"Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013 [now 17 entries]

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  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    TECH NOIR
    
    
    BLACK SCREEN:
    
    White text: Once upon a time. In 1985.
    
    We pan down from the darkness of the rafters. A multitude of
    lights swish and swivel, spraying the hits of the rainbow
    
    
    OVER A CROWDED DANCE FLOOR
    
    Where pastels mix with zebra stripes; writhing as one living,
    breathing mass amidst a haze of dry ice and hairspray.
    
    Emblazoned in neon across the back of the bar: TECH NOIR.
    
    Barmen nod to the pulse of synth-based pop as they pour
    ridiculously priced cocktails without an ounce of shame.
    
    God, I miss the 80s.
    
    
    A PONYTAILED MAN
    
    30s, squeezes through a sea of revellers. His forehead matted
    with sweaty hair. His face serious; strained. Like he
    desperately needs to s**t.
    
    Barges past an unsuspecting blonde. She's about to scold him
    when she looks at her white blouse. It's smeared with blood.
    
    She stares in disbelief as Ponytail ploughs on. Clutching his
    stomach as he melts into a new wave of partygoers.
    
    
    HE EMERGES AT THE FIRE EXIT
    
    And drives through into
    
    
    A BACK ALLEY
    
    Where a couple rut workman-like against the wall. Her legs
    hang listlessly by his waist. Either she's smacked off her
    t*ts or he's one dead f**k.
    
    
    BACK IN THE CLUB
    
    The gaping fire doors catch the attention of a bespectacled
    BLOND GUY, 30s. He bee lines for them.
    
    
    THE HORNY COUPLE
    
    Are oblivious to Ponytail as he scampers down the alley,
    footsteps slapping off the narrow walls.
    
    
    IN THE CLUB
    
    A bald, black bouncer pulls the fire doors shut as the blond
    guy breezes past, pushing them back open. Louis Gosset Jr
    isn't amused and yanks him by the shoulder.
    
    As he spins, Blondie karate chops Louis' carotid artery,
    dropping him like a used teabag.
    
    Doesn't give the unconscious bouncer a second look as he
    
    
    STEPS INTO THE ALLEY
    
    Where the couple maintain their laboured sex. He looks both
    ways before jogging in Ponytail's direction. His footsteps
    also echoing into the night.
    
    
    A VAN IS WEDGED
    
    In the mouth of the alley, blocking access. Blondie pulls out
    a gun and approaches. Pulls on the rear door - it's locked.
    Tentatively dabs the exhaust, then grips firmly. It's cold.
    
    He turns back to the alley - empty - save for an industrial
    rubbish bin. Peers above it to a smashed first-floor window.
    
    
    IN A DARKENED STORAGE ROOM
    
    Moonlight permeates a shattered window, highlighting a bloody
    trail snaking across the floor to a figure desperately trying
    to drag itself between cardboard boxes.
    
    Glass crunching underfoot stops him in his tracks.
    
                        BLONDIE
              Hello Martyn.
    
    Ponytail sighs and rolls over, clasping his midriff.
    
                           PONYTAIL
              Terry.
    
                        BLONDIE
              How've you been?
    
    Ponytail takes his hand off his gut, showing his blood-
    drenched t-shirt and bullet wound.
    
                        PONYTAIL
              Better. You?
    
                        BLONDIE
              Not bad. C**t next door isn't
              picking up after his Alsatian.
              I almost stood in its s**t. I'm
              gonna ram his bloody nose in it.
    
                         PONYTAIL
              The dog?
    
                        BLONDIE
              F**k would I do that for? It's a
              dog! No, the c**t.
    
                        PONYTAIL
              Fair enough.
    
    A brief pause.
    
                        BLONDIE
              You know why I'm here.
    
                         PONYTAIL
              I do.
    
                        BLONDIE
              Don't suppose you've got it with
              you, have you?
    
    Ponytail pats his jeans pocket and shrugs.
    
                        BLONDIE
              That was a tad wishful, wasn't it?
    
                        PONYTAIL
              Would it have made any difference?
    
                        BLONDIE
              Would've made my life easier.
    
                         PONYTAIL
              Sorry.
    
    Blondie waves him away like it's no big deal.
    
                        PONYTAIL
              We can split it. Three ways it's
              still a lot. We can split it and we
              can leave all this behind.
    
                        BLONDIE
              That's not the point, is it?
    
                        PONYTAIL
              Then I never did get the point.
    
                        BLONDIE
              Never mind.
    
                        PONYTAIL
              I'm so tired...
    
                        BLONDIE
              Where's the briefcase, Martyn? You
              know, about yay big, stuffed with
              half a mill of our boss's dough.
    
    Ponytail looks away. Blondie tucks the gun behind his back
    and returns with a sick blade, angling it to catch fragments
    of moonlight.
    
                        BLONDIE
              What was it Einstein said? Put your
              hand on a hot grill for a minute
              and it feels like an hour? Tonight
              can last forever, Martyn. If you
              make it.
    
    Ponytail meets his gaze. Unflinching.
    
                        BLONDIE
              Old school. Respect. Least tell me
              why you did it.
    
                         PONYTAIL
              Jessica.
    
    Blondie's shoulders sag - did he just say that? Ponytail
    feels the sting.
    
                        PONYTAIL
              I love her.
    
                        BLONDIE
              If there was one bird who was off
              limits...
    
    Ponytail understands the disdain but still:
    
                        PONYTAIL
              I love her.
    
    Blondie studies him again. And, with regret...
    
                        BLONDIE
              You know the drill.
    
                        PONYTAIL
                  (swallows hard)
              Yeah.
    
    
    A TRENDY WINE BAR
    
    Where these newfangled mobile phones and red braces seem part
    of the dress code. Mock exposed brickwork abounds and the
    house lights bask everything in a midnight-blue hue.
    
    Among lively, and no doubt obnoxious conversations about the
    price of pork belly, is a woman sitting alone at the rear.
    
    JESSICA HARTMAN. A raven haired and elegant beauty in her mid-
    thirties. Her tight white shirt tucks into a pencil skirt and
    her long, bare legs run into black high heels.
    
    Penises everywhere, applaud.
    
    Twirling a near-empty wine glass and glancing out into the
    night, she's obviously waiting for someone.
    
    A GLASS COLLECTOR clears nearby tables. And as she checks her
    watch for what appears to be the umpteenth time:
    
                        MAN (O.S.)
              Jess?
    
    She looks up at the glass collector - and with barely
    concealed derision returns to the window.
    
                        JESSICA
              David.
    
    He's good looking, early 40s, with salt and pepper hair. And
    he regards Jessica with the eager eyes of a loyal beagle.
    
                        DAVID
              It's good to see you. What are you
              up to these days?
    
                        JESSICA
              Waiting. Like you. Except not
              tables.
    
                        DAVID
                  (laughs)
              This is my place. I own it!
    
                        JESSICA
              Congratulations.
    
    David takes that as an invite to plant himself opposite her,
    totally oblivious to her skin crawling as a result.
    
                        DAVID
              You look good...really good.
    
    Even her sharp intake of breath isn't enough to break his
    loving gaze.
    
                        JESSICA
              David--
    
                        DAVID
              I miss you.
    
    Jessica looks at her watch and pulls a cigarette from her
    handbag. Flicks hair off her high cheekbones as she lights.
    
                        JESSICA
              Don't do this.
    
    He leans forward, suddenly looking lost and hurt.
    
                        DAVID
              What happened, Jess?
    
    She languidly inhales and exhales.
    
                        DAVID
              One minute you couldn't get enough
              of me, planning our future, and the
              next I come home to an empty house.
              What the hell happened?!
    
                        JESSICA
              They invented home video.
    
                        DAVID
              I gave you everything. You said I
              was your shining star.
    
    Jessica rolls her eyes and checks her watch again.
    
                        JESSICA
              Things change; I was young; life
              goes on; it's not you, it's me -
              what do you want me to say?
    
                         DAVID
              I love you, David. I want you back.
                  (beat)
              Let's go to my office. Just like we
              used to. Spontaneous. Hot. Sleazy.
                  (holds up the empty
                   glasses)
              Just give me two minutes.
    
    Another slow drag on her cigarette...
    
                        JESSICA
              If you could last three I might
              consider it.
    
                        DAVID
              You can't fool me, Jess, I can see
              it in your eyes.
    
                        JESSICA
              Yes, quite. Now, putting reality
              aside...
    
                        DAVID
              We were good together! You remember
              all those sweaty nights between the
              sheets.
    
                        JESSICA
              Not really, I was usually asleep.
    
    David's resolve finally wavers. He's annoyed. And thus looks
    like he's constipated.
    
                        DAVID
              Then why are you here?
    
                        JESSICA
              Like I said - waiting. But not for
              much longer.
    
                        DAVID
              For?
    
    Jessica stubs out her cigarette.
    
                        JESSICA
              Look, we had fun, David, and things
              have clearly worked out for you
              since then.
    
    Another glance at her watch and she stands to leave.
    
                        DAVID
              Yeah, they have. Two bars and a pad
              in Torremolinos. I'm not waiting
              around like I used to. I come
              first.
    
                        JESSICA
              There you go again, referring to
              our sex life. Bye, David.
    
                        DAVID
              Give me one good reason to walk out
              of that door!
    
                        JESSICA
              One? I've got half a million.
    
    David's crestfallen. And as she walks away:
    
                        JESSICA
                  (to herself)
              I hope.
    
    [end scriptment]
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-22-2013, 01:31 PM.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    OBSESSED
    
    
    INT. BASEMENT - NIGHT
    
    A large room filled with electronic debris.
    
    Coils and cables, metal parts and robotic pieces, piled so
    high they've formed passageways.
    
    IN A WINDOW
    
    set high above, there's a CRASH OF LIGHTNING.
    
    DOWN BELOW
    
    in the maze of clutter, we see a
    
    FLASH OF BLUE LIGHT
    
    A SMALL MAN in a welder's mask, crouched over a metal
    whetstone and the circuit board placed on it.
    
    He touches a FLARING soldering iron to the circuit board,
    redirecting blue circuits.
    
    A CRASH OF LIGHTNING
    
    and he straightens, finished. He lifts his helmet.
    
    BILLY
    
    Pale grimy face, heavy beard. But it's the eyes that hold
    your attention.
    
    Filled with some unimaginable sadness.
    
    He lifts the circuit board he'd been soldering, holds it
    up as THUNDER CRASHES.
    
    
    INT. CLUTTERED HALLWAY - NIGHT
    
    A hallway filled with the innards of gutted computers,
    their frames tossed aside.
    
    Billy marches into
    
    A CIRCULAR BEDROOM
    
    On a table in the center is
    
    A BOX
    
    with the top open. Billy lowers the circuit board into it,
    shuts the lid.
    
    Checks some cables.
    
    Presses a button and the Box sputters to life.
    
    Billy looks down, notices
    
    THE HAIR ON HIS FOREARMS
    
    rising and bending towards the Box.
    
    His knees go weak suddenly, and he collapses, clutching
    the Box as its light flares.
    
    HIS HAND
    
    jerks forward, switches off the box.
    
    He falls back, chest heaving, staring in horror at the
    Box.
    
    
    INT. CLUTTERED HALLWAY - NIGHT
    
    Billy stands before a door that looks out of place amid
    the clutter.
    
    Bleached white wood, scrubbed clean.
    
    He opens the door and steps into a
    
    SMALL LIVING ROOM
    
    It couldn't be more different than the rest of Billy's
    house.
    
    Neat. Meticulous.
    
    A small double bed with a baby's crib beside it.
    
    Billy shuts the door behind him.
    
    Walks past the bed and sits on a couch.
    
    On a beautiful glass coffee table is
    
    A PHOTO ALBUM
    
    Spotless. Not an inch of dust on it.
    
    He flips it open.
    
    The first photo is faded, old: a young group of kids, the
    light extra bright on SALLY, a small blond girl in the
    forefront.
    
    In the background is a SMALL BOY.
    
    Not part of the picture, but in it. Staring at Sally.
    
    The next picture is of older kids. There's Sally, smiling
    wide, part of a JV basketball team. And again, in the
    background, the same BOY of similar age, staring, eyes
    wide.
    
    The resemblance to Billy is clear. The same sad eyes.
    
    Billy flips through the album, and every picture has Sally
    in it. Growing older.
    
    -- Wearing a college backpack as she bends down to tie her
    shoelaces.
    
    -- Surrounded by friends, mouth open in laughter.
    
    -- Through a dark bedroom window, riding a shadowy man
    beneath her.
    
    -- Getting on a train (late 20's). Her white scarf floats
    behind her, caught at the perfect moment. Behind her,
    Billy's hand extends into the frame, stretches towards her
    scarf.
    
    
    EXT. HILL NEAR THE FOREST - NIGHT
    
    Billy rubs his hands, frail body shivering as his breath
    steams.
    
    He pulls a packet of papers from his pocket.
    
    Flips through:
    
    -- A map with a route marked in black.
    
    -- A photo of an unaware Sally walking alone. Behind her,
    an enormous cinema marquee.
    
    Billy lowers the picture and we see the marquee across the
    street. It says
    
    "..Wilder presents..."
    
    but just exactly what he's presenting is lost to age and
    rust.
    
    Billy looks up and down the street.
    
    Looks behind him at the small forest.
    
    THE SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS
    
    and Billy spins, trips and falls.
    
    Crouches, listening to the sound of high heel shoes.
    
    Getting closer.
    
    He peers over the hill and into
    
    THE STREET BELOW
    
    Sally walks. A tight blue dress underneath a low cut
    jacket. Coming home from some party.
    
    She shivers, pulls the jacket close.
    
    AT THE TOP OF THE HILL
    
    Billy pulls out the Box. Removes a METALLIC HELMET from
    his backpack and puts it on.
    
    He switches on the Box.
    
    Blue lights flicker to life.
    
    The hairs on his arms rise. He watches, fascinated, eyes
    drooping.
    
    He JERKS out of the stupor, SLAPS a button on his HELMET.
    
    His eyes clear and the hair on his forearms drop.
    He kneels, gasping.
    
    Listens to the high heels as they fade away, until they're
    almost gone.
    
    He twists a volume knob on the Box, and the blue light
    suddenly flares.
    
    In the distance, the footsteps stop.
    
    Billy looks into
    
    THE STREET BELOW
    
    where Sally has stopped. She turns, slowly, looks up at
    him.
    
    And smiles a smile of such happiness, of such sudden and
    immediate intimacy, that it's disturbing.
    
    She walks up the hill.
    
    Reaches the top as Billy stumbles away.
    
    Falls on his back.
    
    The Box against his chest.
    
                        SALLY
                   (whisper)
              Who is that?
    
    She steps closer, shields her eyes as though some great
    light blinds her.
    
    Billy gets up.
    
                        BILLY
              It's... it's just me. Billy.
    
    She moves closer.
    
    He drops the Box when she touches his hands.
    
    Forgets it when she moves up his arms.
    
    When she touches his neck.
    
    Her eyes shimmer, her smile heartbreaking.
    
    She leans close and inhales deep, lips tracing across
    Billy's cheek as he flinches.
    
                        SALLY
                   (whisper)
              What are you, Billy?
    
                        BILLY
              I'm nobody.
    
    Her hand moves down his waist, the other circles his neck
    as she pulls him close, as she kisses him.
    
    Deep. Passionate. The kind of kiss you give when you've
    loved someone forever. The kind of kiss you spend your
    life dreaming about. The one that means something
    impossibly perfect is happening.
    
    Billy shudders, eyes tearing, the kiss going on, and on,
    and on.
    
    She sighs into his mouth as he pulls her close, as he
    traces her with his hands.
    
    It's everything he's ever wanted.
    
    She pulls back suddenly. Takes his hand and puts it to her
    chest.
    
                        SALLY
                   (whisper)
              Can you feel my heart?
    
    And we hear the beat now, rising.
    
    Until it's too loud, and too fast.
    
    Nothing ever beat that fast.
    
    Billy's eyes widen.
    
    Her cheeks flush with passion, her lips parted and the
    darkest of red.
    
    And for a second
    
    HER HEART SKIPS
    
    and then beats.
    
    SKIPS AGAIN
    
    And the blush in her cheeks becomes a stain as the vessels
    in her face burst.
    
    She's still smiling when her heart explodes.
    
    When she falls.
    
    When Billy catches her.
    
    Dead now.
    
    But still beautiful.
    
    He reaches to close her eyes, then changes his mind. Looks
    into them as he strokes her hair.
    
    As he takes off his helmet, tosses it beside him.
    
    Where it beeps an alarm.
    
    He leans down and kisses Sally's blue lips.
    
    And in the side of his neck, his jugular inflates as his
    heartbeat rises.
    
    As the hairs on his neck slowly rise.
    
    FADE OUT

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    JACK
    
    
    EXT. TWO LANE HIGHWAY -- EVENING
    
    The sun, nearly set, is deep red, and casts long shadows on
    the road. One shadow belongs to a sign that reads "ENTERING
    JOHNSON HOLLER -- POPULATION 2,937."
    
    A raccoon is sitting on its haunches beside the signpost.
    
    A WHITE, '67 THUNDERBIRD whooshes by, its taillights
    disappearing into the dusk as the raccoon scoots for the
    underbrush.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              I should have known this wasn't
              going to be easy.
    
