Liquor Is Quicker

Hey there, crime kids. Happy fucking FRIDAY. Are you ready for the weak-end? Then 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 30 of DAZED, BEAUTIFUL & BRUISED, disgraced homicide detective Carrie Love drowns her sorrows in a bottle of booze, but then she gets a call from her ex-partner Bernie Keko summoning her to the scene of crazed teenage serial killer Sparkle Plenty's hostage situation at the Bargain Clown Mart ...


INT. CARRIE’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Our not-so-plucky heroine is sprawled on the couch,
a lump of self-pity.

On the coffee table, a bottle of scotch.
Empty beer bottles. A shot glass --
And Carrie’s big, chrome Glock.

From the TV, we hear LAURA’S VOICE
cry out with fake passion.

LAURA (O.S.)
Yes -- gawd, yes. Fuck me!

Carrie grabs the shooter,
FLINGS it at the screen -- CRACK.

POP. The glass SHATTERS. Smoke curls.

CARRIE
(very drunk)
Fucking -- cunt.
Carrie slowly reaches over.
Picks up the gun.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Girl’s best friend --

She grabs the bottle. Takes a slug.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Pills would be -- much less messy.

Carrie brings the barrel to her crotch.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Wonder if anybody’s ever
blown out their cootch.

Picks up the videotape box.
The title reads HARD CANDY.
Laura’s face grins lewdly.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Oh, yeah -- that’s right.

She FLINGS the box across the room.
Takes another slug.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Candy is dandy --
but liquor is quicker --
(puts the gun to her throat)
But a bullet in the gullet is handy.

The safety clicks.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Dead poet’s society --

She closes her eyes.

CARRIE (CONT’D)
Forgive me father,
for I have fucked.

The phone RINGS.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
Fuck you! Go away! Leave me alone!

It BRRR-RINGS again. She stands.
Marches over to the bar.

Ma Bell’s intruder BRRR-RINGS.
She GRABS it.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. MONSTER TRUCK - AT THE SAME TIME
Bernie YELLS into his cell phone.

KEKO
Carrie, it’s Bernie -- don’t throw it!

CARRIE
What? You -- what the fuck do you --

KEKO
The phone! Don’t throw it!
That’s what you do,
so don’t fucking throw it.
Listen to me, we’ve found the killer!

A horn HONKS somewhere in her fog.

CARRIE
You found the killer?
(beat)
Where?

KEKO
In Hollywood.
She’s taken the Bargain Clown Mart hostage.
I’m on the way there now --

Carrie struggles to focus.

CARRIE
You found the -- movie killer?
How many, how many hostages?

KEKO
One.
CARRIE
One?

KEKO
One.

CARRIE
Well, that’s kinda lame.

KEKO
Tell that to the fifty dead customers.

CARRIE
So why you calling me?
I no longer wear the baby blues.
I’m just a civilian,
I haven’t had a bear claw in a week.

KEKO
That might be true.
But our fatal fatale wants you and I
to star in her final flick.
(beat)
Or else she’s gonna kill her last
hostage --

EXT. BARGAIN CLOWN MART PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
A news van idles.

KEKO (O.S.)
Live on the 'Action News.'

CARRIE
Stares at the phone. Sighs.

CARRIE
So I guess this is what they call
a ‘wake up call.

INT./EXT. CARRIE’S OLDS - PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY - DUSK
A postcard sunset. Riot of red, orange and yellow
splashed across the sky, the water.

Carrie races up the coast in a tunnel of palm trees.
She lights a smoke, slides in a CD.

Concrete Blonde’s brutal-biker snarl of
GOD IS A BULLET.

CARRIE (V.O.)
This is the part where I
have my showdown with the beast.
(CRANKS it up)
Let me tell you a story.
I have a girlfriend who works at a movie studio.
And this mini-major had a big hit movie.
Made 150 million bucks.
It was one of those 'dumb' comedies.
Even had the word 'dumb' in the title.
So, when it comes time to make the sequel,
the suits --

She turns onto Sunset Boulevard.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Well, actually, they don’t wear suits anymore.
Every day is 'casual Friday' in show biz nowadays --
so let’s call them, 'business casuals.'

The Porsche races by the Beverly Hills Hotel.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So these business casuals come up
with this brilliant, creative idea.
Let’s not use the original writer.
Since we’d kill to be able to
come up with an idea, something, anything,
a germ of something that might possibly resemble
an original thought in an alternate universe --
we’ll have some input.
Some ego-driven bastardization
of the creative process.

Carrie flies by the Cinerama Dome.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
So now I feel like the fucking writer
who got fired from the very thing she created.
I got pink-slipped out of my life.
My girlfriend’s gone, fucked that up.
I lost my job, really fucked myself
in the ass with that one --
and I only got it back because
I’m being summoned to the climactic scene
by the villain --

The car turns left, heads North up La Brea.

CARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Who in this case is the
evil spawn of Jon-Benet Ramsey
risen from the dead,
hell-bent on shooting her own
B-movie meltdown in some kind of
post-apocalyptic Hollywood Babylon.
(beat)
Don’t drop your popcorn, kids --
cause the hero’s about to lose it.

She stops at a light.
Looks at herself in the rear view.

IN THE MIRROR
Carrie’s eyes burn.
They blink, flicker madly.

Her hand WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAPS
the dashboard.

CARRIE
(screams)
No! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!
I will NOT be a passive protagonist!

Carrie JAMS on the horn --
HONK, HONK, HONK, HONNNKKK.

She TAKES OFF into the traffic --