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jack_babalonDIRTY, for those who don't know, is my friend initiate's imaginary TV show (there was one episode that was made into a short film for the Atlanta Dailies - an independent film collective here in Atlanta). It's about two crooked cops who inexplicably find themselves knee deep in one bad situation after the next. Think of it as The SHIELD meets STARSKY & HUTCH. This is a guest written episode (part one) that i'm writing for his birthday. If you like this keep in mind his stories for the series are much better than mine and you should go over to his profile and harass him for more!
Interior: Shithole of a club. The only customers are a man and a woman sitting at the bar. She's sporting a kind of fetish noir look. He looks like Hell if Hell had a hangover. Woman is talking to him but we can't hear anything over the music. Close in. Bartender is pouring shots of Jager and lining them up in front of the customers.
Lockley: Hold that thought...
(lifts a single finger to the young ladys face without pulling his attention away from the row of Jager shots lined up along the bar. Working from right to left, he lifts, shoots, scores, shakes off the taste and repeats, stacking one empty shot on top of the other as he works his way down the line, until finally only a minature tower made out of tiny paper cups remains. Satisfied he signals for a chaser from the bartender and turns back to the woman.)
Lockley: So... here's the thing: I know you're not gonna sleep with me. But you think I think you might and therefore you think you can just sit there, spewing out whatever bullshits going through that coke soaked brain of yours while i'm supposed to pony up the bucks to buy you a drink... for I dunno, what? The privelge of your company I s'pose... well... that is until someone you think you might actually wanna sleep with comes along, am I right or am I right?
Lady: Excuse me..
Lockley: Just answer the question...
Lady: "Yeah... well who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
(Lockley receives his drink, nods a 'thanks' at the bartender and downs it in one gulp. He leans in, pulls out his wallet and looks like he's going to pay for the round but instead flashes the woman a badge)
Lady: Jesus...
Lockley:(Smiling)Close enough (Repockets his wallet), now where were we before I so rudely Identified myself... oh yeah, I had asked you a question. So am I?
Lady: What?
Lockley: Am I right.
Lady: Yeah... sure whatever!
Lockley:(slams bar top with his fist)Not 'whatever'! Am I right? Yes or No.
Lady: You're right, you're right...
Lockley: That's what I thought
Greg: Relax Romeo... (Greg comes out of the WOMENS room, tucking in the back of his shirt and waving the stench off his face announcing loudly to the entire bar), You might wanna let that air ...
Lockley: (confused)Why were you in the WOMENS room anyway?
Greg: Y'know why... (Motions to the bartender for a 'usual')
Lockley: No... no I don't why
Greg: 'cause I don't like the idea of me sitting my bare ass down on a seat some strangers just took a dump in. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Besides you don't know what you'll catch in there...
Lockley: What and you don't think women gotta shit too?
Greg: (gets drink. Downs it. motions for another) I know they gotta shit too... it's just... I dunno, cleaner I guess.
Lady: (Visibly disgusted, picking up her purse to leave)Well this has been fun n'all but I gotta go
Lockley: We ain't done yet, Sweetheart" (he grabs her wrist, prys her purse out of her hands and starts going through it.)
Bartender: C'mon Lock...
Lockley: I wasn't talking to you was I? (Frustrated he empties the contents of the purse out along the bar)
Bartender: (To Greg)This what I pay you guys for, huh? I shoulda taken my chances with the goddam Ruskies for all the grief you guys give me..
Greg: Take it easy Tom.... yer gonna give yerself 'nother heart attack
Lockley: Here we go! (He opens up a pack of cigarettes, fishes his fingers down the box and pulls out a small baggie filled with a white powder.
Lady:(under her breath) Fuck me running...
Lockley: (Evil grin) Yeah, well, for starters at least...
(Exterior: Lockley & Greg walking out of the bar. Lockley doing up his fly, Greg counting some bills. They are both stunned by the sunlight. They stagger back and fumble their shades on, continue, get in their car, light up smokes and pull out)
Greg: So what's next? Run by Mario's? Y'know that fuckin' Mutts been runnin' his mouth all over town again...
Lockley: Nah, not yet... Big Moishe wants a word with us first.
Greg: What's that fuckin' Hebe want with us?
Lockley: Don't know, but I will say this, that 'Hebe' used to be an officer with the Israeli Paratroopers...
Greg: So?