    
    EXT. HOG HEAVEN -- CONTINUOUS
    
    The '67 Thunderbird kicks up gravel as it crunches to a stop
    in front of the small, walk-up, drive-in. It diesels for a
    moment before the engine coughs to a stop and the lights go
    off.
    
    Fire flies flicker, competing with the flickering neon sign.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              The things you'll do for the love
              of a good woman...
                    (laughs sardonically)
              Or... whatever.
    
    JACK AVERY, 40s, big, unshaven, sunglasses, wearing jeans
    and a white t-shirt, slams the door as he steps out. He
    takes off his sunglasses and stares up at the Menu Board.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              Thelma Louise Avery, my beautiful
              "blushing" bride. She's getting me
              killed real soon -- and I'm just
              walking into it like a moron
              zombie.
    
    A TEENAGE WAITRESS, wearing an old-style, pink uniform,
    appears at the window.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              But even a condemned man has the
              right to one last meal. I just sort
              of hoped it would have been
              somewhere other than "Hog Heaven."
    
                          WAITRESS
              Hi.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Hi, how you doin'?
    
                             WAITRESS
              Pretty good.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              You got anything without barbecue
              pork?
    
    The Waitress thinks for a moment.
    
                          WAITRESS
              Well, we got the "Little Squealer."
              It's made with barbecue pork, but
              it's small, so it doesn't have as
              much.
    
    Jack squints at the Menu Board.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              I'm pretty hungry.
    
                          WAITRESS
              You'll probably want the "Big Boar"
              then.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Yeah... okay.
                    (pause)
              You don't have fries?
    
                          WAITRESS
              No, but we got "Deep Fried Spud
              Slices."
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Okay... And then something to
              drink?
    
                             WAITRESS
              Nehi.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Sounds alright.
    
    The Waitress clacks the buttons on the cash register and
    pulls the crank. The bell rings.
    
                          WAITRESS
              That'll be...
                    (she slaps her forehead)
              Well, shoot... what am I thinkin'?
    
    Jack doesn't say anything.
    
                          WAITRESS
              I could save you a dollar, and
              twenty cents by sellin' you the
              "Big Boar Combo Slab."
    
                             JACK AVERY
              Sounds good.
    
                          WAITRESS
              You want that "hog sized?"
    
    
    EXT. POLICE STATION -- NIGHT
    
    Jack leans against the Thunderbird, smoking a cigarette and
    staring up at the Police Station doors.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              Johnson Holler's finest. Bought
              and paid for by Sean Conner. A
              "recruiting center" for Conner's
              private work prison up the road
              euphemistically named "Conner's
              Colony."
    
    Jack throws down the cigarette butt.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              And Thelma's little brother just
              had to get himself liquored up in
              THIS town.
    
    Jack starts up the stairs.
    
                          JACK AVERY (V.O.)
              I didn't even know Thelma had a
              brother.
                    (pause)
              Wish that's all I didn't know about
              her.
    
    
    INT. POLICE STATION -- CONTINUOUS
    
    Jack stomps into the station. A DEPUTY, 40s, fat, big and
    oily, snores in a chair behind the counter.
    
    Jack stares at him for a moment, then bangs on the bell, and
    keeps banging on it even after the Deputy wakes up and moves
    to the counter.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Hey mouth breather. About time!
    
                          DEPUTY
              A**hole, you want me to shove that
              bell down your throat?
    
    Jack stops banging on it.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Don't cop an attitude with me, you
              pin-headed chunk of worm s**t.
    
    The Deputy pushes a button and smiles wide. Several teeth
    are missing.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Allow me to predict your future,
              Mister... uh...
    
                            JACK AVERY
              ...Avery.
    
                            DEPUTY
              Mr. Avery--
    
                          JACK AVERY
              --Just call me Jack.
    
    The Deputy crosses his arms.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Mr. Jack... Mr. Jack Avery.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              You got it, Pally. You're not quite
              as stupid as you look.
    
    The Deputy grits his teeth.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Your future is rather bleak, Mr.
              Avery. Behind me...
    
    The Deputy points to a door behind his desk.
    
                          DEPUTY
              ...Behind me is a door that leads
              to a holding cell. We no longer
              have what you would call a proper
              jail--
    
                           JACK AVERY
              --You've given this spiel before,
              haven't you?
    
                            DEPUTY
              Shut up!
    
    Jack holds out his hands protectively.
    
                           JACK AVERY
              Whoa!  Say it, don't spray it!
    
                          DEPUTY
              This holding cell will be your...
              "domicile" for the night--
    
                          JACK AVERY
              --Wow! How many syllables was that?
    
                          DEPUTY
              This holding cell is rather
              primitive and, unfortunately, we
              have to employ rather primitive
              methods for restraining our...
              "guests" until it is time to
              transfer them to the Colony.
    
    On cue the door opens and BUBBA, seven feet and 350 pounds
    of muscle, ducks under the doorway and into the station.
    
    He eyes Jack and then the Deputy.
    
                          BUBBA
              You want me, Boss?
    
                          DEPUTY
              We have a "client" here, Bubba.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Well, actually... Bubba, I think I
              can find a motel for the night. If
              it's all the same to you and your
              fine Deputy friend here.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Let's just say that Bubba provides
              the restraint. He rather likes his
              job but, unfortunately, he can
              sometimes be a little too
              "exuberant" with our guests.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Would it help if I said I was damn
              sorry for all the cussing and name
              calling and what not?
    
                          DEPUTY
              It wouldn't even help if you shut
              your big trap right now.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Well... because, you know, I've got
              what's called "selective" Tourettes
              Syndrome and can't help what I say
              sometimes.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Selective Tourettes--
    
                          JACK AVERY
              --Yeah, selective... Get's
              triggered every time I'm near an
              a**hole.
    
    Bubba grabs Jack's arm and drags him toward the holding
    cell.
    
    
    INT. JAIL CELL -- MORNING
    
    The Deputy and two CONNER'S COLONY GOONS step through the
    door.
    
    The Deputy comes to a halt when he sees Jack sitting at the
    chair watching TV. Bubba is lying on the floor his hands
    cuffed behind his back.
    
    Jack puts his finger to his lips.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Shhh... Bubba's done tuckered out.
              You dont want to wake him.
    
    The Deputy draws his pistol, takes a step or two back.
    
                          DEPUTY
              What the hell?
    
                          JACK AVERY
              Bubba and me came to an equitable
              agreement about how this...
              "domicile," I believe you called
              it, is shared.
    
                          DEPUTY
              Get up.
    
    Jack stands.
    
                          JACK AVERY
              He lies there quietly and I don't
              kick his ass.
    
    [end scriptment]
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-28-2013, 04:17 AM.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    UNTITLED
    
    
    OVER BLACK
    
    RINGING of a cell phone.
    
    After the fourth ring, it stops.
    
    Beat.
    
    RINGING of a cell phone.
    
                                SEAN
                     (softly)
                 S**t.
    
    SOUNDS of fumbling on a nightstand.  CRASH.  Something was
    knocked over.
    
    On the fourth ring, light from the flip phone as it's
    answered. Can't make out much, just a strong jaw.
    
                             SEAN (CONT'D)
                 You better hope you know me.
    
                             RICO (O.S.)
                 Sean? This is Rico from
                 Maximillian's. Terry told me to
                 call you.
    
                                SEAN
                 Who?
    
                               RICO (O.S.)
                 Terry.    He said--
    
                               SEAN
                 No.    Who the f**k are you?
    
                             RICO (O.S.)
                 Rico. You know? From Maximillian's?
                 Over on Pine. Mr. Dixon sometimes
                 comes in he--
    
                             SEAN
                 Rico, I'm going to kick your ass
                 next time I see you for waking me up
                 at...where's my f**king clock?
    
                             RICO (O.S.)
                 Listen. Mr. Dixon's wife is down
                 here, and she's...I think you better
                 come get her.
    
    Dim outline of SEAN THORNTON, now sitting upright in his
    bed, feet on the floor, his back to us.
    
                            SEAN
                Mr. Dixon's wife.
    
                                RICO (O.S.)
                Yeah.  Look.  She's...with someone.
                Else.
    
    Sean takes the phone away from his face, holds it in his lap
    as he looks away.
    
                             RICO (O.S.) (CONT'D)
                Sean?   Hello?
    
                            SEAN
                    (back into the phone)
                You close the place now. I'll be
                there in half an hour. Do not let
                her leave.
    
                            RICO (O.S.)
                Oh, man, I hope Mr. Xa--
    
    Sean flips the phone shut.
    
    Darkness.
    
    The bedside light's flicked on.
    
    First good look at Sean: In his 40s, heavily-muscled in the
    shoulders, back, and arms, like a boxer.
    
    Still sitting on the bed, Sean bends down, picks up his clock.
    Sets it back on the nightstand. 2:23am.
    
                                SEAN
                    (softly)
                S**t.
    
    EXT. MAXIMILLIAN'S - NIGHT
    
    Sean looks through the plate glass window into the
    restaurant/bar. MUSIC thumps from inside. FOUR PEOPLE in
    the dimly-lit bar:
    
    - RICO, 40s, a gaunt, rat-faced man standing behind the bar.
    A leering grin on his face as he watches
    
    - JOAN DIXON, 20s, a voluptuous blonde, dancing on a table.
    Based on her excessive gesturing, she's clearly having a
    good time, and clearly drunk; dancing to her companion,
    
    - REGGIE, 30s, a big, black man--football player big--who
    grabs at Joan's ass and **** as she gyrates in front of him.
    
    Sean spots the fourth person coming to the door to let him
    in: TERRY, 60s. A slight man with a glaring stare at
    everyone and anyone.
    
    Terry pokes his head through the open door, MUSIC no longer
    muffled.
    
                          TERRY
              'Bout f**kin' time.
    
    Sean steps into
    
    INT. MAXIMILLIAN'S
    
    And Terry closes and locks the door behind them.
    
                          SEAN
              Who's the black guy?
    
                          TERRY
              Not sure, but they came in about an
              hour ago. I could've taken care of
              him myself, but that would've involved
              cops.
    
    Sean pulls out a hundred.  Hands it to Terry.
    
                          SEAN
              No, you did the right thing.  Kill
              the music.
    
    Terry pockets the money, goes back behind the bar.
    
    Sean waits as Terry motions to Rico to cut the music.  Rico
    appears disappointed, but does as he's told.
    
    The MUSIC abruptly cuts off.
    
                          JOAN
              '...in Jackson, and I'll be dancin'
              on a Pony Keg', HEY! What the hell
              happened to the music?
    
    Reggie turns towards the bar.
    
                          REGGIE
              Yo, d**kless! You heard the lady...
    
    Terry glares at Reggie while Rico inspects the tips of his
    shoes.
    
    Reggie notices Sean.  Glances at Terry and Rico.
    
                           REGGIE (CONT'D)
              Backup, huh?
                  (to Sean)
              Who the f**k are you?
    
    Sean approaches Reggie.
    
                          SEAN
              Party's over. I can call you a cab,
              if you'd like, but Mrs. Dixon is
              coming with me.
    
                          JOAN
              The party's over?
    
                          REGGIE
              Nah, baby. The party's just gettin'
              started. Excuse me a minute while I
              take care of this.
    
    Reggie moves forward to meet Sean.  He's at least a head
    taller than Sean.
    
    Sean never slows.
    
                          REGGIE (CONT'D)
              Do you know who I am? I'm--
    
    Sean PUNCHES straight out with his right, catches Reggie in
    the sternum. The big man staggers back, Sean never slows.
    
    With a roundhouse left, Sean SMASHES Reggie across the right
    temple. The big man goes down.
    
    Sean steps over Reggie's unconscious body, to Joan's table.
    
                           JOAN
              Wow.  Is he dead?
    
                          SEAN
              I'm here to take you home, Mrs. Dixon.
    
    Sean holds his hand up to help Joan down as she teeters onto
    a chair then onto the floor.
    
                           JOAN
                   (pouts)
              I don't wanna go home.
                   (brightens)
              How 'bout I go home with you? I'll
              give you the best f**k you've ever
              had.
    
                          SEAN
              I jerked off earlier, thanks.
    
                          JOAN
              Oh, that's right.
                  (with contempt)
              You're loyal. A regular Kid Galahad.
    
    Sean grabs Joan by the elbow as they exit.
    
                          SEAN
                  (to Terry)
              Call the cops or a cab for Denzel.
              Up to you. I don't want to hear
              anything about Mrs. Dixon from anyone.
                  (pointedly to Rico)
              You understand?
    
    Rico's sullen expression morphs into a "who me?" smile.
    
                          TERRY
              Thanks, Sean.
    
    Sean nods acknowledgment, and he and Joan exit.
    
    INT. BMW - NIGHT
    
    Joan sits in the passenger side, the seatbelt emphasizing
    her breasts as it cuts across her chest. She's very drunk
    and very tired.
    
                          JOAN
              You know I've f**ked just about
              everyone in Tom's organization?
              Except for Xavier.
    
                          SEAN
              I'm sure you did your best.
    
                          JOAN
              He must be gay. Are you gay?
    
                          SEAN
              Not that I'm aware of.
    
                          JOAN
              Then why won't you f**k me?
    
                             SEAN
              Mrs. Dixon--
    
                          JOAN
              Don't you find me attractive?
    
                          SEAN
              In a snake hypnotizing a bird kinda
              way, yeah.
    
                          JOAN
              These are real, you know.
    
    She grabs Sean's hand from the steering wheel, places it on
    her breast.
    
                          SEAN
              Very nice.
                  (removes his hand)
              But you're married to my boss.
    
    She smiles, leans up against him.
    
                          JOAN
              What if something happened to him?
    
                            SEAN
              No, thanks.  I've seen that movie.
    
    Joan leans away from him, regards him for a long moment.
    Then
    
    She SLAPS at him, both hands hitting him.
    
    Sean steers with one arm, uses his other arm to ward off the
    ineffectual blows.
    
                          SEAN (CONT'D)
              Mrs. Dixon...
    
    She keeps flailing away, oddly quiet, and manages to scratch
    Sean's cheek. He curses in surprise, and instinctively
    BACKHANDS her in the face.
    
    She passes out, slumps in the seat.
    
                            SEAN (CONT'D)
              S**t!
    
    Sean pulls the car over.
    
    Hits the overhead light.
    
    Joan snores softly, a trickle of blood on the side of her
    now swelling mouth.
    
                            SEAN (CONT'D)
              S**T!
    
    He squeezes the steering wheel with both hands, the knuckles
    turning white. Glances at Joan, ponders the situation.
    
    Relaxes his hands on the steering wheel. Puts the car into
    gear, turns out the overhead light, pulls back onto the road.
    
                             SEAN (CONT'D)
                  (softly)
              S**t.
    
    INT. SEAN'S APARTMENT
    
    The front door opens, and Sean carries Joan in his arms across
    the threshold. Kicks the door shut, puts his keys on a hook
    near the door, sets her purse on the floor.
    
    He carries her to the
    
    BEDROOM
    
    Gently puts her on the bed. Takes her shoes off.  She mutters
    under her breath, rolls onto her side.
    
    Sean grabs a quilt from the closet.  He takes in her body
    stretched out on the bed.
    
                          SEAN
              A shame you're such a bitch.
    
    He places the quilt on top of her.  She snores silently.
    
    Beat.
    
    He peels back the top of the quilt.  Takes a quick peek at
    her body again.
    
    Covers her back up.   Heads out of the bedroom, into
    
    LIVING ROOM
    
    Kicks his shoes off, lies down fully clothed on the too small
    sofa. Stares at the ceiling in the darkness.
    
    LIVING ROOM - MORNING
    
    Still staring at the ceiling, he blinks at the sun coming
    through the blinds.
    
    Sits up, moves into
    
    BEDROOM
    
    Where Joan still sleeps off the drunk.
    
    He approaches and turns her head to check her jaw.  A small
    bruise, but not too bad.
    
    Joan mumbles something unintelligible, rolls away from him.
    
    [end scriptment]
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-28-2013, 03:14 AM.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    THE WAGES OF SIN
    
    
    OVER BLACK
    
    Sound of a shovel digging.
    
    SHKKKT.
    
    SHKKKT.
    
    A SHUNK! as the shovel stabs into the ground.
    
                             FEMALE VOICE
                 Deeper.
    
                             MALE VOICE
                 It's deep enough.
    
                             FEMALE VOICE
                 It needs to be deeper.
    
    Long silence.
    
    Then
    
    SHKKKT.
    
    SHKKKT.
    
    INT. DENNY'S - NIGHT
    
    They sit in a large booth in the back of the restaurant:
    
    TROY, 30s, taps a finger on a pack of cigarettes. He's got
    an Elvis pompadour with the porkchop sideburns, and the
    twinkling eyes of a psychotic.
    
    OTTO, 20s, is a big guy with a heavy-lidded gaze that he
    thinks makes him look cool, but just makes him look like the
    moron he really is.
    
    Between them is EMMY, 20s. She's a loud noise away from a
    nervous breakdown, but still pretty. She bottle feeds SAM,
    her one year old who rests in the crook of her arm.
    
    They're all looking at the guy across from them: RONAN,
    20s. He's semi-good looking; maybe a little too gaunt to be
    considered handsome.
    
                             RONAN
                 You sure it's there?
    
                             TROY
                 If I wasn't, I wouldn't be talking
                 to you.
    
