.

Megan stops. Cocks her head. The bar is riveted.

MEGAN

I know Laura’s big secret.

Some dyke you turned out to be.

(beat)

I actually thought you had changed.

I felt sorry for you. Funny. Now I don't.

And she's gone.

A RED-FACED DRUNK claps.

Carrie shoots him a look.

He drops his head.

The jukebox dies out.

The crowd cheers softly on the TV.

Carrie takes a sip of beer.

Pours another shot.

The juke click-click-clicks.

The romantic, overwrought 80's classic

ABC’s THE LOOK OF LOVE starts playing.

Lupe looks at Carrie.

Smeary eyes. NOT going to cry.

LUPE

Hey, honey, are you okay?

CARRIE

This was -- our song, Lupe. Our song.

LUPE

How could I forget?

I used to have to hose down the booth after the two of you.

Carrie tries to smile. Can't.

CARRIE

You're Catholic, right?

LUPE

(nods)

Bless me father for I have fucked.

CARRIE

So is this how I'm supposed to pay for my sins?

(lurches, clutches stomach)

I'll be right back, I don't feel so --

She LEAPS off her stool.

RACES to the head.

INT. BAR BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS

A small, crusty, vile latrine.

Carrie RETCHES violently into the bowl.

CARRIE (V.O.)

I know what you're thinking.

God, I thought she was so cool.

Now I'm not so sure.

She SPITS in the sink.

Cups water into her mouth. Rinses.

CARRIE (V.O.)(CONT'D)

I might be a lot of things.

But I'm usually willing to admit when I've fucked up.

IN THE MIRROR

she splashes her face.

Looks at herself. What a mess.

CARRIE (V.O.)

And tonight I really fucked up.

(beat)

Big time.

Nightmare On Main Street

Happy Friday, crime slicksters. Are you ready for the weak-end? Then strap on your favorite piece, and belly up to the hardboiled-pulp crime scene, where the chicks are hot and the blood is flowing ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's joint from LEGS, and hold onto your nightsticks, kids, cause this one's a doozy.

Lipstick lesbian private eye Carrie Love and patrolwoman/ex-lover Megan Paul interview Carrie's client Michael Samms .... who is revealed as a suspect, and tries to kill them ...

EXT./INT. FREEWAY - CARRIE’S CAR - NIGHT

A swingin’ techno remix of a jazz standard propels --

Carrie and Megan, flying up the 405 in the silver Porsche.

Fast food containers all over the place.

MEGAN

(eating french fries)

You're not even a little nervous?

What if he’s the killer?

CARRIE

(holds up her burger)

Ever see a Bengal tiger play with an animal

she's wounded right before she eats it?

She shoves it in her mouth. GROWLS.

Megan does a take. Looks in her food bag.

MEGAN

Good thing we got extra napkins.

INT. SAMMS' LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

The stereo plays Wagner at a deafening volume.

Samms sits on the couch. Piggy eyes glued to the screen.

AT THE FRONT DOOR

the music thunders from within.

Carrie rings the bell.

MEGAN

It’s nine-o-clock.

CARRIE

What’s up with the opera?

Where’s Paulie Walnuts?

IN THE LIVING ROOM

Samms, in a daze. Licks his lips. Sips his wine.

AT THE FRONT DOOR

Carrie pushes it again.

CARRIE

He can't hear it with that

fucking Brunhilda shit going on.

IN THE LIVING ROOM

fat fingers work the remote.

ON TV

blood SPLATTERS the 'Wheel of Misfortune.'

THE FRONT DOOR

swings open. The girls tip-toe in.

IN THE LIVING ROOM

Samms is oblivious. Engrossed.

Carrie creeps up behind him.

CARRIE

MICHAEL.

SAMMS

Fuck!

He JUMPS. Sees the women.

PUNCHES off the TV. The music.

CARRIE

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,

barge in on you like that,

but your music was so loud --

MEGAN

And your door was open. Sorry.

SAMMS

That's okay.

(beat)

Man, you scared the shit out of me.

MEGAN

That looked like a pretty nasty

horror movie you were watching.

SAMMS

Yeah, it’s pretty -- nasty.

(beat)

Please, have a seat, make yourselves at home.

I've gotta make a quick phone call, and I'll be right back.

Can I get you a beer or something?

