Tuesday, October 12, 2010

American Pussy



Happy Tuesday, crime kids. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 21 of NOWHERE GIRL, it's once again the calm before the storm as 'stripper with a suitcase nuke' Cherry Nation and Silverlake hipster Peeler Mardo hide out in the guest house of a Hollywood Hills mansion, where Cherry tends to Peeler's wounds. Meanwhile, a private security vehicle arrives at the mansion where the terrorists are holed up ... while Al Qaeda leader Hamad Nassour is at that moment raping 'the mistress of the house' ...


INT. POOL HOUSE - NIGHT
Cozy. Very hunting lodge.
Fireplace. Stocked bar.

Cherry and Peeler enter the room.
She guides Peeler over to the couch.
He PLOPS down.

PEELER
Thank god.
(beat)
I’m freezing.

Cherry goes to the heater.
Turns it on.

CHERRY
We’ll get warmed up in a jiffy.
(looks around)
Better leave the lights off.

She find some towels.
Grabs one. THROWS it at Peeler.

PEELER
(catches it)
Thanks.

They dry themselves.
She notices the bar.

CHERRY
A little brandy should do the trick.
Then let’s take a look at your foot.

She pours two snifters.
Takes them to the couch. Sits.

CHERRY
(hands one to Peeler)
Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.

PEELER
Yeah.
(takes a sip)
Listen to that rain.

CHERRY
Yeah.

She leans over.
Kisses him on the cheek.

PEELER
What was that for?

ANGLE ON --

Cherry’s hand grabs the end
of the rusty nail. YANKS it.

PEELER
YELLS out in pain.

CHERRY
Distraction.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS MANSION - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
The squad car makes its way down the long, long driveway.

INT. SECURITY SQUAD CAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
The guys check out the lux digs.

DRIVER
Shit, look at this joint.
It’s bigger than my high school.

RENNY
Hurry up and park.
I gotta take a piss.

INT. MANSION - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT
Unbelievably opulent. Huge.
With a giant circular bed.

Trophy’s wrists have been tied
to the bedposts with rope.

Hamad is on top of her,
slowly humping away.

Her face is streaked with tears.
Eyes closed, softly whimpering.

HAMAD
(grunts)
American pussy --
(beat)
Smells like STRAWBERRIES.

Downstairs, the doorbell RINGS.

HAMAD
Go away.

He moves faster,
really goes at it.

HAMAD
You need to MOVE HIPS.

He SLAPS her.
She CRIES out.
Starts humping him.

HAMAD
That’s more LIKE it.

Kamal comes to the door.
Averts his eyes.

KAMAL
Hamad.

Hamad keeps humping,
reaching his crescendo.

HAMAD
Ah -- ah -- ah --

KAMAL
HAMAD. Sorry to interrupt, but --

Hamad COMES like a bull on steroids.
ROARS like a tiger.

HAMAD
Praise ALLAH!
Fuck AMERICAN PUSSY!

The doorbell RINGS again.

KAMAL
There is someone at the door.
An ambulance. What should we do?

Hamad gets off Trophy Wife.
Pads over to Kamal.

HAMAD
Let them in.
Take husband with you.
Tell him we hurt wife
unless he cooperates.

KAMAL
Okay.
(beat)
How was she?

HAMAD
No pubic hair. Outrageous.
(beat)
But incredible turn-on.

1 comment:

  1. Nice, Cherry... cool bedside manner... I think I got a splinter in my foot... can you come pull it out for me? Hehe!!

    Oh... Hamad... very, very bad... I'm gonna enjoy watching you get yours... grrrr!

    Smells like strawberries, huh Carole? so... I seem to remember something you said about your stories... putting in people and elements from your own life.. so, you like strawberries, yes? Me too! I get this strawberry warming oil from Fantasy.... mmm... mmm... :D !!

    xoxo <3

    ReplyDelete