The Salton Sea Page #3

BOBBY:

What can I do for you?

JIMMY:

Um, coupla' eight balls oughta do us.

Danny and Jimmy notice something simultaneously.

There is something under the mattress - A HUGE BULGE.

BOBBY:

Don't pay her no mind.

A MUFFLED MOAN from under Bobby. She is between the mattress and the

box springs.

BOBBY (cont'd)

Shut the hell up, goddamit!

Bobby starts slapping the top of the mattress with his hand. New

MUFFLED SCREAMS from underneath.

BOBBY (cont'd)

I got no vocation skills! What the

f*** you want from me?

(keeps slapping)

I got no vocation skills!

JIMMY:

Hey man, take it easy.

Bobby immediately stops. Looks at Jimmy with incredulity.

BOBBY:

What?

JIMMY:

Come on. Ease off the girl.

Bobby springs from the bed, grabbing something as he rises.

Danny and Jimmy suddenly staring at a SPEARGUN which is loaded with two

stainless steel spears.

Bobby stands there alternately pointing the speargun at Jimmy, then

Danny.

BOBBY:

Did you bring the plastic men?

Bobby nods towards something behind Danny. Danny and Jimmy don't move

or speak.

BOBBY (cont'd)

Did you bring the plastic men?

(beat)

Did you bring the plastic men?

Bobby rubs his nose.

BOBBY:

Did ... you ... bring ... the ... plastic ... men?

DANNY:

Nah, we didn't bring 'em. That's

just your good crank talking, brother.

Bobby tilts his head.

DANNY (cont'd)

We were hoping to catch a few ourselves

if you'll hook us up.

BOBBY:

(calmer)

You bring the plastic men?

DANNY:

Like I said.

JIMMY:

F*** man. Come on, Bobby.

BOBBY:

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Rhymes with ...

(he draws a blank)

DANNY:

Hobby?

Bobby twists a smile, revealing speed-blackened teeth.

BOBBY:

That's a good man. I like that.

DANNY:

(calmly)

Hey, Bobby, look .. What you got

going with your old lay, it's none

of our business. We're just a couple

of dope fiends trying to score.

Bobby lowers his speargun.

BOBBY:

Two eight balls?

Jimmy breaths a sigh of relief.

EXT. CHEAP MOTEL ROOM - DAY

Danny and Jimmy exit the room, closing the door behind them. Danny

looks at Jimmy.

DANNY:

Nice dealer you got there, Jimmy.

JIMMY:

Oh ... that. Ah, he was just juiced.

He wouldn't have did nothin'

WHAP, WHAP! Two spears plunge through the cheap door, stopping inches

from Danny's head.

They run like hell.

EXT. SKY - DAY

TIME LAPSE. The sun plunges down. The sky turns black. The moon

races up and down. The sky lightens. The sun races up and down.

Night comes again.

INT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT

Everyone crashing. Jonestown, post Kool-Aid. It looks like they have

all simultaneously fallen asleep where they were standing or sitting.

Danny stirs awake. Looks around. He stretches. KNOCKING OVER A

BOTTLE OF BEER.

ALL OTHER SOUND FADES OUT AS the beer SPLATTER to the floor. IT IS

UNNATURALLY LOUD.

DANNY staring intently at the spilling liquid.

The beer pools up on the floor.

Danny transfixed by the image.

The last few drops of beer LOUDLY splashing down.

EXT PAYPHONE - NIGHT

Danny on the phone.

DANNY:

C.I. number 678-43K-107

(beat)

Tanner and Garcetti

He hangs up.

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT

Danny waiting in the shadows.

A car, sans headlights, pulls into the alley and stops.

Danny emerges from the shadows, opens the back door and lays on the

back seat.

INT. CAR - SAME

Two guys in suits in the front, TANNER and GARCETTI. Tanner. blue eyes

and SHAVED HEAD, an air of ex-military around him. Garcetti: swarthly

and serious, a MIASMA OF BAD-ASS ATTITUDE.

DANNY:

(lying on the back seat)

I've got a hot one.

TANNER:

You go, boy.

DANNY:

If it's all the same to you, I'd

rather not dish right here in the

middle of Crankville.

Tanner drives out of the alley.

TANNER:

Feeling the paranoia tonight, are we?

DANNY:

Well, you know what they say, just

because you're paranoid, doesn't mean

everyone's not out to slice your

balls off and shove 'em down your throat.

EXT. PART - NIGHT

Danny, Tanner and Garcetti outside the car in a deserted park. Danny

pacing.

TANNER:

You got a name?

DANNY:

Bobby, rhymes with hobby.

TANNER:

What?

DANNY:

Never mind. Dude had a backfull of

jailhouse tatts.

QUICK FLASHES OF BOBBY'S TATTOOS.

TANNER:

No last name?

DANNY:

It was all pretty informal. Didn't

have a lot of time to exchange

pleasantries.

Garcetti produces something from the front seat of the car and trudges

over.

GARCETTI:

This the guy?

DANNY:

It speaks!

The humorless Garcetti hands Danny a "WANTED POSTER". Bobby's mug shot

glaring.

DANNY:

That's him. He's a lot prettier in

person though.

GARCETTI:

Cut to the f***ing chase, Flynne.

DANNY:

Dude is bugging. Transparent

spiders, plastic men - the whole nine yards.

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