MEGAN

I'm fine, thank you.

CARRIE

I'd kill for a beer.

Megan shoots her a look.

SAMMS

Comin’ right up.

He leaves. Carrie turns on the VCR.

CARRIE

(whispers)

Holy shit.

MEGAN

Hey, isn't he the guy we saw at the --

Carrie grabs Megan’s arm. Shushes her.

Motions to stay there. Creeps toward the kitchen.

AT THE DOOR

Carrie listens to Samms on the phone.

SAMMS (O.C.)

She brought Daisy Do-Right.

(beat)

Yeah, they’re in my living room right now.

I told you she knew something.

She darts over to Megan.

Pulls her toward the front door.

CARRIE

(loud whisper)

We gotta get the fuck outta here.

IN SAMMS' BEDROOM

he sticks the handgun in his waistband.

Buttons his jacket.

EXT. DRIVEWAY - CONTINUOUS

Tires SCREECH. The Porsche ROARS down the driveway.

Turns onto the street. Peels rubber. Backfires -- BANG.

IN SAMMS' BEDROOM

he hears the car. Bolts for the door.

SAMMS

Goddammit!

INT. CARRIE'S CAR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie DOWNSHIFTS with a vengance.

MEGAN

What's going on?

What happened?

What did you hear?

CARRIE

That was no Nightmare on Main Street, Meg.

That was real.

MEGAN

That was real? How could you --

CARRIE

I'll tell you how.

The human smoothee in the bloody veg-o-matic --

(beat)

Was my client's wife.

INT. KLAUS' LAND ROVER - NIGHT

Klaus drives in the Hollywood Hills. BARKS into his cell.

KLAUS

You fucking IDIOT. You left the room to call me?

Didn't you realize a P.I. and a cop are going to snoop around?

(beat)

I don't pay you to THINK, fuck-head.

Now we have to shoot right away.

You’ve messed it all up, you prick.

Now I have to shoot on fucking DV.

I wanted to shoot this on 35 millimeter.

My customers pay for production value.

(beat)

Jorel's on his way.

You have the cop's address at the beach?

(beat)

Funny you should ask.

I'm thinking reality show.

(beat)

What do you think of -- 'World’s Wildest Executions?'

So Many Men, So Few Bullets In A Gun

Happy Thursday, crime fuckers. Are you ready for a blast of hot-blooded, hardboiled pulp that'll melt your face off? Then belly up to the bar, name your favorite poison, and take a double shot of That Killing Feeling ...

Onto today's rip-snortin' joint from LEGS, and let me tell ya folks, this one's a doozy ...

While hard-drinking, foul-mouthed private eye Carrie Love blows off some steam at the firing range ...

Demented snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer and his band of perverted crew members shoot 'The Wheel Of Misfortune', where bimbo starlet Sharon Samms has her final, bloody, spin ...

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - DAY

A lush, feminine trip-hop beat on the mini-stereo.

Carrie pours a cup of coffee, cigarette dangling from her lip,

phone cradled against her chin.

CARRIE

Samms, we gotta talk -- I gotta lead. A big one.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. SAMMS' BATHROOM - DAY

Samms sits on the toilet on the phone.

His business hits the water. PLOP.

SAMMS

(nervous)

Really? What'd you find?

CARRIE

I never discuss a case over the wire.

Can you come over?

SAMMS

I can't, I gotta be here, I'm expecting a messenger.

Can you come here, say around nine?

CARRIE

I'm there, with bells.

He flushes the toilet.

INT. CARRIE'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

CARRIE

Freak. I think he was taking a shit.

MEGAN

Ew.

(beat)

Did he buy it?

CARRIE

Hook, line and stinker.

INT. SAMMS' BEDROOM - DAY

Samms screws a silencer onto a chrome 357 Magnum.

SAMMS

(on the phone)

She knows something.

You said she was a fuck-up.

(beat)

Don’t worry. We’ll fuck her up.

INT. FIRING RANGE - DAY

A racy, infectious, acid-jazz detective theme.

Rows of stalls face targets -- some bulls-eyes,

others silhouettes of crooks with weapons.

GUNSHOTS pierce the air.

Carrie assumes the position.

Aims her 9mm Glock with both hands.

PUMPS a shot. BANG.