Lockley: So that means he trained, not trained with mind you, but actually trained some of the meanest mother fuckers in the world. Which means, by extension, that you should watch what your mouth for once (Lockley hits a red light, flicks his smoke out the window, we see the butt hit a jogger who screams out in pain, Lockley yells out the window), Well watch where you run next time faggot! (To Greg) Besides you should try to show more... what's the word... sensitivity... y'know to other peoples cultural diversity and all that shit.
Greg: "Sensitivity"? Aren't we talkin' about the same guy who circumcised Vinny Maggio with a rusted carrot peeler two years back!
Lockley: Twice actually. One right after the other. The dumb bastard came up short on a drop and tried to play it off like someone counted wrong. Now he's 'No-Prick-Vince' to friends and family alike.
(Both whistle with cautious dread and drive in silence for a few minutes)
Lockley: Y'know this shit jes pisses me off
Greg: What's that?
Lockley: (Gesturing outside the window)THIS! We bust our asses cleanin' up this god damn neighborhood, chasin' out the fucking crackheads, freaks and skells and for what...? A neighborhood so safe an honest cop can't even afford to live here anymore. That's progress fer ya!
Greg: What're you talkin' about? You're not an 'honest cop'. You could afford one-a these places easy. Shit. Better probably.
Lockley: That right Genius? You don't s'pose IA's gonna wanna know how I could drop a couple hundred large on a brand new condo pulling in a detectives salary?
(Lockley says nothing, just stares ahead sheepishly)
Lockley: I worry about you sometimes.
(They pull up into a swank gated driveway, Greg leans out and dials up a number on the call box)
Speaker Voice: What?
Lockley: Detectives Lockley and... (A buzzer interupts Greg and the gate automatically opens)
Lockley: Alright, look. Just let me do the talkin' when we get up there okay?
Greg: Why what'm I gonna say...
Lockley: I don't know and I don't wanna know. Please, jes this once, can we talk to one of these fuckin' scumbagss without it turnin' into a gunfight, an ass beating or a full scale investigation from the Feds? Huh?
Greg: Hey i'm not the guy who hospitalized the mayors kid...
Lockley: I told you that wasn't my fault! 'Sides that's not the point. Howzabout you do this as a favor then... for me, just this once let cooler heads prevail. Can you do that for your partner?
Greg: Yeah, okay whatever... shit, my lips are sealed.
Lockley: That's all I ask.
(Park car in front of a swank McMansion, exit officers)
**************************
Interior: An art deco veranda, faux tropical vibe and we hear the water of various aquariums running. We see Big Moishe: A brick shithouse of a man, with the build of a body builder who's just a little past his prime. He sits in a very expensive summer lounge clothes, sipping a mimosa and flanked by two stern but beautiful women who are his acting body guards.
Big Moishe: I think what it is that I find comforting about Satre's view of Existentalism, beyond of course the reversal of the Aristotlean premise that essence precedes existence, is perhaps the emphasis on the idea that individual human beings have full responsibility for creating the meanings of their own lives. Do you believe that Mr.Lockley?
Lockley: (close up on his face. He's sweating ((but the sweat drips upward)). Scared. A few bruises are already swelling) Absolutely... my old man always said "Your problems aren't anyones problems but your own so for chrissakes keep 'em to yourself!"
BM: Heh. Smart man. (pauses in contemplation)Satre also put forth the notion of 'Bad Faith'. Do you know what that means.
Lockley: Ahhh... believing in the wrong god.
BM: No, he meant that people tend to lie to themselves and, underneath these lies, they negate their own being through patterns.
Lockley: Right...
BM: I guess what i'm trying to say is, that when I make a very simple request and have you tell me things like 'it's out of your hands' and 'there's nothing you can do', I feel you're acting in 'bad faith', neglecting the fact that you have full responsibility for the situation you find yourself in now. Can you see my dilema Mr.Lockley?
(Pull back camera on Lockleys face and flip the shot 180 degrees. We see Lockley is being dangled off the balcony of the veranda by a rather zaftig and intimidating woman)
BM: (continuing) So shall we try this one more time...?
Lockley: Oh Ab-so-fucking-lutely!
BM: Excellent. (turns to Greg, who is sitting comfortably in a nice chair in the side of the room, almost leisurely sipping on a brandy and enjoying the 'show') See, you're partner can be a reasonable man.
Greg: Well, that's why he does all the talkin'...
