CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY, NORTHRIDGE
PUNCH DRUNK
A project submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Masters of Fine Arts in Screenwriting
by
Brian Bourque
May 2019 Copyright by Brian Bourque 2019
!ii The thesis screenplay of Brian Bourque is approved:
______Professor Jared Rappaport Date
______Professor Dianah Wynter Date
______Professor Scott Sturgeon, Chair Date
California State University, Northridge
!iii Table of Contents
Copyright Page ii Signature Page iii Abstract v Punch Drunk 1
!iv ABSTRACT
PUNCH DRUNK:
A FEATURE SCREENPLAY
by
Brian Bourque
Master of Fine Arts in Screenwriting
After witnessing the murder of his ex, a jaded college professor and his hitman-wannabe brother
get tangled up in the criminal underbelly of New Orleans and must learn to work together to
unravel a conspiracy that threatens to destroy their family.
!v PUNCH DRUNK
FADE IN:
INT. FUNERAL PARLOR - DAY
The blotchy, red face of a man in his 30s stares down into an open casket, disappointment in his glassy eyes. This is
CLAUDE BARRILEAUX.
He sneaks a furtive glance over his shoulder. Then makes his move, snatching a flask from under the arm of the deceased.
Claude unscrews the cap. Attempts a swig. Empty.
He re-caps and stares at its calligraphic engraving: C.R.B.
He places it in his coat pocket. Shakes his head.
CLAUDE What a prick...
Behind him, a woman’s voice. In Creole patois.
GREAT-AUNT GINNY What was dat, sha?
Claude jolts slightly. He turns to find a diminutive septuagenarian tugging at his sleeve. GREAT-AUNT GINNY.
He leans down, level to her ear.
CLAUDE I said... (louder) What a prick.
Aunt Ginny still doesn’t quite catch it but smiles and nods, all the same.
GREAT-AUNT GINNY Ya daddy was a regular Catahoula cur, him. He’be missed.
1 Claude steps away to make room for Aunt Ginny and passes by a large memorial photo: a 62-year-old man in a judge’s robe poses in front of a stone-grey backdrop and a U.S. flag.
Beneath it: CLAUDE REX BARRILEAUX SR. 1932-1994
EXT. METAIRIE CEMETERY - DAY
Midday but you couldn’t tell. Overcast skies and a light rain, but the only umbrellas you’ll find are being twirled by participants in a FUNERAL PARADE.
Solemn but up-tempo JAZZ accompanies the rain, blasting out of the tubas and trumpets of a SECOND LINE BAND as they march through rows of grey, raised tombs.
In case it isn’t obvious yet, we’re in NEW ORLEANS.
But across the cemetery it’s another story. A more conservative affair, the Barrileaux procession reaches its natural conclusion at the family mausoleum.
CLAUDE (V.O.) There were two bits of wisdom my father wanted to make sure he passed on. I know this, because he said them all the goddamn time...
Claude lights a cigarette as the MOURNERS disperse.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Never make your roux with butter.
A LIMO DRIVER escorts Great-Aunt Ginny out of the cemetery. She pats Claude on the forearm as she passes by with a wink.
GREAT-AUNT GINNY Catahoula cur...
As FAMILY and FRIENDS clear out, FOUR BLACK WOMEN in mini-skirts and black boas---ranging from their early 20s to mid 40s---hang back, consoling one another as they WEEP.
CLAUDE (V.O.) And it’s all pink on the inside.
Claude approaches the women. He offers up his pack of cigarettes. They each take one and light up.
2 CLAUDE (V.O.) Although, the latter was usually addressed to my brother.
The drizzle becomes proper RAIN.
The Second Line approaches. Claude files in, gesturing for the hookers to join him.
They do.
EXT. FRENCH QUARTER, SEEDY ALLEY - NIGHT
A single streetlight glows softly high above. Thick mist and puddles abound. The last place you want to be at night.
Claude approaches a battered, non-rescript door. No numbers. Only a plaque next to it that reads: THE HIDEAWAY. EST. 1846.
INT. THE HIDEAWAY - NIGHT - SAME
And it shows. Dark. Discreet. Smokey. Claude enters.
CLAUDE (V.O.) It was the year of our lord, nineteen hundred and ninety four...
He’s immediately greeted by the sight of a HORNY JUDGE in his 70s, carousing in a corner with a FEMALE PARALEGAL, questionable whether she’s drinking age.
CLAUDE (V.O.) But in the Hideaway, it may as well have still been the 50s.
At the bar, a group of MIDDLE-AGED WASPS---ties loosened, shirts unbuttoned---slur through Smiley Lewis’ Lost Weekend.
THE WASPS I work hard like a dog Spend my money at the bar I'm crazy 'bout my whiskey And I don't care what it cost
Tending the bar, CHARLES HADLEY, a stout, cheery fella in his 60s, spots Claude. He pours them whiskey shots from an unlabeled bottle---his own formula.
He joins in.
3 HADLEY/THE WASPS They tell me to save my money But that stuff is made to spend I'm gonna keep on buying whiskey Get drunk with all my friends
Hadley slides a glass to Claude. They toast.
HADLEY To Rex.
Glasses TAP the bar. They shoot. Several HISSES as Hadley’s engine cleaner hits the back of their throats.
Claude mounts a stool. Hadley posts in front of him.
HADLEY (CONT’D) How was the service?
CLAUDE You’d know if you’d been there.
HADLEY I’m right where Rex would want me to be.
CLAUDE Right where he’d want to be.
HADLEY Gimme your glass.
Hadley pours another. Claude shoots. Wipes his mouth.
HADLEY (CONT’D) How much longer you in town for?
CLAUDE Just ‘til the estate sells.
Hadley shakes his head, disappointed.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) What?
HADLEY I didn’t say anything.
4 CLAUDE What the hell am I gonna do with forty acres and a mansion?
HADLEY Settle down? Raise a family?
CLAUDE Ha! I need a family like I need another hole to piss from.
CLAUDE (V.O.) A piss sounds good right now...
Angry BANGING interrupts the men.
HADLEY Speaking of family...
Hadley gestures to
NIKKIA, a nine-year-old black girl, SMACKING a Back to the Future pinball game. She YANKS the plunger then KICKS the coin door.
NIKKIA Piece of shit!
Claude shakes his head. Stands. HITS a key on the register and pulls out a handful of quarters.
He DROPS a dozen into the machine.
CLAUDE Where’s your dad?
NIKKIA Mom says he’s not my dad. He’s just a sperm donor.
She immediately goes back to playing.
CLAUDE Well, where’s the sperm donor?
NIKKIA How should I know? I’m nine!
5 From the bar---
HADLEY Wasn’t he at the funeral?
CLAUDE I figured he was here.
HADLEY Not for a couple hours now. Must’a got skunk- drunk, too, ‘cause he forgot this...
Hadley dips down behind the bar and lifts up an old, leather attaché. Claude walks over, grabs it. Gives it a once over. Initials on the tag: C.R.B.
CLAUDE Where the hell’d he get this?
HADLEY It’s your dad’s.
CLAUDE I know it’s---I mean how’d it come to be in his possession?
Hadley shrugs.
HADLEY Beats me...
Then nods toward the pinball machine.
HADLEY (CONT’D) Mind walking her home? It’s definitely past her bedtime.
Nikkia sets off a bonus game, stealing Claude’s attention.
NIKKIA Hell yeah!
Claude looks to Hadley again...
CLAUDE She’s not really my responsib---
6 ...but he’s stepped away to tend to the other patrons.
Claude SIGHS.
EXT. TREME NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT
Claude and Nikkia climb up the porch of a shotgun shack. Claude KNOCKS. The door opens to reveal an unamused woman.
TEAL, early-thirties, hair in curlers, smoking a cigarette.
TEAL Where’s Floyd?
CLAUDE At the Hideaway. He asked me to bring Nikkia home for him.
Teal looks to her daughter to corroborate.
NIKKIA (nonchalant) He abandoned me there.
She looks back at Claude. Takes a long drag on her cigarette. Gestures inside. Nikkia trots in.
Teal EXHALES in Claude’s face. Points a finger.
TEAL This why they still call y’all the Barrileaux boys.
CLAUDE No one’s called us that in a long time...
CLAUDE (V.O.) And for the record, I haven’t been a “boy” since Brittany Briscoe, sophomore year of high school. Just, uh... for the record...
Teal spots the attaché in his hand.
TEAL Why you got Floyd’s briefcase?
7 CLAUDE It’s not his. It’s---it was Rex’s.
TEAL Well, then he’s been dealing weed out your daddy’s briefcase.
Claude lifts it up, gives it a sniff. Wrinkles his nose.
TEAL (CONT’D) Thanks for bringing my baby home safe. You see the sperm donor, tell him everything’s fine, and he should definitely come by tomorrow.
CLAUDE I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him before I leave.
TEAL Where the hell you goin’?
CLAUDE I’m getting the hell out of this clown pervert’s clammy fever dream.
TEAL Ya lost me...
CLAUDE Take care, Teal.
As Claude steps away---
TEAL Say... what’chu think odds are on me getting child support now that your daddy’s gone?
Claude mulls it a sec. Shrugs.
CLAUDE You know Floyd, he’s got about as much money as he has sense.
TEAL Mmm-hmmm...
She eyes him one last time before CLOSING the door.
8 He reaches the sidewalk, takes a second glance at the case. Lifts it a few times, shakes it--- something’s off.
Curiosity gets the best of him.
As he opens the attaché to sneak a peek---
CLAUDE Huh..?
CLAUDE (V.O.) I didn't feel the blow that knocked me out...
THUMP, THUMP.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Probably on account of the two that came right before it.
Then a SKULL-CRACKING THUD.
Claude falls face first into a puddle, SLAMMING against the concrete. The attaché lands shortly after him.
MICK and RALPH---late 30’s, mafia muscle---BICKER quietly.
Claude tries to lift his head, but it swivels, drops.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. ALBERT'S STUDY - NIGHT
Everything, mahogany and leather. Red leather arm chairs stand on mahogany legs. Leather-bound books adorn mahogany shelves. A light smoke fills the room.
Then a thick southern DRAWL---
MAN (O.S.) Might I interest you in a libation, sir?
Claude opens his eyes. Wobbles to stand.
CLAUDE Uh---what's that now?
9 In dapper dress, ALBERT ST. ALBERT sits at an oversized desk, waving a cigarillo and wearing a skipper’s yacht hat. Late 30’s, a cross between Doc Holliday and Dracula.
ALBERT (rephrasing) Fancy a drink?
Claude rubs his head.
CLAUDE Eh... sure.
ALBERT I’m afraid you'll have to help yourself. And while you’re at it, I’ll have a whiskey sour.
CLAUDE (V.O.) What the fuck is a whiskey sour?
ALBERT The bar is to your starboard.
Claude glances first to his left then walks toward the bar.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Allow me to introduce myself---
CLAUDE ‘Course, everyone in mid-city knows you’re Albert St. Albert.
ALBERT Ahem... “Al-bear.”
CLAUDE Pardon?
ALBERT The ”T” is silent. And you'll have to excuse my manners. Normally I would prepare your drink myself, but you see...
Albert's VOICE fades into the background.
Claude glances around at the abundance of bottles before him, none of them labeled. He winces, still a bit woozy.
10 CLAUDE (V.O.) Where the fuck does this fruit keep the whiskey?
He pulls the top off a random bottle, SNIFFS it. Shrugs.
ALBERT (muffled) I had a mild stroke several months ago and well, as you can imagine...
CLAUDE (V.O.) And what the hell goes in a whiskey sour?
Claude continues to pour all manner of shit into his glass.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Lemon? Is that what makes it sour?
He tops it off with the squeeze of an entire lemon.
Albert’s VOICE rises to the foreground.
ALBERT ...and I’m afraid I haven't yet gotten back my sea legs, you see.
Claude grabs a piece of ice and tosses it into his mouth. CRUNCHES into it, finally taking a look around the place.
CLAUDE That’s a real sad story and all, but, uh... seems I misplaced an attaché as I was being kidnapped. It’s got some sentimental value, belonged to Rex---my, uh---
ALBERT Your late father? (off Claude’s surprise) We were acquainted. My condolences.
CLAUDE Thanks... Anyway, one of your goons didn’t happen to pick it up, did they?
MICK Watch it.
11 Claude SHRUGS. Takes one of the drinks over to Albert.
CLAUDE (mouth full of ice) Assistants..?
Albert gestures toward his men.
ALBERT That over there is Mick and Ralph. That's “Ralph” but pronounced “Rafe.” He's from across the pond.
Ralph nods.
RALPH Aw’right.
Eyes dull, Mick doesn’t budge.
ALBERT And while they did not grab your attaché, they will be accompanying you on your assignment.
CLAUDE Assignment?
ALBERT You're familiar with my colleague, Robert Dubois, no?
CLAUDE “Row-bear?”
ALBERT “Robert.” His “T” is also silent.
CLAUDE Name rings a bell.
ALBERT It ought to ring several. He's the heir apparent to the biggest underground boxing league in the parish. And quite a formidable boxer himself. Or at least he was.
12 CLAUDE Ah, yeah. Him. I remember reading something about---didn’t he have one of those, uh---
ALBERT A brain aneurysm, yes. It was a tad ironic, truth be told. Robert was a brawny man and a bit of a dial- tone, if you catch my drift.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Guess he got disconnected.
CLAUDE Heh, good one.
ALBERT What was that?
CLAUDE Oh, nothing... (ahem) You were saying...
Albert arches a brow.
ALBERT I require a service from you, one peculiar to your talents.
Claude looks down at his drink. Stirs with his finger.
ALBERT (CONT’D) You are to gain entry to the Dubois vault yonder at Cypress Grove and well... how to put this...
Claude brings the glass to his lips.
ALBERT (CONT’D) I'd like you to remove the legs of Monsieur Dubois’ corpse.
Claude finally takes a long gulp from his concoction and
SPITS it all over Albert and his desk. Albert grits his teeth, wiping the liquid from his forehead.
13 CLAUDE (V.O.) Maybe a little less lemon..?
MICK Told’ya he wouldn’t have the stomach for it, boss.
Claude uses his tie to mop up wet spots on the desk.
CLAUDE Your, uh... Mick, was it..? He makes a good point. Why me?
ALBERT My dear boy, are you not a professor of Archeology at the prestigious Seattle University?
CLAUDE An adjunct, yeah, but---
ALBERT Then surely you can manage.
Claude shakes his head.
CLAUDE I teach the “History of Plumbing” and “Ceramic Analysis”. Desecrating graves ain't exactly my wheelhouse.
ALBERT Perhaps, but your brother owes me a favor. And if he isn't the most worthless teat this side of the utter...
Claude’s eye twitches at a realization.
CLAUDE Your boys didn’t mean to nab me.
Ralph straightens up. Mick purses his lips.
ALBERT I prefer to view it as a happy accident.
Claude shrugs.
14 CLAUDE Sorry, but I just don’t see how any of this is my concern... Al-burt. In fact, I was just on my way out of town when---
ALBERT It’s “Al-bear.” And let me put it to you this way, Monsieur Barrileaux... (sitting upright) A set of legs will be removed. Whether they belong to Monsieur Dubois or your brother or you makes me no never-goddamn-mind.
Claude throws his hands up.
CLAUDE A’right. You got my hands tied, I get it.
Claude cautiously SNIFFS his drink several times. Swivels the glass in his hand to mix it. Brings the glass to his mouth again. Pauses---he’s stalling.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Well, isn’t this just fucking great? No way, you’re going to a cemetery with these idiots. Think, Barrileaux. Think...
