Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Hair Metal Motherfuckers



Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. 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 17 of NOWHERE GIRL, Homeland Security agent April Street gets into a tussle with black ops spook Yuri Vlaovic, with deadly results. Meanwhile, stripper-with-a-suitcase-nuke Cherry Nation gets a little help from the lead singer of 'Skull Bong' ...


EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - NIGHT
Yuri chats with the cops.

April leans against the SUV,
her wrists tied in front
with one of those twist-ties.

Cheap. Light. Easy. Effective.
And PAINFUL.

YURI
Thanks for help, fellas.

CRAZED COP
You want us to escort you?
That bitch is dangerous.

YURI
I’ve got it, thanks.

The cops shrug,
go back to their car and get in.

Yuri GRABS April by the wrists.
Points his gun at her.

Opens the door. SHOVES her in.
Slides her over to the
front passenger seat.

YURI
(gets in)
Sit tight. No talking.

APRIL
Can you loosen it a bit?
It’s cutting off my circulation.

YURI
I said NO TALKING.

Yuri starts the engine.
Pulls out, enters traffic.

Driving one-handed,
the other pointing his gun at April.

APRIL
Where are you taking me?

He CRACKS her in the head
with his piece.

April REELS back.

YURI
You American broads WON’T LISTEN.
I said SHUT THE FUCK UP.

They drive down the strip.
Pass by shops and restaurants.

YURI
Look at all this
fucking tourist crap.
(beat)
Crafton wanted me to bring you in.
(turns, smiles)
But I told him I have better idea.
We get to play game.

APRIL
What kind of --

She shuts up.
Doesn’t want to get hit again.

YURI
Ah, you want to know what kind of game?
Well, you see, back in Russia
we have special method to get information.
Way that make Gitmo look like Camp David.
(hisses)
Waterboarding. For BABIES.
(beat)
I pride myself in being able to
keep detainee alive for WEEKS,
sometimes MONTHS.
(nasty laugh)
We’re going to have
lot of fun, babushka.

The car stops at a light.
Yuri turns his head. Sees --

EXT. CRAZY HORSE STRIP CLUB - CONTINUOUS
A trio of HOT, FLASHY STRIPPERS
come out of the club, laughing.
All hair, legs and boobs.

IN THE CAR
Yuri watches them.
Puts his tongue between two fingers,
wriggles it like a snake.

ON THE SIDEWALK
Tall, curvy does a take.

TALL, CURVY BLOND STRIPPER
EW. Did you see what that guy just DID?

HOT HISPANIC STRIPPER
(walks over, SLAPS handbag against the window)
Mother-FUCKER.

HOT ASIAN STRIPPER
Me love you NO-TIME.

IN THE CAR
April takes advantage of the distraction.
PIVOTS in her seat, curls into a ball,
raises her boots, pulls them back, and --

SLAMS them into Yuri’s head,
CRACKING it into the window.

APRIL
Take THAT, motherfucker!

She KICKS again, HARDER, BANG --
squishing his head like a grape.

Blood SPRAYS. The window CRACKS.

ON THE SIDEWALK
The strippers FREAK.

TALL, CURVY BLOND STRIPPER
Holy fucking SHIT!

HOT HISPANIC STRIPPER
OhmiGOD!

HOT ASIAN STRIPPER
Let’s get the fuck OUTTA HERE.

And they TAKE OFF, high-heels
CLATTERING on the pavement.

IN THE CAR
April surveys the damage. Sniffs.

APRIL
Fucker smells like CABBAGE --

She leans over,
rummages in Yuri’s pockets.

Finds a knife. Puts it in her mouth.
RIPS apart the wrist-tie.

APRIL
Thank GOD.

April rummages around.
Finds the tracking device.
Shoves it in her pocket.

Takes Yuri’s gun.
Looks at all the blood.

APRIL
Too conspicuous.
And the cops have
the license number.
Better split.

She eases out the passenger door side,
softly CLICKS it shut.

INT. GARAGE - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
Lead Singer stares at Cherry’s gun.
Rapidly sobering up.

LEAD SINGER
Dude. That’s a real gun.

DRUMMER
(to Lead Singer)
Chill, Brody.
She’s not gonna hurt us.
(to Cherry)
Right?

BASS PLAYER
That’s a Sig Sauer, man.
Wicked piece.

CHERRY
Shut up, all of you.
I just need someone to help me find --
(pulls out piece of paper)
1155 Queens Road.
And we need to go, NOW.

BRODY
Wait a minute. I recognize you --
you’re La Cienega Boulevard.

DRUMMER
SHIT, you’re right.

BASS PLAYER
Who?

BRODY
The porn star, dude --
La Cienega Boulevard.
(to Cherry)
Why’d you retire?
You were THE BEST.
So fucking HOT.

STAN
(to Peeler)
I thought she looked familiar.

CHERRY
(lowers her gun)
I got sick of it.
And I make a lot of money
feature dancing on the road.
I’ll be quitting that soon, too --
if I make it out of this alive.
(raises it)
So which one of you
hair metal motherfuckers
is gonna show us the way?

BRODY
I will. It’s my band.
(beat)
And we’re not 'hair metal,'
we’re DEATH metal.

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