El Mariachi Page #2

EXT. JAIL - DAY

A blue truck races towards the jail.

Azul exits the jail carrying a shotgun. His Bodyguards get inside

the Tall Men's truck and start it. Azul waits patiently for his

blue truck.

As the blue truck pulls up, two little rat-like VATOS exit the

blue truck, one handing Azul a guitar case. Azul tosses it onto

the hood. The Bodyguards wave as they drive away. Azul waves

back. He opens the case, revealing an arsenal of weaponry. Azul

notices one piece is missing. One Rat quickly pulls the missing

weapon from his jacket and replaces it in the case. Azul is

unamused. He grabs his MAC-10 machine gun from the guitar case

and aims it at the thieving Rat's head.

Suddenly, the Guard bolts out the jail waving the wad of money,

as if complaining.

Azul turns his MAC-10 onto the Guard instead. A few blasts later

Azul and his rats pack up and go as the Guard twitches helplessly

on the ground, still clutching the money in his bloody hand.

CREDIT SEQUENCE:

EXT. AZUL / MARIACHI ON HIGHWAY - DAY

The blue truck barels down the highway and the camera pans with

the truck as it passes a hitchhiker, MARIACHI, standing in the

sun with a thumb in the air. The truck passes him up so he

continues walking. Mariachi is carrying a guitar case in one hand

and a black jacket in the other. He is wearing a white T-shirt,

black pants. The camera pans to a sign that reads "ACU�A 18

miles".

EXT. MAIN STREET - DAY

Mariachi is walking around downtown Acu�a. He notices a bar

across the street and, liking the way it looks, he puts on his

jacket and crosses over to it. He stops to read a sign on the

building that says "MEMBERS AND NON-MEMBERS ONLY". He prays

silently to himself before confidently walking inside.

INT. CORONA CLUB - DAY

Mariachi enters the club, greeting the PATRONS as ge makes his

way to the bar. No one seems to greet him back. He sits on a

barstool near some OTHER DRINKERS, laying his guitar case down

lovingly beneath his stool. He looks around the place, as if

sizing it up.

BARTENDER:

What do you want to drink?

MARIACHI:

Refresco.

The other drinkers stare at him.

Glancing around the room, Mariachi notices a small, table-shaped

object draped with a cloth in one corner of the room.

Sitting directly behind him are four mean-looking dudes. Mariachi

is served his drink.

MARIACHI:

No hay musica?

BARTENDER:

(cleaning a glass)

Why?

MARIACHI:

I'm a mariachi. A good one. I play beautiful ballads, old classic

ballads, on an old-fashioned guitar.

BARTENDER:

So what?

MARIACHI:

I could add a little class to this place. I work for fairly

cheap, I live mostly off tips. But I need steady work, and I can

guarantee bringing in more customers.

BARTENDER:

(nodding)

Tell me, why would I need one little guitar player when I've

already got a full band?

Mariachi gives him a silent "what" look.

The BARTENDER motions to a YOUNG MAN sitting near the small

draped table.

The Young Man removes the drape revealing a keyboard. Puts on his

mariachi hat, dips his fingers into his shot glass and rubs his

fingers together (as if warming up for the big show). He hits a

few switches in EXTREME CLOSEUP as...

... Mariachi adjusts himself to the seat.

The Young Men gently taps one switch and the keyboard sounds like

an accordion, pulsing out a beat. He then presses another switch

and a horn section swells to a crescendo and waltzes the familiar

riffs. He adds the string and horns accents by banging on the

keys. He sounds awful.

Mariachi grimaces slightly then turns back to the Bartender who

seems to enjoy it.

The Keyboard Mariachi finishes his song, sits back down.

BARTENDER:

(nodding with satisfaction)

There you see? Either I can pay one guy to sound like a full

mariachi band...

Mariachi picks up his guitar and lays some money next to his full

drink. He looks disappointed.

BARTENDER:

... or I could spend the same money only get one little guitar

player... Understand?

MARIACHI:

(walking away)

Thank you, sir.

BARTENDER:

You want to earn a living? Get a real musical instrument.

The Bartender picks up the bottle of soda pop Mariachis left

behind and offers it to the other men on the table. They say no,

pay, and leave. The Bartender offers it to the MEAN DUDES at the

table.

They all shake their heads no.

The Bartender shrugs and dumps it.

EXT. CORONA CLUB - DAY

Mariachi walks out and looks up and down the street. He decides

to walk south.

As he walks down the sidewalk, the camera pans into a CLOSEUP of

another guitar case that is moving towards the Corona Club. The

camera falls back a little revealing the backside of Azul,

dressed also in black. Azul walks into the bar.

INT. CORONA CLUB - DAY

Azul enters the bar, notices to his left the table with the four

mean-looking Dudes, drinking and eating chips and salsa.

The oldest one, with his back to Azul, takes a sip from his mixed

drink, then stands and excuses himself to the restroom.

INT. BATHROOM - OLD MEAN DUDE - DAY

The Old Mean Dude walks into the first stall and sits down.

INT. CORONA CLUB - AZUL - DAY

The three remaining Dudes notice Azul's guitar case. So does the

Bartender. They all look at each other and laugh.

BARTENDER:

(laughing and rolling his eyes)

What the hell is this, mariachi day? There is no work for you

here!

Azul walks the mean Dude's table. Their laughing quiets down a

bit as Azul stands before them. The Bartender stops smiling.

AZUL:

Bartender... one beer.

The Bartender nods and grabs a frosty glass. He begins to fill up

at the tap.

AZUL:

(without looking at him)

In a bottle, wey.

Bartender stops filling the beer, stares at the half-full glass

for a moment, then drinks the beer.

Azul is staring at the three Mean Dudes. They stare back.

The Bartender slaps the unopened bottle down at the counter.

BARTENDER:

Ready.

Azul doesn't pay attention to him.

AZUL:

I'm looking for an old friend of mine. His name is... Moco. Do

you know where I can find him.

MAIN MEAN DUDE:

You can sometimes find him here. He owns this place.

AZUL:

So you know him?

MAIN MEAN DUDE:

We work for him.

AZUL:

That's too bad.

Azul turns to the mean Dude sitting to his left, and places the

guitar in his hands. The Mean Dude is confused.

AZUL:

Hold it please.

Azul opens the case and pulls out the MAC-10. The other two Mean

Dudes are already reaching for their pistols.

The Bartender ducks beneath the counter.

Azul fires a million bullets into two of the Mean Dudes, (the

other is holding the case in shock). Their chests explode,

causing neat little dollops of flesh and blood fly everywhere.

The Mean Dude holding the guitar case is frozen with fear. He

manages to look up at Azul, who is watching the Mean Dudes die a

slow, bloody death. The barrel of the MAC-10 is smoking. Azul

turns slowly to the Mean Dude holding the case. Azul aims his

MAC-10 in the Dude's face. Still frozen holding the case, he

spends his last moments looking down the gun's barrel.

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