A robbery is in progress. Terrified customers and staff lie on the floor with their hands on their heads. Standing over them are WAYNE and SCOUT, poor white trash murdering hoods on a killing spree. They are both heavily armed. Wayne is in his early twenties. He wears work boots, jeans and a torn vest, and has tattoos on his muscular arms. Scout is a waiflike girl in her late teens. She has on pink Doc Martens boots and a girlish little cotton summer dress. Clearly, there has already been a terrible incident: there is money scattered about everywhere, and two or three dead or dying people lie among the cowering customers. Wayne and Scout are both hysterically elated. He grips her to him.
WAYNE
(SHOUTS WILDLY)
I love you, sugar pie!
SCOUT
I love you too, honey.
They embrace. A customer, a fat man lying facedown on the floor, still holding a halfeaten hamburger near his mouth, steals a glance at Wayne and Scout Wayne is chewing on Scout’s ear. Closeup on Wayne ’s face as he turns away from Scout’s head to notice that the fat man is looking at him.
WAYNE
You like to watch, fat boy?
The terrified man says nothing. His answer is to bury his face in the floor as hard as he can and wrap his arms around his head. Wayne ’s POV is now just the top of the man’s balding head with his pudgy hand pressed against it, holding the halfchewed burger. There is a loud bang and a hole appears in the top of the bald head. Blood runs out as if from a tap, not a spurt but a silent, almost gentle, wellingup, a small flood, so to speak, which quickly forms a large pool, soaking into the hamburger and turning it completely red.
Cut back to Wayne, who is ignoring his victim completely, and is grinding his hips against Scout.
WAYNE
Oh Sweet Jesus! Killing makes me horny! I’m going to screw you till your teeth rattle, baby.
Wayne ’s strong hands clutch at Scout’s buttocks. It is almost as if his fingers will push through the flimsy cotton.
Cut to closeup of the dead fat man’s hand gripping the bloodsoaked burger. (NOTE: The impression should be that the burger and Scout’s backside are just two different pieces of meat to be devoured by men.)
Cut back to fulllength two shot of Wayne and Scout entwined in lust. Rock music is pumping in their heads and they seem almost to be dancing to it. If they are, it is a primitive, sexual dance, the dance of two wild animals caught between the two great life forces, survival and sex.
WAYNE
C’mon, sugar.
Wayne pulls Scout’s dress up round her waist, revealing her panties, which are decorated with little hearts or cute cartoon characters. Despite her obvious sexual passion, Scout remains coy and childlike.
SCOUT
We are in a store, Wayne, a public place! We cain’t do no lovin’ right here now. There are people. They might see.
WAYNE
No problem, baby doll.
Wayne releases Scout and turns his machinegun on the prostrate forms. They jolt like puppets as the bullets thud into them. Screams fill the air.
We cut to a series of closeups.
A mother hugging a child hugging a doll, all suddenly riddled with bullets.
A businessman weeping as he dies.
A poster featuring a happy family shopping and saying, ‘if you have a problem please ask our staff if they can help.’
A very wide shot of the whole store, a scene of bloody carnage with Wayne in the middle of it all, triumphantly spraying bullets. The muscles and veins on his brawny arms are taut with the tension of controlling the spitting machinegun.
Closeup of Scout. She is staring at Wayne, transfixed with adoration.
The shooting finally subsides.
WAYNE
Ain’t no people now, cotton candy, leastways not any going to get offended none.
SCOUT
Oh Wayne, I surely do love you.
Scout embraces Wayne. One slender, coltish leg, fragilelooking and vulnerable despite the big boots she wears, winds about him as she reaches up an arm to draw Wayne’s face to hers.
Chapter Thirteen
INTERIOR. NIGHT. THE LIVING AREA OF A RICH CALIFORNIAN HOME.
A beautiful but rather impersonal interior of vast white couches, glass and steel tables and shelves. Clearly whoever lives here had the place designed for them. Wayne and Scout stand in the middle of the room. Their cheap, dirty, bloodstained clothes are in stark contrast to the cold pastel colours that surround them. They are hot and high with excitement. They have recently broken in and Scout is staring in wonder at this opulence. They both carry machineguns and have more weapons hanging from them.
Cut from the wide to a mid two shot as Wayne kisses Scout tenderly on the forehead.
WAYNE
(Sudden exuberant shout)
Ain’t nothing like killing, Scout. I done it all in my time, stock cars, broncos, gambling, stealing and I am here to tell you that there ain’t nothing to touch the thrill of killing.
Closeup on Scout. Her eyes are closed; she is drinking in the atmosphere.
SCOUT