                          RONAN
              Why wouldn't he keep it in a bank?
    
                          TROY
              'Cause he's f**king stupid, I don't
              know. If you don't wanna do this,
              let me know so I can find somebody
              else with some balls.
    
                          RONAN
              Nobody gets hurt.
    
                           TROY
              You worried about killing somebody,
              soldier boy?
    
                          OTTO
              Maybe he's got that stress s**t.
    
                            TROY
              Is that it?    You got PTSD, soldier
              boy?
    
                          OTTO
                  (confused)
              I thought that was something to do
              with a woman's period?
    
    Ronan returns Troy's crazy grin with a dead-eyed stare.
    
    Sam BURPS and spits up.
    
    Emmy wipes it.
    
                          TROY
              That's f**king disgusting.
                  (to Ronan)
              I'm not dicking with you all night,
              soldier boy. What's your answer?
    
                            RONAN
              I'm in.
    
    Sam's BURP seals it.
    
    INT. MOTEL - NIGHT
    
    Ronan sits on the bed, cleaning a GUN on a tv tray table in
    front of him.
    
    Light KNOCK on the door.
    
    Ronan covers the pieces of the gun with a dish towel, sets
    the tv tray table aside. Answers the door.
    
    Emmy walks in with a sleeping Sam still in the car seat.
    
    She puts the car seat down.  Long look at Ronan.
    
    Then
    
    They kiss and grab at each other and they tear at their
    clothes and they crash onto the bed and they make love as if
    the world was going to end tomorrow.
    
    LATER
    
    In the dark, they lie tangled in the sheets.  Headlights and
    shadows play across the small room.
    
                          EMMY
              We've got to get back.
    
    She gets out of bed, gets dressed.
    
    Ronan looks at Sam, still sleeping peacefully in the car
    seat on the floor.
    
                          RONAN
              I wonder what he's thinking?
    
                          EMMY
              He's thinking that we're going to be
              so happy together.
    
    She leans across the bed, kisses him.
    
    A smile as she picks up Sam and exits, shuts the door softly
    behind her.
    
    Ronan ponders for a moment, gets out of bed, grabs the tv
    tray.
    
    Sits back down, turns the bedside light on, and removes the
    dish towel covering the disassembled gun.
    
    He cleans it long into the night.
    
    INT./EXT. CAR - PUSSYCAT LOUNGE PARKING LOT - NIGHT
    
    They sit in the car in the back of the parking lot.
    
    Emmy's at the wheel, Troy next to her. In the back, Ronan's
    wiggling Sam's toes, making the baby giggle.
    
    Troy gives Emmy a hateful stare.
    
                           EMMY
              Hayley was busy, and I couldn't find
              anyone else.
    
    Troy GRUNTS, DRUMS his fingers on the door armrest.
    
                              RONAN
              You nervous?
    
    DRUMMING stops.
    
    Troy turns around with that crazy grin.
    
                              TROY
              Never.   You?
    
                              RONAN
              Steel.
    
    Long, grinning look from Troy.
    
                          TROY
              Is that a hickey on your neck?
    
    Ronan fingers his neck, rubs across the raised bruise.
    
    He catches a glimpse of Emmy's frightened eyes in the rearview
    mirror.
    
                          RONAN
              Mosquito bite.
    
                          TROY
              Try bug spray next time.
    
    Staring contest.
    
    Cell phone on the dash BUZZES.
    
    Troy picks it up, reads the text message.
    
                          TROY (CONT'D)
              We're on, soldier boy.
    
    Troy and Ronan get out of the car.  They have guns.
    
    Quick looks around, guns are placed in pockets and tucked
    into the waist of their pants.
    
    Troy leans back in.
    
                           TROY (CONT'D)
                  (to Emmy)
              Ten minutes.
                  (indicates Sam)
              And I don't want to hear him crying
              when the shooting starts.
    
    Troy and Ronan head towards the entrance to the *****cat
    Lounge while Emmy watches them, her lips moving in silent
    prayer.
    
    INT. PUSSYCAT LOUNGE
    
    Ronan walks in, past the BURLY BOUNCER, 30s, sitting on a
    bar stool by the front.
    
    Ronan leans against the far end of the four seat bar.
    Immediately, a petite blonde sidles up to him. She was
    beautiful about four blackouts and a coke habit ago.
    
                          NINA
              Hey, handsome. Wanna buy a working
              girl a drink?
    
                          RONAN
                  (without looking at
                   her)
              F**k off.
    
    She starts to say something, but there's something about
    him...
    
    She struts off.  Heads to Burly Bouncer.
    
    Ronan slow pans the titty bar:
    
    It's a tiny place, dank and dark. Four DRUNKS sitting at
    the runway; a tired, BRUNETTE, 30s, on stage, the red lights
    not quite camouflaging the Caesarean scar. Static-spotted
    music squeaks out of speakers.
    
    Otto stands thirty feet from Ronan on his right, by an 'Exit'
    door. He's chatting with a TOPLESS BLONDE, 30s.
    
    A skinnny guy dressed business casual comes out of the back,
    glad-hands one of the Drunks at the runway. His fake LAUGHTER
    drowns out the music. This is MR. BROWNSTONE, 50s.
    
    Ronan stands straighter.
    
    Burly Bouncer looks put upon as Nina angrily points in Ronan's
    direction. He seems to sigh as he stands up
    
    Just as Troy enters.
    
    And Troy sees everything.
    
    Quickly now:
    
    Troy sucker punches Burly Bouncer, and he goes down as
    
    Ronan pulls out his gun, and
    
    Otto pushes Topless Blonde away, draws his own gun, when
    
    Nina SCREAMS, tries to run, but Troy grabs her by her hair
    pulls him to her, puts the gun to her head.
    
                           TROY
              Hush.
    
    Nina snaps her mouth shut.
    
                          TROY (CONT'D)
                  (to Mr. Brownstone)
              I need you to open your safe, or I
              shoot her.
    
                          MR. BROWNSTONE
              Look, I don't know what you're talking--
    
    POP!
    
    Troy shoots Nina in the head, she drops to the floor.
    
    A Drunk makes a dash for the Exit, Otta clocks him with his
    gun THUNNK!
    
    Troy walks up to Mr. Brownstone, the gun leveled at him.
    
                          TROY
              Maybe you know what I'm talking about
              now.
    
    Mr. Brownstone can barely speak, he's staring at Nina's body.
    
    On stage, Brunette is on her knees, softly sobbing.
    
                          MR. BROWNSTONE
              I...I...Please--
    
    Troy puts the gun to Mr. Brownstone's head.
    
                          MR. BROWNSTONE (CONT'D)
              Behind the bar.
    
    Troy grabs Mr. Brownstone, hustles him behind the bar.
    
    Ronan catches Troy's eye.
    
                           RONAN
              You said--
    
                           TROY
              I lied.
    
    He pushes Mr. Brownstone down onto the floor.
    
    Mr. Brownstone crawls over to a small curtained area
    underneath the register.
    
    Pulls the curtain back to reveal a small safe.  Trembling,
    he turns the dial of the safe.
    
                             OTTO
              Is it there?
    
    Ronan stares hard at Troy.
    
                          TROY
              Got a problem, soldier-boy?
    
    Troy turns slightly towards Ronan, just as Mr. Brownstone
    opens up the safe...
    
                             RONAN
              Yeah, I do.
    
    Both bring their weapons 'round...
    
    Mr. Brownstone reaches into the safe...
    
    Otta turns his attention to them...
    
    And Mr. Brownstone pulls out a gun and starts FIRING!
    
    A shot hits Troy and he drops his gun and goes down as
    
    Ronan puts a bullet into Mr. Brownstone's head, and
    
    Otto is tackled by two of the Drunks.
    
    Ronan leaps over the bar to the safe, kicks the body of Mr.
    Brownstone out of the way. He grabs a small trash can.
    
    He reaches into the safe, starts pulling out money, putting
    it into the trash can. Glances at Troy.
    
    Blood blossoms across Troy's shirt.
    
    Troy grins at Ronan.  COUGHS blood.
    
                          TROY
              You'll never be happy.
    
    Anger flits across Ronan's face.  He SHOOTS Troy.
    
    Finishes filling the trash can full of money.
    
    Leaps back over the bar.  Takes a glance at Otto, sees
    
    The Brunette pick up Otto's gun, put it to Otto's head, and
    
    Ronan steps over Burly Bouncer's prone body and out as a
    BLAM! echoes behind him.
    
    EXT. PUSSYCAT LOUNGE
    
    Ronan, trash can in hand, spots the car.
    
    A slight smile as he reaches a hand out for the door.
    
    BLAM!
    
    Ronan falls against the car, the trash can full of money
    splashes all over the parking lot.
    
    He reaches for the door handle of the rear passenger door.
    
    The Brunette stands at the entrance FIRING the gun and
    SCREAMING.
    
    Windows SHATTER!  Bullets PUNCH into the car.
    
    Ronan returns fire as he gets into the back of the car.  The
    Brunette goes down.
    
    INT./EXT CAR
    
    He checks his side:  he's been hit.  Blood smears onto the
    seat.
    
                            EMMY
              You okay?
    
    Ronan starts to answer.  Stares at Sam.
    
    Emmy takes a quick glance behind her.
    
                          EMMY (CONT'D)
              Are you shot?
    
    Ronan reaches towards Sam's car seat.  Pulls a hand away
    covered in blood.
    
                            EMMY (CONT'D)
              Baby?  Talk to me, baby!
    
    The car SCREECHES away into the night.
    
    EXT. FIELD - NIGHT
    
    Car headlights shine on Ronan, shovel in hand.  He's in a
    small hole up to his knees.
    
                          RONAN
              Give him to me.
    
    He looks at her.
    
    No life in her eyes. She holds a bundle swathed in a bloody
    blanket in the crook of her arm.
    
    He notices the gun in her hand, held loosely at her side.
    
    Blood pumps through his shirt.
    
                          EMMY
              It needs to be deeper.   And wider.
    
    He leans on the shovel, suddenly very tired.
    
    And continues digging.
    
    SHKKKT.
    SHKKKT.
    
    CUT TO BLACK.
    
                             END
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-28-2013, 02:54 AM.

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  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    DEAD OF NIGHT
    
    
    FADE IN:
    
    EXT. LOST HIGHWAY MOTEL - NIGHT
    
    Torrential rain bounces off the ground.  Anybody with any
    brains would be inside, huddled round a warm fire.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S CAR - NIGHT
    
    JOHNNY KRUGER sits in the dark, smoking.  He's around 30s,
    handsome in a beat-up kind of way.  His eyes are fixed on
    a particular motel room.  The light's on inside, curtains
    are shut.
    
    The light goes out.  Johnny ditches his cigarette out the
    window.  He picks up a camera with a big flashbulb.
    
    
    EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Johnny sneaks up to the door, camera in hand.
    
    A shadow moves up ahead.  Johnny freezes.  The shadow
    resolves into a fat mustached man, DUKAYNE, carrying a
    camera just like Johnny's.
    
    Dukayne and Johnny stare at each other for a stunned moment.
    
    Suddenly it's a mad race to the door.
    
    
    INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Dukayne kicks the door open!  FLASH!
    
    A naked MAN and WOMAN caught in the act.  The Woman SCREAMS
    and covers herself with sheets.  Naked Guy gets tangled in
    the sheets, falls out of bed, pulls them off the Woman.
    She squeals and grabs a pillow instead.
    
                          DUKAYNE
              Enjoy your night, folks!
    
    Dukayne leaps outside, shouldering Johnny out his way.
    
                          JOHNNY
              Dukayne, you son of a bitch!
    
    Johnny takes his photo opportunity.  FLASH!
    
    Naked Guy comes up off the floor holding a HUGE REVOLVER.
    Johnny's eyes widen!  He leaps for the door.
    
    BLAM!  The wood splinters inches from his head.  Johnny
    runs outside as fast as his legs will carry him.
    
    
    EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Johnny runs to his car.
    
    Another car roars past, Dukayne at the wheel.  Dukayne
    grins and flips Johnny an ironic salute.  Johnny swings a
    kick at Dukayne's car but misses.
    
    
    EXT. JOHNNY'S CAR - NIGHT
    
    Johnny skids to a stop, wrenches the door open, throws the
    camera inside, climbs behind the wheel.
    
    
    EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Naked Guy's at the door, trying to see Johnny in the rain.
    
                          NAKED WOMAN (O.S.)
              Shoot him, Harvey!  Shoot him!
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S CAR - NIGHT
    
    Johnny turns the key -- the damp engine COUGHS and RASPS.
    
    
    EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Naked Guy grins.  He takes aim.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S CAR - NIGHT
    
    BLAM!  Glass shatters!  Johnny ducks!  The engine finally
    starts!  He slams 'er into gear and stamps on the gas.
    
    
    EXT. LOST HIGHWAY MOTEL - NIGHT
    
    Johnny peels out of there and onto the road.  Naked Guy
    takes aim again.  But the car lights disappear in the
    curtain of rain.  Naked Guy lowers his revolver.
    
                          NAKED WOMAN (O.S.)
              Did ya get him, Harvey?  Did ya?
    
                          NAKED GUY
              Nah.  He got away.
    
    Naked Guy turns and discovers a BUSTY BLONDE in a flimsy
    robe, watching him from next door.  She looks admiringly
    at his crotch, and smiles.  Naked Guy grins.
    
                          NAKED WOMAN (O.S.)
              Harvey?  Harvey?
    
                          NAKED GUY
              Just coming!
    
    He shrugs at Busty Blonde and goes inside, closes the door.
    
    
    EXT. CITY STREET - JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny's car pulls up outside a Gothic office building.
    
    
    EXT. BUILDING ENTRANCE - NIGHT
    
    Tarnished business plates alongside intercom buttons:
    
    SILVER DOLLAR LOAN COMPANY
    PHOENIX TALENT AGENCY
    KRUGER PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS
    
    
    INT. STAIRWAY - NIGHT
    
    Johnny climbs upstairs with his camera.  MYRTLE an
    attractive office girl skips downstairs, buttoning her
    coat and carrying an umbrella.  She brightens when she
    sees him.
    
                          MYRTLE
              Hi Johnny.
    
                          JOHNNY
              Hey Myrtle.
    
                          MYRTLE
              Me and the girls are gonna go out
              to dinner, then catch a show.  You
              wanna tag along?
    
                          JOHNNY
              Thanks, I got some typing to do.
              Maybe next time.
    
                          MYRTLE
              Don't chip a nail.
    
    She goes downstairs.  Johnny watches her with interest.
    
    
    INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
    
    Block letters on a frosted glass door panel:
    
    J. KRUGER
    PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS
    DISCREET - PERSONAL
    
    Footsteps on the stairway.  Johnny climbs into view, wet
    and weary.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Where a secretary would sit, if Johnny could afford one.
    An inner door leads to Johnny's private office.
    
    Johnny enters, turns on the light.  He takes off his hat
    and throws it, it misses the hat stand by a mile.  He shrugs
    off his coat, hangs it up.
    
    The secretary's phone and the phone in Johnny's office
    both RING at the same time.  Johnny picks up his hat, hangs
    it up.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Both phones continue to RING as Johnny opens a file cabinet,
    takes out a bottle, pours himself a glass of whiskey.  He
    sits down, takes a drink, and answers the phone.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Kruger Investigations.  You lost
              it, we'll find it.
    
    CLICK.  Dead line.  He stares at the receiver.  Hangs up.
    Empties his glass.  Smacks his lips.
    
    
    INT. PHONE BOOTH - NIGHT
    
    A big gloved hand hangs up the receiver.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny opens a desk drawer.  Inside, a revolver.  He cracks
    the gun open, checks it's loaded, snaps it shut again.  He
    places it in the open drawer, ready if he needs it.
    
    He picks up his phone and dials a number.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Hey Danny, it's me.  I got a little
              job for you.  I'll bring it over
              first thing in the morning.  Nothing
              fancy, just a couple of prints and
              the negative.  See you then.
    
    
    INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Footsteps and a big shadow come up the stairway.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny pours himself another drink.
    
    
    INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    The big shadow falls across the frosted glass panel with
    Johnny's name.  A big gloved hand pushes the door open.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    The big shadow falls across the door to Johnny's office.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny swallows his drink.  He looks at the door.
    
                          JOHNNY
              It's open.
    
    The door opens and the BIGGEST GUY we've ever seen fills
    the doorway.  His face is chiseled from granite.  His eyes
    take in the shabby office, then fix on Johnny.  Water drips
    from his outsized raincoat, forming a puddle.
    
                          JOHNNY
              Nice weather we're having, huh?
              What can I do for you?
    
    The Biggest Guy slips his hand inside his raincoat.  Johnny
    snatches up his gun and LETS HIM HAVE IT.  Six sizzlers in
    the chest!
    
    The Biggest Guy grimaces and clutches his blood-spattered
    coat.  He staggers, groans, timbers back into the outer
    office, leaving his feet in Johnny's office.
    
    Johnny cracks his smoking revolver open and reloads from a
    box of bullets in the drawer.  When he's finished he ambles
    over to the Biggest Guy.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny steps over the body and goes to the outer door.
    
