Vigorish9
02-03-2005, 11:20 PM
EXT. DINER PARKING LOT - NIGHT
* * * *
The Suburban hogs two spots in this deserted lot.
A sign hangs from the side of the Diner: Red Neon: LAST STOP DINER: In flickering green below: FREE COFFEE FOR LOSERS.
INT. DINER.
Past 50’s style booths to DUGAN ROACH, (25), gaunt and sinewy, the guy in the Suburban, sporting a ‘shiner’ and fat lip, spins a ‘B’ encrusted lighter on the table.
On the otherside is Eddie, dried blood caked to his hair with the desperate look of a man trying to spin yarn into gold.
DUGAN
You were digging a hole Eddie.
EDDIE
For one occupant.
DUGAN
You’d whistle Dixie to save
your neck.
EDDIE
Killing the Ghord punched
your ticket for sure. If
I sink. You’re anchored
to me.
The lighter stops spinning. It is now we see the intricate diamond pattern that makes up the ‘B’.
DUGAN
You stole the man’s lighter…
EDDIE
Forget Benny. He’d soon as
Gut you as piss on your mother.
DUGAN
Shut your mouth.
EDDIE
Wake up. You got to forget
about that fairytale you
been holding onto and just
grab your mom and skip.
Eddie grabs the lighter. Snaps it to flame.
An explosion. The window cracks, then blows out, a plume of orange and black from the parking lot.
The Suburbans in flames.
The concussion blows them out of their seats. Dugan regains his equilibrium first --
-- just as a hail of machine gun fire rips the outside of the diner apart.
By the collar, Dugan pulls Eddie behind a wall. The .38 is ten feet from him. Should I go?
A torrent of fire smacks the floor as aA guy comes through the window, a pony tailed Mexican with prison tats, spitting lead. Empty. He drops his cartage to the floor.
The COOK and WAITRESS run for the door - But they don’t make it. From another direction they are cut down.
EDDIE
Who the @#%$ are these guys?
Another clip hits the ground. Dugan and Eddie crawl into the kitchen. They stop behind a freezer.
A HISSING sound. The gas from a severed line pumps.
The lighter with the ‘B’ five feet from Dugan.
The Crunch of broken glass. Reaching for the lighter, Dugan extends his body over shards of penetrating glass, embed in his arm, chest. He's got it.
Eddie sneaks out the back door. Dugan snaps the
lighter open. The flame dances to life.
He sets it down – more machine gun fire – bullets whistle, ping, shatter.
Out the door -- the second killer, big like a mountain, focused eyes, tosses away a table like it’s balsa wood.
One of them smells something. The look at each other.
To late. A flame like a serpents head on a collision course.
EXT. PARKING LOT
The explosion blows them off their feet to the ground.
Eddies arm folds into it self, dislocated.
Dugan’s still has his wits about him, as the fire rages behind them. The structre creaks, then collapses.
EDDIE
Jesus mother of Christ…
who the hell were they?
Dugan spots a car behind a dumpster.
DUGAN
Let’s go.
EDDIE
My arms a pretzel.
Dugan grabs Eddie’s arm and slams it to the pavement.
A blood curdling scream. It’s back in.
Eddie whales on the ground. Dugan runs for the car.
A old school purple CADDY, with keys in ignition.
Dugan plows it around the dumpster heading right for Eddie. Hits the breaks - skids an inch from him.
EDDIE
I ain’t coming with you.
@#%$ you.
Dugan Slams a fist into his face.
EXT. ARIZONA/NEVADA BORDER
The sun fights its way over the mountain. The purple Caddy rolls down the empty stretch of road.
INT. CAR
Eddie’s still knocked out in the back, his hands duct taped in front of him.
Dugan’s head rocks back and forth. Fighting back sleep.
His head’s light like a weather balloon.
The orange glow of the rising sun…
EXT. SOCCER STADIUM - GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
SUPER: Twenty years ago
Fog swallows the air concealing something beneath. A BUZZING hush, that gradually, insidiously builds to a crescendo
* * * *
The Suburban hogs two spots in this deserted lot.