CLOSE ON --

A bullet ZINGS through the crotch of a male silhouette.

CARRIE

shoves in another clip.

CARRIE (V.O.)

Whenever I need to blow off some steam, vent my anger --

or just feel the adrenaline rush of cold blue steel,

I head over here and blow off a few rounds.

She resumes her stance.

CLOSE ON --

Six rapid shots RIP the target --

forming a perfect circle around the crotch.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate men.

Just the kind that would cut off a woman's head.

No chick would ever do that.

CARRIE

reloads again.

CARRIE

Notwithstanding Lorena Bobbit.

An off-duty COP walks by, eyes her appreciatively.

COP

Nice cluster, Legs.

Lookin' good today.

She eyes him warily.

PUMPS a fusillade of bullets.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

CLOSE ON --

A smiley face of holes on the target's head.

Pause.

CARRIE (V.O.)

So many men.

(beat)

So few bullets in a gun.

EXT. KLAUS’ ESTATE - NIGHT

A Hollywood Hills compound.

The main house juts out on a cliff into the sky like a dare.

Life on the edge.

EXT. GARAGE - NIGHT

An elegant garage by the pool. Upstairs windows blacked out.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR

is a brightly lit soundstage. A familiar looking set.

The “Wheel of Misfortune.” Just like the one on TV.

But this game is a little different.

Tied to the wheel is SHARON SAMMS (23),

a blue-eyed, bottle-blonde scoop of vanilla perfection.

Naked. Eager. Excited.

Klaus sits nearby on a dolly shooting in Panavision.

We hear cheerful game-show music, then laughter,

applause -- and then, in unison --

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)

Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

Felina stands near the puzzle board in a blonde wig,

white vinyl and an opaque mask.

She smiles. Waves at the camera.

Jorel’s at the podium.

Resplendent in white face.

A natty Hugo Boss ensemble.

He looks into the camera, grins broadly.

JOREL

Hello, America! Welcome back to the game!

(reads off a card)

So Sharon, it says here you’re an actress.

Have you been in anything we might have seen?

SHARON

Well -- I just did an infomercial

for Chuck Orleans’ anal bead colonic --

but I’m hopin’ that being on “The Wheel”

will get me noticed in Hollywood.

JOREL

(chuckles to himself)

Oh, this’ll get you noticed.

(loudly)

Alright -- let’s play the game!

FELINA

gestures at the puzzle board.

It reads “D_E, D_E, MY LOVELY."

SHARON

looks at the phrase. Thinks. Nope.

SHARON

I guess I’m gonna have to take a spin, Pat.

I need to buy a vowel, I think.

JOREL

Thatta-girl. Hold onto your 401k --

He grabs the wheel -- and SPINS it.

Sharon goes FLYING AROUND like a pinwheel.

SHARON

Hey, that's too fast!

Samms rushes in, flushed. Out of breath.

KLAUS

Where the fuck have you been?

We’ve already started.

Push the fucking dolly.

SAMMS

Fucking traffic on the 405.

You think I wanted to miss this?

SHARON

goes round and round.

The wheel slows, slows,

the tab flick-flicking on dollar amounts --

until it lands on --

YOU LOSE.

SHARON

Shit.

JOREL

I’m sorry, Sharon. You lose.

(to Felina)

Well, I guess everyone can’t be a winner.

Right, Vanna?

FELINA

(brightly)

You know what they say,

Pat -- it’s not whether you win or lose,

but if you get to live.

She places two letter "I's" on the board.

The puzzle now spells "DIE, DIE, MY LOVELY."

JOREL

And you were so close.

(to the camera)

Well, that’s it until next time.

(to Sharon)

Ready for your final spin?

SAMMS

pushes the dolly, trips.

Knocks over an apple box.

KLAUS

(hisses)

Watch it, asshole -- we’re rolling.

SHARON

(sees Samms)

Michael! What are you doing here?

SAMMS

'Till death do us part, babe.

Felina fastens a ball gag around Sharon's neck --

SHARON

Hey, what are you doing?

And SHOVES the ball in her mouth.

FELINA

It's time for the lighting round, Pat! Let 'er rip!

Jorel PUNCHES a remote.

The wheel starts SPINNING. Fast.

A circular plexiglass wall starts rising up around it.