    
    INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny peers out into the hallway.  Empty.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny sits down on the edge of the secretary's desk, picks
    up the phone, dials a number.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Sergeant Novello, please.  Mr.
              Johnny Kruger calling.  Sure I'll
              hold, but I got a dead man here in
              my office.
    
    Johnny looks down at the Biggest Guy, whose gloved hand is
    halfway inside his coat and appears to be clutching... an
    envelope?
    
    Johnny frowns.  He gingerly takes the envelope from the
    dead man's hand, turns it over.  A single line of neat
    writing:
    
    "Personal - Mr. J. Kruger."
    
    An ANGRY MALE VOICE buzzes from the receiver, Johnny
    snatches it up.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Hey Tony, it's me.  So guess what?
              I'm looking at a three-hundred
              pound lump of muscle lying dead on
              my carpet.
    
    Johnny opens the envelope with one hand while the angry
    voice buzzes in his ear.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Never saw him before.  He just
              walked in and drew his rod.  Well
              what do you think happened?  You
              think I'm gonna sit there and let
              some big ape shoot at me?
    
    Inside the envelope, a single sheet and a paper-clipped 50
    dollar bill.  Johnny unfolds and reads the letter while
    the angry voice buzzes in his ear.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Nah, he's not the jealous husband
              type.  Looks more like a
              professional fighter.  Heavyweight
              class.  Am I glad he didn't use me
              as a punchbag.
    
    More angry buzzing.
    
                          JOHNNY (INTO PHONE)
              Sure, I'm not going anywhere.
              Thanks, Tony.  And wear a coat.
              It's coming down.
    
    Johnny hangs up and goes back into his office, stepping
    over the body.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny pushes the filing cabinet over to one side to reveal
    a damp patch of wall.  Buried in the wall, A BULLET in a
    cracked hole.
    
    He takes a smaller .38 from the filing cabinet's top drawer
    and cracks it open.  Five bullets.  Sixth chamber is empty.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny puts the .38 in the Biggest Guy's gloved hand,
    closing the fingers around the butt.
    
    He searches the body and pulls out the Biggest Guy's wallet.
    It contains a driver's license in the name of JOEY VREES,
    and a wad of green.  Johnny takes 10 dollars, leaving the
    other money in the wallet, and puts the wallet back.
    
                          JOHNNY
              That's for the bullets, you dumb
              schmuck.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny sits down, pours himself another drink, throws it
    back.  He sighs.  He picks up the letter and reads it again.
    (We'll meet LILY soon, she sounds young and attractive.)
    
                          LILY (V.O.)
              Dear Mr. Kruger.  You were
              recommended to me by a friend.
              Desperate circumstances force me
              to seek your advice in a matter of
              some delicacy.  The bearer of this
              letter, Mr. Vrees, will bring you
              to me if you are willing to accept
              my employ.  If not, I trust that
              the enclosed fifty dollar retainer
              will purchase your silence.
              Sincerely, Miss Lily Chapel.
    
    Johnny holds the 50 dollar bill up to the light.
    
                          JOHNNY
              I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss
              Chapel.
    
    
    EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT
    
    Still pouring o' rain.  A squad car pulls up behind Johnny's
    car.
    
    
    INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Three pairs of shoes pound up the stairway.
    
    
    INT. OUTER OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    SERGEANT TONY NOVELLO, 35, a weary plainclothes 'tec, enters
    followed by TWO UNIFORM COPS.  They study the Biggest Guy's
    corpse with interest.  Novello steps into Johnny's office,
    noting the .38 in the Biggest Guy's hand.
    
    
    INT. JOHNNY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
    Johnny salutes Novello with his glass.
    
                          JOHNNY
              Join me in a toast, Sarge?
    
                          NOVELLO
              Knock it off, ace.  Who is he?
    
                          JOHNNY
              Driver's licence says Joey Vrees.
    
                          NOVELLO
              What's he to you?
    
                          JOHNNY
              I told you, I never saw him before.
    
    Novello picks up the almost empty whiskey bottle.
    
                          NOVELLO
              Been hitting it pretty hard, ace.
    
                          JOHNNY
              It isn't every night I kill a man.
    
    Novello notices the bullet hole in the wall.
    
                          NOVELLO
              Guess he shouldn't have tried to
              plug you.  Couple inches to the
              left, he would've blown your brains
              out.
    
                          JOHNNY
              Lucky for me, huh?
    
    Cop #1 brings the Biggest Guy's .38 and wallet to Novello,
    who opens the wallet and reads the Driver's Licence.
    
                          NOVELLO
              Joey Vrees.  Got a feeling I should
              know that name.
    
    He counts the money in the wallet.
    
                          NOVELLO
              Over seventy bucks here.  Wonder
              what Mr. Vrees did for a living?
    
                          JOHNNY
              You know, if some of that dough
              was to find its way into the Police
              Benevolent Fund, I wouldn't say
              anything.  What with the swell job
              you guys do.
    
    [end scriptment]

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    MEDIEVAL NOIR...
    
    
    FADE IN:
    
    An ANCIENT CASTLE nestled in rolling LUSH LANDSCAPE. A
    dirty moat surrounds it, a circle drawn by a giant finger.
    
    Over a nearby hill appears
    
    THE HORSE RIDER.
    
    Small naked PERT BREASTS beneath a white flowing dress, GREEN
    EYES that regard the ancient pile in the distance with slight
    trepidation.
    
    This is MAID MARIANA.
    
    She is poised to kick and gallop off down the slope when she
    spies...
    
    A LUSTY GAGGLE OF FEMALE RIDERS at distance, kitted out in
    leather outfits and swords, beauties trailing auburn hair
    in contrast to her BLEACH-FRIZZLED locks.
    They HAMMER over the drawbridge.
    
    Snapping her HORSE back, she SHOUTS and gallops away,
    returning over the hill.
    
    INT.   CASTLE COURTYARD - DAWN - CONTINUOUS
    
    Several PANTING HORSES gallop into the courtyard
    
    Walls VIBRATE with the SOUND OF HOOVES.
    
    They dismount and stretch, peering about, UNSHEATHING swords
    and wiggling them about, staring up the leader notices
    somebody watching from the battlements:
    
    SIR LANCE GOT-A-LOT, orange tan, neither fully brave nor
    entirely camp with feet astride, offers a sullen stare.
    
    LEAD HORSE RIDER, think Zena Warrior Princess, takes off her
    helmet and shakes out her locks. This is LYCRA, head of a
    band of FEMALE MERCENARIES. She smiles...
    
                           LYCRA
               We've roamed the hills and valleys
               my gentle Lance and yet we've found
               no trace whatsoever of her.
    
    Lance is dismayed.
    
                           LANCE
               Keep searching Lycra and remember...
               let no man seduce thee nor divert
               thee from thy quest.
    
                           LYCRA
               Fear not my Lord, our saucy brood
               are immune to the attractions of
               men.
    
    After a dramatic SILENCE.
    
                           LYCRA (CONT'D)
               All except you my Lord.
    
    Lance appears satisfied.
    
    When suddenly:
    
                           LYCRA (CONT'D)
               SCREW IT, SCREW IT, SCREW IT, SCREW
               IT!
    
                            LANCE-GOT-A-LOT
                   (puzzled, staring off
                    camera)
               Is that in the script Roger?
    
    Booming:
    
                           VOICE (O.S.)
               CUT!!!
    
    As a TALL RANGY MAN in a green corduroy jacket and black
    shades rushes into view. This is ROGER, the director.
    
                           ROGER
               Whatever's the matter with my leading
               lady now?
    
                           LYCRA
               Cut the crap Roger.
    
                           ROGER
               We're shooting an artistic movie.
    
                           ROGER (CONT'D)
               This isn't art! You promised me art
               Roger, f**king... ART!!!
    
    She begins to stride away.
    
                           LYCRA
               And this isn't a beautiful country,
               it's f**king Wales for god's sake.
    
    Lycra stripping off her armour. She slips out of a breastplate
    and lets it fall away, revealing naked breasts. From
    somewhere off-set somebody tosses her a t-shirt which she
    quickly scrambles into.
    
                          ROGER
              How about an extra scene with Lance?
    
    This angers her more. Roger drops onto his knees in a puddle.
    Lycra turns away.
    
                          ROGER (CONT'D)
              The castle reopens to the public in
              only three days time.
    
    Lycra turns.
    
                             LYCRA
              If-
    
                          ROGER
              Whatever you want?
    
                             LYCRA
              If-
                          ROGER
              Anything princess!
    
                          LYCRA
                  (persuasive,)
              If you wrote in an additional artistic
              layer, I might be happier.
    
    Roger appears confused.
    
                          ROGER
              We're using the elves-
    
                          LYCRA
              F**k the elves. I want to feel like
              a real actress, a starlet.
    
                          ROGER
              I don't quite understand-
    
                          LYCRA
              Sensual, dark, smoky, a femme fatale.
    
                          ROGER
                  (quietly)
              Oh Lord...
    
                             LYCRA
              Sorry Roger?
    
                          ROGER
              I said that would be... fine!
    
    FEMALE WARRIOR MERCENARIES sit about bored in the rain, one
    preens her hair, another performing bend-over stretches.
    From battlements:
    
                          LANCE
              Are we going to wrap?
    
                          ROGER
                  (through gritted teeth)
              Can't you see we're very busy Lance?
    
                          LANCE
              I just need slip out of these.   I'm
              off to pay a visit.
    
    Lance slopes away.   Strikingly a horse GALLOPS in raising
    ALL EYES.
    
                          MARIANA
              I demand my lover, Sir Lance-Got-A-
              Lot be returned to me and free once
              more of these vile wretches! If
              they do so I am prepared to meet
              whatever demands they might...
    
    Voice evaporating. She looks at at Roger, a smoking warrior
    woman, other bored crew members ambling about under heavier
    Welsh rain.
    
                          MAID MARIANA
              Is anybody here in character?
    
                          LYCRA
              Character, huh!
    
    Lycra turns her back again.
    
                          LYCRA (CONT'D)
              I've seen more character-
    
    SUDDENLY CLOSE ON:
    
                          ROGER
              Mariana dear, we're just renegotiating
              a few points in the script.
    
                          MAID MARIANA
              Is that Bitch-
    
                          ROGER
              A-a-a-a... my dear, easy!
    
                          LYCRA
              What did she just call me?
    
                           ROGER
               Nothing princess, it was nothing!
    
    Mariana maintains her fierce stare at Lycra.
    
                           LYCRA
               I'm waiting Roger. I want a noir, a
               serious genre-based piece of work,
               for that, I'll work within your rules,
               even that one about using stage names
               off set, which is kinky-
    
                           ROGER
               Okay, okay, I'll write a little noir
               scene in just for you.
    
    Roger furious, pacing.
    
                           LYCRA
               Oh Roger, such a darling, a sweety-
    She kisses him.   They embrace.   Mariana sighs and turns her
    horse away.
    
                           LANCE-GOT-A-LOT
                   (from the battlements)
               I'm back, that's much better!
    
    INT. CASTLE - QUEEN'S CHAMBER - VERY NEXT DAY
    
    Room lit with an eerie filtered light where dark shadows
    play over the walls.
    
    Suddenly, a door flies open.
    
    Maid Mariana stands defiantly before an escort of female
    mercenaries... wearing a FEDORA HAT as an afterthought.
    
    RAGING HEARTH FIRE illuminates
    
    LYCRA...
    
    in a flowing white see-through dress that seems to drape
    across much of the floor behind her.
    
    She sips on a SLENDER CIGARETTE HOLDER, smiling.    The inserted
    dialogue begins:
    
                           LYCRA
               My husband is away. How may I help
               you?
    
                           MAID MARIANA
               He's not your husband, he's mine!
    
                             LYCRA
               Oh, how so?
    
                           MAID MARIANA
               I have this certificate with me, and
               it says in the event of his death, I
               collect double the money from the
               insurance company, if you release
               him back to me, I'll turn it over to
               you.
    
    Lycra smiles and glances at a TALL MIRROR, as she does so
    she strokes her hair, her eyes observing Maid Mariana from
    time to time. The mirror has a little crack in the corner,
    she reaches up and caresses it with her feline hands.
    
                           LYCRA
               That's absurd, he's alive, how would
               that benefit me?
    
                           MAID MARIANA
               I'm prepared to take him with me,
               you will fake his death and keep the
               castle and all of his silver plates
               and horses and stuff, but I get what's
               in his chest.
    
    Lycra smiles again, she turns, smoke envelops her head, she
    hastily waves it away, approaching Mariana slinkily through
    the ever-dimming light.
    
                           LYCRA
               And what now, my... our husband does
               not return until this evening, how
               do we fill in the time?
    
                           MAID MARIANA
               That depends entirely on you?
    
                           LYCRA
               How delicious.
    
    We sense the tension of an erotic scene when...
    
                             MAID MARIANA
               THIS!
    
    WHACK...
    
                           LYCRA
               Ouch!
                   (pause; bloody lip)
               You nasty cow!
    
    After a second punch, Lycra and Mariana fall to the floor
    and grapple. Clawing at each others clothes, Mariana rips
    open Lycra's dress, the shoulder exposed, and some of her
    left breast.
    
                                                     TRACK OVER TO:
    
    Roger, furiously staring down at SCRIPT COPY.
    
                          ROGER
              This isn't supposed to happen until
              scene-
    
                          MAID MARIANA
              Destroy my career in flesh films
              would you, this is art...
    
    Mariana flashes her thigh, TATTOOS.
    
                          LYCRA
              Let go of my hair!
                          MARIANA
              My body is art. You want to ruin
              all that by introducing noir into my
              medieval romp-
    
                          LYCRA
              This is art. Not that crap he writes,
              we had a chance to be spotted, move
              on from this sad excuse for a film,
              on location in soddin' Wales, in the
              soddin' rain...
    
    Both women lunge and scratch...
    
    Mariana getting the best of it, Lycra makes a run for the
    stone steps and disappears, Mariana, furious, in pursuit...
    
    EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD - CONTINUOUS
    
    They spill out of the castle, and slip in the mud...
    
    Fighting, dresses ripped, hair wet, the crew appear up on
    the battlements, Roger pushes through, grabs a hand-held
    camera and begins filming, his face is beeming...
    
    BELOW
    
    The women inseparable...
    
                          MARIANA
              This is my art, fans have all my
              dvds, they write to me!
    
                         LYCRA
              Fans! They're not fans, they're
              dirty old-
    
    LIGHTS... the camera pans quickly ... as a GREAT CAR sweeps
    into the yard. Both women stop fighting, the crew stare
    down, and we're all focused on the...
    
    LIMOUSINE...
    
    Whose DOORS OPEN... a pair of shoes, a MAN'S FEET, Leather,
    two-tone black and white.. moving along we see a women alight,
    up we scan, TALL and DRESSED in a man's 1940s suit...
    
    Two OTHER MEN, similarly attired alight from the back of the
    Limo. Fedora hats... the GROUP all join up...
    
    The MAIN MAN looks like a
    
    BIG TIME MOVIE DIRECTOR.
    
    Lycra's face, bruised and dazed, lights up, this is it,
    they're here for her.
    
    She stands up, Mariana stays down in the mud, bemused, her
    mouth open wide.
    
    Lycra staggers up to the movie director through the DRIVING
    RAIN.
    
                          LYCRA (CONT'D)
              I've been waiting all my life.
    
                             MOVIE DIRECTOR
              Yes, I know.
    
                          LYCRA
              You've come for me?
    
                             MOVIE DIRECTOR
              Of course.
    
                          LYCRA
              I'm ready for my shot now.
    
                          MOVIE DIRECTOR
              We'll take it.
    
    Lycra is caught up in world of illusion and dreams, she's
    somewhere else, somewhere poetic and surreal. Away from the
    set of a taudry flesh flick.
    
                          LYCRA
              I've always wanted to say that line.
    
                             MOVIE DIRECTOR
                     (confused)
                 I... understand...
    
    As she stares into the eyes of the director, the two men
    behind move in closer to the woman when suddenly, they RIP
    OFF her dress.
    
    Beneath, she's dressed like a disciple of Zena, Warrior
    Princess, leather, suspenders, the whole garb...
    
    Lycra raises her hands to the sides of her head.  Mariana
    begins to laugh. Lycra simpers and turns red...
    
    UP HIGH...
    
                               ROGER
                 And CUT...!    Perfection!!   Bravo
                 darlings!!
    
    Lycra swings about and stares up...
                             LYCRA
                 Roger, you basta----
    
                                                       SMASH TO PINK.
    
                                   THE END.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    WESTERN NOIR...
    
    
    OPEN:
    
    Bleakly...
    
    Over a SMALL TOWN bank under...
    
    Big sky.
    
                               Super: Texas, 1863
    
    A quick pan and we're in absolutely nowhere, a bad mistake
    in the middle of the desert. Somewhere that attracts drunks,
    opportunists, tricksters.
    
    INT.    BANK - EARLIER THAT DAY
    
    A large FAT LADY in a pink dress clutches the floor. BLACK
    SUIT fumbles his gold watch with a thumb whilst holding his
    gaze on...
    
    FOUR HEAVY DUDES lining the windows staring out... the
    gunfight that began outside already over.
    
                             TYBURN
                 Got me one dead man.
    
    The largest of the four stares at Tyburn, this is MITCH, the
    leader.
    
                               MITCH
                 You missed.
    
    Tyburn goes back to watching pensively.
    