A sign hangs from the side of the Diner: Red Neon: LAST STOP DINER: In flickering green below: FREE COFFEE FOR LOSERS.
INT. DINER.
Past 50’s style booths to DUGAN ROACH, (25), gaunt and sinewy, the guy in the Suburban, sporting a ‘shiner’ and fat lip, spins a ‘B’ encrusted lighter on the table.
On the otherside is Eddie, dried blood caked to his hair with the desperate look of a man trying to spin yarn into gold.
DUGAN
You were digging a hole Eddie.
EDDIE
For one occupant.
DUGAN
You’d whistle Dixie to save
your neck.
EDDIE
Killing the Ghord punched
your ticket for sure. If
I sink. You’re anchored
to me.
The lighter stops spinning. It is now we see the intricate diamond pattern that makes up the ‘B’.
DUGAN
You stole the man’s lighter…
EDDIE
Forget Benny. He’d soon as
Gut you as piss on your mother.
DUGAN
Shut your mouth.
EDDIE
Wake up. You got to forget
about that fairytale you
been holding onto and just
grab your mom and skip.
Eddie grabs the lighter. Snaps it to flame.
An explosion. The window cracks, then blows out, a plume of orange and black from the parking lot.
The Suburbans in flames.
The concussion blows them out of their seats. Dugan regains his equilibrium first --
-- just as a hail of machine gun fire rips the outside of the diner apart.
By the collar, Dugan pulls Eddie behind a wall. The .38 is ten feet from him. Should I go?
A torrent of fire smacks the floor as aA guy comes through the window, a pony tailed Mexican with prison tats, spitting lead. Empty. He drops his cartage to the floor.
The COOK and WAITRESS run for the door - But they don’t make it. From another direction they are cut down.
EDDIE
Who the @#%$ are these guys?
Another clip hits the ground. Dugan and Eddie crawl into the kitchen. They stop behind a freezer.
A HISSING sound. The gas from a severed line pumps.
The lighter with the ‘B’ five feet from Dugan.
The Crunch of broken glass. Reaching for the lighter, Dugan extends his body over shards of penetrating glass, embed in his arm, chest. He's got it.
Eddie sneaks out the back door. Dugan snaps the
lighter open. The flame dances to life.
He sets it down – more machine gun fire – bullets whistle, ping, shatter.
Out the door -- the second killer, big like a mountain, focused eyes, tosses away a table like it’s balsa wood.
One of them smells something. The look at each other.
To late. A flame like a serpents head on a collision course.
EXT. PARKING LOT
The explosion blows them off their feet to the ground.
Eddies arm folds into it self, dislocated.
Dugan’s still has his wits about him, as the fire rages behind them. The structre creaks, then collapses.
EDDIE
Jesus mother of Christ…
who the hell were they?
Dugan spots a car behind a dumpster.
DUGAN
Let’s go.
EDDIE
My arms a pretzel.
Dugan grabs Eddie’s arm and slams it to the pavement.
A blood curdling scream. It’s back in.
Eddie whales on the ground. Dugan runs for the car.
A old school purple CADDY, with keys in ignition.
Dugan plows it around the dumpster heading right for Eddie. Hits the breaks - skids an inch from him.
EDDIE
I ain’t coming with you.
@#%$ you.
Dugan Slams a fist into his face.
EXT. ARIZONA/NEVADA BORDER
The sun fights its way over the mountain. The purple Caddy rolls down the empty stretch of road.
INT. CAR
Eddie’s still knocked out in the back, his hands duct taped in front of him.
Dugan’s head rocks back and forth. Fighting back sleep.
His head’s light like a weather balloon.
The orange glow of the rising sun…
EXT. SOCCER STADIUM - GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
SUPER: Twenty years ago
Fog swallows the air concealing something beneath. A BUZZING hush, that gradually, insidiously builds to a crescendo