Claude glances around at everyone as he works out a plan.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Okay... first chance you get, kick the big one in the nuts. Then slap string bean on the ear. Sprint away yelling “fire”---no, I’ll yell “rape!”
CLAUDE (to himself) It’s perfect.
Claude finishes the drink, CHOKING it down.
ALBERT You may leave the glass at the bar.
Claude places it down, as instructed.
He steps toward the door.
15 ALBERT (CONT’D) Oh, and I must apologize...
CLAUDE What for?
A SKULL-CRACKING THUD--!
CLAUDE (V.O.) I didn’t feel that one either.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. MICK'S CAR - NIGHT
Claude comes to in the backseat, hands cuffed behind his back. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on the neon lights passing by outside.
CLAUDE (V.O.) A stench washed over me, like a Parisian toilet I got saddled with during a semester abroad.
Ralph sits shotgun, foot on the dash, smoking a clove cigarette. Mick drives while a cheeseburger drips condiment soup all over his meaty paw.
CLAUDE (V.O.) In situations like these, it’s imperative to keep your cool...
Claude leans forward.
CLAUDE (yelling) Let me the fuck out! Let me out!
He KICKS. Everything. Seats, doors, windows.
Mick calmly puts down his cheeseburger, pulls a .357 from his leather jacket. Grip covered in burger sauce, Mick draws down the hammer.
MICK (chewing burger) Don't make me use this, kid.
Claude relents. Sinks into his seat. Mick lowers the gun.
16 CLAUDE Where are we going?
Ralph looks back at Claude, then to Mick, blowing a plume of spiced smoke into Mick's face.
RALPH I told'ya not to hit 'im so hard. You gone and gave ‘im amnesia. He forgot the mission.
Mick's eyes narrow on Claude in the rear-view.
MICK No, he ain't.
Claude SIGHS.
CLAUDE Cypress Grove.
MICK (to Ralph) See?
CLAUDE You seem like two capable fellas. Why doesn't Albert just have you go collect these legs?
RALPH Everyone knows who we work for. If we was to get caught, it would---
Mick grits his teeth, side-eyes Ralph.
MICK That's enough, motor mouth.
RALPH What's it matter if he knows? It's not like he---
Mick SMACKS Ralph on the arm.
RALPH (CONT’D) Ow!
Worry creeps onto Claude's face.
17 Mick lifts his cheeseburger to his mouth. Takes a bite.
MICK (to Ralph) You talk too damn much, you know that, Limey?
Claude looks down, clocks the .357 on the seat between them. He thinks a beat. Then---
CLAUDE So, uh... what exactly did my brother do that's got you guys so miffed?
Ralph's eyes light up---story time!
RALPH Well...
EXT. URBAN SIDEWALK - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Ralph and Mick lean against a brick wall. Ralph, hands in his pockets. Mick, clasping hands like he's guarding his crotch.
ACROSS THE STREET.
A MAN, late 20's, casual dress, tosses a brown paper bag into the trash. He looks around, checks his watch, then paces off.
ON THE SIDEWALK.
Mick's eyes narrow. Ralph stands up straight.
RALPH (to no one) 'Ay! That bloke just frowed a bag into that bin. (to Mick) Reckon that's our cue?
Mick turns to Ralph and just stares.
RALPH (CONT’D) Right... 'ere goes...
Ralph CLAPS his hands together. Nods. Takes off.
18 Mick calls out after him.
MICK But don't---
Ralph darts across the middle of the street.
MICK (CONT’D) Fucking jay-walk... Ya limey dipshit.
Mick glances up and down the street, shakes his head.
MICK (CONT’D) Christ...
ACROSS THE STREET.
Ralph digs through the trash can. Pulls out the paper bag.
ON THE SIDEWALK.
Mick waves his hands at Ralph, gestures to the crosswalk. Ralph notices. Points to the crosswalk. Then a thumbs up.
Mick straightens his jacket. Adjusts his shoulders. Waits.
Ralph finally trots up, peaking inside the paper bag.
MICK Guessing they don’t have crosswalks in her majesty’s kingdom?
RALPH (re: the paper bag) Hmph...
MICK What is it?
Ralph pulls out a small plate of french fries.
RALPH Chips.
Mick throws his hands up. Rolls his eyes.
19 RALPH (CONT’D) (confused) He didn't even touch 'em.
Ralph picks a few out and shoves them into his mouth.
MICK Did you just call those french fries "chips"?
RALPH (mouth full) S'what we call 'em across the pond.
Mick shakes his head.
RALPH (CONT’D) Wanna know what we call cigarettes?
MICK Nope.
As Ralph opens his smirking mouth to speak anyway---
CLAUDE (V.O.) What the fuck does this have to do with my brother?
INT. MICK'S CAR - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Ralph spins in his seat, looking at Claude.
RALPH Huh..? Oh, right! Ya bruv...
Ralph faces the road. Claude leans back into his seat, covertly maneuvering his cuffed hands beneath his thighs.
RALPH (CONT’D) Anyway...
Mick takes a DEEP BREATH...
20 EXT. URBAN SIDEWALK - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Then SIGHS. Ralph offers up the plate of fries to Mick. Mick looks down at the fries, then up at Ralph, arching a brow.
Mick shrugs and lifts a few, placing them into his mouth.
ACROSS THE STREET.
A slovenly lump of human idles toward the same trash can. He's unshaven, in sweatpants and flip-flops, clutching a brown paper bag.
This is FLOYD BARRILEAUX. In his early-thirties, bears a subtle resemblance to Claude.
ON THE SIDEWALK.
Mick's eyes widen. He SMACKS Ralph's arm. Points to Floyd.
ACROSS THE STREET.
Floyd glances around, side-to-side, way too much. His body bobs to an unheard beat. He passes the paper bag behind his back, trying to covertly dump it into the trash.
The bag falls to the ground. He stumbles over himself trying to pick it up, accidentally stepping on it.
He picks it up, manages to make it into the trash can. Glances around again then saunters off, proud.
ON THE SIDEWALK.
Ralph hands the fries to Mick. Runs to the crosswalk.
Mick waits. And waits. Ralph runs back with the bag, grinning. He reaches inside, pulls out a stack of papers.
His smile drops.
As Ralph flips through several more papers, Mick’s face turns red, veins bulging in his forehead.
MICK (V.O.) You fuckin' liar!
21 INT. MICK'S CAR - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Mick grips the steering wheel with sticky hands.
MICK RALPH I did not lose my cool--- Like 'ell you didn't--- And I didn’t eat no garbage fries!
As they BICKER, Claude pulls his cuffed hands over his feet. In one quick motion, he reaches over the seat and grabs the revolver.
Claude's hands wrap around the condiment-soaked grip.
CLAUDE What the fuck..?!
And he DROPS IT. The gun falls to the floor with a
BANG! Mick panics, loses control of the car and it
EXT. FRENCH QUARTER - NIGHT - SAME
SMASHES into a telephone pole.
INT. MICK’S CAR - NIGHT - SAME
Claude finds himself doubled over the front seat.
On one side, Mick, planted firmly in his airbag, GROANING, dazed. On the other, Ralph, bloody, unconscious on the dash.
Claude pushes himself into the backseat and manages to KICK OPEN one of the crumpled doors.
EXT. FRENCH QUARTER - NIGHT - SAME
As a DRUNKEN CROWD gathers, Claude tumbles out, sprinting away, hands still cuffed. Panicked, HUFFING---
CLAUDE Rape! RAAAAAPE!
22 EXT. DECATUR STREET - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Claude runs, fast as his limp allows. He passes Cafe Du Monde, causing a STIR among PATRONS at the outdoor tables.
He crosses the street to
JACKSON SQUARE
A handful of ARTISTS and MUSICIANS linger late into the night. Claude zips past, looking over his shoulder, panicked.
A GRIFTER steps in front of him, blocking Claude.
GRIFTER Bet you ten bucks I can tell you where you got them shoes.
CLAUDE Unless you can tell me how to get these cuffs off I’m gonna need you to fuck off.
He nearly knocks down the Grifter as he pushes by.
EXT. MADISON STREET - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Claude, breathless, hobbles up to a late 80s BMW convertible, top down. He struggles to pull the keys from his pocket, then DIVES in, setting off the CAR ALARM.
EXT. BARRILEAUX ESTATE - NIGHT - LATER
A beat-down, French-style Maison with a wrap around porch. Remnants of what was once white paint now tattered on water-logged wood. A balcony has collapsed, the door to it has long been boarded up.
Claude’s car SLIDES to a halt on the gravel driveway.
He jumps out, races up the steps and inside.
INT. BARRILEAUX HOUSE - NIGHT - SAME
Just as decrepit inside. Only nice things here are the family portraits still barely clinging to the walls.
23 Claude bursts through the door. He races up stairs to
CLAUDE’S BEDROOM
Littered with storage boxes. But some of Claude’s teenage decorations still adorn the walls. Rock posters---Pixies, CCR, Buzzcocks, Joy Division, Leadbelly, Black Flag. Between them, two old Fender guitars hang from mounts.
Claude rushes in, opens the drawer of his writing desk, pulls out a paper clip.
As he futzes with lock on the cuffs, he hears a
TOILET FLUSH.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Shit...
Claude freezes, still cuffed.
CLAUDE (V.O.) No way they beat me back.
He creeps over to his closet and pulls out an old Louisville Slugger. He slinks into the
SECOND STORY HALLWAY
Claude grips the bat, knuckles white. He approaches the bathroom door. Hears RUNNING WATER behind it.
Then MOANING. Claude arches a brow.
CLAUDE Floyd?
Floyd lets out a high-pitched SHRIEK.
FLOYD (O.S.) (through the door) Claude?!
Claude exhales.
CLAUDE Son of a bitch...
24 FLOYD (O.S.) You scared the bejesus out of me!
CLAUDE What the hell are you doing?!
Beat.
FLOYD (O.S.) It’s four in the morning... (duh) I’m whackin’ off.
CLAUDE Goddamnit, Floyd. I meant what are you doing here...
FLOYD (O.S.) Aaaaand it’s gone.
The faucet turns off. Claude paces outside.
The bathroom door opens. Out steps
FLOYD.
Gravy-stained wife beater, loose suspenders grip his khaki shorts. He dries his hands with an even dirtier shirt.
FLOYD (CONT’D) All I wanted was to rub one out one before---whoa! You look like shit.
CLAUDE You’re not supposed to be here, Floyd. The realtor is stopping by today and if she caught you “whackin’ off” she’d probably sue the place right out from under me.
FLOYD You can’t sue someone for whackin’ off in their own home.
CLAUDE This isn’t your home.
25 FLOYD Ouch, bro.
Floyd tosses the dirty shirt behind him.
Notes the cuffs on Claude’s wrists.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Have you been in dad’s study?
CLAUDE What?
FLOYD Huh? Nothing... (awkward beat) Here lemme help you with those...
Floyd reaches into the back of his mouth. Grabs something---a monofilament string. As he pulls, it becomes clear it’s coming up from his throat. He GAGS. GAGS again.
Then yanks out a
HANDCUFF KEY. Covered in fluid. He hands it off to Claude, then casually moves over to the sink to PUKE.
Claude stares at the slobbery key. Then eyes Floyd.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Do I thank him or kick him down the stairs?
Floyd takes a breath. Wipes his mouth. Gestures to the cuffs.
FLOYD A hitman has to be prepared for any scenario or outcome.
Claude rolls his eyes, unlocks the cuffs.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Ooh! Speaking of which, check this out...
Floyd bends down, lifts the right leg of his pants to reveal a leather ankle holster with five ninja stars.
26 CLAUDE What the fuck are those?
FLOYD Shurikens! (off Claude’s bewilderment) Throwing stars. They’re authentic, just like the ones ninjas would... use... hey, where you going..?
Floyd trails off as Claude wanders away, nursing his wrists.
LIVING ROOM
A big screen TV that may or may not work. A couch in desperate need of a re- upholstering. Matching coffee table.
And a FULLY-STOCKED BAR. The only thing in this house that looks like it’s received any love in the last decade.
Claude enters, makes a beeline for the bar. He pulls Rex’s flask from his jacket. Refills it. Then Pours himself a whiskey, neat. Devours it, massaging his temples.
FLOYD So, uh... what’s up with the cuffs?
CLAUDE If you had to guess..?
It takes him a beat, then---
FLOYD Mr. Albert..? What does he want with you?
CLAUDE They picked me up at Teal’s house, Floyd. They were waiting for you. Probably been tailing you all day.
Floyd blanches.
FLOYD Oh, no. Teal, Nik---are they..?
CLAUDE They’re fine... I think.
Floyd EXHALES, relieved.
27 FLOYD What’re we gonna do?
CLAUDE We?! We aren’t doing anything. I am packing my bags and heading back to Seattle. I hate this goddamn place.
FLOYD C’mon, bro. We gotta stick together!
CLAUDE Like hell we do.
FLOYD We always worked better as a team!
Claude pours himself another drink.
CLAUDE What the hell’d you do that got them so t’d off, anyway?
Floyd’s eyes light up---story time!
FLOYD Well...
EXT. URBAN SIDEWALK - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Veins bulge in Mick’s forehead.
FLOYD (V.O.) I was s’posed to making a drop for Mr. Albert, but I swapped it out for, get this...
Ralph looks down at a stack of papers in his hand, confused.
RALPH A bunch of knob draw’rings?
AROUND A CORNER
Floyd watches Mick and Ralph.
From a distance, he hears---
28 RALPH 'Ere's one of a knob suckin' off another knob. And 'ere's one of a knob takin' a shit---that don't even make sense!
Floyd barely stifles a LAUGH.
ON THE SIDEWALK
Mick grabs a few of the papers. His face reddens as he flips through them. He yanks the bag from Ralph's hand and spikes it to the ground, stomping it to pieces.
MICK I'm gonna break his fuckin' legs.
Mick PANTS.
RALPH Could I just, uh...
Ralph tries to grab his plate of fries.
Mick holds them up and crushes them. They fall to the ground as they leave his hand. Mick blows the residue from his hand into Ralph's face. Ralph nods slowly.
AROUND A CORNER
Hand over his mouth, tears of joy stream down Floyd’s face.
INT. BARRILEAUX HOUSE - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Floyd CRACKS UP. Wipes tears from his eyes.
CLAUDE Christ, you’re gonna get me killed over a bunch of dick drawings.
Claude glances down, noticing Floyd’s dirty shoes making a muddy, red mess everywhere he steps.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) And take those goddamn shoes off, you’re tracking mud everywhere.
29 FLOYD Huh..? Oh, no, that’s actually clay. I can see how you’d think it was mud, though. Rookie mistake. (to himself) It’s like a... what’s another word for dark red?
CLAUDE Maroon. Magenta. Burgundy. Crimson. Claret. Auburn.
FLOYD Right! Auburn. The docks are covered in it for some reason.
Claude, brow arched.
FLOYD (CONT’D) S’where Mr. Albert has all his important, top-secret meetings.
CLAUDE Then what were you doing there?
Floyd plops onto the couch, kicks off his shoes.
FLOYD Har-har. But I’ll have you know they entrusted me with a butt-load of cash.
CLAUDE That you apparently stole.
Floyd leans forward and grabs a bowl of nuts. He smiles, proudly tosses a few into his mouth. They CRUNCH loudly.
FLOYD (mouth full) That’s not all I got, though. Wait ‘til you get a load of---
The front door slowly SQUEAKS open. They both freeze.