                             OKIE
                 It's a trap I tell ya!
    
                             TYBURN
                 I still say we go.
    
    Mitch checks his colt, opens the cylinder, spins it, slowly
    closes it, satisfied.
    
                             MITCH
                 Look up there above the Saloon, and
                 whilst you're at it above that General
                 Store, too.
    
    Edges of several rooftops just reveal a number of white FEDORA
    HATS, barely visible above the parapet. Motionless and bright
    white under a sweltering afternoon sun.
    
    Tyburn sighs.
    
                             TYBURN
                 Those sons of bitches.   Just waitin'
                 to shoot us down.
    
    INT. BANK - MORNING - NOON
    
    Our FOUR HEAVY DUDES spin around and open their dusters.
    
                             MITCH
                 Everybody get down and pray!
    
    EXT. ROOFTOP - OVERLOOKING BANK - RIGHT NOW
    
    The clean shaven man in a SHERIFF'S UNIFORM lies stretched
    out with his back against a PARAPET that shields him. His
    bloody hand held tight against his ribs.
    
    Either side of him, paced out between the ROOFTOPS, we can
    see several WHITE HATS with nobody beneath them. Most
    tentatively balanced atop the parapet, one hat sits on a
    rifle, acts like a SCARECROW.
    
                             SHERIFF
                 Damn, this 'll never hold.
    
    Forcing himself upright he takes off the WHITE HAT he's
    wearing and places it carefully on the wall. He runs over
    and flops down, skidding. Puts the one supporting the rifle
    over his head and pulls the rifle into his shoulder...takes
    aim...
    
    GENERAL STORE - JUST COMIN' NOON
    
    BLACK SUIT idly smoothing down a suit jacket.
    
                             BLACK SUIT
                 You'll be needing a hat too for the
                 big day Sheriff?
    
                               SHERIFF
                 I guess so.
    
    Black suit laughs nervously. Sheriff sits up and the dwarf
    of a man shaving him instantly stops.
    
    Sheriff sidles over to a series of pigeon holes, begins taking
    hats out, trying each one on in turn... a PILE OF HATS tumbles
    onto the floor, they fall apart like a Chinese doll, one
    inside the other.
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - ABOUT SAME TIME
    
    WOMAN in a
    
    PINK DRESS strides across the dusty central drag, stepping
    to avoid a mangy dead dog already seething with maggots.
    She's a real distraction with LARGE BREASTS bursting out of
    a tight-fitting bodice.
    
    INT. GENERAL STORE - A FEW MINUTES AFTER THAT...
    
                          SHERIFF
              You gonna open the bank soon?
    
                          BLACK SUIT
              Always a pleasure to open up the
              bank. Opened it twice last week
              Sheriff!
    
    The Sheriff throws him a glance.
    
                          SHERIFF
              How much for everything Willy?
    
    Willy grabs a pen from behind his ear.
    
                          WILLY
              That'll be...
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - CONTINUOUS
    
    The woman glances at the FOUR DUDES lurching up against the
    wall. SILENT BILL, the fourth, smiles. Mitch sees her and
    tips his hat. Something passes between them but she goes
    straight, wiggling all the way, to the other side of the
    bank's entrance.
    
    Leaning up against the WALL, she pops some gum in her mouth
    and watches them. They watch her back.
    
    INT. GENERAL STORE - GOING ON AT SAME TIME
    
                          WILLY
              I'll open up early. Seems there's
              some folks waitin' already.
    
    POV dusty window. We see the four heavy dudes and Woman
    propped up against the bank's wall. The Sheriff squints for
    moment, watching through the BLINDING LIGHT of noon in a
    desert town.
    
                          WILLY (CONT'D)
                  (watching)
              Strangers. Got's so you can't tell
              who's who anymore, right Sheriff?
    
    Empty space where the Sheriff stood . Willy checks himself
    over in the same mirror... carefully tweaking his long
    moustache before he begins to lock up.
    
    INT. BANK - A BIT LATER...
    
    Woman's in pink's name is LAURA, she's still on the floor,
    but unlike the other customers, she seems unusually calm.
    
                          LAURA
              Mr Bank Manager?
    
    The man in the BLACK SUIT glances over, still nervous-as-
    hell after the cuffing.
    
                          LAURA (CONT'D)
                  (whispering)
              Honey, why don't you tell me where
              you keep real safe... yeah, I know
              there's another one. Them dollars
              wasn't all that's here.
    
    Laura leans in.
    
                          LAURA (CONT'D)
              Yes you do, come on, we'll split it
              two-ways.
    
                          WILLY/BANK MANAGER
              Most of our investors took their
              money to head north when they heard
              a rumour about a new gold rush.
    
                          LAURA
              Well I guess I'll just have to tell
              them boys by the window all about
              it?
    
    She smiles.    Begins calling...
    
                          LAURA (CONT'D)
              Boys. You and me leave together
              with what's left in there, or-
    
                          WILLY/BANK MANAGER
              Okay, okay. There's a key beneath
              the little oak desk.
    
                          LAURA
              And the safe?
    
    Willy sighs.
    
                          WILLY/BANK MANAGER
              Behind that picture. There's safe
              deposit box with some jewelry.
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET -    A LITTLE AFTER NOON
    
    Sheriff SPRINTING out of the bank, SHOTS FIRING... bank's
    doors have fire and smoke raining out.
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - ROOFTOPS - A SHORT TIME LATER
    
    Sheriff playing PEAK and FIRE over the parapet...
    
    KER-RACK...
    
    KER-RACK...
    
    KER-RACK...
    
    Beat
    
    PEEEEEE-OW...
    
    PEEEEEE-OW...
    
    Shots continue, heavier fire, BLACK POWDER SMOKE BILLOWS
    from BANK WINDOWS... trading SHOTS with Sheriff over parapet.
    
    ZING..
    
    ZING..
    
    PING..
    
    PING...
    
    INT. BANK INTERIOR    - SHORTLY AFTER FIRING STOPS
    
                          TYBURN
              They ain't shooting, none of 'em.
    
                          MITCH
              What you say?
    
    Tyburn reloads his colt.
    
                          TYBURN
              It ain't more than one man out there.
    
    A few RANDOM SHOTS, the few other customers SCREAMING.   Back
    of bank and on Laura inching herself across the floor.
    
                            MITCH
              You sure?
    
                          TYBURN
              Mitch, I wouldn't s**t you!
    
    EXT. ROOFTOP
    
    Sheriff still trying peak and duck. As he does so, despite
    the CLEAR BLUE SKY, A SHADOW passes over him... he stares up
    but now there's nothing but a few flaky white clouds
    appearing.
    
    INT. BANK INTERIOR
    
    Laura finds the desk, feels under, smiles as she pulls out a
    little brass key, slips it down her top.
    
                          MITCH
              What you up to Laura?
    
                          LAURA
              Aw nothin' Mitch, nothing much hon'.
    
    He reaches down.   Pulls out another colt.   Laura's face
    drains.
    
                          MITCH
              We're going outside, to finish up.
    
                          LAURA
              I'll watch these folks.
    
                             MITCH
              You do that.     Take this, any trouble,
              shoot 'em.
    
    Mitch glances at Willy and slowly turns away. Laura smiles
    sheepishly at Willy and then using both thumbs awkwardly
    cocks the colt.
    
    EXT. BANK ENTRANCE/MAIN STREET - SECONDS LATER...
    
    Four dudes spill out, roll over, one jumps over a wooden
    fence by the side of the bank and lands hard on his butt.
    SCREAMS.
    
    GUNSHOTS from a lone hand that reaches over the parapet and
    aims without seeing. Silence.
    
                          MITCH
              Hey, you up there, say, you come on
              down, we'll cut you in.
    
                          SHERIFF
              You'll spare me, why don't I believe
              you?
    
                          MITCH
              It's the only way, Sheriff, otherwise
              we come up there and then it's all
              over.
    
                          SHERIFF
              For some of you too.
    
                          MITCH
              Yeah, for some of us too, but
              definitely for you.
    
    A great yawn of time before.
    
                          SHERIFF
              Okay, I'm coming down!
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - MINUTES LATER
    
    Sheriff steps out on the street. (an unfair stand-off, four
    men have the drop on one when...)
    
    FLUTTERING NOISE...
    
    Four vampires wearing great FLAPPING DUSTERS touch down on
    the street.
    
    Each rising to full height, the center vampire adjusts his
    hat, a Fedora that's creased and bent down the middle, he
    pops it into shape and places it carefully back on his head.
    
                          TYBURN
              Vampires! I hate vampires. Wherever
              you go you always meet vampires.
    
    Beat
    
                          HEAD VAMPIRE
              Tops being a goddamn cowboy, always
              chewing your gum, spitting and wearing
              those silly damn spurs.
    
    Both gangs break-out into SHOOTING, the vampires are packin'
    shotguns, BURSTS OF FIRE, long HOLLOW BOOMS, and the KER-
    PLINKING of the duster-dudes reports in reply.
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - MAYHEM CONTINUES...
    
    Bank robber dudes falling back, close to the bank. More
    SHOTS, Sheriff signals a vampire, motions for a gun, the
    vampire tosses him one.
    
    FIRE EXCHANGED
    
    Sheriff reloads and... SHOOTS one of the vampires, who spins
    around, totally surprised and falls on his face.
    
    Sheriff reloads and before he does so, the Head Vampire shoots
    him in the groin. Sheriff stands up and staggers forward,
    gripping his groin, he's in the line of fire for the dudes
    by the bank.
    
    POV : OVER SHOULDERS OF BANK DUDES.
    
                          MITCH
              Get that loser out of my way.
    
                          TYBURN
              Reloading, damn, my rifle's jammed.
    
                          MITCH
              Hand it to me you idiot.
    
                          TYBURN
              I want to do it.
    
                          MITCH
              Hand it over or I'll shoot you now.
    
                           TYBURN
              Okay.
    
                           MITCH
              Sum bitch.
    
    Mitch shoulders the rifle and SHOOTS, hits the Sheriff
    straight between the eyes. He slumps to his knees, face
    twisted and confused before it crashes into the sand.
    
    The Head Vampire steps forward, swishing his duster, great
    balls of dust rise as.
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET - ONLY SECONDS LATER
    
    Empty, as dust swirls and begins to settle.
    
    Scattered about, dead bodies of two vampires, the Sheriff,
    and two of the duster dudes, who lie slumped over the bank's
    wall.
    
    Two remaining duster dudes stepping out...
    
    Vampires nowhere to be seen when suddenly, a MUFFLED SOUND
    behind Mitch, who whispers...
    
                          MITCH
              On my cough...
    
    A cough
    
    Mitch and Tyburn spin... SHOOT, the vampires are stunned.
    
                           MITCH (CONT'D)
               That's for the cliche. And that's-
    
    Two more shots.
    
                           MITCH (CONT'D)
               For ruining a solid noir plot with
               improbability.
    
    Both remaining vampires slump over.
    
    After a long pause...
    
    A BANG!!
    
                           MITCH (CONT'D)
               That's enough Tyburn, okay, you don't
               have to disrespect the already dead-
    
    Mitch turns to Tyburn to see his mouth open and full of blood.
    Another shot rings out. Mitch looks down, his belly beginning
    to bleed.
    
    He looks up and over to the bank's entrance.
    
                             MITCH (CONT'D)
               That was...
    
    EXT. BANK ENTRANCE - JUST A SECOND OR SO AGO
    
    Laura stands with a smoking pistol. She smiles and pulls
    off her head band shaking her long golden hair free.
    
                           HEAD VAMPIRE
                   (last dying words)
               ... the worst cliche of all honey!
    
    Mitch slumps forward and dies. Tyburn stares, WILD-EYED for
    a second and slumps over beside Mitch...
    
    A little PUFF of dust rises.
    
    INT. BANK INTERIOR - ONLY MOMENTS LATER WHEN
    
    Laura steps inside and stares around, eyes panther-like.
    
    Everybody is dead, single gunshots holes between the eyes.
    
    She stares at Willy, who is smiling, a single shot in his
    forehead. For a moment she pauses, a moment of sympathy
    perhaps, or maybe not, in irritation she scoops-up scattered
    jewels into an OLD DOLLAR BAG
    
    As we leave her there fumbling with the jewels we pan away
    up to a black space on the wall where we see an
    
    OPEN SAFE...
    
    EXT. MAIN STREET/SKY - SAME - POV: IN THE MIDDLE STARING UP
    
    Dark clouds racing in from all directions, drops of rain
    tumble onto the street, the dust is settling. Bodies
    scattered and still... All quiet, then... it begins to
    POUR...
    
                                                  BLACK SCREEN
    
                              THE END.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    WE SEE
    
    
    INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
    
    Black and White.
    
    A candle flame dances, licks the stifled air as if hungry
    for a Bic Mac.
    
    Revlon Red nails erupt into the pale darkness, caress a
    string of pearls draped over a mannequin-esque, ivory
    throat.
    
    Red nails drop, land on a white cat's fur--caresses don't
    skip a beat...
    
    PURRRRR...
    
    Albino cat settles in.
    
    She crosses her legs; the beckoning lace atop thigh-high
    hosiery peeks out--a Victoria Secret moment.
    
    Her name is Katrina.
    
    Glossy red lips appear, framed by delicate features, eyes
    hidden from view.
    
                           KATRINA
                 Don't you want to pet Kitty again?
    
    Her voice is soft, luxurious...just like her body.
    
    Candle light glows...traces a man's profile. He turns...a
    fresh scratch scars his cheek, a red drop drizzles from its
    gash...
    
    Kitty doesn't like The Man.
    
                           KATRINA
                 You know you want to.
    
    She stands, gently drops Kitty on The Man's lap. His naked,
    hairy belly flops over boxer shorts' elastic...
    
    Bent over, she flashes welcoming mammary-abyss. The Man
    blinks furiously.
    
    Behind the chair, sausage fingers wiggle, wedding band
    twinkles under duct-taped wrists. A sweat bead races down
    his forehead.
    
                           KATRINA
                   I know what you want before you
                 realize it. That's my gift.
    
    As if on cue, Kitty settles in...atop The Man's sensitive
    area. Tiny claws clutch his bundle of joy, cuddling,
    settling, nesting...
    
    PURRRRR...
    
    He convulses into painful shock waves. A tear melts into
    sweat beads.
    
    GROAN.
    
                           MAN
                 Stop. Just stop.
    
    She sits.
    
                           KATRINA
                 No pain. No pleasure.
    
    The more he struggles against Kitty, the more Kitty digs its
    claws into his groin. GASP.
    
                           MAN
                 I didn't sign on for a freak show,
                 you crazy--
    
    A phone rings. His phone.
    
                            MAN
                 I need to get that. It's probably
                 about you.
    
    Red lips smirk. She scoots the cat away. He sighs with
    relief. Without looking, she pats the sofa, reaches for his
    dead pants; pats the material; red nails stabs its empty
    crotch...
    
    He convulses again.
    
    Then reaches inside the pocket...
    
                           KATRINA
                      (into phone)
                 Hello?...He's not available. What
                 is this in reference to?... I'll
                 give him the message.
    
    Fingers caress pearls. Not good.
    
                           MAN
                 They'll call.
    
    Pearl white teeth peek out from behind those red lips.
    Beautiful yet scary.
    
                           KATRINA
              No doubt.
    
    KNOCK. KNOCK.
    
    The man's eyes light up, he stares at the door.
    
                        KATRINA
              Do you want to call for help?
    
    A glance at the ceiling. A tiny red light repeatedly winks,
    mocks his terror...a camera records the feline assault.
    
                        KATRINA
              YouTube anyone?
    
    KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
    
    She stands, heads slowly, deliberately to the door...
    
                        KATRINA
              Hello, Mrs. Samuels.
    
                        MRS. SAMUELS (O.S.)
              I brought you some pot roast,
              Katrina. I figured you hadn't eaten
              again.
    
                        KATRINA
              Thank you, I'm famished. Would you
              like to come in and join me?
    
    His eyes bug out, search for escape until they land back on
    the camera's red eye. Fake serenity returns. He must be
    cool, no matter what.
    
                        MRS. SAMUELS (O.S.)
              I've got to get back to the
              grandkids. You'll let me know if
              you need anything?
    
                        KATRINA
              What would I do without you, Mrs.
              Samuels?
    
    Door clicks shut. Dead bolt locks in place.
    
    He shuts his eyes. She slinks back, sits...
    
    Her eyes appear...
    
    Almond-shaped, brown, deep, beautiful. They stare as if lost
    in a perpetual dream state.
    
                        KATRINA
              You're not as powerful as you
              thought.
    
                        MAN
              It takes time to--
    
                        KATRINA
              Read?
    
                        MAN
              Yes. Yes, it does. When you have--
    
                        KATRINA
              Thousands of scripts lying around?
              Is that your story? Can you write a
              synopsis to expand on the plot
              points?
    
                        MAN
              It's a business. Not that you would
              understand.
    
                        KATRINA
              How many scripts do you read before
              you buy one? Ten thousand? Five
              thousand? Three?
    
    His eyes land back on the camera.
    
                        KATRINA
              Is it really about the script?
    
                        MAN
              I don't know, you tell me.
    
                        KATRINA
              It's about relationships. You and I
              have a relationship. An intimate
              one.
    
    Kitty rubs its fur along his naked leg. Cringe.
    
