Dog Day Afternoon

Happy Thursday, 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 31 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, while fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster is holding the White Line Pictures executives hostage in their conference room, mercenary Bland Loosener is making his way through the building to capture her. Meanwhile, not only has a news crew invaded the building, but the police have just arrived ...


INT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - CONFERENCE ROOM - MORNING
Friday waves the Uzi at the suits.
Jimmy Joe listens.

FRIDAY
So they offered me a deal,
optioned the script,
got the wheels in motion,
fast-tracked my payment,
I quit my job --

JIMMY JOE
And then they pulled the plug.

FRIDAY
AFTER the story had hit the trades,
after they fucking OUTED ME.
(to Don)
You fucking promised, asshole.

JIMMY JOE
So what do you reckon yer gonna do?

DON
Jimmy Joe, shut up the fuck up.
You’re egging her on.

GARY
Idiot.
You could become an accessory.

HANS
Like vat, a handbag?

JIMMY JOE
Shut up, all a’ y’all.
This lady’s goddamn angry,
and we’re gonna have to
figure out a way to satisfy her --
or else we’re gonna have ourselves
a Dog Day Afternoon here.

GARY
Then let’s hurry this the fuck up.
I’ve got a story meeting at ten.

FRIDAY
FUCK your story meeting.
THIS is the story.
And I want a news crew in here, NOW.
The revolution WILL be televised.

DON
And what are you gonna tell them --
that we’re being held hostage
by a SCREENWRITER?

FRIDAY
You bet your fucking ASS.

Friday raises her MAGNUM.
Points it at Don.

Everybody GASPS.
She turns.
Takes aim at --

AN ACADEMY AWARD
sitting on a shelf
at the far end of the room.

FRIDAY
CLICKS the safety.

FRIDAY
I’d like to thank God,
my mom, my agent --

And SHOOTS -- BANG.
The Oscar SHATTERS.

FRIDAY
And all the LITTLE PEOPLE
that FUCKED ME.

DON
You, you shot --

GARY
Our best picture OSCAR.

FRIDAY
I never watch the Academy Awards.
(beat)
I’m more of an
Independent Spirit kinda gal.

INT. ELEVATOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Bland stands in a corner.
Jumps up on the handrails.

Feet at forty-five degree angles.
Ass up against the wall.

He PUNCHES the trap door in the ceiling.
Nothing happens.

BLAND
Ow.
(rubs his hand)
I will not ABORT.

Bland inspects it. Reaches up.
Clicks the latch. Opens it.

BLAND
Good job, soldier.

INT. STAIRWELL - AT THAT MOMENT
Rebecca and Lighting Guy
charge up the stairs.

Bald Cameraman follows,
half a flight down.
Huffing and puffing.

BALD CAMERAMAN
I’m gonna burst a blood vessel!

REBECCA
(over her shoulder)
Good! Great B-roll footage!
Make sure you leave the camera on!

Her phone RINGS.
She stops. Answers it.

REBECCA
This better be good --
(listens)
What? The cops JUST GOT HERE?
(to the crew)
We beat the fucking cops AGAIN.
(into the phone)
No -- I’m almost inside.
Get another crew down here,
they can shoot the
piggies coming to market.
(hangs up, to the crew)
Alright, let’s get moving --
we’re going into
the belly of the beast.

Bald Camerman’s stomach GROWLS.

EXT. ROBERTSON BOULEVARD - DAY
A squad car SCREECHES
to a stop at the curb.
Then two more.

COPS pour out.
RUN toward the building.

EXT. WHITE LINE PICTURES - FRONT ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS
Barricades have been set up.
A line of cops in riot gear,
shields, assault rifles,
stand in formation.

INT. ELEVATOR SHAFT - AT THAT MOMENT
Bland climbs up the cable.
Sees the other car coming down from above.

Just as it passes by,
he SWINGS toward it,
LETS GO of the cable,
and LANDS on top of it with a THUD.

BLAND
We’re going in, CAPTAIN --