Floyd leaps to his feet. Produces a shuriken from his back pocket. He nods at Claude. Claude rolls his eyes.
From the dark foyer, a FEMALE VOICE---
30 FEMALE VOICE (O.S.) Your brother’s in more hot water than his tub can hold.
Suddenly, standing beneath a column of light in the archway, a dark-skinned REDHEAD. Late 20’s, wearing daisy dukes, high-heels, and a Nirvana shirt. This is---
CLAUDE Savvy...
CLAUDE (V.O.) Short for Savannah.
The boys EXHALE---Claude relieved, Floyd disappointed.
CLAUDE Christ...
Floyd smirks.
FLOYD Well, well---look what the cat with feline AIDS dragged in...
He throws another handful of nuts into his mouth. CRUNCH.
CLAUDE What do you want, Savvy?
SAVVY Nice to see you, too, darlin’.
She strolls seductively past Claude.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Savvy was an ex-thing. Kind of girl that gets under your fingernails, like a grease you can only get out with that orange pumice soap they keep at mechanic shops.
Grabs herself a handful of nuts, keeping her eyes on Claude.
CLAUDE (V.O.) She once told me she was named after a vision her mother had of the Serengeti. (MORE)
31 CLAUDE (V.O.) (CONT'D) Another time it was for the city with her father’s favorite Gothic-revival cathedral. I was starting to think it was all bullshit. About as real as her---
She catches Claude staring at her chest. CLEARS her throat. She leans against the mantle of a long-neglected fireplace.
SAVVY Sorry to hear about your dad. I saw you and your folks at the cemetery but didn’t want to interrupt.
FLOYD (concerned) What’s she talking about, Claude? What happened to daddy?
Savvy turns white. Looks to Claude, covering her mouth.
SAVVY Oh my god, does he not---
Floyd tries to fight it but BURSTS OUT LAUGHING. Chewed up nuts fly out of his mouth.
Savvy stares daggers at Floyd.
SAVVY (CONT’D) Laugh it up, you fat fuck.
Floyd COUGHS, choking on some of the nuts.
SAVVY (CONT’D) If you keep treating everything like a joke, you’re gonna end up at the bottom of the Mississippi.
FLOYD Your mother (COUGH) see that (COUGH) in her chicken bones..?
SAVVY Maybe. Maybe she saw your greasy, fat ass dying on the toilet at forty.
CLAUDE (to Savvy) Did you need something, or did you just come here to insult him?
32 SAVVY (re: Floyd) Not in front of the swine.
EXT. THE BARRILEAUX ESTATE - NIGHT - SAME
The moon is full, bright. A low fog hangs around the grounds. Magnolia trees cover the otherwise derelict property.
Claude and Savvy step outside. Savvy leans against a pillar next to the porch steps. Claude takes the opposing one.
CLAUDE (V.O.) People liked to refer to Savvy as a firecracker. In my experience, she was more like a house fire. Starts in the attic, burning away every happy memory you have, before moving onto the lower levels, eventually destroying the foundation.
They gaze out at the moon.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Before you know it, she’s moved onto the neighbor.
SAVVY How you been, Clau-fish?
CLAUDE Cut the shit. Tell me what you want.
She rolls her eyes, HUFFS.
SAVVY Would it kill you to just---you know what? Never mind. I’ve got something of yours.
Claude crosses his arms.
SAVVY (CONT’D) Your daddy’s briefcase. I’ll give it back, but... I need your help with something. See, there’s this guy and---
CLAUDE There’s always a guy, isn’t there? (shaking his head) (MORE)
33 CLAUDE (CONT'D) You can keep the case. I don’t give a shit about any of Rex’s stuff.
SAVVY You, uh... don’t want what’s inside?
CLAUDE Floyd’s skunk weed?
SAVVY Unless your brother can magically turn a pound of Reggie into two hundred fifty Gs, I think we might be talking about different bags.
Eyes wide, dots connect, he remembers his peek in the bag.
CLAUDE (V.O.) CLAUDE Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.
SAVVY No way the shit-bird managed to come up with this much himself. You’re putting me on... (off Claude’s vacant gaze) You really didn’t know..? (realizing) You really didn’t know...
As Claude processes this revelation, she takes a step closer.
SAVVY (CONT’D) Well, look, I mean... this is even better then!
Takes his hand.
SAVVY (CONT’D) Forget about this bullshit. Let’s leave. Tonight. You and me. We’ll take the money, skip town. I already got us train tickets out of here.
CLAUDE Just like you had our tickets the day I moved to Seattle?
SAVVY Clau-fish, that was different---
34 Claude shakes his head, SCOFFS. Pulls his hand back.
CLAUDE Don’t call me that.
SAVVY Seriously. I need to get out of this place. And so do you now.
CLAUDE Oh, I’m leaving alright, but I’m sure as hell not bringing a house fire with me.
SAVVY Jesus, not this shit again...
Making a list with his fingers---
CLAUDE (One) The time you broke up with me so you could fuck my boss at Blockbuster (Two) The time you “forgot” to break up with me and fucked the guitarist in that jazz band. And... and...
CLAUDE (V.O.) Bartender at the Three Legged Dog.
CLAUDE (Three) Ah, ha! Three. As in, the bartender at the Three Legged Dog. (Four) Uh...
SAVVY Please, just stop.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Oh, thank god.
SAVVY Sure, I’ve had my share of indiscretions in the past. But I always came back to you, didn’t I?
CLAUDE Yeah... why is that?
35 SAVVY Being with you just feels... nice.
CLAUDE Bullshit. You only come back when you need something.
Claude scans her.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) If you really do have all that money, why not just skip town on your own? That was always your M.O.
Savvy hesitates, tearing up.
SAVVY I’m scared, Clau-fish. Real scared. I’m in way over my head here.
Claude’s icy demeanor starts to crack. She leans in, cups his cheek with her hand. They lock eyes.
CLAUDE (V.O.) She did the thing where she’d bat her eyes and bite her lip.
She bats her eyes. Bites her lip.
SAVVY Do you... (inches closer) Want me to go?
CLAUDE (V.O.) Then we kissed.
They kiss.
CLAUDE (V.O.) The kind of kiss that usually happens at the end of a movie.
He pulls away, grasping her shoulders.
Eyes still closed---
36 CLAUDE Yes. I do.
Tears roll down her cheeks, she nods.
SAVVY Guess it’s Plan B then.
As she walks away---
CLAUDE Well, whoever he is, I hope he feels nice, too.
She bites her tongue, drops into her car. The engine TURNS OVER. Gravel CRUNCHES and flies as she speeds off.
Claude continues to stare down the driveway even after her car is out of sight.
Another engine REVS. The headlights on Claude’s car turn on.
Claude spots Floyd in the driver’s seat, window down.
FLOYD Sup, pussy?
INT. CLAUDE’S CAR - NIGHT - LATER
Floyd drives. Claude sits shotgun. They tail Savvy’s car from a safe distance.
Floyd reaches down, grabbing a plastic grocery bag off the passenger-side floor. Offers it up to Claude.
FLOYD I brought snacks.
Claude, unamused.
CLAUDE When were you gonna tell me about the money?
FLOYD I already did, dummy.
37 CLAUDE (V.O.) Oh, yeah. Are all these blows to the head actually giving me amnesia?
CLAUDE Well, you never said how much. Christ, Floyd...
FLOYD When were you gonna tell me you were thinking about running off with that ginger floozy?
CLAUDE The entire point of going outside was so you wouldn’t hear us.
FLOYD Don’t dodge the question.
CLAUDE I sent her away, didn’t I?
FLOYD Yeah, but you considered it.
Claude purses his lips. Floyd smacks his leg.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Ah, loosen up. I’m just razzin’ ya!
Floyd notices their desolate, remote surroundings.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Where the hell’s she going, anyway?
EXT. SWAMP ROAD - NIGHT - SAME
Savvy turns down a dark, dirt road.
Floyd slows, giving her time to disappear down it.
INT. CLAUDE'S CAR - NIGHT - SAME
As Floyd creeps past the dirt road---
38 CLAUDE Park here. We’ll walk.
FLOYD What?!
EXT. SWAMP VILLAGE - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Savvy pulls into the middle of a group of wood houses, built up on stilts. No electricity, just torches for light.
TREELINE
Claude and Floyd run up, watching behind the cover of bushes.
FLOYD What do you think she came all the way out here for?
As Savvy parks, a LARGE MAN emerges from the centermost house. Shirtless, dirty, muscular. In his late 40s.
He stays at the top of the staircase.
FLOYD (CONT’D) (shaking his head) Dick. Should’a known...
CLAUDE (sotto) Would you shut the fuck up?!
Savvy exits her car, purse in hand. She TALKS to the Large Man, but the boys can’t make out what she’s saying.
She walks the steps up to the house. The Man turns to usher her inside, revealing a WOLF TATTOO covering his entire back.
Claude stares through the leaves, tense. Biting his nails.
Floyd starts to SPEAK.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Shh..!
A quiet beat. MUFFLED CLATTER from inside the hut. Then
39 SAVVY BURSTS OUT THE HOUSE. She sprints down the stairs, nearly tripping.
Seconds later, Wolf-Man emerges holding an enormous revolver, pointed at her back. He SHOOTS. Tags her in the back.
She falls down into the mud.
Claude covers his mouth.
Wolf-Man descends the steps. Uses his foot to turn Savvy over.
THREE MORE MEN join him, similar in build, equally dirty.
Claude looks back at the conspicuously silent Floyd to find him standing, upright, urine pouring from his shorts.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) (sotto) Get. Down.
Floyd takes off running. Claude considers going after him but turns back to the village--- he can’t look away.
Wolf-Man picks up Savvy’s purse. Digs out her car keys and instructs one of his men to open her trunk. He throws the purse and Savvy’s body into the trunk.
Claude DRAWS a sharp breath, tears flowing down his cheeks. The Swamp Folk turn, look in Claude’s direction. He waits a beat, trying to tell if they’ve spotted him.
Wolf-Man points over to the treeline and
CLAUDE JETS, tripping over himself.
EXT. SWAMP ROADS - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Claude sprints to his car, glancing around for---
CLAUDE (sotto) Floyd! Floyd!
As he rounds the back of the car, he finds his brother on all fours, GAGGING and CRYING.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) What’re you doing?!
40 FLOYD I---I’ve never seen anyone get killed before, Claude. It’s not like it is in the movies.
CLAUDE No shit. Where are the car keys? We have to get the fuck out of here!
Floyd SOBS. Slowly pulls the keys from his back pocket.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Hurry before those mud people come out here and---
As he lifts the keys to hand them to Claude, sickness overcomes Floyd. He covers his mouth just as puke erupts, coating his hands and the car keys.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Floyd, you fucking fuck up!
Claude snatches the keys and begins washing them off in a nearby puddle. Floyd CRIES HARDER, doubling over again.
FLOYD Claude..?
Claude glances over at his brother.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Please don’t tell anyone I puked.
Floyd HEAVES again.
INT. CLAUDE'S CAR - NIGHT - LATER
Claude drives, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Floyd next to him, eyes puffy, still SNIFFLING, MUNCHING on a bag of potato chips.
FLOYD CLAUDE Wh-where are we gonna go, Claude? I’m thinking--- We can’t go home--- Nope--- Can’t go to Teal’s--- Can’t go to the estate.
41 Claude pulls the flask from his coat pocket, SWIGS.
A silent beat.
FLOYD If only there was (SNIFFLE) a place we could go (SNIFFLE) where we can hide out...
EXT. FRENCH QUARTER, SEEDY ALLEY - NIGHT - LATER
Claude and Floyd approach the door of the Hideaway. Claude checks the door. Locked.
CLAUDE Told’ya he’d be closed.
Floyd glances around, makes sure no one’s watching, then pulls on the EST. sign, revealing a hidden cubby. Takes out a key. Jiggles it in front of Claude.
FLOYD That’s okay. Just means we can drink for free.
Floyd winks. Unlocks the door.
CLAUDE How’d you---Rex.
FLOYD Duh-doi!
INT. THE HIDEAWAY - NIGHT - SAME
They step inside. Claude makes for the liquor shelves. Floyd takes a seat at the bar.
Claude pours a shot of Hadley’s homemade whiskey. Shoots.
FLOYD So... what’s our next move?
Claude shoots. Wipes his mouth.
CLAUDE Well, Floyd. I think I’m going to strangle you...
Floyd, confused. Claude leaps over the bar, knocking Floyd over onto the ground, pinning him. He tries to grab onto Floyd’s neck, but Floyd swats his hands away.
42 FLOYD Ow, dick! I bruise easy!
Claude wails on his brother, repeatedly punching him in the arm. As Floyd tries to get away, he knocks over chairs, tables. Claude won’t let up.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Stop it, Claude!
CLAUDE Or what?! You gonna tell Rex?
FLOYD I’ll have to use lethal force!
CLAUDE You’re not a fucking hitman, Floyd!
In all the COMMOTION, the boys don’t hear the THUMPING of heavy FOOTSTEPS coming down the back stairwell.
Hadley rushes in and pumps the fore-end of sawed-off shotgun, aiming it directly at the quarreling boys.
HADLEY Bar’s closed, goddamnit!
They immediately stop fighting. Hold up their hands.
HADLEY (CONT’D) Boys?
Hadley SIGHS.
LATER
Floyd smacks at the paddle buttons on the pinball game. He almost sets off a bonus game but narrowly misses the hole.
FLOYD Piece of shit!
He knees the machine, setting off the tilt.
43 FLOYD (CONT’D) Aw, for Chrissakes..!
At the bar, Hadley mixes a drink while Claude observes.
Two fingers of whiskey. Simple syrup. Squeeze of lemon wedge.
CLAUDE Hmph... just a squeeze, huh?
Hadley stirs, places it down in front of Claude.
Claude takes a sip. Winces.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) You sure this is right?
Floyd approaches, takes the glass from Claude.
FLOYD Lemme see that...
Floyd drinks. Grimaces. Dribbles it back into the glass.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Mmm, not bad. Could use a little more sweetener, though.
CLAUDE What do you know about making cocktails?
FLOYD I used to make drinks for Mr. Albert all the time.
Hadley snatches the glass from Floyd, pours it out.
HADLEY Now if you’re done making me waste perfectly good whiskey on pansy-assed cocktails...
Hadley pours them each a glass of whiskey, neat.
FLOYD Oh, no thanks. I hate whiskey. Unless it’s in an old- fashioned. Wish Mr. Albert drank more of those.
Hadley rolls his eyes. Plants it in front of Claude.
44 CLAUDE I can’t believe she’s gone, Had. I didn’t think I’d care this much, but I’m more broken up about her than I am about Rex.
Claude shoots both drinks.
HADLEY Well, your dad was sick a while. And every bartender in the quarter knows what that girl could do to a cherry stem with her tongue.
Claude crosses his arms on the bar, resting his head on them.
HADLEY (CONT’D) My advice---not that you boneheads are gonna listen, but---my advice is forget about all this mess and just get the hell outta dodge. Hang around here long enough I imagine someone’s gonna off you two.
FLOYD Oh god, don’t say that. Thinking about death is gonna make me puke again.
CLAUDE He’s right. If it’s not the mud-people then it’ll be your goon buddies and their vampire boss. My money’s on the swamp freaks.
Floyd shudders.
FLOYD That dog tattoo gave me the creeps.
Hadley pours more whiskey...
CLAUDE It was a wolf, dipshit.