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)

Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

A ceiling fan with sharp, steel blades starts to descend.

Sharon STRUGGLES WILDLY against her restraints.

FELINA

(smiles, waves)

Thanks for tuning in! See you next time!

CAMERA POV

The blades reach the lip of what is now a glass cylinder.

A giant, evil cuisinart -- about to make a "Sharon-shake."

ANGLE ON:

KLAUS

shoots the action, mesmerized.

SAMMS

stares, lust in his eyes.

Rubs his crotch.

THE CYLINDER

is SPLATTERED with blood.

KLAUS

Cut, print -- that's a take.

Samms lights up a smoke.

Smiles at Klaus.

SAMMS

Wife-us interruptus.

KLAUS

And no alimony payments.

Will Success Spoil Laura Lang?

Happy Hump Day, crime humpsters. Rainy daze got you down? Then we've got the cure for what ails you. A fresh, steaming, hardboiled slice of pulp, served by a femme fatale with dangerous curves ... right here, at That Killing Feeling

Onto today's joint from LEGS, where things take turn for the worse. It seems that private eye Carrie Love has happened across an invite to a 'snuff film wrap party,' whose guest list includes her most recent one-night stand, her new client, and her dead ex-lover ...

So what does she do?

She high-tails it to her favorite dive bar, and drowns her sorrows ...

INT. DIVE BAR - DAY

Chez Jay, a trendy beach dive. Old. Dark. Dank.

The jukebox softly plays an old, Sinatra-like classic.

Carrie and Megan sit at the bar with a couple of DRUNKS.

The BARTENDER watches a Mexican soap opera with the sound off.

CARRIE

(to the bartender)

Can I get a Corona and two shots of Cuervo?

He nods.

MEGAN

A Diet Coke, please.

(to Carrie)

Isn't it a little early in the day for a shot and a beer?

CARRIE

"Will Success Spoil Laura Lang."

MEGAN

All porn films have stupid names like that.

It’s a takeoff on that old Jayne Mansfield flick.

The bartender serves them. Carrie smiles grimly.

She salts her wrist, licks it. Does a shot. Then another.

Bites a lemon wedge. SLAPS the bar. Closes her eyes.

CARRIE

Two more, please.

He pours them. Fascinated. Concerned.

MEGAN

Don't you think you should slow it down a little bit?

CARRIE

(downs one)

Pretty fucking funny, huh.

(downs the other)

Who knew snuff films had wrap parties?

MEGAN

Snuff films? What are you talking about?

The bartender lifts the bottle like a question.

Carrie nods. He pours.

CARRIE

Just to refresh your memory --

Jayne Mansfield was decapitated in a car accident.

And the crew? My new client,

the dominatrix I fucked last night,

her Gestapo friend,

some fuck-head named after Superman’s father,

whoever the fuck HE is --

and the "special guest star" is my headless lover?

(downs the shot)

Do I need to draw you a fucking picture?

EXT. CAFÉ MED RESTAURANT - DAY

A sultry bossa nova drum-and-bass simmers in the background.

The swanky bistro on Sunset Boulevard is bustling at lunchtime.

Trendy patrons sit at cafe tables, el fresco.

A cell phone RINGS. Everyone grabs theirs, checks it.

EXT. CAFE TABLE - CONTINUOUS

Klaus and Felina sit eating salads. Very glam.

FELINA

(on her cell phone)

Do I need to draw you a fucking picture?

(beat, listens)

Listen, Sultan, I don't care how much --

(beat, angry)

No!

She SNAPS it shut.

KLAUS

He really wants you to eat dog shit?

FELINA

From his royal Doberman.

And he keeps upping the price.

She takes out a cigarette case.

Lights up a red Sherman's.

FELINA (CONT'D)

And you wonder why I want to take down my shingle.

KLAUS

What a shame. I always wanted to shoot in Brunei.

Pause.

FELINA

I still don't understand how you can get away

with selling snuff films on the net.

What's gonna stop the Feds from tracking your location?

KLAUS

They’re not snuff films --

you need to think as if there were no box.

They’re programming. Product. Content.

The ultimate reality show --

fulfilling the American public’s craving for the worst of humanity.

(beat)

And as for the Feds -- they’ll never find me.

My domain uses a split-mirror server.

