Pussy Hound

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking HUMP DAY. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 27 of NOWHERE GIRLS, we meet evil criminal mastermind Honey Almond's latest assassin, Irina Kolishnikov, who has been dispatched to take out Homeland Security agents Cherry Nation and April Street. Meanwhile, Honey's former cover op Rock Vargas has defected, and is now racing over to save Cherry and April, who are trapped in the shopping center basement ...


EXT. BEVERLY HILLS GYM - NIGHT
A tony, overpriced workout boutique on Rodeo Drive.
Lights blazing, even at this late hour.

INT. BEVERLY HILLS GYM - CONTINUOUS
Empty, except for IRINA and her client,
a slick, puffy, asshole AGENT (30’s)
wearing designer workout threads.

Right now he’s on the floor on his back,
being stretched out by Irina.
He GROANS as she slowly pushes his leg up.

ASSHOLE AGENT
Irina, baby. You’re killing me --

His BlackBerry ERUPTS
with a shitty pop music ring tone.

RING TONE
Gotta go boom, gotta go boom, boom, boom -

ASSHOLE AGENT
Hold on. I gotta get that.
(reaches over, grabs it)
This is Hassig.
(listens)
Well, you tell that fucking CUNT
we’re not paying a fucking CENT
over three-hundred grand, GOT IT?

Irina watches. Amused. Puts his leg down.

HASSIG
In your ASS. She’s SHARING a double-banger
with Little Miss Oscar Contender, GOT IT?

She BLINKS. Grabs her neck. Rubs it.
Her eyes glaze over. Cocks her head.
Looks at Hassig.

HASSIG
Like I could give a FLYING FUCK.
If she doesn’t show up on set tomorrow morning,
we’ll fucking sue her liposuctioned ASS, GOT IT?

IRINA
(monotone)
I have to go now.

She turns and walks toward the door.

HASSIG
(sees her)
HEY. Where the fuck do you think YOU’RE going?
We still have FIVE MINUTES.

Irina puts her hand on the knob.
Turns and looks.

IRINA
(robotic)
Go fuck yourself, you sack of shit.
I have work to do.

And she’s gone. The door SLAMS shut.

HASSIG
(into the phone)
I don’t fucking BELIEVE it.
My trainer just BAILED on me.
(listens)
Oh yeah? Well, fuck you, TOO.
And your faggot-ass LAW FIRM.
Case dismissed.

He FLINGS his phone against the wall, CRACK.

HASSIG (CONT’D)
Asshole --

INT. SHOPPING MALL - BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
Cherry and April climb the steel rungs in the wall.
April talks on her hands-free cell phone.

APRIL
We’ll be on the roof in a couple minutes.
How close are you?

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. ROCK’S HUMMER - MOVING - NIGHT
Rock drives, smokes a Gitanes, talks on his cell.
He’s now wearing a black suit, shades and an earpiece.

ROCK
I’m just around the corner.

APRIL
What’s your plan?

ROCK
I had a better idea.
I’m going in as Secret Service,
on orders from the White House.

APRIL
How you are going to pull THAT off?

ROCK
Piece of cake. That was my last job --
(shakes his head)
But after seven years of protecting a chimp,
I had to bail.
(beat)
Biggest mistake of my life.
This feels right.

APRIL
Well, if you can pull this off,
I’ll personally make sure you get a deal,
maybe even come work with us.

ROCK
Works for me. I’m on my way.
I’m in a black Hummer. Over.

APRIL
Roger that. Over.

She SNAPS her cell shut.
Looks at Cherry.

APRIL (CONT’D)
I think this guy’s okay.
(off her look)
He called Bush a chimp --

INT. SHOPPING MALL BASEMENT - UNDERGROUND CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A four-man squadron of COMMANDOS in riot gear
work their way down the same corridor
we saw Cherry and April in earlier.
They get to a intersection of two tunnels. Stop.

One of them has an BIG, BLACK ATTACK DOG.
He JERKS the leash.

TALL COMMANDO
Which way, boy?

The dog SNIFFS, GROWLS, JERKS him to the left.

HUGE COMMANDO
He can really smell their scent?

TALL COMMANDO
Yeah. Got him from Clinton’s staff.
He can sniff out a filly from a half-mile away.

HUGE COMMANDO
Nice.

Tall Commando’s walkie talkie CHIRP.
He answers it.

INTERCUT WITH:

EXT. SHOPPING MALL - NIGHT
Sunday huddles with Max by
the front entrance to the mall.

SUNDAY
Status report?

HUGE COMMANDO
We’re getting close, chief.
We’ve covered the whole joint
except the basement, where we are now.
Bunky’s got their scent.

SUNDAY
Who the FUCK is Bunky?

HUGE COMMANDO
Tracer dog, Ma’am.

SUNDAY
Oh, right -- the Clinton thing.
Pussy hound. Carry on.
Keep me posted. Over.

HUGE COMMANDO
Roger that.

They hang up.

MAX
What’s 'the Clinton thing?'

HUGE COMMANDO
Sorry. That’s on a
‘need to sniff’ basis only.