...and spills some on the bar. Claude clocks it but doesn’t dwell---he’s caught up in Floyd’s theatrics.
FLOYD Wolf, dog---whatever! I can’t leave without that money! What would I even do?!
45 CLAUDE Get an actual job?
Floyd shudders again.
FLOYD Gross.
HADLEY I can hide you boys out a few nights up in the loft if you need. But if you decide to leave, I ask you don’t come back. Can’t have this kind of trouble coming around here. Not with my clientele.
Floyd looks to Claude, neither sure of what to do next.
INT. THE HIDEAWAY, HADLEY’S LOFT - DAWN
Floyd lies on a couch, pillow over his face. Hadley SNORES from an adjacent bedroom, door cracked.
Claude stares off, playing with handcuffs at Hadley’s kitchen table. Slowly ratchets them, unlocks with the key, repeats.
He glances at the couch then stands, leaving the cuffs and keys on the table. Heads toward the door.
FLOYD (O.S.) (groggy) Where you going?
Claude spins around to see Floyd, standing next to the table, picking up the handcuff key.
CLAUDE Don’t worry it about it.
FLOYD You’re leaving without me?
CLAUDE Floyd, I---
FLOYD It’s okay, bro. I understand.
Floyd moves in slow. Grabs his brother in a tight, bear hug.
46 FLOYD (CONT’D) I’m sorry about Savvy, bro.
He squeezes even harder, causing Claude to GRUNT.
CLAUDE Okay, man... We’re good...
Floyd releases him.
Reluctant, Claude throws him a bone.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) So... what are you gonna do?
FLOYD Guess I have to leave, too. But before I go I gotta try to get that money back. I can’t just leave Teal and Nik high and dry.
Claude SIGHS. Eyes the door. Then his brother.
Then another beat on the door before---
CLAUDE (to Floyd) Alright, c’mon.
INT. CLAUDE'S CAR - DAY - LATER
Claude drives. Floyd rotates his arm, rubbing his bicep.
FLOYD Man, you really fucked up my flapper arm. I’ll never beat Nik’s high score now.
CLAUDE Happy to help a little black girl get a leg up on her deadbeat dad...
A silent beat while a smile creeps onto Floyd’s face.
FLOYD I know that was s’posed to be an insult but... thanks for calling me her dad.
47 INT. BARRILEAUX HOUSE, REX’S STUDY - DAY - LATER
Claude digs through a closet. Floyd spins in an office chair.
FLOYD You know if you told me what you were looking for, I could help---
CLAUDE If I need someone to barf on command or piss their pants, I’ll make sure to enlist your services. Otherwise, just let me---
Bingo! Claude finds one of Rex’s pistols. He checks the clip, chambers a round.
Floyd flinches. Thinks a beat. Then---
FLOYD I’ve got a better idea...
INT. BARRILEAUX HOUSE, FLOYD’S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Floyd admires his display of swords. Hands on his hips, proud. He pulls down an ornate samurai sword, a maniacal grin on his face. Claude stares a beat. Then shakes his head.
CLAUDE We’re bringing the gun.
But Floyd has already knotted the sheath around his waist. Floyd nods, narrows his eyes.
FLOYD We’ll bring both.
EXT. SWAMP ROADS - DAY - LATER
Claude’s car rolls up to the same spot last night. Lit by the harsh light of day, it seems even more remote somehow.
The boys step out of the car. Claude adjusts the gun in his waistband. Floyd re-attaches the sword to his waist.
Floyd smirks, nodding at Claude.
48 FLOYD Hell yeah! Barrileaux boys.
Holds his hand up for a high-five. But Claude declines.
EXT. SWAMP VILLAGE - DAY - MOMENTS LATER
Vacated. Like no one’s been there for years. Daylight reveals a set of docks behind the huts, leading into a marshy bayou.
Claude, middle of the village, looking around, confused.
CLAUDE Deserted...
He glances over and notices Floyd PISSING on one of the huts. But not just pissing, scuttling around, trying to soak as much area as possible.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Christ, Floyd. What’re you doing?
FLOYD Marking these buildings. Staking my claim on this territory.
CLAUDE You don’t think the mud people piss all over this place, too?
FLOYD Maybe. But they haven’t been mainlining zinc for the last two years. At this point, I probably piss pure pheromone. We’ll have the home-field advantage now if these guys show back up.
RUSTLING in nearby bushes startle the boys. Claude draws his pistol. Floyd yanks his sword from its sheath but fumbles, sending it flying across the property.
A FAMILY of NUTRIA emerge from the bush.
They both SIGH, relieved.
As Floyd retrieves his sword, Claude kneels down, examining tire tracks left behind from the night before. Several lead up the gravel road, but one set head directly into the bayou.
Claude stands upright, walks to the edge of the water, a knowing sorrow on his face.
49 Floyd pieces it together, too.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Savvy’s car?
Claude nods.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Think our money’s in there?
CLAUDE I saw them search her car before I ran. They would’ve pulled it out.
FLOYD Maybe they didn’t find it until after you left?
Claude kneels, lost in thought---something about the mud.
CLAUDE Hmm...
He digs a ball of it out with this finger. Rolls it around.
It leaves a maroon coating on his fingertips.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) The clay at the docks... what color did we say it was?
FLOYD Huh..?
INT. CLAUDE'S CAR, TRUNK - DAY - LATER
The trunk POPS open. Claude and Floyd peer inside.
Floyd digs, pulls out a pair of binoculars.
CLAUDE How’d you know these would be in there?
FLOYD Dad used to make me his lookout when we’d visit the brothels in Slidell.
50 Floyd spots a dusty, wide-brimmed fedora. Puts it on.
FLOYD (CONT’D) I’d wear my Indiana Jones hat and pretend like the Picayune reporters were Nazis.
The trunk SLAMS shut.
EXT. PEARL RIVER DOCKS - SAME
Claude’s car sits at the edge of a large series of industrial piers. Enormous ships, filled with shipping containers.
And off on their own, a fleet of matching shrimp boats docked at a smaller pier, covered in red clay.
FLOYD Remember how we’d play Raiders up at the log cabin in Wiggins?
CLAUDE You mean how you’d be Indiana Jones, and Rex would make me be a Picayune reporter?
Floyd grins.
FLOYD Heh, yeah. Good times... (sigh) I loved dad.
CLAUDE He was a philanderer that got rich taking bribes and kickbacks.
FLOYD I know, he was so awesome!
CLAUDE He cheated on mom and let murderers go free.
FLOYD Sheesh! When you put it like that...
Floyd points to the shrimp boats.
51 FLOYD (CONT’D) That’a way...
EXT. PEARL RIVER DOCKS, SHORELINE - MOMENTS LATER
The boys take cover behind a large stack of wooden pallets. Floyd peers through the binoculars at the shrimp boats.
FLOYD’S P.O.V.: The docks appear empty. But Floyd notices---
FLOYD Red clay! Just like in the village!
Claude wrestles the binoculars away from Floyd.
CLAUDE Let me see...
Claude peers through them.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) That’s it alright.
Floyd glances around, worried. Clenches his knees together. Does a little dance.
FLOYD Hey Claude..? How long you think we’ll be out here? I really gotta take a leak again.
Still peering through the binoculars---
CLAUDE Dunno, Floyd. Could be hours. Why don’t you just go take a leak in the river?
FLOYD That’s disgusting.
CLAUDE What..?
FLOYD Children swim in that water.
52 CLAUDE (V.O.) Floyd had a way of viewing the world that seemed at once both idiosyncratic and idiotic.
Claude notices Floyd picking his nose, rapidly swapping back and forth between nostrils.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Mom used to say God broke the mold when he made my brother, but I think the mold was broke before he went in the oven.
Sudden SCREECHING as a car TEARS onto the roadway leading to the docks.
Floyd points.
FLOYD Whoa, check it out!
CLAUDE’S P.O.V.: Through the binoculars, Claude spots a black 70s Camaro, two white racing stripes down the middle.
It SKIDS to a stop. Floyd squints.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Is that..?
Out steps
CLAUDE The Wolf-man.
Claude grits his teeth.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Well, Mister Hitman, you gonna take this one, or should I?
FLOYD I-I, uh---
Claude hands the binoculars to Floyd.
CLAUDE Yeah, didn’t think so...
As Claude reaches for the gun in his waistband---
THUD!
53 Floyd looks at Claude, confused.
Another THUD.
Floyd drops to the ground. Claude looks over his shoulder at
MICK AND RALPH.
The former in an eyepatch, latter in a neck brace.
RALPH Found bofe ya cunts this time, din’t we?
Mick PUNCHES Claude, knocking him clean out.
CUT TO BLACK.
CLAUDE’S P.O.V.
Woozy. Dark. Claude comes to, a dark bag over his head. Just enough light shines through to make out two figures in the front seat of a car.
RALPH MICK I’m tellin’ ya... this leather SAP is a guarantee. Knocks ‘em out, every time. I dunno what they teach you “across da pond”--- They’re in all your classic gangster movies- -- But here in America, any muscle worth his salt knows the cleanest knockout is a sock to the jaw---
Y’know what? I’m about sick o’you wif all your “limey this, limey that” business--- And I’m sick of all your limey jabber- jawing. You know what you are---you’re a philistine! A what?!
A phili---
Mick SNIFFS the air.
54 MICK (V.O.) Shut up for a sec would’ya? What’s that smell?
RALPH (V.O.) Huh? Oh, I think Floyd might’ve pissed ‘imself when I knocked ‘im out... Wif my SAP.
Mick GROANS as Claude fades out of consciousness again.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. WENDY’S RESTAURANT - DAY - LATER
Black pillowcases fly off Claude and Floyd’s heads.
A near-blinding influx of light causes them to squint. Takes a beat to realize they’re sitting in a fast food booth across from Albert, his yacht hat resting neatly next to his tray.
Mick and Ralph in the booth behind them.
Albert grabs their attention with a loud---
ALBERT Mmm-mmm-mmm...
As he chows down on---
ALBERT (CONT’D) Junior. Bacon. Cheeseburger. And only ninety-nine cents, no less. Truly divine.
Albert folds a napkin. Wipes the corners of his mouth.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Now, to business...
Floyd eyes the order of Biggie Fries on Albert’s tray. Actually licks his lips.
FLOYD Hey, Mr. Albert? Think I could...
Albert looks down at the fries, then stares at Floyd.
After a beat---
55 ALBERT Oh, why not.
Floyd grins, grabs a handful.
Claude spots a group of rednecks teens a few tables away---TWO GIRLS, TWO BOYS. They eat and GIGGLE.
Before he can react, Mick leans in close.
MICK Don’t even think about it, Professor.
ALBERT Before we proceed I feel there are a few things that need clearing up---
With a mouthful of fries---
FLOYD Hey---where’s my katana?!
ALBERT Beg your pardon..?
Claude rolls his eyes.
CLAUDE His ninja sword.
FLOYD Um, the ninjato was the traditional sword of the Shinobi. Katanas and Wakizashi were wielded by Samurai.
Albert SIGHS. Looks to Mick and Ralph.
RALPH Frew it in da river.
FLOYD Aw, man.
Floyd notices Ralph’s head.
FLOYD (CONT’D) My hat!
56 Ralph smacks Floyd on the back of the head.
ALBERT Ahem... as I was saying---
CLAUDE What about my gun?
MICK River.
Albert GRIPS the handle of his walking cane.
ALBERT And if you two don’t stop interrupting me, you’ll be joining them as well.
Claude and Floyd both shift in their seats.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Now... what were you two doing down yonder at my dock?
Floyd looks to Claude.
CLAUDE Tracking down your money.
ALBERT Doesn’t this one over here have it.
Albert gestures to Floyd.
CLAUDE It was stolen from him. We’re not sure exactly where it is.
ALBERT Well, unfortunate as this may be for the two of you, I have no interest in retrieving that pittance. However, it has recently come to my attention that money isn’t the only thing your brother pilfered from my coffers.
Claude looks to Floyd. Floyd chokes on a bite of fry.
57 ALBERT (CONT’D) I believe he was overheard in a local rundown tavern referring to it as his “insurance policy.”
CLAUDE What’s he talking about, Floyd?
Floyd, reluctant.
FLOYD They’re in my dad’s safe... back at the family house.
Albert takes the final bite of his burger. Wipes his fingers clean. Places his yacht hat back onto his head.
ALBERT Very well. We shall retrieve this “insurance policy” of yours before continuing on to Cypress Grove where you will finally---
From behind, one of the teen boys in a TRUCKER HAT---
TRUCKER HAT Hey, Skipper! Where’s Gilligan?
The teens CRACK UP. Albert closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. The LAUGHTER dies down.
ALBERT As I was saying, where you two will finally complete your task. After which---
Trucker Hat’s GOATEED FRIEND chimes in.
GOATEED TEEN This queer looks more like Gilligan.
TRUCKER HAT Guess the Skipper forgot his hat in your hut after he butt-fucked you last night..?
The Teen Boys can hardly contain themselves. The Girls look uncomfortable with the taunting.
Albert tries to remain zen.
58 ALBERT (quickly) After which you’ll have repaid your debt to me.
Mick’s hands turn to fists. He begins to stand, but Albert lifts a hand, stopping him.
Albert musters his strength, uses his cane to lift up from the booth. He takes weak, shaky steps toward their table.
He stops in front of them.
ALBERT (CONT’D) I believe, you were inquiring about my carnal embrace with a sailor?
The Cheerleader looks over at Mick and Ralph, turns ashen.
CHEERLEADER We’re so sorry, sir. We didn’t mean to interrupt you and your friends’ meal. They’re just being boys---
GOATEED TEEN Chill, Tracy. We’re underage. What’re they gonna do?
Trucker Hat looks up at Albert. Smirks.
TRUCKER HAT Well..? What’cha gonna do? Faggot.
Albert lifts his cane and SMACKS Trucker Hat in the side of the neck, instantly knocking him out.
Cheerleader lets out a quick SCREAM. Goatee begins to stand, but Albert softly presses his cane against his chest.
ALBERT I would not recommend standing up.
Albert leans down, speaking to the quivering Girls.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Should either of you poor girls find yourself the victim of nonconsensual groping by either of these miscreant pig bladders, a swift chop to the carotid...
59 Albert demonstrates, tapping on Goatee’s neck. Goatee winces.
ALBERT (CONT’D) ...is the most effective way to knock a person out.
Albert stands, glances back at his party. Gestures.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Time for us to take our leave, gentlemen.
As Albert limps toward the exit, he spots the STORE MANAGER standing at the front counter.
Albert pauses. Manager eyes the table of teens, then Albert.
After a tense beat, the Manager smiles.
STORE MANAGER How was your meal, Mr. Albert?
ALBERT Très délicieux, Terry. As usual.
Terry nods as Albert exits.
Mick and Ralph forcefully stand the boys up, escorting them to the exit. As they pass Terry, Claude glares.
CLAUDE Don’t suppose I could get you to call the police?
Still smiling---
TERRY Y’all have a nice day now.
Mick and Claude exit. Floyd looks over his shoulder at Ralph.
FLOYD C’mon, man! Let me have my hat back... Pleeease?
60 EXT. FRENCH QUARTER, ROYAL STREET - DAY
The daytime CROWD. FAMILIES pile out of kitschy, cajun-themed gift stores. A street band PLAYS. A fat, seemingly HOMELESS MAN eats a muffaletta. Like Main Street at Disneyland until
A LIMOUSINE rolls into the thoroughfare. A spectacle right out of 70s Vegas. And protruding from the sunroof
FLOYD. HOOTING at every MOTHER he spots, single or otherwise.