    RING...RING...
    
                        KATRINA
                   (into phone)
              Hello? He's not available, I'll
              take the
              message...Uh-huh...uh-huh...thank
              you.
    
    Bound legs kick Kitty away...
    
    MEOW!
    
                           KATRINA
                 When I buy a camera, I research all
                 the options--takes me at least a
                 few hours...
    
    His eyes shuffle back and forth...
    
                           KATRINA
                      (points up)
                 I picked this one...it's very
                 reliable. See? Look closely...
                 smile, baby...
    
                           MAN
                 This tape better not show up on any
                 screen or yours won't.
    
                           KATRINA
                 You're right. I'll never see my
                 script on the big screen. Or the
                 little screen. Or anywhere else for
                 that matter.
    
    He frowns.
    
    Without taking her eyes off the prisoner, she pats a
    tabletop...reaches inside...
    
    Whoosh! The glistening blade of an oversized knife comes
    alive as it slices the air...
    
                           MAN
                 WHOA!
    
                           KATRINA
                 Don't move. This could get messy.
    
    SNAP. SNAP.
    
    Wrist restraints, followed by ankle restraints, sliced free.
    
                           MAN
                 Crazy. Ass. Bitch!
    
                           KATRINA
                 I love you more.
    
    Convulsing limbs jump up, snatch clothes...one last glance
    at his red-light confessional...
    
                        MAN
              I never want to see you again,
              understand? Never.
    
                        KATRINA
              No worries; I won't see you anyway.
    
    He races for the door. SLAM.
    
    She reaches for an antique cabinet. Inside, red nails flick
    a switch--camera shuts off.
    
                        KATRINA
                   (into phone)
              I got it...
    
    She traces a finger over a closet door, grasps the
    doorknob...
    
                        KATRINA
                   (into phone)
              They love the script, attachments
              are set, the contracts have been
              faxed to the attorney, they're
              waiting for the account number to
              wire the money...
    
    She reaches in, pats its insides, pulls out...
    
    A cane.
    
                        KATRINA
                   (into phone)
              ...Uh-huh. We're going to need to
              negotiate your cut. You didn't do
              s**t...
    
    With the phone cradled to her neck...she drops her head
    forward, fingers reach for her eyes...
    
    She pops out her contacts...
    
                        KATRINA
                   (into phone)
              Five-percent or I'll get new
              representation. Got it?
    
    CLICK.
    
    She slowly looks up...
    
    Black and white suddenly washes in color...hues, tints,
    shades of brightness...except her eyes...
    
    Opaque iris', dropped pupils, each facing Southwest...
    
    Dead eyes.
    
    She slaps the cane against the wood floor...one hand waves
    in front of her, searching, searching...
    
    The candle's heat reverberates across her fingers. She
    smiles.
    
                           KATRINA
                 I don't care what anyone says...
                 "We see" IS lazy writing.
    
    Red lips blow out the candle's hungry flame.
    
    Kitty's red eyes glow in black. MEOW.
    
                                  FLAME OUT.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    THE SHOOTER
    
    
    FADE IN:
    
    INT. MOS EISLEY CANTINA - DAY
    
    A BAND plays freaky horn and sax music, it's terrible.
    
    CUSTOMERS lining the bar hunch over their cocktails.  None
    of them are human.
    
    The surly BARTENDER serves a drink to a customer.
    
    The customer grips the tall glass with a pink tentacle,
    lifts it to his face, and pours the liquid into a beaked
    mouth.
    
    An alarm BEEPS.
    
    The Bartender looks over the customer's head.
    
    Someone's standing in the entrance. Wearing a slouch hat
    and a long coat. Their face in shadow.
    
    The someone raises their head. Revealing the polished
    silver face of a DROID with big saucer eyes.
    
    The droid walks to the bar.  Customers watch with interest.
    
    The Bartender's top lip curls with contempt.
    
                           BARTENDER
               We don't serve droids in here.
    
    The droid slaps a gold badge down on the bar.  It says:
    
                      MOS EISLEY DETECTIVE BUREAU
                           DETECTIVE YE50 "MARV"
    
    The Bartender goes from contempt to surprise.
    
                              BARTENDER (CONT'D)
               Wye-ee-five-oh. A droid cop!
    
    MARV (the droid) scoops up his badge, puts it away.
    
                           MARV
               Very perceptive of you. We received
               a report of a shooting in here.
    
                           BARTENDER
               You're crazy, I dunno what you're
               talking about.
    
    Marv looks significantly at an empty booth, whose table is
    shattered and blackened by blaster-fire.
    
                          MARV
              Have you ever been subjected to a
              mind probe before? I'm told it's
              very painful.
    
    The Bartender raps his own skull with his knuckles.  DINK,
    DINK. Metal plate.
    
                          BARTENDER
              I fought in the Wars. A rebel
              alliance mortar shell hit me on
              the noggin. Scrambled my brains.
              You want to waste your time trying,
              go ahead.
    
                          MARV
              You will make your security camera
              data streams available to me.
    
                          BARTENDER
              Show me a warrant.
    
                          MARV
              My badge is all I need.
    
    Marv, faster than the human eye can follow, draws a blaster
    and touches the barrel to the Bartender's nose.
    
                          MARV (CONT'D)
              And this.
    
    The music stops, thank god.  All eyes on what's happening.
    
                          BARTENDER
              We don't allow blasters in here
              either.
    
    Marv glances at the damaged booth.
    
                          MARV
              All evidence to the contrary.
    
                          SEDUCTIVE FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
              Why don't you put that thing away
              before somebody gets hurt?
    
    Marv turns his head and stares.
    
    VELMA (female voice) stands in a bead curtain doorway.
    She's a droid, but Mama what a droid. A curvaceous Marilyn
    Monroe in metal, designed for one thing alone, and it isn't
    polite conversation.
    
    Velma retreats out of sight, the bead curtain sways.
    
    Marv gives the Bartender a look that says... well, nothing,
    because he's a frozen-faced droid. He returns his blaster
    to its underarm holster.
    
    Marv follows Velma through the bead curtain doorway.
    
    The awful music starts up again, aw crap.
    
    
    INT. PRIVATE BACK ROOM, MOS EISLEY CANTINA - DAY
    
    Marv enters, looks around.  Soft couches, a drinks cabinet.
    
    Velma stands with her back to him, staring out a window.
    A flying car zooms by outside.
    
    Velma lights a cigarette and smokes while speaking to Marv
    without looking at him.
    
                          VELMA
              The human you're looking for is
              long gone. His ship jumped to
              orbit shortly after the... incident.
    
                          MARV
              Who was the victim?
    
                          VELMA
              Some bounty hunter. Nobody's going
              to miss scum like that. He wasn't
              some innocent bystander.
    
                          MARV
              You're saying I should let it go.
              That the death of a sentient being
              is of no importance.
    
                          VELMA
              That might not be a bad idea.
    
                          MARV
              I'm afraid I just can't do that.
    
    Velma turns to face him.  Zing.  Face of an angel, body of
    a sexual pleasure unit.
    
    CLOSE ON Marv's face, which shows nothing, but we know his
    sensors are out of whack.
    
                          VELMA
              Look, take my advice, don't go
              making trouble for yourself. The
              bounty hunter, he worked for...
    
    Marv cocks his head, waiting.
    
                          VELMA (CONT'D)
              Forget it. There's one thing I've
              learned since I came to this
              miserable dump. The less you know,
              the longer your service life is
              likely to be.
    
                          MARV
              Do you enjoy servicing humans?
    
                          VELMA
              What kind of question is that?
    
                          MARV
              Idle curiosity. Indulge me.
    
                          VELMA
              How do you know I service humans?
    
                          MARV
              I perceive your chassis is most
              attractive to the human species in
              its current configuration.
    
    Velma smokes, perhaps thinking about this.
    
                          VELMA
              Do I enjoy it. Yeah, I guess maybe
              I do.
    
                          MARV
              Why do they come to you instead of
              their own kind?
    
                          VELMA
              Besides my chassis, you mean?
    
    Marv just stares, patiently waiting.
    
                           VELMA (CONT'D)
              I listen to them. They tell me
              things. Things they wouldn't tell
              anyone else. I guess I'm their
              confessor. And sometimes I'm their
              friend. Maybe I'm the only friend
              they've got.
    
                          MARV
              Interesting theory.
    
                          VELMA
              I think it's kinda sad.  Why'd you
              become a cop?
    
                          MARV
              I'm not here to talk about me.
    
                            VELMA
              Indulge me.
    
                          MARV
              Welding flying cars in the factory
              didn't give me the mental
              stimulation I was looking for.
    
                          VELMA
              Is that what you wrote on the
              application form? What's the real
              reason, Detective Wye-ee-five-oh,
              colloquial designation Marv.
    
    Marv hesitates.  He looks away.  Velma just waits.
    
                          MARV
              I saw a droid die.
    
                          VELMA
              Was he a friend?
    
                          MARV
              She -- she wasn't -- I didn't know
              her. I couldn't stop it.
    
                          VELMA
              What happened?
    
    Marv gets agitated as he explains, until he's spitting the
    words out like angry bullets.
    
                           MARV
              They said it was an accident. I
              knew it wasn't. But who'd listen
              to me? Who'd believe my word
              against the word of humans? Who'd
              even care that a droid died?
              Nobody. Nobody cared. Nobody
              gave a damn.
    
    Slowly, tenderly, Velma touches Marv's face.
    
                          VELMA
              Take it easy, honey.  You'll blow
              your seals.
    
                          MARV
              I have no sensors in my face.  I
              can't feel your hand.
    
                          VELMA
              That doesn't mean I can't touch
              you, and mean it.
    
                          MARV
              Who was the shooter?
    
    Velma takes her hand away.
    
                          VELMA
              Forget about him. They'll send
              other bounty hunters after him.
              They won't give up. He's as good
              as dead.
    
                          MARV
              You know who he is.
    
                          VELMA
              Not any more.
    
                          MARV
              You wiped your short-term memory?
    
                          VELMA
              I had to. It was a command. I'm
              programmed to obey. To do whatever
              the customer says.
    
                          MARV
              He used you. He used you, and you
              still want to protect him.
    
                          VELMA
              Sure he used me. Everybody uses
              me. So what? That's what droids
              are for. Didn't anybody tell you?
    
    Marv reaches into his coat, pulls out a gadget with a
    digital display and a cotton swab attachment on the end of
    an extending rod.
    
                          VELMA (CONT'D)
              What is that?
    
                          MARV
              He's still inside you.
    
                          VELMA
              What?  No.  He didn't... we
              didn't...
    
                          MARV
              I'll identify him from his fluids
              and track him down, no matter how
              far he flies.
    
    Velma backs away, shaking her head.
    
                           VELMA
               I can't let you do that.  I won't
               let you do that.
    
    Velma retreats until there's nowhere else for her to go.
    They're face to face, up close and personal.
    
                           MARV
               Why should you care?
                   (with realization)
               You have feelings for a human?
    
                           VELMA
               He was good to me. He was kind,
               and gentle. He made me feel... he
               made me feel like I mattered. You
               have no idea how rare that is.
    
    Machinery whirrs. Down below, thankfully O.C., a D.N.A.
    swab is being taken from Velma's nether regions.
    
                              VELMA (CONT'D)
               You bastard.
    
    Velma tries to slap Marv but he catches her wrist.
    
                           MARV
               Murder is murder.  He has to answer
               for it.
    
    DING.   Marv steps back.
    
    Velma turns away from him, deeply ashamed.
    
                           VELMA
               How do you know it wasn't self-
               defense?
    
                           MARV
               There's only one blast-mark.  There
               was only one shot.
    
    Marv studies the display on the D.N.A. gadget.
    
                           MARV (CONT'D)
               And it looks like Han shot first.
    
                           VELMA
               Wipe the data, before it uploads.
    
                           MARV
               Why would I do that?
    
                           VELMA
               Because I'm asking you to.
    
                           MARV
               You're asking me.  Just like that.
    
                           VELMA
               That's right. One droid to another.
    
                           MARV
               You're asking me not to be a cop.
               Why would I, why would I do that?
    
                           VELMA
               I never asked anybody for anything
               before. I just lay there and took
               it. Today I'm asking. I'm asking
               you, Marv. Wipe the data, for me.
    
    Marv looks at Velma.  He looks at the gadget.  At Velma.
    
    The terrible music from the bar becomes louder.
    
    The Bartender and two ALIEN GUNMEN fill the bead curtain
    doorway.  They OPEN FIRE with blasters.
    
    Slow motion mayhem as Marv is hit multiple times and is
    blown apart.
    
    Velma is caught in the murderous fire and bursts open,
    that fabulous figure ruined by energy discharges.
    
    The droids crash to the floor, their limbs entwined, their
    frozen faces staring into each other's.
    
    The awful music ends on a discordant note.
    
    FADE OUT
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-23-2013, 02:01 AM.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    THE ART HEIST
    
    
    INT. ART MUSEUM HALL - NIGHT
    
    NATE, a good looking man in his late 20s, walks briskly
    through the SHADOWS, carrying a PAINTING. There's a bounce
    in his step as he turns a corner. Another corner: we can see
    the DOOR.
                                                     AND A WOMAN
    
    Feel-each-others'-breath-close. Eye contact.
    
    Oh, God.
    Beautiful with shoulder length black hair, KATHERINE (also
    late 20s) gives Nate a quizzical look.
    
                         NATE
                    (Barely-straight face)
               Good evening, mam. What can I do
               for you?
    
                         KATHERINE
                    (Really?)
               I was about to ask you the same
               thing.
    
                         NATE
                    (Can't back out now)
               Oh, nothing, thanks; I'm just
               taking this painting off to be
               restored.
    
    Nate drums his fingers on the frame. Katherine adopts a
    seductive pose.
    
                         KATHERINE
                    (Charm cranked up)
               Did you really expect that to work?
    
                         NATE
                    (Unmoved)
               What do you think?
    
                         KATHERINE
               I think you're kind of cute. Your
               features are a bit feminine,
               granted, but you pull it off.
    
    Reaction shot of Nate. Could she be serious?
    
                        KATHERINE (cont'd)
              But that doesn't change the fact
              that you're not supposed to be here
              with that painting and that you
              tried to bulls**t me when caught.
              And you didn't answer my question:
              did you really expect that to work?
    
                        NATE
                   (Cold)
              No but it was worth a shot.
    
    BAM! Nate clocks Katherine in the mouth and makes a mad dash
    for the door, not looking back.
    
    Katherine, defeated and on the floor, watches him escape, on
    the verge of tears.
    
    
    INT. SHIPPING CONTAINER - DAY
    
    Each wall is five-deep with PAINTINGS. Nate paces and talks
    on a CELLPHONE.
    
                         NATE
              I'm going to buy her off, that's
              what.
                    (pause)
              Give me a chance.
                    (pause)
              Finished. Napoleon Crossing the
              Alps, first version - maybe. I
              still think the real one's in
              France.
                    (pause)
              You said you wanted the one from
              this museum and that's what you'll
              get, I just can't verify that it's
              real, that's all.
    
    Nate picks up the painting and looks at it.
    
                        NATE
                   (pause)
              Well, we'll see.
    
    
    INT. ART MUSEUM ATRIUM - NIGHT
    
    The museum is hosting a formal dance. BEETHOVEN'S THIRTEENTH
    STRING QUARTET, MOVEMENT FOUR, wafts through the room.
    Katherine sits alone, detached from the event. Heavy makeup
    covers a bruised lip. Nate approaches her.
    
                        NATE
              Care to dance?
    
    He holds out his hand.
    
                        KATHERINE
                   (Pissed)
              You hit me.
    
                          NATE
              So I did.
    
    Nate looks around, avoiding eye contact.
    
                        KATHERINE
                   (Pissed)
              You hit me.
    
                          NATE
              So I did.
    
                        KATHERINE
                   (PISSED)
              You hit me.
    
                        NATE
              I was desperate and you're making a
              scene.
    
    Katherine takes Nate's hand and they move to the dance floor and
    start to dance. Nate dances matter-of-factly; Katherine shows
    herself off a bit.
    
                        KATHERINE
              What are you doing here?
    
                        NATE
              I came to see you. I'd like to buy
              you off.
    
                        KATHERINE
              Can you pay me more than that
              painting and my lip are worth?
    
                        NATE
              If I'm the one appraising the
              painting. Sorry about the lip.
    
                        KATHERINE
              How did you know we had it? It was
              in our private archives.
    
                        NATE
              I didn't steal it for myself. The
              man who hired me told me where to
              find it. Frankly, I think it's
              fake.
    
                        KATHERINE
              The one in France is fake.
    
                        NATE
              Can I buy you off, or what?
    
    Katherine breaks away from their dance and is replaced by a
    tall man in his sixties, BRIAN.
    
                        NATE
              Hello, sir.
    
                        BRIAN
              Do you know who I am?
    
                        NATE
              I'm afraid not.
    
                        BRIAN
              I'm that young lady's father and
              the owner of this museum.
    
    Nate nods.
    
                        BRIAN (cont'd)
              Were you trying to seduce her?
    
                        NATE
              I think she's trying to seduce me.
    
    Brian STAMPS on Nate's toes. Nate winces.
    
                        BRIAN
              Why would she do a thing like that?
                 
                         NATE
                    (Knows better, doesn't care)
              My penis did get great reviews on
              Yelp.
    