Anyone who tracks the website gets reflected back

onto a shitload of addresses across the country.

It looks like I'm at a thousand places at once.

FELINA

How diabolical.

(beat)

Don’t tell me. German technology?

KLAUS

Is there any other?

(beat)

So -- you ready for the matinee?

My Basic Instinct

Happy Tuesday, crime sluts. Feeling a bit ... lethargic? Then why not get your tight little ass over to the coolest crime joint in town, where the action is steamy, the chicks are dreamy, and the hardboiled pulp is outta this world ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's thick, raging slab of action from LEGS ... where today we meet private eye Carrie Love's ex-husband/ex-partner, homicide dick Bernie Keko, who's not terribly thrilled that Carrie left him ... for another woman ...

EXT. SANTA MONICA - MAIN STREET - DAY

The Porsche cruises into a cluster of municipal buildings.

CARRIE (V.O.)

The tricky thing about female ex's

is that they get just as jealous as when you were together.

(beat)

What the fuck was I thinking? Felina Bella Donna.

Sounds like a fucking Stevie Nicks album.

They pull up in front of Police Headquarters.

IN THE CAR

MEGAN

You slept with her?

You fucking slept with her?

She could be a suspect, Carrie!

CARRIE

What the fuck do you care?

And besides -- I figured --

since she's a player -- she might know --

MEGAN

Laura's body isn't even fucking cold yet.

I thought she was the love of --

CARRIE

(screams)

She WAS! Okay? ALRIGHT?

She WAS! OKAY?!

She loses it, breaks down, SOBBING.

Megan comforts her.

MEGAN

Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay, I'm sorry, baby, shhh --

CARRIE

Please don't hate me. I got carried away.

It was so nice not to have to face my empty bed.

MEGAN

Don't remind me.

INT. POLICE SQUAD ROOM - DAY

The cheap, shitty, standard-issue institutional decay.

Carrie and Megan sit across from homicide detective

BERNIE KEKO (35), a greasy Mickey Rourke type.

Bitter. Full of swagger. Venom.

And at this moment -- sizing up his ex-wife.

KEKO

Still with the short skirts I see.

She uncrosses -- then recrosses her legs. Taunting.

CARRIE

Can't help it. It's my basic instinct.

KEKO

I'm sorry, Care. I wish there was something I could --

CARRIE

Please don't call me Care, Bernie, that was a long time ago.

(goes in for the kill)

What the fuck was I thinking?

It's not like you ever lost someone special.

MEGAN

Carrie, chill out.

Carrie lights up, blows a smoke ring. It hangs in the air.

KEKO

There's no smoking.

She stands. Sits on his desk. Gets in his face.

CARRIE

Go ahead. Cuff me.

(beat, off his silence)

You're still a fucking jellyfish, aren't you?

(to Megan)

All of a sudden I need some air.

It’s awfully -- stuffy in here.

(goes to the door)

I'll be out in the car. You try your luck.

She splits. Silence. Keko grimaces at Megan.

KEKO

I have nothing to say to you.

MEGAN

Listen, I know you don't like me,

and I'm not even gonna try to reason with your homophobia,

but I suggest you start getting used to seeing these baby blues.

KEKO

Oh yeah? And why might that be?

MEGAN

You didn't hear about my transfer to homicide?

INT. CARRIE'S PORSCHE - CONTINUOUS

Carrie punches the gas, tears out of the parking lot.

MEGAN

He gave it to me, Carrie. They have a lead.

CARRIE

(pounds the wheel)

Yes.

(off Megan's silence)

So? C'mon, tell me.

MEGAN

(pulls out piece of paper)

They found an invitation to the Fetish Ball

at the crime scene. He gave me a photocopy.

CARRIE

Great. That narrows it down to about five-hundred perverts.

MEGAN

Pretty fancy stuff, engraved.

On the back is a hand-written guest list for a wrap party.

It's only five perverts.

CARRIE

Now we're talking turkey.

Who's on the list? What's the movie?

Meg quickly scans the list. Gasps silently.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

You're scaring me, Meg.

She reads off the paper, hands trembling.

MEGAN

Klaus Speer, Felina Bella Donna,

Michael Samms, Jorel Amin, and --

special surprise guest --

CARRIE

Gimmee that!

She SNATCHES the paper out of Megan's hands, reads it.