FLOYD Woo-hoo!
INT. LIMOUSINE - SAME
Floyd’s bottom half dances on the seat next to Claude. Across from them, Albert sits, back to the separator.
Claude looks up at Floyd, then to Albert.
CLAUDE (V.O.) I couldn’t understand why Albert always seemed to indulge my brother.
CLAUDE Why do you always---
ALBERT Indulge your brother..? What’s the harm?
CLAUDE You just don’t seem the type.
ALBERT Oh, no..? (re: his attire) I seem to you like the kind of man who suppresses his proclivities?
CLAUDE (V.O.) Point taken.
ALBERT Thankfully, we reside in a city that will abide a penchant or two.
61 Claude pulls the flask from his coat, GULPS.
ALBERT (CONT’D) You’re lucky, you know. I never had the joy of growing up with any siblings. At least, none my father felt the need to introduce.
CLAUDE I suspect my family tree might have a few invisible branches, too.
Albert scans Claude.
ALBERT Y’know, you don’t remind me of him of him at all.
CLAUDE Floyd and I are total oppos---
ALBERT Not the orangutan... Rex.
Claude straightens up.
ALBERT (CONT’D) My family owes a great deal to your paterfamilias. We would not be what we are today were it not for him. One might say you and I are like cousins, after a fashion. (gesturing to the sunroof) He reminds me of Rex. But you---you do not.
CLAUDE I’ll take that as a compliment.
ALBERT You wonder why a foppish dandy indulges your brother when the real question is... (leaning in) Why don’t you?
FLOYD (O.C.) Hey..!
62 EXT. FRENCH QUARTER, ROYAL STREET - DAY
Floyd uses his hands as a megaphone.
FLOYD Hey, you!
Floyd points to a
YOUNG MOTHER (20s). TWO CHILDREN, one on either hand. She looks up at Floyd from the sidewalk.
He gestures for her to lift her shirt.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Show me your... (mouthing) Boobs.
He mimes two chest-level melons.
The Mother’s lip curls in disgust. Her son hurls a glass soda bottle at Floyd, making direct contact with his forehead.
INT. LIMOUSINE - SAME
THUD--! Floyd collapses onto the floor.
The partition window ROLLS down.
MICK What in the holy fuck is going on back there?
ALBERT Everything is just peachy, Michael. You may continue.
Mick GRUMBLES to himself while rolling up the partition window. Floyd lifts himself up into a seat. Claude GROANS.
FLOYD What’s got you so grumpy?
CLAUDE We’re both literally and metaphorically riding to a grave.
63 FLOYD Don’t you mean metaphysically?
CLAUDE What?! No! And why aren’t you?
FLOYD How could anyone be grumpy in a friggin’ limo, man! WOO-HOO!
Claude winces. Albert smiles.
EXT. BARRILEAUX ESTATE - DAY - LATER
The limousine arrives, parking next to the porch.
Mick and Ralph step out first. Ralph opens the door for the boys and Albert. Mick pops open the trunk, rummages.
The five of them climb the porch steps. Enter the front door.
INT. BARRILEAUX HOUSE - DAY
As they step inside to the foyer, Claude clocks a sawed-off dangling at Mick’s side. Recognizes it as Hadley’s.
Claude’s eyes wander from the gun to Mick’s unamused face. Mick shakes his head, brings a finger his lips---keep quiet.
From the living room, a FEMALE VOICE.
FEMALE VOICE (O.S.) I’ll speak with the current owners to see what we can do about unclogging that upstairs sink.
The REALTOR rounds the corner to the foyer, followed closely by a couple, MALE and FEMALE BUYERS.
REALTOR Otherwise, what do you think of---
She realizes they have company and SHRIEKS. They all freeze.
She makes eye contact with Claude as he offers a weak wave.
64 CLAUDE Hey, Karen.
Mick hides the shotgun behind his leg.
Karen, with a nervous smile.
KAREN Oh, boy. You gave us quite a startle there. (to the buyers) Jeff, Lindsey, this is Claude and Floyd Barrileaux, the owners.
FLOYD Howdy!
Albert CLEARS his throat.
CLAUDE Uh, sorry. Not to be rude, but we, uh... you see, we’re...
Floyd sees an opportunity to save the day.
FLOYD These guys are plumbers.
Karen, incredulous.
KAREN You three are...
MICK Plumbers. Yeah, sure.
FLOYD Actually, this guy... (pointing to Ralph) He’s the bug man.
After a quick beat, Ralph catches on. He doffs his fedora.
RALPH ‘Ere to fumigate, mum. So, if you don’t mind moving this show out onto the patio...
65 LINDSEY This place has bugs?!
Lindsey re-wraps a shawl around herself.
KAREN I, uh---
JEFF That definitely seems like something you should’ve disclosed at your office.
Lindsey storms out. Jeff turns to Claude before leaving.
JEFF (CONT’D) Our condolences for your loss.
Karen on their tail. She stops in the threshold.
KAREN (to Claude) What the fuck was that?
CLAUDE Sorry, I---
KAREN Good luck finding someone else to rep this tire fire!
She SLAMS the door behind her.
CLAUDE Great. I had to pay her up front. I’ll never get that back.
Mick peeks through the blinds of a side window. Waits.
Outside, the sound of cars TEARING OFF down the driveway.
Mick turns back to the group.
MICK We’re clear.
66 REX’S STUDY
Similar in decor to Albert’s study. Mahogany. Red leather. A large photo of Rex hangs behind his desk chair---same one from the funeral.
They pile in. Floyd steps behind the desk. Reaches beneath it.
Mick lifts the shotgun, aims at Floyd.
MICK Easy there, killer.
Floyd raises one hand, moves slow with the other. He presses a button beneath the desk. CLICK.
The portrait of Rex slides up to reveal a wall safe.
Albert, unimpressed. Mick, focused. Ralph, amazed.
RALPH Ace!
Floyd spins the combination lock.
FLOYD (acting, terribly) Drat! I can’t seem to remember the last number of the combo. Claude?
Claude glances at Mick. Mick gestures.
MICK Yeah, sure. Join your brother on the other side of the room.
Mick follows Claude with the shotgun.
Claude stops just short of the desk.
MICK (CONT’D) Little closer. Inside the spread. I hate to waste ammo.
Claude reluctantly obliges. Mick nods.
67 CLAUDE (sotto, to Floyd) How the fuck should I know the combination? I didn’t even know he had a safe!
FLOYD (loudly, to everyone) Eleven, that’s right! Duh-doi! (sotto, to Claude) It’s cool, bro. I’ve got a plan.
Floyd smirks.
CLAUDE (sotto) Floyd, whatever you’re thinking about doing, please don’t.
Albert rubs his temples.
ALBERT Hearing you two whisper over there is prodigiously annoying.
Ralph approaches the boys.
RALPH Right. How ‘bout we all just---
Floyd winks at Claude and pulls a lever inside the safe. A large section of the wall PIVOTS, swings around sending the boys and Ralph into
REX’S PANIC ROOM
But the closing panel catches Ralph’s leg. Floyd grabs Ralph and tugs. CRACK---there goes Ralph’s tibia.
RALPH Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell!
But he’s still stuck, keeping the wall slightly propped open.
FLOYD Shit, I’m sorry Ralph! (to Claude) Help me get him out!
68 REX’S STUDY
Mick races over to the wall. Places the gun on the desk. Digs his fingers into the small opening. PULLS.
REX’S PANIC ROOM
Claude and Floyd each grab one of Ralph’s arms and YANK. Ralph’s foot finally gives, dislocating his ankle.
Ralph SHRIEKS.
REX'S STUDY
The closing wall clips the tips of Mick’s fingers, leaving him with mess of blood on his hands.
MICK FUCK!
REX’S PANIC ROOM
The wall closes, leaving them in total darkness.
CLAUDE Where the fuck are we, Floyd? I can’t see anything!
FLOYD Just... one...
Floyds STUMBLES around.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Sec...
CLICK--!
Red lights flicker on to reveal a
SEX DUNGEON.
Wall of dildos, in every color and size. Whips, chains, harnesses, belts, gags, cuffs. An actual BARREL of silicone lube. Bondage swing. What appears to be sybian saddle prototype. Name a kink, Papa Barrileaux had it.
69 CLAUDE (V.O.) Nothing sucks quite so hard as discovering your own personal “fate worse than death.”
CLAUDE You’re fucking kidding me...
Ralph squirms around the floor.
RALPH Oh, you motherfuckers!
Ralph goes for his gun. Floyd’s eyes bug out as he waddles over, squats down, and with a swift CHOP to the carotid...
FLOYD I’m sorry, Ralph!
...knocks Ralph out cold.
He takes the gun from Ralph and hands it to Claude.
FLOYD (CONT’D) (yelling through the wall) You guys are fucked now! We’ve got a gun, too! Woot! Barrileaux Boys!
Claude stares down at the gun in his hand. Walks over to the barrel of lube, pries off the lid, and drops it in.
FLOYD (CONT’D) What’re you doing, bro?
Claude walks to the wall safe, reaches inside.
CLAUDE (yelling through the wall) We’re coming out! Please don’t---
Mick FIRES a round into the wall.
Claude and Floyd both duck. But it doesn’t penetrate.
FLOYD Not a good idea. We kinda passed a point of no return here.
70 REX’S STUDY
Mick, furious, looks to Albert, more disappointed than angry.
They study the panic room wall.
MICK What do we do, boss?
ALBERT Burn the place down if we must.
MICK Ralph?
ALBERT Only if we must.
Mick nods.
ALBERT (CONT’D) (re: Mick’s bloody hands) Clean your wounds, Michael. Leave me with my thoughts for a spell.
REX’S PANIC ROOM
Claude nurses on the flask, glaring at Floyd.
But Floyd’s too busy worrying about Ralph to notice.
FLOYD What should we do about him?
CLAUDE It’s your mess. Clean it up.
Floyd, looking around, flummoxed. Claude stows the flask, regards the menagerie of erotic toys. Thinks.
QUICK MONTAGE:
---Mick in the bathroom. Opens the medicine cabinet. Pulls out gauze and tape. Wraps his fingertips.
---Claude and Floyd tie Ralph up in bondage straps.
71 ---Mick secures the bandages with tape, using his teeth to tear it off the roll.
---Floyd places a ball gag in Ralph’s mouth, tightens it around his head.
REX'S STUDY
Albert sits in Rex’s desk chair, leaning forward on his walking cane, staring at the wall.
Mick returns. Albert turns to him and nods. Mick reciprocates with a knowing nod, steps outside.
REX’S PANIC ROOM
Claude uses a long, wooden paddle as a splint for Ralph’s leg. As he straps it up, Ralph stirs, then panics, SWEARING through the ball gag.
EXT. BARRILEAUX ESTATE - MOMENTS LATER
The sun is setting. Mick pops the trunk of the limousine.
REX’S PANIC ROOM
Floyd hangs awkwardly in the bondage swing, looks around, reminiscing.
FLOYD You know... this is the room where Nikkia was conceived.
CLAUDE Ugh. Can we not talk about how you and Rex shared a sex dungeon?
FLOYD Someone’s jealous.
CLAUDE Pfft...
Claude takes a seat on a spanking horse. Then---
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Wait, if you and Rex had all... this, why the hell were you jerkin’ off in the bathroom?
72 Floyd shrugs.
FLOYD That’s the bathroom I grew up masturbating in. It’s nostalgic.
Claude GROANS.
FLOYD (CONT’D) ‘Sides, this place isn’t fun by yourself.
CLAUDE Right, ‘cause I’m sure having a blast right now...
Claude, head in his hands.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) I can’t believe I’m gonna die next to a barrel of my family’s fuck-sludge.
Floyd examines the barrel of lube, then to the safe wall, cogs turning in his head.
FLOYD Hey..!
Claude knows that look.
CLAUDE Oh no, whatever you’re thinking---
FLOYD Bro, listen---
CLAUDE No, I’m done listening. Every time I go along with one of your dumbass plans we get buried deeper in shit.
FLOYD But this’ll work, I know it!
CLAUDE How?! They’ve got us pinned, at close range, with a sawed off, and all we’ve got is... (gesturing) A pile of fucking butt plugs!
73 Floyd looks back at the barrel of lube. Leans down, removes his hat from Ralph’s head, puts it on. Smirks.
FLOYD They don’t know that.
REX’S STUDY - LATER
Mick returns with a jerrycan of gasoline. He uncaps the can. Looks to Albert. Albert nods. As he rears back with the can to begin dousing
THE WALL PIVOTS, revealing the gagged and bound Ralph. Claude behind him, propping him up, something pressing into the small of his back. Floyd to their left, smirking, confident.
Mick quickly swaps the gas can for the shotgun on the desk.
No one with a clear advantage---an Atchafalaya standoff.
ALBERT If you release our man and stop this foolishness I promise to have Michael shoot you before we turn your family’s estate to cinders.
FLOYD Not so fast, Mr. Albert! Claude’s got Ralph’s gun pointed right at his spine. One wrong move and BANG! Ralph never walks again.
Claude eyes the shotgun in Mick’s hand. Then looks to Floyd, eyes full of worry.
Albert clocks his apprehension.
ALBERT Your brother’s a wise man, best you take a page from his playbook.
FLOYD You have no idea what my brother is capable. Don’t make me make him do it. He’ll pull the trigger!
ALBERT After you’ve lost your human shield, what, pray tell, will keep Michael from unleashing a hail of buckshot into you and your brother?
74 FLOYD He can’t shoot us...
Floyd reaches behind his back, produces a large, leather whip.
FLOYD (CONT’D) If he doesn’t have a gun!
In one smooth motion, it unfurls. Floyd swirls it above his head in a perfect circle. He swings forward, overhanded, and the tail wraps perfectly around Mick’s gun.
Floyd yanks the lasso.
But Mick yanks harder, pulling it right out of Floyd’s hand. It lands on the ground next to Mick with a THUD.
Mick PUMPS the fore-end of the gun.
MICK You dumb motherfucker.
Takes aim. FIRES off a shot at Floyd.
But Floyd dives out of the way, only catching a few beads in his arm. He hides behind a leather sofa, clutching his arm.
FLOYD Fuck me!
Mick RE-PUMPS, aims for his next shot.
Claude panics. Pushes Ralph to the ground revealing a massive PURPLE DONG in lieu of a gun. He tosses it at Mick but PEGS Albert right in the temple.
Albert wobbles back. Tries to maintain his balance, the right side of his face drooping.
ALBERT Sub-ubba-bith...
He loses balance, waving his arms as he falls onto his back.
On his way down, Albert SMACKS Mick in the face with his walking cane. The shotgun discharges STRIKING THE JERRYCAN.
It EXPLODES, sending Mick flying back.
75 Fires break out all over the room. Bookshelf, Rex’s desk.
Floyd peeks up from behind the sofa.
FLOYD Did we win?
Claude runs to Mick, knocked unconscious from the explosion, his leather jacket on fire.
CLAUDE Shit!
He grabs a blanket off the sofa and uses it to extinguish the fire. Once out, he pulls the blanket away, accidentally yanking off Mick’s eyepatch, exposing his fucked up eye.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Oh, christ...
Claude GAGS, rifling through Mick’s pockets until he finds
LIMO KEYS.
Still behind the sofa, Floyd doesn’t notice Ralph inch-worm his way over. Ralph sinks his teeth into Floyd’s ankle.
FLOYD Ow!
He looks down to see Ralph gnawing at his leg.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Oh, for fuck’s sake...
