109
pages
English
Documents
2009
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
109
pages
English
Ebook
2009
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
Publié par
Publié le
01 décembre 2009
Nombre de lectures
6
Licence :
Langue
English
Publié par
Publié le
01 décembre 2009
Nombre de lectures
6
Licence :
Langue
English
Written by
Michael Diliberti & Matthew Sullivan
12-11-09
The following is very loosely based on some shit that actually happened... OVER BLACK
We hear the roar of a V8 engine, piped out through some throaty, fucked up muffler, as
EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY
An '89 Mustang bursts like a shot over a rise in the highway. It's got a rusted two-tone paint job, Maryland plates, and bald tires that scream as it peels off an exit and into the
EXT. SUBURBS - DAY
The car fast approaches a stop sign, dangerously blows through the intersection.
INT. MUSTANG - DAY - MOVING
We don't see the DRIVER, only the redlining RPMs, Vans slip- ons working the pedals, wristwatch being checked. The wheel cranks right as the car turns onto a -
One way street. A minivan flies right at us. The Mustang hops up onto the curb to avoid it, clips a trash can and -
Garbage explodes like confetti. The wipers engage, brushing the trash aside. The car whips another turn and
EXT. SUBURBS - DAY
The Mustang fishtails around a corner and skids away.
CUT TO:
TIRES SCREECH
Brake pads smoke. The Mustang stops outside
EXT. HOUSE - DAY
The Driver jumps out of the car. As he rushes to the front door, we see the urgent package he is delivering.
TWO LARGE PIZZAS
Before he can ring the bell, the door opens and two smug 15- YEAR-OLDS stare out.
That's 34 minutes. You're 4 minutes late. Pizza's free.
REVEAL our guy staring back at the kids. This is WILL (25), probably good looking in another life. 2.
Right now, he is tired and unamused, wearing a red "Giorgio's Trattoria" hat and a sweaty matching t-shirt.
Gimme a break. You guys live two towns away. It's pretty much fucking impossible to get here in 30 minutes.
Exactly. That's why we ordered from your shitty "trattoria."
This is gonna come out of my paycheck. You sure you don't want to take the moral high ground?
We'd rather take the pizzas.
Will takes a calming breath. Hands over the pizzas.
Ok. You guys are pretty smart. You figured out a way to beat the system. (PEEKS INSIDE) Got the house to yourselves?
That's right.
Not bad. Any jailbait in there? Little pizza and a rainbow party?
The kids shakes their heads.
Seriously? Well, two hustlers like yourselves gotta have the place stocked with beer and whippits and shit, right? Just call the girls up and let them know the party's on.
Man, we don't have any of that stuff.
Will makes a show of mulling this over.
I really shouldn't do this...but you seem like a couple of good dudes. I'll tell you what, you give me the money that your mom left you for the pizzas, and I'll grab you some beers. (MORE) 3.
(BEAT)
But I get to keep the change as a tip. Deal?
The kids look at each other. One hesitantly pulls out some cash. Will snatches it and heads off.
I'll see you in like 20 minutes.
The kids look uncertain. As if sensing this, Will stops before getting into his ride.
You boys like Budweiser, right?
Uh, yeah, totally.
Love that shit!
INT. MUSTANG - DAY - MOVING
The sun sets. Will cruises back into his own middle-class town in suburban Maryland.
A six pack of Budweiser rests in the passenger seat.
Will stops at a light. Checks out a PRETTY YOUNG THING in the Jeep beside him. She catches him looking, rolls her eyes. The light turns and the Jeep skids away.
Will self consciously removes his "Giorgio's" cap.
INT. GIORGIO'S TRATTORIA - NIGHT
Will enters and nods at CHRISTOPHER (40s), the manager. His balding head is nearly translucent from absorbing a day's worth of pizza grease.
Yo, Chris. Let me cash the fuck out.
Will hands over some cash to Christopher.
You have a pretty good shift?
For sure. I mean, the part where I had to drop off all those pizzas kinda sucked, but the rest was cool. 4.
Oh, yeah? 'Cause, I got some kids calling in saying you ripped them off. Promised to buy them beer or something.
I actually did buy the beer, but it would have been illegal to give it to them, right? So I'm gonna do the responsible thing and drink it myself.
That's real funny. But I'm trying to run a business here.
What kind of business promises to deliver anywhere in 30 minutes? It's ridiculous.
I don't wanna hear another one of your bullshit excuses. You're fired.
Come on. If I didn't need this job, I wouldn't be doing this shitty job.
Chris is unmoving.
Fuck! Whatever!
Will storms off. As he gets to the door -
You know, you were an okay driver half the time. And you're not a Puerto Rican. Which means something to me.
That's poignant.
I guess I could rehire you, on a provisional basis. Of course, this would be at the slightly reduced "new company rate."
Are you fucking serious?
I don't know. Is there anyone else left in town for you to work for? 5.