CARRIE

NO!

Look What The Cat Dragged In

Monday, Monday. So bad to me. Feeling like MacKenzie Phillips after a little 'Daddy action?' Then we've got the cure for what ails you. Some pulse-pounding, hardboiled, fresh-squeezed pulp, hot off the press ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's sleazy chapter from LEGS, where the flames of passion start to lick higher and higher ...

Into today's episode, private eye Carrie Love makes love with 'dominatrix to the stars' Felina Bella Donna, back at her lair ...

And, afterwards, Carrie cruises the mean streets and picks up former flame/patrolwoman Megan Paul on a little fact-finding mission.

That's right. That Carrie Love sure gets around ...

INT. FELINA'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

Carrie laps milk from a bowl on the floor. Looks up, shy.

Felina fastens a collar around her neck, strokes her hair.

Attaches a studded leather leash. Stands up. Pulls it taught.

FELINA

That's a good little kittie-cat.

CARRIE

Meow.

FELINA

Do you know what happens to good little kitties

who finish their milk?

CARRIE

Meow?

FELINA

They get rewarded. Get their fur stroked.

She jerks the leash, almost too hard.

FELINA (CONT’D)

Here, kittie-kittie --

Carrie gets up. Stands before her. Inflamed.

Felina reaches out, gently grasps Carrie’s collar.

Pulls her prize close.

CARRIE

(barely audible)

Mmm-meow.

FELINA

Look what the cat dragged in.

(hands on Carrie’s breasts)

I think it’s feeding time.

And their lips meet.

A soft, electric spark -- which bursts into flame.

The women go at it, roughly. Needy. Hungry.

Felina backs Carrie up against the fridge, BANG.

Carrie raises her arms, grabs the handles.

Felina reaches under, goes up Carrie’s skirt, when --

The double-size doors FLY OPEN, WHOOSH --

and FOOD CONTAINERS SPRAY OUT, CRASHING DOWN.

The women HIT THE FLOOR, start pawing each other.

Desert nomads who found the oasis. Drinking. Feeding.

INT. FELINA'S BEDROOM - DAWN

A sultry jazz swoon, like Miles. Sketches of Spain.

The rising sun casts a glow in Felina's boudoir.

Lush, very feminine. And totally trashed.

Pillows, blankets, sheets, food, wine glasses.

The debris of passion.

The women lie on the floor next to a broken table lamp,

Felina's face buried in Carrie's chest, snuggling.

Carrie strokes Felina's hair. Looks out into space.

CARRIE (V.O.)

Not to get to metaphysical or anything,

but I’ve never gotten the whole Jesus thing.

I mean, he basically committed suicide, right?

So what the fuck does that have to do with my sins?

Some new age carpenter finds out his crew

is going to off him because they’re scared of his serenity --

and he just blindly walks into their trap?

Pretty pointless, if you ask me.

Thanks, fella -- have a great afterlife.

Watch out for that second coming.

(beat)

I mean, what the fuck does that have to do

with what gets me wet.

Why I was so easily seduced --

when I’m supposed to be in mourning.

Felina stirs. Looks up at Carrie.

FELINA

(groggy)

Mmmm. Is it morning?

EXT. SANTA MONICA - OCEAN AVENUE - DAY

Ventures-like jangly surf guitar.

Carrie’s vintage Porsche flies through a tunnel of palm trees.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - CONTINUOUS

The car pulls in front of a posh, glistening condo high rise.

Carrie pulls out her cell phone. Punches a number.

CARRIE

The eagle has landed. You ready to roll?

(listens)

Lock and load me, babe.

The DOORMAN walks over.

DOORMAN

Nice car. That's a -- 356c?

CARRIE

356b.

DOORMAN

What is it, a ‘61?

CARRIE

It’s a ‘62.

Megan appears, cool in black.

She slides into the coupe.

CARRIE (CONT'D)

Hello, officer.

You make me feel like doing something a little illegal.

MEGAN

Careful, detective, or I'll have to cite you for soliciting.

They kiss. The doorman stares.

MEGAN (CONT'D)

(to the doorman)

Hey, Roger. Lovely day, huh?

(to Carrie)

Whattya say we blow this yuppie habitat.

CARRIE

Solid. Let's go catch some bad guys.