Floyd shakes him off, then leans down and...
FLOYD (CONT’D) Sorry, buddy.
...gives Ralph another CHOP to the carotid.
Ralph’s head THUMPS to the ground.
Claude makes for the door.
CLAUDE Quit screwing around, let’s go!
76 Floyd doesn’t budge. He looks at the fire, then to the criminals littering the floor.
FLOYD We can’t just leave ‘em!
CLAUDE Are you fucking kidding me?!
FLOYD They’ll burn!
CLAUDE They want to kill us!
Floyd with the pouty lip. Claude SIGHS, resigns to it.
He grabs Mick under his arms, drags him out of the office.
Floyd takes Albert into his arms, one arm under his back, the other under his legs. Doesn’t notice Albert’s limp arm knock the hat off his head.
EXT. BARRILEAUX ESTATE - NIGHT - SAME
Claude pulls Mick outside, down the porch steps. He loses his footing and tumbles back. Mick’s unconscious body slides down the stairs like a busted Slinky.
Floyd runs out, GASPING FOR AIR, still cradling Albert.
Claude drags Mick to a massive bald cypress on the property’s edge. Floyd meets them, placing Albert on the ground next to Mick, leaning him up against the tree.
Albert grabs weakly at the bottom of Floyd’s shorts.
Through the side of his mouth---
ALBERT Dunt thint that jus cawz yew---
Floyd pulls away causing Albert to fall over.
FLOYD You can threaten me later, Mr. Albert. I gotta go save Ralph!
Floyd sprints back toward the house.
77 Just before he reaches the porch steps an
EXPLOSION blows the roof off the second story, blowing Floyd back onto his ass.
Claude freeze, in shock. Floyd looks back to him.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Is Ralph---
CLAUDE Dead. He’s definitely dead.
Floyd suddenly notices his bare head.
FLOYD Aw, man---my hat!
Floyd heads for Albert and Mick.
CLAUDE Leave ‘em.
FLOYD But---
CLAUDE Leave. Them.
Claude runs to the limousine, fumbling with the keys. Floyd hesitates one last time.
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT
They fall inside. Claude starts the IGNITION.
CLAUDE That was not the plan we discussed!
FLOYD I improvised!
CLAUDE A whip?!
FLOYD We made it didn’t we?!
78 As the limousine TEARS down the gravel driveway, Claude watches his family estate burn in the rearview mirror.
EXT. HWY 90 - NIGHT - LATER
The limousine speeds along a two-lane country road.
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - SAME
Claude drives, looking empty. Floyd pokes at his arm where the shotgun beads are still lodged.
FLOYD Ow...
Floyd notices at the passing landscape---something’s off.
FLOYD (CONT’D) We aren’t going back to---
CLAUDE Yes... we are.
Floyd starts to object but reconsiders off Claude’s dagger-filled glare.
EXT. DECATUR STREET - NIGHT - LATER
Claude steers the limousine into the small parking lot of a hotel. Parks in a space much too small for the oversized car.
INT. THE HIDEAWAY - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
WRECKED. Like a hurricane passed through.
Bullet holes in the bar. A shotgun blast has taken out the pinball machine. Most of the glassware shattered.
The boys step inside. Floyd, taken aback, looks to Claude.
FLOYD How’d you know?
79 CLAUDE Mick had his sawed-off. (shouting) Had?! You here?
They hear a MOAN. COUGHING from behind the bar.
Claude follows the sound. As he rounds the register, he spots
HADLEY, lying on the ground, supine. Covered in blood, scrapes, bruises.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) No...
Claude races to him. Hadley struggles to breathe.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Just try to relax, Had.
Floyd stands at the edge of the bar, frozen.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) We’re gonna get you some help.
Trying not to look---
FLOYD Wh-what should I---
CLAUDE Call 9-1-1!
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - LATER
Claude follows close behind an ambulance. Knuckles white, swirling lights on his face. Floyd stares off in shock.
INT. WEST JEFFERSON MEDICAL, WAITING ROOM - NIGHT - LATER
Empty, save for the boys. Claude nervously taps his foot. Floyd twiddles his thumbs. He looks at Claude then stands.
80 FLOYD I think I’m gonna make some coffee. You want some coffee? I’m gonna get us both some coffee.
Claude SIGHS.
CLAUDE I don’t want any fucking coffee. Just sit down.
Floyd paces. Claude tries to ignore him.
FLOYD I don’t get it... Why Hadley?
Claude stands. Pokes Floyd’s chest, shoving him back.
CLAUDE You, Floyd. You and Rex did this. You can’t keep it in your pants, can’t just be happy with what you have. You had to go and steal from a psychopath. This is on you.
FLOYD That’s a mean thing to say.
CLAUDE It’s true. All I wanted was to handle the succession and get the hell out of this place. Now the house is gone, Savvy’s dead, and I’m probably about to lose the only other person I give a shit about in this lousy town.
FLOYD Well... I’m still here.
CLAUDE One more reason to leave.
FLOYD I can’t believe you’d say that. After everything I’ve done for you.
CLAUDE I’m sorry, did you just say after everything you’ve done for me?
81 FLOYD Yes. What I’ve done for you.
CLAUDE Take it back or I’m gonna fuck up your other flapper arm.
Floyd hesitates before---
FLOYD It was all gone, Claude. All dad’s money, all the savings. And there’s so many liens against the house, and the land, even if you do sell it, you won’t get anything for it.
Claude fumes.
CLAUDE Typical. Guessing it all went into that fuck palace of yours?
FLOYD Of course not!
Claude crosses his arms, waiting for an explanation.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Dad had been protecting Mr. Albert for years. So, to say thanks, Mr. Albert gave him insider info on a rigged fight. Before he was muscle for Mr. Albert, Mick was a boxer. He was supposed to take a dive in the eighth, but the other guy---he had an aneurysm in round six. Dad lost everything on that match. He thought Mr. Albert gave him bum intel. So, he made me promise to get revenge. To get back our inheritance.
CLAUDE Well, congrats on finding an inheritance worse than nothing. Guess that’s two bad bets for Rex.
Floyd STAMPS the ground. Fed up. So pissed he acutally spits on the floor in front of Claude.
82 FLOYD Stop it! Just stop... I know I’m not as smart as you or have my shit even remotely together, but at least I try. At least I don’t blame everyone else for all my problems.
CLAUDE How could you? No one actively sabotages your life half as much as you do by accident.
FLOYD You act like everyone forces you to go it alone, but that's not true. You chose to leave. Dad would've paid for you to go to Tulane, but no, you just had to go to Chicago.
CLAUDE Seattle.
FLOYD Whatever, man! My point is you’re selfish. And miserable. And-and...
CLAUDE Well? Spit it out.
FLOYD You’re an asshole.
CLAUDE The miserable asshole who took care of mom when she got sick. While you and dad were off at the brothel.
FLOYD Everybody handles tragedy different.
Claude shakes his head.
CLAUDE You sound just like him.
FLOYD Is that what this is all about? You were jealous of our connection?
83 CLAUDE You know why I chose archeology for my major? ‘Cause I never got to be Indy when we played Raiders. How fucking stupid is that? I thought it might finally make him see in me whatever he saw in you. But when I finally found something that was mine, Rex forced me to give it up.
FLOYD Oh, boo-hoo! So dad didn’t trust-fund your dream of being a rockstar. You think I played Indy all the time then just woke up one day and decided, “hey, I think I’ll become a criminal”? He didn't exactly give me a choice either! At least if you hadn’t bailed on me---
CLAUDE I didn’t bail on you, I escaped from you. From a life of cleaning up your messes.
FLOYD I never asked you to take care of me!
CLAUDE No... MOM did!
The waiting room falls silent. Floyd, hurt.
FLOYD Mom thought I was a fuck up..?
An uncomfortable beat as Floyd processes this. Claude takes a breath. Shakes his head. Steps away.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Wh-where are you going?
CLAUDE As far away from you as possible...
Floyd, all alone, suddenly notices a MALE NURSE standing a few feet away. Not sure how much he witnessed.
MALE NURSE Um... Mr. Hadley’s able to have visitors now.
84 HADLEY’S HOSPITAL ROOM
Tubes and wires. EKG and other monitors. A large respirator.
Hadley rests in his bed, still out of it.
Floyd approaches, places a hand on Hadley’s shoulder.
FLOYD I’m so sorry, Had. You don’t deserve this. It’s all my fault. I shoulda kept it in my pants, been happy with what I had. (beat) Who’m I kidding? I’m never gonna be a hitman... Right..? I should probably just get a regular job, flipping burgers at Wendy’s or something. God knows I’m not good for much else---
Floyd glances over to see Hadley sporting a massive erection.
A FEMALE NURSE steps in, checking the monitors. Notices Floyd turning white, staring at Hadley’s boner.
FEMALE NURSE Oh, don’t mind that. It’s common for a patients under sedation to get aroused. It’s nothing you did.
Floyd forces a CHUCKLE.
FLOYD Heh, right.
FEMALE NURSE It’ll go down on its own.
Female Nurse finishes her pass. Exits.
Floyd gives Hadley’s shoulder one last squeeze.
FLOYD Well... I’m gonna get out of here. I wanna say goodbye to Nik and Teal before I leave town. Dunno if Claude’s coming back but if I run into him... I’ll.. Well...
Floyd SIGHS.
85 FLOYD (CONT’D) See ya, Had.
As Floyd turns to exit, he hears Hadley MURMURING. Floyd rushes back to his bedside, leans in.
FLOYD (CONT’D) What’s that, Had? You saying something?
Floyd inches closer.
HADLEY (weak) The... the wolf man...
FLOYD Wolf-man? You mean the tattoo guy? The one who shot Savvy?
HADLEY Lou... Giroux. Tell Claude... his name’s... Lou Giroux.
Hadley COUGHS a few times and passes out. Floyd glances around the room, unsure of what to do with this knowledge.
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - CONCURRENT
Still in the parking lot, Claude stares at a wall in front of him. On it, a mural, depicting an alligator eating its young.
CLAUDE (V.O.) I know what you’re thinking---too on the nose. But there it was, staring me down, like the cajun ghost of Christmas past... (facetious) ”Your father sabotaged your ability to form meaningful relationships--- ooooh!”
He SIGHS. STARTS the engine.
86 INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - LATER
Claude attempts to navigate through the sea of bodies in the French Quarter. He HONKS. Gestures for people to move.
They don’t, instead pummeling the limo with hand grenade cocktails and fish bowls of liquor.
EXT. TREME NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT - LATER
Floyd ascends the steps to Teal’s house. KNOCKS.
TEAL (O.S.) FLOYD (through the door) Whoever this is best be here to tell me I won the goddamn lottery! It’s me, Teal--- I don’t know any “me”--- It’s Floyd. (beat) The sperm donor.
Teal cracks the chain-locked door. Peeks through.
TEAL What the hell you doin’ here bangin’ on my door this late like you was the police?
FLOYD (smiles) You won the lottery?
She GROANS. SLAMS the door shut.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Wait, I just need to---
SWALLOWS hard. Mouth dry. Can’t find the words.
TEAL (O.S.) Damnit, Floyd. I told you to stop coming ‘round when your drunk and feelin’ sorry for yaself!
87 FLOYD I’m not drunk, Teal. I just... I want you and Nik to know, I’d never just run out or disappear without telling you first. There’s something I’ve got to do and---
Teal opens the door, a mix of anger and concern on her face.
TEAL Boy, quit playin’.
FLOYD I’m not. I might... not see you again after tonight. And I don’t want you to think I finally took dad’s advice and just shoved off. You two are all I got.
TEAL Here’s an idea---don’t do whatever yo’ dumbass is thinkin’ ‘bout doin’. You thought of that?
FLOYD Just for once, I want to know what it’s like to be the thing that goes right in someone’s life. If this works, I’ll be able to pay you back for all the years I was just...
TEAL A sperm donor?
FLOYD Yeah, that. And then... if you want me out of your life for good...
She grabs Floyd by the face. Kisses him. The kind of kiss that usually happens at the end of a movie.
TEAL You can’t keep playing a good guy and a bad guy, Floyd. Eventually, you gotta choose.
FLOYD I don’t know if I can tell the difference anymore.
88 TEAL Well, here’s a hint: good guys save the day and bad guys wreck it. And you goin’ off to do some ol’ bullshit that’s gonna get you killed is wreckin’ it for us.
FLOYD Sorry. I’ve gotta fix this.
Floyd reluctantly steps away. Teal, tearing up.
TEAL You’s a sorry sonuvabitch, Floyd.
FLOYD I know.
EXT. 9TH WARD - NIGHT - LATER
Claude stops next to a rundown park. Hardly any lights. Still overrun with people despite it being close to midnight.
EXT. SAVVY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT - SAME
Claude KNOCKS on the door of a ratty tenement, a larger house that’s been subdivided into smaller “apartments”. As he pulls his hand away, chips of old paint stick to his knuckles.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Sav and I’d known Farrah since middle school...
FARRAH MOAN answers, a neon drag queen in her 30s, her pupils large as dimes. House music BLASTS from behind her.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Only back then, she had a different name...
Farrah gives him the once over.
CLAUDE (V.O.) This city might embrace misfits and outsiders, but twelve year olds can be pretty damn unforgiving.
89 His face finally registers. She smiles, then SQUEALS, her voice a sassy mix of mid-city “yat” and dropped Rs.
FARRAH Lil’ Clau-fish, dat you?
CLAUDE Hey, Far.
FARRAH Long time no see, hon-ey!
They hug, tight. Farrah looks behind her.
FARRAH (CONT’D) If you’re here for Sav, I haven’t seen her in---what day is it? Whatever. I haven’t seen her for a few days. Fact, last time we talked she was off to see your ass.
CLAUDE Yeah, that’s actually why I---um, can I come in?
FARRAH Of course, hon...
She ushers him inside.
INT. SAVVY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT - SAME
The door shuts out the porch light, and the two of them enter the living room. BLACKLIGHTS and a slow STROBE turn Farrah’s makeup into a psychedelic mask.
Claude takes in the setting.
Remnants of a party that looks part rave, part orgy.
TWO GUYS make out on the couch. What looks like a CAST MEMBER from the musical CATS sprawls out on the floor. An assortment of COLLEGE KIDS gather around a bong in the kitchenette.
Farrah has to YELL over the music.
FARRAH So, you were saying about Savvy..?
90 CLAUDE I just, uh---I need to grab something from her room, then I’ll be out of your hair.
Farrah, distracted by the bong. Reshapes her hair.
FARRAH Oh, you like it?
CLAUDE Huh? No, I meant---never mind.
FARRAH Oh, well, it’s fake, anyway.
CLAUDE I’m just gonna--- (points down the hallway) Sav’s room.
Farrah blows him a kiss and takes a seat at the table.
One of the COLLEGE STONERS passes her the bong. She takes a HUGE RIP and blows it out as
Claude excuses himself into
SAVVY’S ROOM
Claude closes the door behind him, softening the blow of the swirling, ELECTRONIC BEAT. He searches the room.
Digs through the closet. Under the bed. Opens the doors of Savvy’s antebellum armoire. Pulls out drawers. Nothing.
He spots a crudely-carved, heart-shaped wooden box. Etched into the lid: “CB+SF”
Claude picks it up. Opens it. Rifles through it.
INSIDE: Photo-booth pictures of him and Savvy. An antique diamond ring. A small, soft- enamel leprechaun pin. A spiral seashell. One of Claude’s guitar picks. Prom pics. More candid photos, some of them in bed, intimate.
