You say you’re feeling bored? Stressed out? Ready to explode? Wanna get up on the roof with a high-powered assault rifle and start picking off pedestrians? Then get your skinny asses over to the coolest crime joint in cyberspace … at That Killing Feeling.
Onto today's joint from LITTLE GIRL BLUE ...
Wherein private eye Carrie Love takes in 'amateur night' at the Fantasy Island strip club, and watches the delicious, young Blue Wonder work the pole ...
INT. STRIP CLUB - NIGHTCarrie and Blue sit at the bar.
The bartender places the beer and shot in front of Blue.
Carrie pulls out a money clip. Peels off a fifty. Tosses it.
CARRIE
Leave the bottle. Keep the change.
Bartender gives her a look.
Takes the bill. Glides away.
Carrie fills her shot glass.
Raises it in a toast.
Blue raises hers.
They CLINK.
CARRIE
Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.
They down them.
Grab their beers.
Take a swig. Smile.
BLUE
So -- you’re not a dancer --
CARRIE
(pours two more)
Hell, no. I’m a dick.
BLUE
A what?
Carrie does her shot.
Blue follows. Staring.
CARRIE
(pours two more)
Private dick.
You know, missing persons.
Cheating spouses. Serial killers.
Cat stuck in a tree. The usual.
BLUE
You’re a private detective?
The song ends.
The DJ’S Voice BOOMS over the sound system.
OILY DJ
Give it up for GOTHIKA, fellas.
Wasn’t she AMAZING?
A smattering of half-hearted applause.
CARRIE
(raises her shot)
To Gothika --
BLUE
Gothika.
They down them.
Carrie pours two more.
They toast.
CARRIE
Liquid courage.
Blue NODS.
They both SLAM THEM.
OILY DJ (O.C.)
Up next, we have the lovely MISS BLUE.
BLUE
Shit, that’s ME.
She hops off the stool.
Pulls a CD out of her bag.
BLUE
Wish me luck.
CARRIE
Luck has nothing to do with it.
Not with that chassis.
Blue grins. Turns to go.
Stops. Looks at Carrie.
BLUE
I’d like to talk to you about something.
You gonna stick around?
CARRIE
Consider me stuck.
Blue smiles.
Trots off toward the stage.
STANDING IN A DARK CORNER
Is TOLLY CHILL (27), dark-haired, smouldering good looks.
The manager, and the owner’s son.
Cock of the walk.
TOLLY
(watching the stage)
Fresh off the boat.
(chuckles)
Catch of the day.
MUSIC
EXPLODES.
EXPLODES.
The whip-cream, pussycat chainsaw-snarl
of Groove Coverage’s 21ST CENTURY DIGITAL GIRL.
ONSTAGE
Blue GRABS the pole.
Wraps a long, lean thigh around it.
Moves to the music.
She’s pretty good.
Looks awesome.
And scared to death.
She closes her eyes.
The alcohol starts doing its trick.
She relaxes. Starts getting into it.
Starts singing along.
BLUE
'I got breast implants, paid for by my boyfriends --
I got a Botox injection under my skin --
I only play with sex, but I don't let them in -- '
And suddenly Blue’s ON FIRE.
She WORKS it.
Undulates to the edge of the stage.
Dollar bills go FLYING.
A PIG-FACED SALESMAN
Licks his lips. Eyes big as saucers.
PIG-FACED SALESMAN
Yeah, honey -- GIVE IT UP.
BLUE
Twirls around.
Unhooks her halter top.
It FLIES off.
She grabs her breasts in her hands.
Starts flicking the nipples.
CARRIE
Watches from the bar.
CARRIE
She’s a natural.
BLUE
Goes to the pole.
LEAPS UP, GRABS it with her thighs.
Rides it like a horse. KICKS a leg out --
And she SLIPS, FALLS,
and HITS the floor with a CRACK.
She lies motionless.
Then JUMPS UP and RUNS off the stage.
AT THE BAR
The bartender leans over to Carrie.
Shakes his head.
BARTENDER
Another one bites the dust.
CARRIE
You’re just jealous cause you can’t have her.
BARTENDER
And you can?
CARRIE
Don’t look now, but Dr. Phil down there
needs another Harvey Wallbanger.
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