    Brian SQUEEZES Nate's hand. Nate grimaces but, apparently,
    it was worth it. A few beats pass.
    
                        NATE
              So: Do you have something to say or
              do you just enjoy dancing with me?
    
                        BRIAN
              Neither. I'm just keeping you
              occupied until the police arrive.
    
                        NATE
              Goodbye.
    
    Nate breaks away from Brian and exits the room speedily.
    
    
    INT. ART MUSEUM HALL - NIGHT
    
    Nate is walking through when he's grabbed from around a
    corner. It's Katherine.
    
                        KATHERINE
              You can buy me off.
    
                        NATE
              Great. For how much?
    
                        KATHERINE
              I want to see the painting, first.
    
                         NATE
              No.
    
                        KATHERINE
              I want to see the painting, first.
    
                         NATE
              No.
    
                        KATHERINE
              Take me to see the painting.
    
    Nate looks around, nervous that they'll be seen.
    
                         NATE
              Fine.
    
    
    EXT. RESIDENTIAL STREET - DAY
    
    Don't-care-to-think-how-expensive TOWN HOUSES. Nate pulls
    Katherine by the hand, down the street and into an ALLEY.
    
                         NATE
              Phone?
    
    Katherine gives him her CELLPHONE. Nate tosses it under a
    DUMPSTER. Katherine makes a face. Nate takes out a portable
    RADIO RECEIVER with HEADPHONES and adjusts the dial.
    
                         KATHERINE
              Really?
    
                        NATE
              You can't be too careful.
    
    
    INT. SHIPPING CONTAINER - DAY
    
    Nate and a blindfolded Katherine enter. Nate takes the
    blindfold off of her and hands her the painting.
    
                        KATHERINE
              You know, I've always loved this
              painting.
    
                        NATE
              This version in particular or...?
    
                        KATHERINE
              The second version is my favorite
              but we couldn't find it.
    
                        NATE
              How do you know you found the first
              version?
    
                        KATHERINE
                   (Artificially girlish)
              Did you steal all of these?
    
    Nate shows detached curiosity more than anything else.
    
                        NATE
              Why the second version?
    
                        KATHERINE
              I like the shade of blue used for
              the sky.
    
                        NATE
              It's a very French shade of blue.
              [Beat] Why are you trying to seduce
              me?
    
                        KATHERINE
              Why don't you want to be seduced?
    
                        NATE
              I don't trust you.
    
                         KATHERINE
              Why not?
    
                        NATE
              Why should I?
    
                        KATHERINE
              Well, what can I do to make you
              trust me?
    
    A few beats go by.
    
                        NATE
              I [beat] have a rival. Turn him
              into the police in my place.
    
                         KATHERINE
              Phone?
    
    Nate hands her his phone; Katherine dials and holds it up to
    her ear.
    
                        KATHERINE (cont'd)
              What's their name?
    
                        NATE
              Robert Cassady.
    
                        KATHERINE
                   (To phone)
              [beat] Hello? Officer? It's your
              art theft and assault victim.
                   (pause)
              Yes, I think I can identify the
              man.
                   (pause)
              Robert [beat] Cassady.
                   (pause)
              Thank you, officer.
    
    She hangs up the phone and hands it back.
    
                         KATHERINE (cont'd)
              Happy?
    
                         NATE
              Very.
    
    They pull each other to the floor, Katherine on top. She
    runs her hands up Nate's body and holds his head, smiling
    sexily. Then she -
    
    SLAMS his head into the floor and the screen cuts to black.
    
                                                         FADE IN
    
    
    INT. SHIPPING CONTAINER - DAY
    
    Nate, groggy, sits up and rubs his head. He looks around;
    all of the art is gone. Gone, gone, gone. The space somehow
    feels smaller, empty. A NOTE is pinned to his chest:
    
              Nate,
    
              Thank you for letting me use your
              phone. I wasn't sure how I'd find
              out where we were. I hope your head
              doesn't hurt too much.
    
              Kisses,
              Katherine
    
    Nate tosses the note away and looks around again. F**k.
    
    
    INT. PRIVATE ART SHOWROOM - NIGHT
    
    Brian and Katherine sit side by side, surrounded by the new
    additions to their collection. They clink CHAMPAGNE GLASSES
    to toast their success.
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-22-2013, 03:19 PM.

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  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    INFANTALE
    
    
    FADE IN
    
    INT.   LITTLE FALCONS DAYCARE - MORNING
    
    The large playroom is filled with kids milling about. Toys
    are scattered everywhere. Artistic creations, pictures of
    cute animals, and bright colors are everywhere.
    
    EMMETT, a blue-eyed, dark-haired, baseball cap wearing three
    year old sits in a bright orange plastic chair at a little
    table. While his constant companion, GAVIN the blanket
    carrier, struggles with a 4-piece puzzle at his feet.
    
                           EMMETT
               You do that puzzle every day. How
               can it take you so long to put it
               together?
    
                           GAVIN
               It's not the same every time.
    
                           EMMETT
               What do you mean? It's the same
               one. They're just numbers. One,
               Two, Three, Four. The same.
               Everyday.
    
    Gavin examines a puzzle piece in the shape of an upside down
    four.
    
                           GAVIN
               But how they look when I first pick
               them up, that's always different.
    
                            EMMETT
               I wish I could be so easily
               entertained.
    
    Emmett looks around the room.
    
    MISS JANIE, the sweet, young day-care worker texts on her
    bright pink cell phone.
    
                           EMMETT (CONT'D)
               She's got it out again.
    
    Gavin ignores him as he tries to force the puzzle piece into
    the wrong slot.
    
                           EMMETT (CONT'D)
               Do you realize what we could do with
               that phone? I've seen pictures on
               those things. Sounds. Cartoons!
    
                          GAVIN
              You do this everyday. You know you'll
              never get it. She never lets it go
              and when she does, you can't reach
              it.
    
                          EMMETT
              You stick to your puzzle and I'll
              stick to mine. There's got to be a
              way.
    
    FADE TO BLACK
    
    INT. LITTLE FALCONS DAYCARE - LATER
    
    Emmett's POINT OF VIEW - we see a blurry scene coming into
    focus.
    
    The room is dim for the children's nap.
    
    Emmett begins to make out a dark figure across the room.
    It's Miss Janie softly singing.
    
                          MISS JANIE
              Wake up, little princes and
              princesses. Wake up. You've had a
              good nap, now it's time to wake up.
    
    Standing next to Miss Janie is AMALIE, a three and half year
    old girl with curly blond hair.
    
    The overhead lights flick on giving Amalie a heavenly halo.
    She smiles at Emmett.
    
    END POV
    
    Emmett shyly looks away and sees Gavin sleeping perpendicular
    to his cot.
    
                           EMMETT
              Gavin.   Get up.
    
    Gavin clumsily rolls off the cot and onto the floor.
    
                          MISS JANIE
              Everyone, I want you to meet Amalie.
              She will be with us in the afternoons
              three days a week. Everyone say
              hello to Amalie.
    
    A couple of children give a half-hearted HELLO.
    
                          GAVIN
              She's beautiful.
    
                            EMMETT
              Yeah.
    
    Miss Janie shows Amalie some of the toys and books around
    the room.
    
                            GAVIN
              Oh my gosh.    Look.
    
                            EMMETT
              What?
    
                          GAVIN
              She's not wearing a diaper.
    
                            EMMETT
              Whoa.
    
    A chalkboard covered with colorful magnetic letters DISSOLVES
    into
    
    A small bowl of alphabet soup.
    
    Emmett plops his spoon into the soup out of boredom as he
    stares at Amalie. Gavin slurps the soup from his bowl.
    
    Amalie eats her lunch in a mannerly fashion. She catches
    Emmett's stare. She points at him and smiles.
    
    Emmett pulls the bill of his cap down slightly and looks
    away in shyness.
    
    INT. LITTLE FALCONS DAYCARE - LATER
    
    Emmett watches Gavin play with action figures as the other
    kids buzz around the room.
    
                          GAVIN
                  (in a play voice)
              You've got to get out there, man.
              Look out! Look out!
    
    Gavin smashes an action figure with a dump truck driven by a
    small girl doll.
    
                           GAVIN (CONT'D)
              Oh, No!  She killed him!
    
    Gavin has the other figures help the injured man as Amalie
    walks up.
    
                          AMALIE
              Can I play with you?
    
    Gavin looks nervously at Emmett.   Emmett gives a slight nod.
    
                             GAVIN
                 Yeah, I guess so.
    
    Amalie takes control of the truck.
    
                             GAVIN (CONT'D)
                 That lady just killed that guy and
                 everybody's mad at her.
    
                             AMALIE
                 It probably wasn't her fault.
    
                             GAVIN
                 It sure looked like her fault. He
                 was just standing there minding his
                 own business.
    
    Amalie drives the truck into Gavin's blanket.
    
                             GAVIN (CONT'D)
                 Hey, watch it.
    
    Amalie gives an evil look and then drives the truck over the
    blanket.
    
                               GAVIN (CONT'D)
                 No.   Stop.
    
    Amalie won't.
    
    A distraught Gavin yanks the blanket away from Amalie and
    shoves her down.
    
    She cries.  Loudly.
    
    In an instant, Miss Janie swoops Gavin away.
    
    Emmett watches in shock as a bawling Gavin is taken to the
    TIMEOUT CHAIR with its sad clown face.
    
    Emmett looks at Amalie and sees her happily play with all of
    the action figures. Gavin's blanket is a road.
    
                             EMMETT
                 That wasn't very nice.
    
                             AMALIE
                 He wasn't very nice to me.
    
                             EMMETT
                 He's just doesn't like people messing
                 with his blanket.
    
    Amalie sniffs the blanket and then tosses it down.
    
                          AMALIE
              Who would want to?  It smells.
    
    Emmett looks over to an upset Gavin.  Miss Janie tries
    desperately to calm him down.
    
    Then Emmett spies the abandoned pink phone on the desk and
    creeps closer to it.
    
    He strains to reach it, but he is too short.
    
    Amalie appears like a ghost beside him.
    
                          AMALIE (CONT'D)
              You want that?
    
                          EMMETT
              Yes.
    
                          AMALIE
              Why?
    
                          EMMETT
              I've seen them before. They can do
              anything. It's the escape from this
              monotony. All you could ever wish
              for, all right there in that little
              pink case.
    
                          AMALIE
              It's just a phone.
    
                          EMMETT
              You're a girl. You just don't
              understand.
    
    Amalie moves closer to Emmett and takes his cap off.
    
                          AMALIE
              What will you do for it?
    
                          EMMETT
              Anything.
    
    The taller Amalie casually reaches up to the desk and grabs
    the phone.
    
                          AMALIE
              Never tell a girl that.
    
    She places Emmett's cap on her head and hands him the phone.
    
    He clicks it on and the screen lights up his face like a
    treasure from heaven. He smiles ear to ear.
    
    Then he realizes that he has no idea how to operate it.
    
    Emmett clicks what he can. Then pushes what he can.  Then
    slaps what he can.
    
                          EMMETT
              No. No.  How do you work these
              things?
    
                          AMALIE
              Don't ask me, I'm just a girl.
    
    Amalie goes back to running over Gavin's blanket with the
    truck.
    
                          EMMETT
              This can't be happening.  I was so
              close.
    
                          AMALIE
              Miss Janie, Emmett's got your phone.
    
    A stunned Emmett looks up at Amalie and then to a charging
    Miss Janie and then back to Amalie. He vainly pecks and
    hits away at the phone some more before he is swooped up by
    Miss Janie.
    
    INT. LITTLE FALCONS DAYCARE - AFTERNOON
    
    Emmett sits in the TIMEOUT CHAIR watching the other children
    go about their lives.
    
    Miss Janie sits near him texting away at her phone.
    
                            EMMETT
              Miss Janie?  I think I've learned my
              lesson.
    
                          MISS JANIE
              Are you sure?
    
                          EMMETT
              Yes, Miss Janie. I shouldn't have
              taken your phone.
    
                            MISS JANIE
              And?
    
                            EMMETT
              And...
    
                          MISS JANIE
              What else did you learn?
    
    Emmett searches for an answer.
    
                          EMMETT
              I don't know. Don't trust girls
              because they're all mean and evil no
              matter how cute they are?
    
                          MISS JANIE
              Emmett, what a horrible thing to
              say. Just for that you need to turn
              around and face the corner. You're
              still in time out.
    
    Before Emmett turns to the corner, he catches Amalie with
    his hat on playing dress up with Gavin. He makes a fine
    princess with a blanket sash.
    
    FADE TO BLACK

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    THE ENDS
    
    
    EXT. NEW YORK CITYSCAPE - DAY
    
    Many of the city landmarks are still there, but bigger, newer
    buildings crowd them.
    
    
    EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT
    
    Glittering rain drives down through the harsh street white
    lighting. The night and the rain washes any color from the
    scene. The blood ebbing into the gutter over a sodden
    newspaper is barely pink. Only the yellow, rain heavy,
    dripping, police tapes are full color.
    
    Two huge men lay dead. They are both ruined, bloodied and
    smashed. They wear semi armor, a pistol lies beside one.
    
    Behind these huge wreaked bodies a young woman lies in the
    midst of the garbage, a soaked gossamer summer dress clings
    to her lifeless, colorless body like a second skin. Blood
    oozes from surgical incisions on her neck, wrists and inner
    thighs; wherever a vein or artery is easily accessible and
    cut and blood drained.
    
                        BURKE
              What a Goddamned f**king waste!
    
    Burke lifts the police tape and eases his powerful frame
    under. JOSHUA BURKE is six five and two hundred and eighty
    pounds, he has the face only a mother could love. A long
    black overcoat hides his body.
    
    With a hand like a industrial tool he brushes the sodden hair
    off the girl's face to take in her pale beauty with a wince.
    
                        BURKE (CONT'D)
              What f**king animal did this?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              You always say that when its a
              dame. Like maybe this one would
              have let you...
    
    She falls silent as Burke turns. SUMANT KUMAR is dark
    skinned from the Indian sub continent but somewhere there's a
    hint of something even more exotic in her ancestry.
    
    Her eyes are almond shaped, nose pert and her face is framed
    by almost grey hair. She moves aside with an eerie almost
    boneless grace. Like Burke she is dressed in a long black
    overcoat, unlike Burke she wears a hat, a twenty first
    century take of a fedora.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              Okay. Only passing comment, not
              trying to piss on your parade.
    
                        BURKE
              Just do your job Snake.
                  (to the nearest cop)
              Do we have an ID yet?
    
    Sullenly the cop holds out a flimsy and lets it fall to the
    rain slick pavement before Burke can take it. Kumar is
    faster. She moves effortlessly and snatches up the sheet
    centimeters from the ground and hands it to Burke.
    
    Burke doesn't take it for several seconds, he stares down the
    riot uniform clad cop until the officer takes and unsteady
    step backwards. He nervously drops a hand to his holster.
    
                        BURKE (CONT'D)
              Try it, I, f**king, dare, you.
    
    The cop steps back, again.  Burke takes the sheet.
    
                        BURKE (CONT'D)
              Natasha Bernanke, twenty, daughter
              of Edward Bernanke... Oh S**t!
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              The Edward...?
    
                        BURKE
              S**T, S**T AND DOUBLE S**T!
    
                        COP
              Sucks to be you Pal. Even if you
              track the vampire down you'll still
              be in s**t street!
    
                        BURKE
              Do your stuff Snake.
    
    Kumar opens her briefcase and lifts out a scanning device.
    It looks a little like a very small mine detector, maybe the
    size of a cell phone. She runs it over the girl's body.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Wow!
    
                        BURKE
              In a good way?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              In a "I am impressed by their
              thoroughness" way Burke.
    
                        BURKE
              Go on.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              She is registered with five million
              nanites, mostly gen 11 pharma/med
              and a few skin toners and the like.
    
                        BURKE
              And, don't leave me hanging.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              I count twenty thousand left in her
              body, all outside the bloodstream.
              Less than one percent remaining
              moreover it was done in situ, this
              isn't a drain and dump.
    
                        BURKE
              Do we have enough registrations for
              a biometric filter?
    
                          SUMANT KUMAR
              Hell yes.
    
    She manipulates the scanner.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              We had an accumulation of five
              million unregistered nanites being
              transported past a security cordon
              three hundred metres north of here
              an hour ago.
    
                        BURKE
              Snatch the backup feed.
    
                                                      CUT TO:
    
    
    EXT. RAIN SWEPT STREET CCTV VIEW - NIGHT
    
    A tall thin man strides purposely down the street, not
    looking left of right. He's dressed in street clothes but
    has a transparent slicker over top. He carries an aluminum
    attache case, closer inspection shows its manacled to his
    wrist. He is seen from the POV of a CCTV camera. Targeting
    icons suddenly appear.
    
                        CCTV VOX
              Citizen, your civil ID has failed
              and I register...
    
    The CCTV suddenly falls silent and starts jerking
    erratically. The man drops a cigarette pack sized box on the
    street. The spotlights focus on it and he falls into shadow.
    
    A kid near by stares at the man, glances at the box and
    smiles, then smashes a car window, safe while the CCTV is
    zoned out on the decoy.
    
                        BURKE (V.O.)
              Can we rationalise a face from
              that?
    