NAR: DIRTY will be back after these messages...
initiate's imaginary TV show (there was one episode that was made into a short film for the Atlanta Dailies - an independent film collective here in Atlanta). It's about two crooked cops who inexplicably find themselves knee deep in one bad situation after the next. Think of it as The SHIELD meets STARSKY & HUTCH. This is a guest written episode (part one) that i'm writing for his birthday. If you like this keep in mind his stories for the series are much better than mine and you should go over to his profile and harass him for more!Interior: Shithole of a club. The only customers are a man and a woman sitting at the bar. She's sporting a kind of fetish noir look. He looks like Hell if Hell had a hangover. Woman is talking to him but we can't hear anything over the music. Close in. Bartender is pouring shots of Jager and lining them up in front of the customers.
Lockley: Hold that thought...
(lifts a single finger to the young ladys face without pulling his attention away from the row of Jager shots lined up along the bar. Working from right to left, he lifts, shoots, scores, shakes off the taste and repeats, stacking one empty shot on top of the other as he works his way down the line, until finally only a minature tower made out of tiny paper cups remains. Satisfied he signals for a chaser from the bartender and turns back to the woman.)
Lockley: So... here's the thing: I know you're not gonna sleep with me. But you think I think you might and therefore you think you can just sit there, spewing out whatever bullshits going through that coke soaked brain of yours while i'm supposed to pony up the bucks to buy you a drink... for I dunno, what? The privelge of your company I s'pose... well... that is until someone you think you might actually wanna sleep with comes along, am I right or am I right?
Lady: Excuse me..
Lockley: Just answer the question...
Lady: "Yeah... well who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
(Lockley receives his drink, nods a 'thanks' at the bartender and downs it in one gulp. He leans in, pulls out his wallet and looks like he's going to pay for the round but instead flashes the woman a badge)
Lady: Jesus...
Lockley:(Smiling)Close enough (Repockets his wallet), now where were we before I so rudely Identified myself... oh yeah, I had asked you a question. So am I?
Lady: What?
Lockley: Am I right.
Lady: Yeah... sure whatever!
Lockley:(slams bar top with his fist)Not 'whatever'! Am I right? Yes or No.
Lady: You're right, you're right...
Lockley: That's what I thought
Greg: Relax Romeo... (Greg comes out of the WOMENS room, tucking in the back of his shirt and waving the stench off his face announcing loudly to the entire bar), You might wanna let that air ...
Lockley: (confused)Why were you in the WOMENS room anyway?
Greg: Y'know why... (Motions to the bartender for a 'usual')
Lockley: No... no I don't why
Greg: 'cause I don't like the idea of me sitting my bare ass down on a seat some strangers just took a dump in. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Besides you don't know what you'll catch in there...
Lockley: What and you don't think women gotta shit too?
Greg: (gets drink. Downs it. motions for another) I know they gotta shit too... it's just... I dunno, cleaner I guess.
Lady: (Visibly disgusted, picking up her purse to leave)Well this has been fun n'all but I gotta go
Lockley: We ain't done yet, Sweetheart" (he grabs her wrist, prys her purse out of her hands and starts going through it.)
Bartender: C'mon Lock...
Lockley: I wasn't talking to you was I? (Frustrated he empties the contents of the purse out along the bar)
Bartender: (To Greg)This what I pay you guys for, huh? I shoulda taken my chances with the goddam Ruskies for all the grief you guys give me..
Greg: Take it easy Tom.... yer gonna give yerself 'nother heart attack
Lockley: Here we go! (He opens up a pack of cigarettes, fishes his fingers down the box and pulls out a small baggie filled with a white powder.
Lady:(under her breath) Fuck me running...
Lockley: (Evil grin) Yeah, well, for starters at least...
(Exterior: Lockley & Greg walking out of the bar. Lockley doing up his fly, Greg counting some bills. They are both stunned by the sunlight. They stagger back and fumble their shades on, continue, get in their car, light up smokes and pull out)
Greg: So what's next? Run by Mario's? Y'know that fuckin' Mutts been runnin' his mouth all over town again...
Lockley: Nah, not yet... Big Moishe wants a word with us first.
Greg: What's that fuckin' Hebe want with us?
Lockley: Don't know, but I will say this, that 'Hebe' used to be an officer with the Israeli Paratroopers...
Greg: So?
