Night of Something Strange Page #4

you fat, fat, f***.

F***, no, no no no no no.

No, no, no.

(bill changer whirring)

(sighs)

(banging)

(bangs)

(soda clatters)

- Thanks.

- [Dirk] You're welcome.

- Broke stranger with manners?

- I'm just trying to change the

rogue strangers are bad rep.

- I'm sorry, are

you hitting on me?

- What?

- You're Pamela's

boyfriend, aren't you?

- I was.

But I just found out

she's been cheating on me.

(soda clatters)

- God, I'm sorry.

I feel like such an idiot.

- No, it's cool.

Don't worry about it.

- Wait.

I'm Christine.

- I'm Dirk.

- So are you headed

to the beach, or

- I was.

Not so sure now, though.

You?

- Yeah, me and my BFF.

- That's cool.

- Um.

So you're in the Army, right?

- Yeah, I was, up 'til

a couple weeks ago.

It's a long story, bad ending.

- You're really on quite

the roll, aren't you Dirk?

- (chuckles) Yeah,

that's for sure.

- You wanna talk about it?

- Mm, no, that's cool.

- I won't judge you.

- Okay.

- Were you overseas?

- No, local.

I just got outta boot

camp and realized

it wasn't really my thing.

- No?

- Na, that's more or

less my dad's dream.

Did you know, on average,

12 people a year die

from vending machines

falling on them?

- Do vending machines just

randomly fall onto people?

- Oh, no.

Most of the time,

people just get pissed.

They lose their money or

their snack and they shake it.

The other ones are

random, though.

Like, fluke earthquakes.

- And why are you putting

your vending machine expertise

on display for me?

Are you trying to

impress a girl?

- Well, dangerous vending

machine, dark motel,

late at night.

Shouldn't you have your

boyfriend take care of this?

- Well, I don't

have a boyfriend.

- Oh, no?

- [Christine] No.

- Cool.

- (laughing) So you

are hitting on me.

- What if I was?

- That depends.

Are you a psychotic rapist?

- What if I was?

(laughing)

I mean, no, no, I'm

nothin' like that at all.

- I don't think you would

tell me if you were.

- No, no, I'd say something.

Psychotic rapists

take a solemn oath.

- Well, Dirk, go

ahead and hit on me.

See where it takes you.

- Alright.

(soda bubbles noisily)

Oh, oh, I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

(groaning)

- Goddamn, you are one

hefty motherf***er.

Oh.

(heavy breathing)

What the f***?

(loud wailing growling)

Get the f*** off me!

(snarling)

Get the f*** off.

(gas hissing)

(choking)

Lights out.

(snarls)

(electricity crackles)

This is the worst

spring break, ever.

- [Christine] So,

after I graduate,

I'm gonna go to

veterinarian school.

- [Dirk] Oh, so

you like animals?

- [Christine] No, I hate them.

Duh.

My dad's a vet, too.

- Oh, your dad was in the war?

- Shut up, Dirk.

(laughing)

But yeah, I'm a bit of

a daddy's little girl.

- Oh, well, I'm a bit

of a daddy's girl, too.

- You are such a smart ass.

- Okay, okay, cut it out.

No, me, I'm more

of a momma's boy.

- What does your dad think

about you leaving the Army?

- Well, he doesn't know I left.

He thinks I graduated,

he even bought me a gun

as a graduation present.

Just really haven't had the

heart to tell him I left.

- Well, I'm sure

he'll understand.

- So, are you a

cat or dog person?

- Well, I love all animals,

but since you're so eager

to categorize me, I would

have to say I'm a cat person.

- Oh, lame.

- What?

- No, you cat people,

you're just weird.

- We are not.

- (Scoffs) No?

- No.

- No, really, you are.

Did you know, on average,

that 12 old ladies a year

die by their cats?

Eaten alive.

- Here's the stats man again.

- No, really, I'm serious.

I'm not talking about the

ones who just horde like 78

of them in their

single-wide trailer.

Sometimes, it's the ones that

just have one or two of 'em.

They forget to

feed 'em one night

and the the next thing you know,

bam!

(squealing laugh)

(hisses) Kitten chow.

And you cat people are

notoriously violent.

- No.

- Yes.

And another thing,

cats are just so dumb.

Now dogs, that is

a smart animal.

- Cats are way

smarter than dogs.

- Oh, really?

- Mmhm.

- And how many drug-sniffing

cats have you heard of?

- 12.

- Oh.

(high-pitched scream)

What was that?

- Sounded like it was Carrie.

(female scream)

(screaming)

(screams)

- Carrie?

- Stay with me.

(screams)

(screechy jangling music)

(thud)

- Dirk!

- I'm sorry!

It, it was a reaction.

F***, run!

Go!

- Get the keys, get

the keys, get the keys.

Quickly, go, go, go, go, go.

- Alright, alright, alright!

(murderous screech)

Sh*t.

(wailing)

- [Christine] What

are you doing?

Oh my God!

(garbled screaming)

- Yo, zombie b*tch.

(epic orchestral music)

(weapon fires)

- Carrie what happened to you?

You were my BFF.

Why? Why?

- Something tells me she's

not your friend anymore.

- What the f*** is going on?

- I don't think we should

stick around to find out.

(enraged growling)

(Christine screaming)

F***!

- Dirk, Dirk!

(Dirk yelling)

(Christine screaming)

(thudding bass music)

- No, no, no!

Ah, God.

Get off!

(weapon fires)

(weapon fires)

(heavy beathing)

- [Christine] Are you okay?

- Yeah, I think so.

Are you okay?

- No, what the hell is

going on and why wouldn't

that guy just die?

- I don't know.

- My God, I'm

calling the police.

Hi, yes, police?

You gotta send someone quick.

My best friend just

tried to kill me.

I think it's something she

ate or she's on her period.

(zipper zips)

The Redwood Motel.

Christine.

Yes, please, hurry.

- Have you seen my keys?

- Oh, Carrie.

(low thrumming percussion)

- Come on, come to daddy.

- Oh, Carrie.

(soft sobbing)

(malignant violin melody)

- Wha, no no no, no no!

- Dirk!

(aggressive growls)

(pained grunt)

- Carrie, please let go of me.

Carrie, please let go of me.

(pained grunts)

(thudding orchestral music)

(soft cries)

- Kick her in the vag.

(squelching)

(whimpering cries)

(wet squelch)

(thud)

(epic instrumental

with vocalization)

(weapon fires)

(distressed cries)

(weapon fires)

(sobbing whimpers)

- Are you okay?

- No!

(music swells)

- [Dirk] F***.

Go, go, go, go.

- Yo, shorty, where's

my Ginger Snaps?

- Brooklyn, I'm gonna need you

to listen to me very carefully.

- Who the f***

invited John McClain?

And what's with

the burner, John.

- It's for protection.

And you need to

listen to your friend.

- Yo, only pussies carry guns.

You see these right here?

Yo, you see these?

- Brooklyn!

Carrie's dead and she's

trying to kill us.

- Who the f*** is Carrie?

- She's still out there.

- Are you guys for real?

- No bullshit.

- Take a look for yourself.

(suspenseful thrumming music)

- I don't see no dead b*tch.

(discordant thudding

instrumental)

F***, f***, oh, what the f***?

Get me out, get the f*** out.

(arguing screams)

- Hey, relax!

We have to stay calm, alright?

- And who the f*** are you?

- I'm the guy that's

gonna save your ass.

Call me Dirk.

- What?

Is this guy for real?

(gravel crunching)

(ominous instrumental)

- [Officer] Hey, dispatch?

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