He pulls out a folded scrap of paper. Unfolds. Reads:
“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are”
91 His gaze shifts from the box to what was resting underneath:
TWO TRAIN TICKETS in an open envelope.
He puts the box down. Picks the tickets up. Names on each: BARRILEAUX/CLAUDE on one, FONTENOT/SAVANNAH on the other.
He drops onto the bed, hunched over, tickets still in hand.
Devastated.
A KNOCK startles him. Farrah opens the door, peeks in. Intense HOUSE MUSIC floods the room.
FARRAH You got a visitor...
Claude, bewildered---couldn’t be Savvy, right?
Farrah smirks.
FARRAH (CONT’D) A sexy visitor...
She opens the door further to let
FLOYD slip in.
FLOYD Thanks, Far.
FARRAH I’ll leave you two alone.
She SLAPS Floyds ass. He jumps, turns to look at Farrah but she’s already disappeared behind the closed door.
The HOUSE MUSIC fades back to a dull RUMBLE.
Floyd offers a meek wave to Claude.
FLOYD Hey... thought you might come here.
Claude goes back to staring off at nothing.
92 FLOYD (CONT’D) Pretty crazy party in there. I took a leak on the way in. There was like eight pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash. All positive.
Claude doesn’t react.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Heh...
Floyd nervously scratches at the back of his head.
FLOYD (CONT’D) You okay..? Did you find---
CLAUDE The money’s not here, man.
Floyd falls onto the bed next to his brother.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) She really bought ‘em, Floyd. Two train tickets. In our names.
FLOYD Okay, I’m lost...
CLAUDE She wasn’t gonna ditch me this time. She said she needed my help. Was in over her head. But I turned her away, and it got her killed.
Floyd looks at the tickets.
FLOYD I thought you didn’t want to leave with her?
CLAUDE I don’t know what the fuck I want.
Floyd rubs his ear. Thinks a beat.
FLOYD Ever since mom died, I keep having this dream, over and over. There’s a party at the house. (MORE)
93 FLOYD (CONT'D) Like the Christmas parties we used to have for dad’s birthday, where mom would make the bourbon balls and Christmas tree cookies. Only it’s like, now, and I’m an adult. And when I go inside, she’s sitting there in that recliner she loved so much. But something doesn’t feel right, something is off. I should be happy, but I get this sick feeling in my stomach like she’s not supposed to be there. She doesn’t say a word, just sits there, looking at me. I try to ignore her, enjoy the party, but I can’t. I feel her eyes on me the whole time. Eventually, I get so stressed out I wake up in a sweat. (beat) I still have no idea what it means.
Claude finally looks up at him.
CLAUDE It means neither of us ever really death with mom dying.
Claude SCOFFS.
FLOYD You kidding me? You totally have your shit together! I mean, you handled dad dying like a champ. I couldn’t even go to the funeral. But I haven’t seen you cry once since you got back.
CLAUDE Exactly.
Floyd’s goes from cup half-full to half-empty in an instant.
Claude hangs his head, back to staring at the train tickets.
Suddenly, the MUSIC outside stops. Voices in the other room go from CHATTERING to SHUSHING.
The boys shoot each other a puzzled look.
LIVING ROOM
Claude and Floyd emerge from Savvy’s room to a completely different scene. Party lights are off. Warm house lights on.
94 Everyone’s gathered at the sofa, glued to the TV.
ON SCREEN
MTV NEWS. KURT LODER, script in hand, against a swirly, dark backdrop.
KURT ...with an MTV News special report. The body of Nirvana leader Kurt Cobain was found in a house in Seattle Friday morning, dead from an apparently self-inflicted shotgun blast to the head.
BACK TO SCENE
Farrah GASPS.
FARRAH Oh my god..!
KURT/TV (O.S.) Police found what is said to be a suicide note at the scene, but have not yet divulged its contents...
A STONER GIRL bursts into tears.
FLOYD (to Claude) Didn’t you know him?
Everyone’s attention turns to Claude.
CLAUDE My band---in college---we used to open for them all the time. Before dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t quit and focus on school.
Floyd places a hand on Claude’s shoulder.
FLOYD I’m sorry about your friend.
The College Kids hug one another, not a dry eye among them.
95 EXT. SAVVY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
The boys walk to the limo. Claude pauses, keys in hand.
FLOYD Huh... that’s funny.
CLAUDE What..?
FLOYD You called dad “dad” in there.
Claude pulls the flask from coat. Stares, but doesn’t drink.
CLAUDE Fuck, man. What’re we gonna do?
FLOYD You’re asking me?!
CLAUDE What do I know about all this gangster stuff? I’m just an archeologist! No, not even---I just TEACH archeology! As an ADJUNCT! If word of this gets out, I’ll never get tenure. No sir, you can forget about that.
FLOYD Yeah? Well, I think I might actually be a bad guy, so...
CLAUDE What the hell are you talking about?
FLOYD I don’t know...
The boys sulk against the limo, arms crossed.
Floyd glances down at the train tickets in Claude’s hand. Notices a photo---Claude and Savvy in bed.
Floyd snatches it from his hand.
CLAUDE Hey, dick! That’s private!
96 FLOYD (ruminating, to himself) Wait a minute...
CLAUDE You don’t have enough deposits in your spank bank? You gotta ogle my dead ex?
Floyd perks up---an epiphany.
FLOYD Wait a goddamn minute... (elated) Oh my god---Claude! I know what this is about, I know how we can get the money again!
Claude snatches the photo back. Stuffs it in his pocket.
CLAUDE What’s the use? We get the money, we don’t. I leave here afterward, who knows, maybe you and I never talk again. I’m right back where I started.
FLOYD Look, if you wanna leave, I’m not gonna stop you. But I’m still right here, man, where I’ve always been. And I’m not going anywhere. Literally or metaphysically.
CLAUDE It’s “metaphorically,” but I guess that works, too.
FLOYD Earlier tonight, I realized that Teal and Nik are all I have left in the world. And right now, that’s true but... (beat) It doesn’t have to be.
Claude, hesitant. Makes a leap of faith.
CLAUDE So, what’s your plan?
PRE-LAP: the limo’s engine TURNS OVER. REVS. TIRES SQUEAL.
97 FLOYD (V.O.) We’re gonna get our goddamn inheritance back!
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - LATER
Buildings ZIP past as they drive through downtown NOLA.
CLAUDE Great. But how..?
FLOYD Before I left the hospital, Had told me the name of the Wolf-man.
Claude SMACKS the dash.
CLAUDE I knew he was hiding something! So, what is it? What’s his name?
FLOYD Lou Giroux. I’d heard that name before. So, I got to thinking, and I remembered that Mr. Albert used to complain about this guy named Lou constantly. Albert’s family has been screwing over Lou and his people for decades. Farming shrimp off their property and paying them percentages off of forged receipts. And that’s where dad came in---
CLAUDE He legitimized their books through his connections at the city.
FLOYD Exactly! And when I saw that picture, for some reason, it all just... clicked!
CLAUDE And..?!
FLOYD I think Savvy was meeting with the swamp people to make a deal for Albert’s pictures.
CLAUDE Back up... what pictures?
98 Floyd's eyes light up---story time!
FLOYD Well...
EXT. URBAN SIDEWALK - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Back at the drop, again. Veins bulging in Mick’s forehead.
FLOYD (V.O.) My little brownbag swindle? It wasn’t money that was s’posed to be handed off in that drop...
Ralph looks down at a stack of papers in his hand, confused.
RALPH A bunch of knob draw’rings?
FLOYD (V.O.) It was pictures of Albert. And in them, get this---
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Claude’s all ears.
FLOYD He’s fucking a guy!
Floyd shudders.
CLAUDE A guy..?
FLOYD I know, right? Can you believe Albert is actually---
CLAUDE No, I mean---who? What guy??
EXT. SEEDY ALLEYWAY - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Floyd flips through the stack of lurid photos.
FLOYD (V.O.) Dunno. Never seen him before.
99 As he registers what he’s seeing, he starts to GAG.
Floyd doubles over.
FLOYD (V.O.) Yeah, yeah---I puked ‘cause I was scared. I’m not a homophobe. Sheesh!
CLAUDE (V.O.) Fine, but how’d Savvy get the pictures?
INT. THE HIDEAWAY - DAY [FLASHBACK]
Floyd slips the photos into the attaché.
FLOYD (V.O.) Before I left the Hideaway, I stowed them in dad’s bag. In case I got picked up.
Then ditches it behind the bar.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Your “insurance” plan.
FLOYD (V.O.) Right!
EXT. TREME NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT [FLASHBACK]
Mick and Ralph grab Floyd’s unconscious body and drag him into Mick’s car.
FLOYD (V.O.) But Sav found the bag after Mick and Ralph nabbed you.
Mick and Ralph drive off, Savvy appears from behind a tree.
FLOYD (V.O.) So, she must’ve looked through it and found the photos.
She snags the attaché. Peeks inside. Her jaw drops.
100 INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Floyd grows more animated the more he pieces together.
CLAUDE Sure, but how’d she know to go to Lou with it?
FLOYD That part I don’t know. But she kinda decided our next move for us.
CLAUDE You have a way to contact him?
FLOYD No, but Albert must.
INT. ALBERT'S STUDY - NIGHT [FLASH-FORWARD]
Floyd jimmies the door open.
FLOYD (V.O.) I say we break into his office and find out.
He rushes into the dark room, flashlight in hand.
Starts rifling through the desk.
Claude casually enters.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Sure, why not.
He approaches the bar. Makes himself a whiskey sour. Properly this time. He takes a sip. Shakes his head.
CLAUDE Still garbage.
CLAUDE (V.O.) C’mon... he’s not gonna keep a murderous psychopath’s number out in the open.
Floyd spots a rolodex. Flips through it.
101 FLOYD (V.O.) You’d be surprised. These criminal types like to think they’re untouchable.
Finds the contact.
FLOYD Got it!
Waves it for Claude to see.
CLAUDE I stand corrected.
CLAUDE (V.O.) What’s next?
EXT. CIRCLE K CONVENIENCE STORE - NIGHT [FLASH-FORWARD]
Floyd drops a quarter into the payphone near the entrance.
FLOYD (V.O.) We set up a meeting with Lou and offer to give him what Savvy promised.
Dials the number on the slip of paper. Waits while it RINGS.
FLOYD (into the phone) Hi, Mister Giroux? I, uh---I’ve got something I think you might want...
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT [PRESENT]
Claude glances at Floyd like he’s off his rocker.
CLAUDE Only one small problem... we don’t actually have the photos.
FLOYD That’s the beauty of it---we don’t even need them! We’ll ask to see the money first, once we know he’s got it, you kill him, get revenge for Sav. I’ll snag the cash. He’s dead. We’re rich. It’s a win-win.
102 Claude doesn’t speak. Mulls it a beat.
Floyd’s about to come out of his skin.
FLOYD (CONT’D) So?! What’ya think?
CLAUDE There’s no way in hell this is gonna work...
Claude milks it one more beat.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) But fuck it. I’m in.
Floyd smiles.
EXT. PEARL RIVER DOCKS - NIGHT
A dense fog rolls in from the river. Dead of night, no one around but the boys.
The limousine pulls up next to Claude’s car. They hop out.
FLOYD You check the trunk, I’ll look around inside.
Claude pops the trunk of his car, digs through myriad, random items. Floyd searches the front seat. Glovebox, console, beneath the seats.
CLAUDE You really think he’ll have one?
FLOYD Sh’yah. Dad got real paranoid toward the end there...
Exhausting his options, Floyd moves onto the backseat. He immediately finds something.
Painful confusion on his face.
FLOYD (CONT’D) Uh... Claude?
Claude peeks around the side of the trunk as Floyd pulls something out of the back. As he lifts it higher, Claude immediately recognizes
THE ATTACHÉ.
103 Claude’s mouth agape. He staggers over to Floyd.
FLOYD (CONT’D) What the fuck..?
Their wide-eyes lock, then gaze at the case.
CLAUDE Is it---
FLOYD Feels pretty heavy.
CLAUDE Well... crack it open.
Floyd takes a deep breath, opens the case.
FLOYD It’s all still here, Claude. Every last bill.
CLAUDE And the photos?
Floyd digs, find them. Fans them out in his hand.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) This just got interesting.
FLOYD Did you find a gun?
Claude grips a rectangular, plastic case. Opens it to reveal a Beretta 9mm. He removes it, chambers a round.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Life can be a real capricious bitch. You start finding turds in the bottom your free hot-fudge sundaes, you stop trusting in good luck.
Floyd holds up the attaché.
FLOYD What do we do with this?
CLAUDE Throw it in the limo.
104 FLOYD We could just go. Leave now with the money. Forget about all this dumb plan.
CLAUDE (shaking his head) It’s not just about the money, Floyd. Sav, Hadley. We owe them.
FLOYD It’s just---is it worth it? It’s not gonna bring anyone back, and this is a lot of money, bro.
Claude stows the gun in the small of his back.
CLAUDE Don’t start doubting yourself now, not when I just started believing in you.
FLOYD Maybe you were right, though. Maybe dad placed two bad bets.
CLAUDE Floyd... listen. You've been pulling one over on Albert and his guys all week. Granted, ass- backwards and by the skin of your teeth, but still.Imagine what you can do if you put your mind to it.
FLOYD I mean, I guess...
CLAUDE That’s the spirit! Let’s stick to the plan---to your plan.
Floyd psyches himself up.
FLOYD (nodding) Okay... yeah, okay... ready?
Claude holds up his hand for a high-five.
105 CLAUDE Barrileaux Boys.
SMACK--! Their hands connect.
FLOYD Barrileaux fuckin’ boys!
CLAUDE (V.O.) Alright, maybe it’s unfair of me to blame this one on life, but I still don’t trust good luck, goddamnit.
EXT. PEARL RIVER DOCKS, SHRIMPING PIERS - NIGHT - LATER
Limo parked next to the clay-stained piers. The boys wait, leaning against the hood of the limo.
A 70s Camaro kicks up dust as it speeds toward them.
It comes to a GRINDING halt on the gravel lot.
The boys stand upright.
Out steps
LOU. Shirtless, menacing.
He approaches the boys.
With a deep voice with cajun accent---
LOU What’s dis I hear y’all got some’ting for me now?
Claude gestures for Floyd to go ahead.
FLOYD You bring the money?
Lou smirks. CHUCKLES to himself.
LOU About dat... dere’s been a change’a plans, yeah.
He produces a gun from behind and SHOOTS Floyd in the leg.
106 FLOYD What the fuck?!
Floyd drops to the ground.
CLAUDE What’re you doing, man?! I thought we had a deal?!
Lou sneers. Points the revolver at Claude.
A VOICE, from the docks---
VOICE (O.S.) Stand down, Monsieur Giroux. You’ve done a fine job, but I’ll take it from here.
Mick pushes Albert in a wheelchair up the pier, toward the parking lot.
Floyd WRITHES on the ground.
Claude deflates.
CLAUDE Shit.
LATER
Mick takes Floyd’s belt, creates a makeshift tourniquet for Floyd’s bleeding leg.
Claude and Floyd hug a metal lamp post, both their arms handcuffed around it.
Albert smirks as best he can through his paralyzed face. This close, they can make out the horrendous burns on Mick’s.
Floyd shudders.
ALBERT Finally got you boys exactly where I want you.
CLICK--! Mick and Albert spin around to find Lou pointing his revolver at their backs.
LOU Couldn’t have put it betta mah’self, Mista Albert.