Will shakes his head. Swallows what's left of his pride. WILL When do I start? EXT. SMALL APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT Will sits on the darkened front stoop. He tosses an empty can into the bushes and gets to work on his fourth beer. He looks over at a parked Hyundai Elantra. A YOUNG MAN sits in the passenger seat with a pensive look on his face. He makes a sudden, surprised gasp. The homely YOUNG WOMAN who was just blowing him sits up from his lap and rearranges herself in the driver seat. She leans over for a goodbye kiss. The Young Man obliges with much fanfare. The Young Man gets out and the car pulls away. This is CHET (25), a clean cut guy dressed in the Gap Premium Collection. He heads toward the building, high off his BJ, humming Outkast's "Ms. Jackson." He stops when he notices Will in the shadows. CHET What the hell? Have you just been sitting there? WILL Yep. Caught the whole show. Really classy move at the end. You know, the kiss. Putting your tongue in her mouth right after you fucked it. CHET Hey, a nice girl decides to pleasure me on a weeknight, in her car no less...I'm not gonna make her feel like an untouchable. I'm gonna make her feel like a lady. WILL What manners. May I offer you some alcohol, sir. To wash the taste of yourself out of your mouth. Will offers his beer. Chet takes a slug, gurgles for effect.
By the way, she said she had a friend. Maybe we can go on our first double date since you tried to talk Jackie Fortunato and her cousin into having a four-way with us.
I misread their body language. It happens. 6.
Will picks up some rented movies sitting beside him.
Come on. Let's go inside, drink your beer and watch shit get crazy. (FANS MOVIES) Old favorites. You choose. Lethal Weapon, Lethal Weapon 2...was gonna get the third Lethal Weapon, but decided on a porn. So it's really between the first two.
I choose sleep. I gotta teach a class at eight.
You're a sub. Just call in sick. Like the real teacher did.
Come on, man, you know I got promoted to full-time last month. You bought me a laser pointer.
Will heaves a sigh.
Yeah, I know. I guess I'm just having a hard time accepting you as "the man." You know, flunking kids, giving out spite detentions to girls you wanna fuck, laser pointing at shit.
I also get healthcare and my summers off. It's not perfect, but it's a career.
Will grudgingly stands up.
I guess that's just the difference between you and me.
He holds up the Lethal Weapon DVDs.
I'm like Riggs. Cruising the streets. No rules, no attachments. Every other day some asshole is trying to take my badge. You're fucking Murtaugh. Always worried about your pension. Well, guess what, it gets old after the first movie. 7.
I just got head. I'm totally Riggs. Will shakes his head, turns and walks off. INT. STUDIO APARTMENT - DAY Will wakes up, legs dangling over the edge of a tiny couch. His TV is still on, displaying the menu screen from a porn. Will looks down at his coffee table. Clears some magazines to reveal a file folder. Flips the cover - It's full of college applications, drafts of admissions essays, a junior college transcript. Will thumbs through one of the glossy applications. The kids look young. Very young. Will glances over at a picture on his wall: he and Chet at high school graduation, looking just as young. They have their arms around a pretty girl squeezed between them. Will and the girl look very high and very happy. Will shuts the folder, slides it back under the coffee table debris. He looks over at a clock: it is already 2:00 PM. WILL Fuck. INT. MUSTANG - DAY Will jumps in and starts the engine. As he tucks his "Giorgio's" cap onto his head, he catches his reflection in the rear-view mirror.
You asshole. You titanic asshole. Come on down and get your prize.
He makes his fingers into a gun, puts it to his head...pulls the trigger and
BOOM!
WE'RE IN
EXT. OPEN FIELD - DAY
A watermelon explodes in a shower of red, juicy bits. Loud, dumb laughter echoes.
Standing 20 yards away is DWAYNE (32), an intense, meaty guy in a sleeveless Baltimore Ravens t-shirt. On his left bicep is a tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil flipping the bird.
Fruit motherfuckin' salad! 8.
Crouched beside him is JAY (27), tall and awkward, in a wool surplus cap. He carefully rigs homemade explosives to another watermelon, then looks up at Dwayne. His eyes are magnified into saucers by his thick glasses. There's a peculiar eagerness to please in them.
This one's gonna blow even bigger.
Boy, if you weren't such a skinny little bitch you coulda been in the military or something.
Whatever. I don't need the military. I taught myself how to do this shit.
I hear that. I taught myself how to eat pussy. And cut my own hair.
Jay jogs the watermelon a safe distance away. He returns and pulls out a detonator. Dwayne snatches it.
This one's all me. (makes "radio" sounds) Mr. President, we have enemies at the gate. Give me the order. (more "radio" sounds) Fuck that, sir. I don't negotiate with terrorists!
Dwayne presses a button and
BOOM!
The explosion is so powerful that it sprinkles our guys' smiling faces with fruit juice.
INT. KITCHEN, NICE HOUSE - DAY
Large and early-90s chic. Dwayne and Jay have the fridge open, fixing themselves a cold cut plate. Dwayne is debating the amount of meat on the plate...adds some more.
Wanna make sure I get enough calories.
I thought you wanted to get diesel for the summer. Bang that towel girl at the community pool. 9.