Lockley: So that means he trained, not trained with mind you, but actually trained some of the meanest mother fuckers in the world. Which means, by extension, that you should watch what your mouth for once (Lockley hits a red light, flicks his smoke out the window, we see the butt hit a jogger who screams out in pain, Lockley yells out the window), Well watch where you run next time faggot! (To Greg) Besides you should try to show more... what's the word... sensitivity... y'know to other peoples cultural diversity and all that shit.
Greg: "Sensitivity"? Aren't we talkin' about the same guy who circumcised Vinny Maggio with a rusted carrot peeler two years back!
Lockley: Twice actually. One right after the other. The dumb bastard came up short on a drop and tried to play it off like someone counted wrong. Now he's 'No-Prick-Vince' to friends and family alike.
(Both whistle with cautious dread and drive in silence for a few minutes)
Lockley: Y'know this shit jes pisses me off
Greg: What's that?
Lockley: (Gesturing outside the window)THIS! We bust our asses cleanin' up this god damn neighborhood, chasin' out the fucking crackheads, freaks and skells and for what...? A neighborhood so safe an honest cop can't even afford to live here anymore. That's progress fer ya!
Greg: What're you talkin' about? You're not an 'honest cop'. You could afford one-a these places easy. Shit. Better probably.
Lockley: That right Genius? You don't s'pose IA's gonna wanna know how I could drop a couple hundred large on a brand new condo pulling in a detectives salary?
(Lockley says nothing, just stares ahead sheepishly)
Lockley: I worry about you sometimes.
(They pull up into a swank gated driveway, Greg leans out and dials up a number on the call box)
Speaker Voice: What?
Lockley: Detectives Lockley and... (A buzzer interupts Greg and the gate automatically opens)
Lockley: Alright, look. Just let me do the talkin' when we get up there okay?
Greg: Why what'm I gonna say...
Lockley: I don't know and I don't wanna know. Please, jes this once, can we talk to one of these fuckin' scumbagss without it turnin' into a gunfight, an ass beating or a full scale investigation from the Feds? Huh?
Greg: Hey i'm not the guy who hospitalized the mayors kid...
Lockley: I told you that wasn't my fault! 'Sides that's not the point. Howzabout you do this as a favor then... for me, just this once let cooler heads prevail. Can you do that for your partner?
Greg: Yeah, okay whatever... shit, my lips are sealed.
Lockley: That's all I ask.
(Park car in front of a swank McMansion, exit officers)
Interior: An art deco veranda, faux tropical vibe and we hear the water of various aquariums running. We see Big Moishe: A brick shithouse of a man, with the build of a body builder who's just a little past his prime. He sits in a very expensive summer lounge clothes, sipping a mimosa and flanked by two stern but beautiful women who are his acting body guards.
Big Moishe: I think what it is that I find comforting about Satre's view of Existentalism, beyond of course the reversal of the Aristotlean premise that essence precedes existence, is perhaps the emphasis on the idea that individual human beings have full responsibility for creating the meanings of their own lives. Do you believe that Mr.Lockley?
Lockley: (close up on his face. He's sweating ((but the sweat drips upward)). Scared. A few bruises are already swelling) Absolutely... my old man always said "Your problems aren't anyones problems but your own so for chrissakes keep 'em to yourself!"
BM: Heh. Smart man. (pauses in contemplation)Satre also put forth the notion of 'Bad Faith'. Do you know what that means.
Lockley: Ahhh... believing in the wrong god.
BM: No, he meant that people tend to lie to themselves and, underneath these lies, they negate their own being through patterns.
Lockley: Right...
BM: I guess what i'm trying to say is, that when I make a very simple request and have you tell me things like 'it's out of your hands' and 'there's nothing you can do', I feel you're acting in 'bad faith', neglecting the fact that you have full responsibility for the situation you find yourself in now. Can you see my dilema Mr.Lockley?
(Pull back camera on Lockleys face and flip the shot 180 degrees. We see Lockley is being dangled off the balcony of the veranda by a rather zaftig and intimidating woman)
BM: (continuing) So shall we try this one more time...?
Lockley: Oh Ab-so-fucking-lutely!
BM: Excellent. (turns to Greg, who is sitting comfortably in a nice chair in the side of the room, almost leisurely sipping on a brandy and enjoying the 'show') See, you're partner can be a reasonable man.
Greg: Well, that's why he does all the talkin'...
NAR: DIRTY will be back after these messages...