ALBERT What’s gotten into you, Monsieur Giroux?
107 LOU I ain’t as dumb as y’all tink. Yo’ family, and dese here boys’ daddy, y’all been fuckin’ my people for too long, now, ya hear? Time y’all get what’s comin’ to ya.
MICK You best watch your mouth, punk.
CLAUDE For the record, our father is dead.
Mick POUNDS his fists together.
MICK I don’t know about dumb, but you’re making a strong case you’re yellow.
Lou smiles, re-holsters his gun. Mick marches toward him.
ALBERT Now, uh, you be careful over there, Michael.
Mick takes a swing at Lou but misses.
Lou gets in a few jabs. Mick staggers.
Lou lets him get in a couple full hits but seems unfazed. Clear he’s just toying with him.
Back at the lamp post, Floyd ain’t looking so hot.
CLAUDE Hey, bud..? Stay with me now.
FLOYD If I have to die... chained to a pole with someone... I’m glad it’s you...
Claude scans the area around him, panicked.
Just as desperate, Mick goes for a haymaker.
Lou ducks, Mick loses his footing.
Lou swings him around, catching Mick in a headlock.
108 With a swift, quick JERK, Lou SNAPS Mick’s neck.
ALBERT Michael! NO!
Floyd looks up just in time to watch Mick’s lifeless body fall with a THUD. No warning- gag---he full on BARFS.
Some of it lands on Claude’s shoes.
CLAUDE Aw, man...
Lou HOWLS. LAUGHS. Then lets out an ear-piercing whistle.
A small HORDE of SWAMP-FOLK appear from behind shipping crates, bushes, a dumpster. They begin dousing the dock and all the boats with gasoline.
Lou approaches Albert.
Albert grips the armrests of his wheelchair, unsinkable.
LOU If ‘dem boys got what they say they got, you gon’ watch me burn down your piers, den pay me and my people to keep our mout’ shut.
ALBERT I suppose this is the price one pays for doing business with filthy dirt-daubers such as---
Lou SMACKS the shit out of Albert, knocking him out of his wheelchair and onto the ground. Lou kicks the chair away.
Lou’s people set fire to the boats. Then the entire dock.
Claude watches on in horror.
Floyd leans in close to Claude.
FLOYD Bro... the puke...
CLAUDE Yeah, I know. Death makes you queasy. Don’t worry about---
109 FLOYD No... in the puke. Look.
Claude’s eyes dart down.
In a puddle of saliva, bile, and half-digested Funions---
THE HANDCUFF KEY, nylon monofilament trailing behind it.
CLAUDE Fuck me.
Claude drops down, trying to reach the key.
Albert drags himself along the ground, trying to get back to his wheelchair. His pants catch along the gravel, pulling them down below his buttocks.
Claude notices an elegant tattoo, under his right cheek, on the back of his thigh: a heart atop a fleur-de-lis, initials inside read “R.D.”
But he doesn’t have time to dwell on the detail.
He reaches down, far as he can, clutches the handcuff key between his pinky and ring finger.
Lou regards the chaos with sheer delight, utterly distracted.
Claude unlocks himself. Then Floyd, who nearly drops to the ground. Claude struggles to carry him to the limo.
Not halfway there, they hear a
CLICK--! Lou with the revolver again.
LOU Not so fas’.
Claude freezes, Floyd still struggling to stand.
LOU (CONT’D) Now where’s dese disgraceful pichurs you boys was jawin’ ‘bout?
CLAUDE I’ll get them for you, if you promise not to hurt my brother.
110 Lou smirks.
LOU I promise not to hurt ya brudda, anymore than I already done.
CLAUDE Let me just...
Claude slowly walks Floyd to the limo. Rests him against it. Opens the back door. Reaches in, pulls out the attaché.
He pauses. Something not sitting right. He looks to Floyd.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) Savvy never had the photos. She must’ve only seen the money.
Floyd, just as confused.
CLAUDE (CONT’D) But if she wasn’t trying to sell you the photos, why’d you kill her?
Lou’s eyes narrow.
LOU How you know ‘bout dat?
CLAUDE I watched you do it.
LOU Who was she to you?
Claude glowers. His silence speaks volumes.
Lou gets the message. Smiles---a chance to twist the knife.
LOU (CONT’D) I meet dat girl in da quarter. We go out a few time, have a little fun. One night, she come to me, tol’ me she was carryin’ mah child. I tol’ her she either do sometin’ ‘bout it or I’d do it for her. (MORE)
111 LOU (CONT’D) She don’t like dat, she come at me wit’ a switchblade in my family house. I don’t suffer da treachery of no ornery whore, now. She got what was comin’ t’her.
Claude grits his teeth.
LOU (CONT’D) Now why don’t you jus’ hand over what’chu got, boy? Before I change my mind about your brudda dere.
Claude takes a step forward then
REARS BACK AND HURLS the attaché at Lou’s face.
It clocks him right in nose, SHATTERING the cartilage, sending him flying back off the dock and into the water.
As Lou’s men rush toward them, Claude helps Floyd into the back of the limo, runs to the driver door.
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - SAME
Claude falls into the driver’s seat. STARTS the car. Locks the doors. He turns, looking through the partition to find
ALBERT, worn and livid, aiming a gun at Floyd.
ALBERT Drive.
He does. Hitting a few of Lou’s men on the way out.
INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT - LATER
Claude glances in the rearview. Albert has Floyd, point blank.
ALBERT Eyes on the road, Monsieur Barrileaux. I’d hate for you to hit a bump and cause me to pinch this hair trigger.
112 EXT. CYPRESS GROVE CEMETERY - NIGHT - LATER
The limo arrives. Claude hops out, runs around to the back. Opens the door
CLAUDE Alright, let’s do this. (to Floyd) Can you walk?
Floyd, woozy. His head wobbles. Doesn’t respond.
ALBERT Your brother will wait here.
CLAUDE But he’s bleeding out, he’ll---
ALBERT He waits here. And the longer you stand here arguing, the longer he goes without medical treatment.
Claude relents.
EXT. CYPRESS GROVE CEMETERY - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
Claude carries Albert through the grid of crypts.
ALBERT I’ve lost a great deal since meeting you, Monsieur Barrileaux. My surrogate family, my gorgeous fleet.
Albert points to a trail leading left.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Down yonder...
Claude obeys.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Yet I do not blame you. For a Captain must take responsibility for both the good and the bad that occur under his command. Go down with even his proverbial ship.
CLAUDE How magnanimous of you.
113 ALBERT What an elegant word choice...
INT. DUBOIS MAUSOLEUM - NIGHT - SAME
Claude carries Albert into the mausoleum. Leans Albert up against a wall.
CLAUDE Alright... now what?
ALBERT Remove that there stone slab.
Claude struggles but manages to slide it off.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Open up Robert’s casket. Completely, the bottom half, too.
CLAUDE Man, why are you so hellbent on chopping off this guys---
Claude stops himself. Glances at Albert. Realizes---
CLAUDE (CONT’D) That tattoo. Yours’ isn’t the only one, is it?
ALBERT That’s none of your concern.
Albert emphasizes that he’s still holding the gun.
Claude opens the casket.
Albert tears up at the sight of Robert’s corpse.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Now... place me inside. I wish to lie with him.
Claude doesn’t object, too dumbstruck. Does what he’s told.
Albert’s absolutely dwarfed by the behemoth boxer’s corpse. He nuzzles into Robert’s chest. A tear falls from his eye.
114 ALBERT (CONT’D) There are but two things in this life we cannot choose, Monsieur Barrileaux... the family unto which we are born and those with whom we fall in love. I’ll be damned if I let another human being dictate any other part of my existence. Least of all, when it is my time to perish.
Albert pulls two small vials from his back pocket.
ALBERT (CONT’D) These were meant for you and your brother, but it would be a pity to waste such marvelous toxin.
He pulls out the two small corks with his teeth and downs the contents of the vials.
ALBERT (CONT’D) Please leave us now, Monsieur Barrileaux. I wish to board Osiris’ moon ship so that I might reunite with Robert in the field of reeds.
Albert rests his head on Robert’s chest. Closes his eyes. Lets himself fall into this final sleep.
CLAUDE (V.O.) What the fuck am I watching?
Claude stares, eyes wide, as he slowly backs out of the crypt.
CLAUDE (V.O.) And how am I supposed to go back to a regular life after some crazy shit like this..?
EXT. CYPRESS GROVE CEMETERY - DAWN - LATER
The sky grows lighter, sun cresting the horizon.
CLAUDE (V.O.) But, I mean, I’m alive. I guess that counts for something.
Claude shuffles out from the crypt, still processing, when
BANG! Muzzle flash lights up his face for a split second before Claude is sent flying back onto the ground.
115 He grabs his chest, a hole in his coat. He looks up at
LOU. Alive and pissed. Blood dripping from his crooked nose.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Of course, spoke too soon. Fuck all my good luck.
Lou’s revolver, still aimed right at Claude.
LOU No more pussyfootin’ ‘round, ya hear. Time to die, Barrileaux.
Lou pulls back the hammer, gets ready to squeeze the trigger, then looks up ahead of him. Confusion overcomes his face.
LOU (CONT’D) What da fuck?
FLIT--! A NINJA STAR flies past Claude’s head, sticks directly in between Lou’s eyes. Immediately drawing blood.
Claude glances rearward. Sees---
CLAUDE Floyd?! What’re you doing?
FLOYD (smirking) Saving... the day...
Lou’s eyes cross as he watches blood flow down the bridge of his nose. He wobbles, stumbles backward, dropping his gun.
Claude rolls onto his side, scrambles to get Rex’s gun from the small of his back. The instant he straightens out his aim
BANG! He blows the top off Lou’s head.
Claude pants---rapid, shallow breaths. It’s finally over.
Floyd collapses, breathless.
Claude rushes over to him, taking Floyd into his arms.
FLOYD (CONT’D) It’s over, bro... I’m dying.
116 CLAUDE What?! You got shot in the leg. It’s probably just a flesh wound.
FLOYD No, I can feel it. I’m fading... (re: the hole in Claude’s coat) Oh no... You’re dying, too...
CLAUDE Floyd. Don’t be an idiot. You’re gonna be fine.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. METAIRIE CEMETERY - DAY
Uncharacteristically sunny, blue sky. Fluffy, cumulus clouds make for a picturesque scene. Except for
An ELDERLY PRIEST, standing at the head of a fresh grave. And CLAUDE, solemnly grieving next to a casket.
Claude places a hand on it. Pays his respects.
NIKKIA (V.O.) Uh... my dad isn’t dead.
FLOYD (O.S.) What the hell, man?! You were s’posed to wait for us!
Claude looks over his shoulder at
FLOYD, rolling up in a wheelchair, leg in a thick cast, being pushed by Teal and accompanied by Nikkia.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Oh, my bad. Was that confusing? No, no, no---this is Hadley’s funeral. Your dad and I were both fine, although it was a bit more than a flesh-wound on his leg.
They stop next to Claude.
FLOYD Poor Had. He deserved better.
117 CLAUDE Sure did.
FLOYD It was real nice of him to leave us the bar, though.
CLAUDE Something tells me if he’d come out of that coma, he would’ve made a couple changes to his will.
Other GUESTS arrive. BAR PATRONS---some we recognize, others we don’t. Family members that, unfortunately for them, bear a close resemblance to Hadley.
The Priest cracks open his binder.
PRIEST As we gather today to commit our brother, Charles, to the earth, let us express in song, the same joy he gave to so many in life...
AFTER THE SERVICE
The crowd has dispersed. Only our boys, Teal, Nikkia left.
CLAUDE Where you guys headed after this?
FLOYD The Hideaway, of course. (to Teal) That okay with you, babe?
NIKKIA Oh, please, can we mom?
TEAL That’s fine. I can watch you kick ya daddy’s ass at pinball.
FLOYD (to Claude) You coming?
CLAUDE Yeah, I just need a minute to---
118 FLOYD Say no more.
Floyd shoves off. Teal smiles, waves. Takes Nikkia’s hand as they head wheel Floyd back to their car.
Claude stands alone at Hadley’s grave a beat. He pulls a single flower from the bouquet. Then wanders off.
A FEW ROWS DOWN
Claude finds Rex’s grave. And right next to it, HIS MOTHER’S.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Well, here we are. End of the road, and right back where we started. That’s called a bookend. Neat, huh?
One last time, Claude pulls Rex’s flask from his jacket.
Only there’s a BULLET lodged in the center. He unscrews the top, checking the contents. Empty.
NIKKIA (V.O.) Bullshit.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Okay, okay---you got me. That’s not really how it went down. I left out a key detail at the docks...
EXT. PEARL RIVER DOCKS - NIGHT [FLASHBACK]
A dense fog. Claude pops the trunk of his car.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Remember how your dad said...
FLOYD ...dad got real paranoid toward the end there.
CLAUDE (V.O.) Well, when I was searching for a gun, I also found a couple bulletproof vests.
The boys suit up.
119 CLAUDE (V.O.) It was just plain bad luck that your dad got shot in the leg.
EXT. METAIRIE CEMETERY - DAY [PRESENT]
Claude places the flask on the base of Rex’s headstone.
CLAUDE (V.O.) But isn’t this a much cooler version of the story? The flask, it’s like, symbolic. Letting go of the past or whatever.
He looks around the cemetery. Searches until he spots a
MID-SIZED TREE
Ambles over to it, pulls out a pocket knife.
NIKKIA (V.O.) Was the alligator on the wall really for real?
Carves initials: “S.F.”
CLAUDE (V.O.) Yes, that was real.
NIKKIA (V.O.) I’m just having a hard time believing most of this.
Then traces a heart around the letters.
CLAUDE (V.O.) I swear! Cross my heart.
He steps away just in time to fall in with a SECOND LINE band, their deliberate, lazy MARCH echoing out through the rows of stone tombs.
NIKKIA (V.O.) And what does “whackin’ off” mean?
CLAUDE (V.O.) Oh, uh... that’s like, when you... take a long time in the bathroom... ‘cause, uh... your hair is... messy.
120 NIKKIA (V.O.) That’s dumb.
EXT. SEEDY ALLEYWAY - DAY
Much less scary in daylight.
NIKKIA (V.O.) So, what’s the lesson?
CLAUDE (V.O.) Lesson--?
Claude ambles up to the nondescript door.
NIKKIA (V.O.) The moral. In school,. Mrs. Benoit says there’s always a moral to a good story.
He passes a newly-engraved, brass plaque on the wall.
CLAUDE (V.O.) What? You want me to just say it? Like, out loud? No. That’s just hackneyed.
The plaque reads: HADLEY’S HIDEAWAY, EST. 1846
NIKKIA (V.O.) C’mon, you gotta give me something!
INT. THE HIDEAWAY - SAME
Claude enters to a less debaucherous scene than we’re used to. Hardly any smoke, brighter lighting. No horny judges.
CLAUDE (V.O.) How about... never mix your whiskey with lemon juice?
NIKKIA (V.O.) Whatever, I’m going play pinball.
Nikkia on a brand-new Indiana Jones pinball machine. Teal next to her, watching proudly, smoking a cigarette.
121 Claude approaches the bar. Floyd behind it, towel over his shoulder. Notices Claude drop onto a stool.
Floyd mixes up drinks. Muddles sugar cubes in some bitters. Two fingers of whiskey. Splash of water. Orange zest.
Artisanal.
He slides a glass to Claude. Keeps one for himself.
They smile. Raise their glasses to toast.
CLINK--!
CUT TO BLACK.
THE END
122