Young, Nubile Women With Semi-Automatic Weapons

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. I trust you had a nice weak-end? 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 17 of LEGS, private eye Carrie Love convinces her ex-husband, homicide detective Bernie Keko to let her come with him when he goes to question his prime suspect, demented German snuff filmmaker Klaus Speer ...


INT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK
Keko paces the hallway.
Carrie leaves the ladies' room.

Ghostly. Red-eyed.
White t-shirt water-stained.

KEKO
Are you okay?
Can I get you some coffee?

CARRIE
Thanks, but that'll just
come right back up again.
Let's get the fuck out of here.
I need some air.
(starts walking)
I've been puking so much lately
you'd think I was pregnant.

EXT. CITY MORGUE - DUSK
Carrie breathes in the night air.
Coughs a smoker’s hack.

KEKO
Well, maybe you are.
When was you're last time
you had your --

CARRIE
Bernie.
I don't even own
a turkey baster.

They walk toward the car.

KEKO
That’s right, I forgot.
No tab A. Just slot B.

CARRIE
(stops in her tracks)
It just fucking kills you, doesn’t it.
Baby rooster pouts cause he’s
not allowed in the hen house.

KEKO
(opens car door)
C'mon, get in.
I'll drive you home.

She stands, frozen. Angry.
Stubborn. Determined.

KEKO
Get in, your shirt's all wet,
you'll catch a cold.

INT. SQUAD CAR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie’s eyes scan the familiar equipment.
The radio. Blinking lights.
Nightstick. Shotgun.

She makes a decision.

CARRIE
(quietly)
I'm coming with you.

KEKO
You can't come with me on a --

CARRIE
Yes, I can.
And I'm going to.

KEKO
Carrie --

CARRIE
I found the suspects.
(beat)
I know the suspects.

They stare at each other.
He turns the ignition. Sighs.

KEKO
You said Queens Road?

EXT. PRIVATE ROAD ENTRANCE - DUSK
A steep, curved incline
high in the Hollywood Hills.

An elegant wrought iron sign
reads QUEENS ROAD. PRIVATE.

INT. KLAUS' PRODUCTION STUDIO - DUSK
The gang watches:
Klaus, the proud director.
Jorel takes notes.
Samms, mesmerized.
Felina, bored.

ON THE MONITOR
Megan's head in the sand.
Her eyes slowly open.

She looks around. Looks up.
Screams. A wave crashes.

IN THE STUDIO
Felina stands.
Goes to the door.

FELINA
If you're going to watch it again
I'm going outside for a fag.

She leaves.

JOREL
What got her bloomers in a bind?

SAMMS
You know women,
she's probably PMS-ing.

KLAUS
Well, there is a connection
between the moon, the tides,
and a woman's --

A doorbell rings.
Felina rushes back in.

FELINA
Guys, there's a big,
fat cop car out there.

KLAUS
Everyone remain calm.
There's no need to panic.
I'll go talk to the fuzz.
(beat)
Jorel, monitor us on the video,
put in a fresh tape.
Michael, prepare the TWAT arsenal.
We’ll do it in digital video.
(as he leaves)
Ach -- I just love improvisation.

Jorel picks up the steadicam.
Samms races into the back room.

FELINA
I'm afraid to even ask --
but just what the fuck
is the TWAT arsenal?

JOREL
It was a take-off
we did on SWAT.

Samms emerges --
armed to the teeth, Rambo-like.

SAMMS
There's just something about
young, nubile women
with semi-automatic weapons.