It's obvious you don't know shit-all about physical fitness. You gotta bulk up first, then you slim down. I'm clearly in the bulk up phase. I told you to watch Pumping Iron like a month ago. If you'd listened to me, maybe you'd know what the fuck I'm talking about. (BEAT) Grab some RC Cola.
INT. LIVING ROOM, NICE HOUSE - DAY
The shades are drawn. We hear a girl scream bloody murder!
The guys are watching FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 3...in 3D. They both wear cheap cardboard glasses.
Jay jumps back as Jason wields a 3D ax.
Shit, man! It's so real!
Dwayne reaches out, "touching" the 3D images. He stands and starts humping the air.
Check it out. I ain't afraid of Jason. I'm fucking him. (THRUSTING HARDER) You like that, Jason!? In the mask!
Jay cracks up. The lights flick on.
Who are you two fags fucking?
Standing by the switch is Dwayne's dad, JERRY (70s). Most people just call him "THE MAJOR." The faded USMC tattoo on his thick forearm explains why.
Afternoon, Major.
Dwayne flops back onto the couch.
Dad, we're watching a flick. We got 45 minutes and a potential 3D sex scene left. You're sorta coming in at the worst possible moment. 10.
I bought that TV set so I could watch my programs, not so you and your friend could louse up my couch.
You gotta learn how to share the common space.
The only thing common in this house is you. You remind me of your damn mother. Fat, dumb, and in my way.
The Major grabs Dwayne and pulls him up off the couch. He gets right in his face...scary, intense. Dwayne turns to Jay.
Let's get outta here. This movie sucks anyway.
Jay gets up and files out the door. Dwayne goes to take the cold cut plate. The Major grabs his arm.
I paid for the damn cold cuts, too. Maybe if you had a job, or a fucking prospect, or a clue how to find any of the above, I'd let you eat 'em.
(QUIETLY)
You know, you can be a real sonofabitch, dad.
That's what it takes, boy. In the Corps, men like you wore dresses to keep us entertained.
That's pretty fucking disturbing!
Dwayne storms off.
EXT. NICE HOUSE - DAY
Dwayne and Jay head out, passing a brand new pickup truck in the driveway. Dwayne spits on it.
Fuck The Major!
The guys get in a shitty Ford Aerostar minivan and peel out. 11.
INT. DIVE STRIP CLUB - DAY
R. Kelly's "Ignition (Remix)" pumps.
Large, fake breasts, sparkling with cheap body glitter and pierced at the nipples, shake before us. Their owner, JUICY (27), a petite Latina, phones in a lap dance as Dwayne pours his heart out to her.
Somewhere in the background, Jay hangs at the bar, all alone.
- and he thinks he knows me. He don't know shit. I got ideas he could never dream of. I got plans bigger than his fucking house. (BEAT) He didn't even raise me. My mother did. That was a good woman.
Oh yeah? What happened to her?
Dwayne shifts, uncomfortably, at the sore subject.
She passed on.
I hope you're not one of those guys that comes here looking to get mothered.
I wouldn't mind nursing on them titties, mamacita.
Sure. Whatever you say. Maybe just keep quiet for a while, forget about your old man and let me do my thing.
I wish I could forget about that asshole for good. I'm just waiting around for him to drop dead. Don't wanna mess with my inheritance.
This piques Juicy's interest.
What kinda inheritance? 12.
When my dad got outta the service, he started buying lotto tickets. He'd play his dog tag numbers. In '91, the fucker won five million bucks. INSERT PHOTO: The Major holding a giant cardboard check. DWAYNE He had some health problems a few years back, and since then he's been burning through the money like an NBA draft pick. Probably only got a million or two left. But it's mine as soon as he kicks. Behind inch-long fake eyelashes, Juicy's shrewd eyes narrow, mind working. She straddles Dwayne, tightly. JUICY You know, with a million bucks, you could have anything. Be like a king. (almost a moan) King Dwayne. DWAYNE That's right. And maybe I'll make you my queen. Let you polish my royal scepter. JUICY Practice makes perfect. Juicy pantomimes a long, slow chicken head. Dwayne is blissed out. She smiles at him, sticky sweet. JUICY Let me ask you a question...do you really hate your daddy? DWAYNE Hate him like the Steelers. JUICY Then maybe I can help you get that money now. Before he spends another penny.
Dwayne looks confused. Juicy puts his hands on her breasts, emboldening him.
I know a guy in Baltimore. He could help you out. Probably do it for... (sizing him up) ...100Gs. 13.
Do what?
Juicy leans in, whispers softly in Dwayne's ear -
Kill your mean old dad.
On Dwayne's face as this new possibility pinballs around his mind, setting off a flood of different emotions.
So, what do you think...you ready for your crown?
INT. MUSTANG - NIGHT - MOVING
Will has one pizza left in the back of his car. He pulls over outside an office building.
INT. LAW FIRM, OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT
Rows of cubicles. Speckled with late night STRAGGLERS, bleary eyes, too busy generating detailed lists of places they'd rather be to notice the pizza boy walking along. Will stops before one such work station, looks on for a beat.
Rio?