Nice Rack

Happy fucking Thursday, horror 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 9 of FRANKENSTEIN IN LOVE, science genius nerd Frankie gets swept up into the media circus at school in the aftermath of head cheerleader Shayla Petrie's disappearance. Meanwhile, cops comb the crime scene for clues, and CDC agent Beck Driver arrives on the scene to check out the zombie rat.


EXT. SUBURBAN HIGH SCHOOL - FRONT LAWN - DAY
A horde of NEWS VANS are parked outside.
A few REPORTERS with CAMERA CREWS
are interviewing students.

A FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
thrusts a microphone into a
fat girl’s tear-streaked face.

FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
Did you know Shayla well?

FAT GIRL
No. But we all looked up to her.
She was so -- perfect.

FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
(nods, looks into the camera)
We still don’t know what happened
to little Shayla Petrie.
Perhaps it was an unhealthy desire
for perfection that
drew her to the dark side --

FRANKIE AND JOSH
Watch the hubbub
from the front steps.

JOSH
Geez. They’re like
vultures circling a fresh kill.

FRANKIE
That may be.
(beat)
But just wait until
I share my discovery
with the world.
I’ll be FAMOUS.

JOSH
You mean you’re
planning on TELLING everybody?

FRANKIE
Later. After I’ve finished
running some tests.
(beat)
And I -- sample the merchandise.

JOSH
You mean you’re gonna --

FRANKIE
Hey. There’s a first time for everything.

EXT. OLD COUNTRY ROAD - DAY
We recognize the spot where
Willis kicked Shayla out of the car.

And the curve in the road
where she was plowed over
by the hit and run driver.

But instead of being isolated,
it’s now a CRIME SCENE.

A gaggle of CRIME TECHS
search the area for clues.

In the background is the same media circus,
now behind barricades,
kept back by a handful
of UNIFORMED OFFICERS.

Chet talks to the CHIEF OF POLICE,
a pasty-fasted big fella
squeezed like a sausage into a cheap suit.

Meet CAPPY SIMS (50’s),
Venison’s low-rent version
of the high command.

CHET
He’s kind of a fuck-up, chief.
But I don’t think he had anything
to do with her disappearance.

CHIEF SIMS
But you said he acted 'kinda guilty.'

CHET
Yes, but not because of any foul play.
He wouldn’t admit that they’d been drinking,
but he told me she threw up
all over the inside of his vehicle.

CHIEF SIMS
We got an anonymous tip from someone
who said he liked to hit her --

An INTENSE-LOOKING TECH shouts out.

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
We got BLOOD, chief --

Chet and Sims whip their heads around.
Start walking over.

CHIEF SIMS
Good job, Bronson.
Whattawe got?

Bronson points at a spot
on the side of the road.

BRONSON
We got tire tracks that show
that a vehicle screeched to a stop here --
(points)
And there’s traces of blood here --
(points)
And these marks suggest that
a large object was dragged --
(points)
Over here.
And see here where they stopped?
The body was moved.

CHIEF SIMS
Find any footprints?

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
Yes, sir. We got some good ones. Sneakers.
Impressions are on their way to the lab.

CHET
What do you think happened?

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
If you ask me, she was hit by a car,
then dragged off into another car
and taken away.

CHET
Jesus CHRIST.
Who the hell would do THAT?

CHIEF SIMS
That’s what we’re gonna find out, son.
NOBODY steals the body
of the head cheerleader in MY TOWN.
(mutters to himself)
That nubile, young flesh --

CHET
Of course not, sir.
(thinks)
Actually, uh --
I think they did. Sir.

CHIEF SIMS
Shut up, Heck. You know what I meant.
We’re gonna find the culprit, GOT IT?

CHET
Got it. Sir.

CHIEF SIMS
And I’m putting YOU
in charge of the task force.

CHET
ME? Sir -- ?

CHIEF SIMS
I want you to comb EVERY INCH
of this bucolic, suburban paradise
and FIND this monster.

CHET
Yes, SIR.

CHIEF SIMS
I want Mr. and Mrs. Joe Average Venison
to know that we’ll fucking HUNT DOWN
and BRING TO JUSTICE anyone who DARES
abduct OUR objects of lust and desire.

INT. VENISON POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY
The usual drab institutional joint
brought to you by the color puke.
Strange details scream out ‘built in the 70’s.’

A LARGE COP sits at the front desk
working a crossword puzzle.

Beck Driver MARCHES up to him briskly.

BECK
Excuse me --

LARGE COP
(eyes on the paper)
Gimme one sec --

BECK
Beck Driver, CDC,
here to see Officer Chet Ordesky.

LARGE COP
(looks at her)
What’s a five-letter word for 'fat?'

BECK
Obese.

LARGE COP
That’s IT.
(writes it down, looks up)
How may I help you?

BECK
Beck Driver, CDC,
here to see Officer Chet Ordesky.

LARGE COP
'Beck?' Like the musician?

BECK
It’s short for Rebecca.
(low)
I’m here about the rat --

LARGE COP
(makes a face)
Oh. That. You need to go to the morgue.
Downstairs. I’ll have him meet you down there.

Beck nods. Marches off.
Fat picks up the phone. Watches her.

LARGE COP
Nice rack.