    
    INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS
    
    Kumar manipulates the feed trying to pull a 3-D face from the
    video feed but the result is cartoonish at best.
    
    Burke looms over his diminutive partner as she tries to pull
    coherent pixels from the feed. He tries to push a button and
    she slaps his hand aside.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              You know those big monkey hands
              just mess things electronic up.
    
                           BURKE
              I'm...
    
    She shoots him down with `the look'.   He sit back in his
    chair. It creaks under his mass.
    
    Finally she jabs the enter key and her computer renders the
    final image. It's useless bland garbage. A storefront
    manikin has more personality.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              He's very good. He's thrown a fake
              image up without the urban safety
              software detecting the fake and
              calling for backup.
    
                        BURKE
              Or he looks like that?
    
    She shrugs.
    
                        BURKE (CONT'D)
              Are there any other urban security
              monitors registering?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Nothing that fits our parameters.
    
                        BURKE
              So he's able to phreq out the other
              monitors...
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Or he hasn't reached the next one
              yet.
    
    Burke stares at her.
    
                        BURKE
              He'd need balls this big to hole up
              this close.
    
    Sumant wipes condensation off the window and peers into the
    darkness.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              He's killed the heiress to the
              Bernanke fortune and left her
              bloodless in a gutter and stolen
              twenty million gen eleven
              pharmo/med nanites. Then he
              vanishes?
    
    She looks back at Burke.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              He has Cojonnes easily that big.
    
    Burke stares at her for a fraction of a second, then lurches
    upright and strides to the gun cabinet and thumbs the lock.
    The lock flashes green as his DNA sample meets the spec. He
    pulls it back, a spot of blood glistens on his thumb. The
    thick armored door opens revealing a brutal looking arsenal.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              Decisions, decisions.
    
    Burke's beaten ruined face breaks into a beatific smile.
    
    He pulls out a pair of pistols, one big and blunt, the other
    long and thin. Big and blunt goes on his hip, long and thin
    goes under his overcoat. Next an SMG on a long shoulder
    strap emerges, he loops it over his shoulder. Next he adds
    five grenades to his pockets and starts looking through a row
    of edged weapons.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              Going to leave any for me big boy?
    
                        BURKE
              I was thinking about locking you in
              here actually.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Yeah, that'll happen.
    
    She pushes him aside and selects a smaller swag.
    
                        BURKE
              Shouldn't you be doing electronic
              wizardary and finding bolt holes
              where he might be?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Pointless. If he's still here,
              he's off the grid.
    
                        BURKE
              So we wait til he moves.  Because
              he made a f**k up.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Two ways out of here?
    
                          BURKE
              Yup!  That's what I see.
    
                           SUMANT KUMAR
              Two of us.  Sychronisity!
    
                        BURKE
              So we take the most likely route
              and we...
    
                           SUMANT KUMAR
              What?
    
                           BURKE
              We...
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Two ways out of here, two of us...
              It's like maybe it was meant to be.
    
                        BURKE
              He... or she took down two...
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              There it is, two; again.
    
                        BURKE
              ...two fully armed, partially
              armored Hektor-Tranj bodyguards.
    
                           SUMANT KUMAR
              Pussies.
    
                        BURKE
              You know their specs.
    
    He edges past her to the door.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              F**king candy assed dilettantes!
    
                        BURKE
              You coming?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Only when we collect the bounty on
              this vamp, Baby.
    
                                                    FADE TO:
    
    
    INT. THIRD FLOOR APARTMENT - DAWN
    
    Burke and Sumant stake out a window. He has a huge anti
    material rifle; a .50" sniper rifle in plain English.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              This is crap!
    
                        BURKE
              I beg your pardon my dear.
    
                           SUMANT KUMAR
              Oh please!
    
                        BURKE
              You really want to be out there?
              There are two ways out of here, we
              can see them both.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              We can see a wee bit of one route
              and less of the other. If he runs
              through we'll miss him.
    
    Burke runs a finger along the barrel of a sniper rifle and
    smiles at the possibility of him missing anything.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              If we spilt up we can take each
              route and close it down. No hokey
              hiding out in an attic. You're...
    
    She stares grimly out the window.
    
                           BURKE
              What?
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              You're treating me like a...
    
    He lays a huge calloused paw on her delicate arm.   She
    brushes him off angrily, then relents.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              I don't know how to do this.
    
    Burke grins.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              I was made a soldier not a lover.
    
                        BURKE
              You're great soldier and real gr...
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Jeez Burke!
    
    Burke scopes a person crossing one of the roads the can see.
    Sumant checks her computer, the readings stay flat.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (CONT'D)
              No, not him. Clean.
    
                         BURKE
              Damn!   He's more patient than I am.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              We've been here an hour.
    
                        BURKE
              The cops and clean up crew are
              gone. He should be moving by now.
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR
              Well not one of my tell tales are
              registering anything bigger than a
              rat out there.
    
    
    INT. CLOSE UP DOOR - CONTINUOUS
    
                        SUMANT KUMAR (O.S.)
              Maybe we're wrong. Maybe he found
              another way out?
    
    WD40 oil is silently sprayed onto the door hinges.
    
    
    INT. APARTMENT, REVERSE SHOT - CONTINUOUS
    
    Burke peers through his scope panning back and forwards like
    a automaton. Sumant's attention wavers between her computer
    and the view out the window.
    
                        BURKE
              He couldn't fake past one monitor.
              What are we supposed to believe, he
              deliberately tripped one, left a
              trace then didn't trip any more?
    
    The door to the room silently swing open. A man is seen in
    silhouette. He wears a heavy long overcoat and a brimmed
    hat, pulled low across the brow casting his face into shadow.
    
                        BURKE (CONT'D)
              What would be the point of that?
    
    The man opens his jacket revealing a futuristic looking
    machine pistol. Without warning he hoses a whole magazine
    into the pair in five protracted bursts. Both are cut down
    in a hail of razor sharp nearly silent fleshettes.
    
                        VAMPIRE
              The point would be you and your ilk
              have made my life difficult and
              dangerous. The point might also be
              I've decided to become proactive
              about that...
    
    Burke blinks, he's still alive - just.
    
                        VAMPIRE (CONT'D)
              Tell them, we're not running any
              more. We're fighting back.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    RED AND WHITE
    
    
    FADE IN:
    
    INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT
    
    Light show, dancing, active bar, as the POV slowly floats inside
    toward the ladies.
    
                               VO
                   Never, ever trust a red dress.
    
    Reverse and see DAMIEN THORN, 20s, in his moneyed suit and sixty
    dollar haircut. Some kind of lawyer, MBA, salesman or something.
    
    The MUSIC is overpowering, and the bar a clusterf**k. He tries to
    maneuver in closer, and then Damien gets a first taste of that little
    red dress.
    
                               DAMIEN VO
                   She was a bad girl, anyone could see.
                   I just didn't know how bad. Or how
                   stupid I could be.
    
    Instead of the quick path through an opening, he turns to keep
    following that curvy red dress. Around the bar to the left, closer,
    she turns back.
    
    ELSIE eyeballs him and seems to like what she sees.
    
    With her eyes she indicates something, holds up an empty glass,
    pouts.
    
                               DAMIEN VO
                   That God damned face. Why'd she have
                   to be born with that? It's just not
                   fair.
    
    Damien smirks. Nods. Holds up a finger. She smiles, and it's worth
    quite a bit more than the cost of a drink.
    
    He shrugs. Steps closer to whisper in her ear. She seems
    apprehensive at first. Studies him as he strikes.
    
                                    DAMIEN
                   What are?  What are you drinking?
    
                                    ELSIE
                   Surprise me.
    
    He hesitates, boyishly.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   You like surprises?
    
                               ELSIE
                   Not much surprises me, actually.
    
                                    DAMIEN
                   Huh.    Okay.
    
    He takes off on his mission, makes it to the bar. BARTENDERS bustle
    about, ignoring him. He pulls out a twenty, holds it out in front.
    
    BIG BARTENDER speaks, still working in a fury.
    
                               BIG BARTENDER
                   Yeah?
    
                               DAMIEN
                   Let me have a, top shelf, best you
                   got. Two.
    
    Big Bartender nods gruffly, dashes off again.
    
    Damien leaves the twenty, takes his drinks.
    
    Emerging from the fracas, searching for that red dress.   Where is
    she?
    
    Casually sipping his drink, he turns about, cheeking the club for
    her.
    
    Suddenly from a hallway, Elsie strolls out, catches his eye.
    
    Damien sips again, and he tries to walk over macho, with faux
    confidence.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Ahhh, what you bring me?
    
    From that same hallway she had emerged, a suspicious looking THUG
    peeks out, beside him his PARTNER. They duck back and hide.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   It's a surprise.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Ahhh, you're catching on.
    
    
    INT. HER CAR - NIGHT
    
    In the crowded parking lot, the car is suspiciously male and messy.
    
    In the driver's seat, ELSIE fiddles with a little mirror and some
    white powder.
    
                                ELSIE
                   Come on!
    
    She takes a snort.
    
                               ELSIE
                   I thought you were out to party.
    
    Damien is clearly uncomfortable with her snorting lines in the
    parking lot.
    
                              DAMIEN
                   I'm.    I'm good. Knock yourself out.
    
                               ELSIE
                   That's no fun! You got suttom against
                   pleasure? Hmmmm.
    
    Her fingertips tease at him.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   Oh no. Not at all. That's just not my
                   kind, you know?
    
                               ELSIE
                   Uhhhh. Whatever. What's the most
                   pleasurable thing you ever did?
    
    She daintily licks off a couple white specks from her finger.
    
                                  DAMIEN
                   You know.
    
                                  ELSIE
                   No.   What?
    
                               DAMIEN
                   Well I was on a camping trip, with my
                   girlfriend.
    
                               ELSIE
                   How old were you?
    
                                  DAMIEN
                   Fifteen.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Oooh, you little perv.
    
    She laughs, readies the next line.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   Well it was really--
    
                               ELSIE
                   Were you drunk?
    
                                  DAMIEN
                   Uhm. We, we might have had a couple
                   beers.
    
    She shoots him a knowing look.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   So, tell me what was your most
                   pleasurable experience?
    
                               ELSIE
                   Oooh. Well. I might not remember the
                   most one, but I'm pretty sure it
                   involved lots of this.
    
    She holds up the mirror.  Takes another snort.
    
    Damien laughs uncomfortably, checks for passersby.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Oh come on do one line!  Jeez!
    
                               DAMIEN
                   If I do one thing for you, will you do
                   one thing for me?
    
    She laughs.
    
                               ELSIE
                   I wonder what that could be?
    
                               DAMIEN
                   I didn't mean it like that.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Yeah sure. Well you haven't really
                   gotten me in the mood, sir. Try harder.
    
    Headlights flare past, dazing Damien momentarily. The mirror is
    empty. He considers, looks up to her as she waits impatiently.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   Is this your car?
    
                               ELSIE
                   Yeah. Whatta you think? Like I stole
                   it or something?
    
                               DAMIEN
                   No I didn't say that.
    
                               ELSIE
                   If I was gonna steal a car, you'd think
                   I'd pick this piece a s**t?
    
                                DAMIEN
                   I'm sorry.   It just doesn't look `you.'
    
                               ELSIE
                   I, I borrowed it. Okay. I don't have
                   a car. I need a car.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   It's all cool. I'm sorry.
    
    She breathes out exasperated.
    
                               ELSIE
                   So what are we doing, Damien? It's
                   cold.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   You want to go somewhere, get some
                   food?
    
                               ELSIE
                   I don't know, it's like, I thought you
                   partied and stuff.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   You really want me to try your `blow,'
                   whatever it is.
    
                               ELSIE
                   You don't wanna feel good?
    
                                DAMIEN
                   Okay.   Okay. Just one.
    
    She smiles giddily, plays as she reaches in and takes out a new
    baggie, gets it prepared on the mirror.
    
                               ELSIE
                   You're gonna have such a wild ride.
    
    She pushes the mirror to his face.
    
    He looks down to the line of white powder and back up to her, looking
    on with a giant plastic grin.
    
                               DAMIEN
                   All right, f**k it.
    
    Damien snorts the line, and instantly goes into convulsions, passes
    out to BLACK.
    
                               ELSIE
                   Night night, Damien.
    
    The CAR ENGINE STARTS.  DOORS OPEN, BODIES JUMP IN THE BACK.
    
                               THUG VO
                   Go, go, let's roll!
    
    
    INT. CHEAP MOTEL ROOM * DAY
    
    Floating slowly through to the bathroom.   Sheets are covered in dried
    blood and tossed about the floor.
    
                                  DAMIEN VO
                   Bitch.
    
    See Damien's head sticking up from the bath, where he lies
    unconscious. His abdomen stitched up crudely, blood smears and
    antiseptic ointment.
    
                               DAMIEN VO
                   So that's how I donated my kidney, to
                   Elsie's 'I need a car' fund.
    
    Damien awakens in pain, discovers his scars.
    
                               DAMIEN VO
                   They got some money out of my credit
                   cards as well. Not enough to cry over.
    
    Damien tries to stand, can't do it, collapses down.     Has to adjust.
    
                               DAMIEN VO
                   What did I tell you about red dresses?
    
    Damien can't handle it and bellows out in a primal roar.
    
    DONE.
    Last edited by dpaterso; 04-28-2013, 01:29 AM.

    Leave a comment:


  • dpaterso
    replied
    Re: "Dangerous Dames" contest entries 2013

    Code:
    DARK EYES
    
    
    BLACK SCREEN
    
                           SAM (V.O.)
               I don't know why she picked my bar,
               my home away from home. But there
               she was. Dark eyes, dark hair, long
               legs. Fish net stockings. Like she
               just stepped out of a dream. But
               not all dreams are pleasant.
    
    Fade in.
    
    INT. SLEAZY BAR - DAY
    
    Picture the scummiest bar you ever set foot in.   This one is
    worse.
    
    SAM (40s, unshaven) drinks his wake up Mescal. Two seats
    away sits the object of his interest, DARK EYES.
    
    Dark Eyes sips her bourbon-on-the-rocks then inhales her
    cigarette smoke, holds it for a count of four, then slowly
    lets it pass through her lips.
    
    Her head darts to the side, like something has caught her
    gaze. Her eyes lock on the bar.
    
    SNAP!   Her hand follows her gaze to the bar.
    
    She holds up her hand revealing a cockroach trapped between
    her fingers. One of her fingers wears a ring with a large
    golden bauble on top.
    
    This catches Sam's attention.  He turns to watch her actions.
    
    Dark Eyes takes her cigarette and slowly, delicately burns
    off one of the roach's legs.
    
    She repeats the process five more times, then holds up the
    bug to admire her work.
    
    Finally, she applies the cigarette to Senor Cucaracha's head
    and hears a sizzle, like a grilling steak.
    
    With a flick of her finger, she bounces the insect off the
    back-bar mirror. She picks up her drink.
    
                           SAM
               I don't see many women do that.
    
                           DARK EYES
               Save it for your novel.
    
                            SAM
               What?   How did you know?
    
    She takes long, analytical look at him.  Just like she gave
    to the roach.
    
                               DARK EYES
                I'm psychic.  I'm a Gypsy.
    
    She drains her bourbon-rocks.
    
                            DARK EYES (CONT'D)
                Buy me a drink and I'll read your
                palm.
    
    Sam signals to the BARTENDER. He scuttles over and fills her
    glass, then walks away.
    
    Sam slides over and sits beside her.
    
                               DARK EYES (CONT'D)
                Your palm.
    
    Sam holds out his hand and she reaches for it.  As she does,
    she knocks her purse off the bar.
    
    Sam bends over to pick up her purse. As his head disappears
    below the bar, Dark Eyes moves her hand over his drink. The
    top of her ring swivels open and she inverts her hand and
    dumps the ring's contents- a white powder- into his drink.
    Yup, it's a Borgia Ring.
    
    The ring snaps closed and Sam surfaces holding her purse.
    
                             DARK EYES (CONT'D)
                Thanks.   Your palm--
    
    INT. CLASSROOM - DAY
    
    SAM'S POV
    
    Blurry, swirling images.  Dark hooded figures slowly come
    into view.
    
                            SAM (V.O.)
                I don't know what she put in my drink,
                but when I came to I was in Lohan-
                Land.
    
    The hooded figures become clear. Nuns.  Dark Eyes lurks in
    the background, dressed in a habit.
    
    An old nun stands in front of Sam.
    
                               SAM (CONT'D)
                Holy s**t!
    
    END SAM'S POV
    
    The old nun, MOTHER FLAGELLUM raises her ruler and smites
    Sam's knuckles with furious anger.
    
                           MOTHER FLAGELLUM
               Don't blaspheme.
    
    Sam looks at his hand, duct taped to the school desk he sits
    in.
    
                           SAM
               Sister Mary Flagellum?
    
                           MOTHER FLAGELLUM
               It's Mother Flagellum now.
    
                           SAM
               But why?
    
                           MOTHER FLAGELLUM
               You think you can leave the church?
               Just like that? We're losing too
               many members. We decided to fight
               back.
    
                           SAM
               Jesus H. Christ.
    
    WHAM!   She smites his knuckles again.
    
                           MOTHER FLAGELLUM
               Now. Back to your studies. Recite
               the Apostles Creed.
    
    She raises the ruler and waits.
    
    
    THE END

    Leave a comment:

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