The Wheel Of Misfortune

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. 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 12 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love goes to the shooting range to blow off some steam. Meanwhile, demented German snuff filmmaker is also shooting something. A murder. On film. In some ungodly 'game show.'


INT. FIRING RANGE - DAY
A racy, infectious, acid-jazz detective theme.
Rows of stalls face targets -- some bulls-eyes,
others silhouettes of crooks with weapons.

GUNSHOTS pierce the air.

Carrie assumes the position.
Aims her 9mm Glock with both hands.
PUMPS a shot.

CLOSE ON --
A bullet ZINGS through the crotch
of a male silhouette.

CARRIE
shoves in another clip.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Whenever I need to blow off some steam,
vent my anger -- or just feel
the adrenaline rush of cold blue steel,
I head over here and blow off a few rounds.

She resumes her stance.

CLOSE ON --
Six rapid shots RIP the target --
forming a perfect circle around the crotch.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate men.
Just the kind that would cut off a woman's head.
No chick would ever do that.

CARRIE
reloads again.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Notwithstanding Lorena Bobbit.

An off-duty COP walks by,
eyes her appreciatively.

COP
Nice cluster, Legs.
Lookin' good today.

She eyes him warily.
Pumps a fusillade of bullets.

CLOSE ON --
A smiley face of holes on the target's head.

Pause.

CARRIE (V.O.)
So many men.
(beat)
So few bullets in a gun.

EXT. KLAUS’ ESTATE - NIGHT
A Hollywood Hills compound.
The main house juts out on a cliff
into the sky like a dare.
Life on the edge.

EXT. GARAGE - NIGHT
An elegant garage by the pool.
Upstairs windows blacked out.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR
is a brightly lit soundstage.
A familiar looking set.

The “Wheel of Misfortune.”
Just like the one on TV.

But this game is a little different.

Tied to the wheel is SHARON SAMMS (23),
a blue-eyed, bottle-blonde
scoop of vanilla perfection.
Naked. Eager. Excited.

Klaus sits nearby on a dolly
shooting in Panavision.

We hear cheerful game-show music,
then laughter, applause --
and then, in unison --

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)
Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

Felina stands near the puzzle board
in a blonde wig, white vinyl and an opaque mask.
She smiles. Waves at the camera.

Jorel’s at the podium.
Resplendent in white face.

A natty Hugo Boss ensemble.
He looks into the camera, grins broadly.

JOREL
Hello, America! Welcome back to the game!
(reads off a card)
So Sharon, it says here you’re an actress.
Have you been in anything we might have seen?

SHARON
Well -- I just did an infomercial for
Chuck Orleans’ anal bead colonic --
but I’m hopin’ that being on “The Wheel”
will get me noticed in Hollywood.

JOREL
(chuckles to himself)
Oh, this’ll get you noticed.
(loudly)
Alright -- let’s play the game!

FELINA
gestures at the puzzle board.
It reads “D_E, D_E, MY LOVELY."

SHARON
looks at the phrase. Thinks. Nope.

SHARON
I guess I’m gonna have to take a spin, Pat.
I need to buy a vowel, I think.

JOREL
Thatta-girl. Hold onto your 401k --

He grabs the wheel -- and SPINS it.
Sharon goes FLYING AROUND like a pinwheel.

SHARON
Hey, that's too fast!

Samms rushes in, flushed. Out of breath.

KLAUS
Where the fuck have you been?
We’ve already started.
Push the fucking dolly.

SAMMS
Fucking traffic on the 405.
You think I wanted to miss this?

SHARON
goes round and round.
The wheel slows, slows,
the tab flick-flicking on dollar amounts --
until it lands on --

YOU LOSE.

SHARON
Shit.

JOREL
I’m sorry, Sharon. You lose.
(to Felina)
Well, I guess everyone can’t be a winner.
Right, Vanna?

FELINA
(brightly)
You know what they say, Pat --
it’s not whether you win or lose,
but if you get to live.

She places two letter "I's" on the board.
The puzzle now spells "DIE, DIE, MY LOVELY."

JOREL
And you were so close.
(to the camera)
Well, that’s it until next time.
(to Sharon)
Ready for your final spin?

SAMMS
pushes the dolly, trips.
Knocks over an apple box.

KLAUS
(hisses)
Watch it, asshole -- we’re rolling.

SHARON
(sees Samms)
Michael! What are you doing here?

SAMMS
'Till death do us part, babe.

Felina fastens a ball gag
around Sharon's neck --

SHARON
Hey, what are you doing?

And shoves the ball in her mouth.

FELINA
It's time for the lighting round, Pat!
Let 'er rip!

Jorel PUNCHES a remote.
The wheel starts SPINNING. Fast.

A circular plexiglass wall
starts rising up around it.

CANNED AUDIENCE (O.C.)
Wheel -- of -- Misfortune!

A ceiling fan with sharp,
steel blades starts to descend.

Sharon STRUGGLES WILDLY
against her restraints.

FELINA
(smiles, waves)
Thanks for tuning in!
See you next time!

CAMERA POV
The blades reach the lip
of what is now a glass cylinder.

A giant, evil cuisinart --
about to make a "Sharon-shake."

ANGLE ON:

KLAUS
shoots the action, mesmerized.

SAMMS
stares, lust in his eyes.
Rubs his crotch.

THE CYLINDER
is SPLATTERED with blood.

KLAUS
Cut, print -- that's a take.

Samms lights up a smoke.
Smiles at Klaus.

SAMMS
Wife-us interruptus.

KLAUS
And no alimony payments.