Friday, March 30, 2018

Dead Weight


Happy Good Friday, 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 22 of A DISH BEST KILLED, Jett gets distracted by a text from Haven, which causes her to miss her personal training client needing help when a large weight falls on his neck, which causes him to fire her, but when she accidentally punches him too hard, killing him, she suddenly has to dispose of his lifeless body ...


EXT. BEACH CONDO - OUTDOOR PATIO - DAY
Jett is training the Fat,
Sweating Venture Capitalist
we met earlier on the beach.

Fat lies on a bench under a barbell
ringed with weights clamped
in a cradle above him.

FAT, SWEATING VENTURE CAPITALIST
That looks like -- too much weight.

JETT
It’s only an extra ten pounds, Tyledge.
You told me you want to be ripped.

TYLEDGE
Yeah, I do.

JETT
Well, then -- let ‘er rip.
(beat)
Relax. I’m spotting you.
Just go nice and slow.

Fat looks up. Nods.
GRABS the barbell,
slowly lifts it up off the rack.

Straining and wheezing.
Jett’s cell phone
VIBRATES in her pocket.

She fishes it out.
It’s a text message.

TYLEDGE
(pushing, straining)
I, uh -- I can’t --
it’s, it’s slipping --

But Jett is reading the message.
It’s from Rush. On his way.

JETT
(under her breath)
Shit.

TYLEDGE
HELP, it’s gonna --

The weight is too much for Tyledge,
his grip slips, and the barbell
SLAMS DOWN on his neck.

TYLEDGE
GAAAAAAA!

Jett WHIPS her head around.

JETT
FUCK!

She GRABS the barbell, TOSSES it aside.
It CRASHES into a glass table,
SHATTERING it into a million pieces.
Tyledge GRABS his throat, SCREAMS in pain.

TYLEDGE
Fucking bitch! You trying to KILL me?

JETT
I’m sorry, I was -- on the phone --

TYLEDGE
Get the FUCK OUT OF HERE.
You’re FIRED, you HEAR ME?
(beat)
Fucking DYKE.

JETT
WHAT did you call me?

TYLEDGE
You heard me.
(ominous)
You’re gonna hear from my lawyer.
I’m gonna take you for every cent you have.
(beat)
So, tell me. Do you have to strap one on
to satisfy that little whore?

Jett rears back and SUCKER-PUNCHES him
under the chin, sends him FLYING.
He SLAMS down, CRACKING his head on the pavement.

JETT
Shit.

She feels his neck for a pulse.
Nothing. He’s DEAD.

JETT
NO.

Jett looks around. Nobody.
Everyone is at work.

She grabs Tyledge by the ankles,
drags him into the house.

IN THE LIVING ROOM
Jett pulls the large body
through the lux living room.

IN THE BASEMENT
She drags him down the stairs,
his body going THUNK, THUNK, THUNK
on each step. Talk about ‘dead weight.’

They get to the bottom.
Jett looks around, sees --

A LARGE FREEZER
One of those industrial-sized
ones that lies horizontally.

JETT
drags Tyledge to the freezer. Opens it.
Sees a mountain of steaks, chops and meat.
She starts pulling them out.

DISSOLVE TO:

Jett TOSSES meat packages into
the freezer, covering the body.

All we can see is his head.
She FLIPS one last steak in,
which covers his face.
SLAMS the lid closed.

JETT
That'll teach you to
call me a fucking DYKE --

No comments:

Post a Comment