Fuck Me, Stephen Hawking

Happy Tuesday, 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 21 of FRANKENSTEIN IN LOVE, the cops deduce where science genius nerd Frankie Stein has taken dead cheerleader Shayla Petrie to hide out -- at a sex motel. Meanwhile, at the motel, Frankie and Shayla 'get busy' ...


INT. TREE HOUSE - NIGHT
Chet and Beck search the tiny room
looking for clues.

CHET
Nothing. How about you?

BECK
Nothing.
(looks at the bed)
Do you think he fucked her?

CHET
My god. That’s SICK --

BECK
I’ve seen his picture.
He makes Mark Zuckerburg
look like Ryan Reynolds.

CHET
So --

BECK
Shayla was the head cheerleader.
AND prom queen. You do the math.
(off his look)
What’s the only thing on a
sixteen-year-old boy’s mind?

CHET
To get laid.

BECK
And where would he go to do THAT?

CHET
A motel --

BECK
Barney Miller gets a gold star.

CHET
I bet he went to The Camelot.

BECK
The Camelot?

CHET
Yeah. It’s one of those sex motels.

BECK
You mean the kind with
the magic fingers bed?

CHET
Uh, yeah.

BECK
Damn. I’m staying at the wrong place --

INT. CAMELOT MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Spare. Old. Done up like a room in a castle,
with peeling, faded ‘brick’ wallpaper.

Magic fingers bed.
The come stains have come stains.
‘Shitty’ would be a compliment.

Shayla sits on the bed,
finishes eating Josh’s hand.

Frankie stares at her.
Horrified. Speechless.

SHAYLA
C’mere, lover-boy.
Lets get BUSY.

She WHIRLS him around.
SHOVES him onto the bed.

Frankie stares at her. Scared.
She gets on top of him.

Starts kissing his neck.
Grabs his belt buckle.
Starts undoing it.

FRANKIE
No, stop -- I don’t want to --

SHAYLA
Tough toenails, little fella.
I got an itch that needs to be SCRATCHED.

FRANKIE
I’m not in the mood --

SHAYLA
What’s the matter?
Don’t tell me you’re a VIRGIN?

FRANKIE
(turning red)
As a matter of fact --

SHAYLA
Well, we’ll see about THAT.

She pulls her dress over her head.
Revealing her perfect, injured body.

Frankie’s eyes go wide.

SHAYLA
FUCK me, Stephen Hawking.

Shayla grabs his belt.
Starts undoing it.

Frankie’s eyes go glassy.
He lets out a YELP.
A wet stain forms on his crotch.

SHAYLA
AGAIN?

FRANKIE
Sorry --

SHAYLA
Don’t worry.
We’re just getting STARTED.
(big smile)
We’ve got ALL NIGHT --

PUSH IN ON Frankie’s face.
Scared shitless.