Script excerpt #2
YOKNAPATAWPHA COUNTY SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT
Investigating Officer(s): Det. T. Armstrong, Det. S. Murphy
Incident No.: 001985-19D-2020
Case Description: Dalton Kimbrough homicide investigation
This scene comes from the script of Dalton Kimbrough's movie, Death to the Revelers, taken as evidence (Evidence # 001985-03) from the master bedroom of the film crew's lodge.
Alonzo Marquez reported that the following scene was slated to be rewritten as it would prove too costly to be effectively filmed. Apparently, the scene was the first one Kimbrough wrote, and he had a sentimental attachment to it. However, Marquez convinced Kimbrough to re-conceive the scene and tell it unconventionally, through cinematic style and effect.
Caution: Some rough language and situations.
DEATH TO THE REVELERS script, Lodge Draft 8, pg. 16.
EXT – ADJUNCT MOTEL, SWEATY DAY
DARL and BUD are in a different motel room now. Darl is pacing. Bud is cleaning his pistol; throughout the scene, he cleans it, fills the magazine, pops the clip in, and waistbands it.
I know you're fond of playing this part. You know it, don't you?
Hey, Bud… you ever see ghosts?
Boy, you ain't shot nobody. You ain't created no ghosts! I've created some motherf*****' ghosts.
Wanna bet I haven't?
What's this ghost about?
It's more like intuition.
By all means — intuit.
That guy who Jerry and I pounded, back on the highway — He came to me and told me that he'd taken his own life last night.
Don't go gettin' all heady on me. If he killed himself, it wasn't because of you. Look, just chill the f*** out 'cause this one's about to go down.
And what do we hit after this? Another parking lot?
Next time it's for real… But first I'm gonna treat you and the boys to a seaside paradise, my friend. I'm puttin' everybody up at the Dixie Grand Casino in the most bitchen suite they got. I told 'em we were comin', and to get my jacuzzi fired up, baby. You with me?
I was hoping to get a little further away from here than Bromide Tide. That's like an hour away.
It's a lifetime, my friend. I promise.
It's bulls***, Bud. That's what it is.
(stands up quickly, checks him)
Darl, man, you can't live your life so guarded, like your own goddamn cop. Not and do this, you can't. If those other cops creep up on you, just…
Bud pulls his pistol and fires off a couple of blank rounds, dangerously close, incriminatingly loud.
…and run like hell. No bullets, no harm. Of course, me — I think I've accepted the philosophy that if you ain't no man, and you don't carry real bullets, then when something you don't like creeps up on you, the only thing you can do is run away.
Bud gives a whoop of revelry, nearly as loud as the gun. He gives Darl a kick and pushes him to the door.
Now get out there and break a leg, you dirty thespian.
Darl appears to fade inside himself as the reggae music swells. He puts his annoying hat and shades on and dances around, then slips out onto the walk-around terrace.
There is no one around, and it appears to upset him.
S***, man, where is everybody? Don't any of y'all party?
He struts up and down the terrace in a drunken-like stupor, peeping in windows and knocking on doors as he yells and drinks. An occasional frightened eye looks out through partially closed curtains.
C'mon, this is the f*****' beach for *****sakes. It's Spring Break, woo-hoo! Y'all need to wake your asses up and get on this juice!
A BORED LOUNGER across the way calls out as a van whips into the parking lot below.
Calm down, dude. Or take that s*** elsewhere!
Down below, a figure gets out of the van. He is obscured behind Darl.
You're the one that needs to take that ass-sittin' somewhere else. It's the goddamn end of the world, motherf******! How many more days you think we got to party?
A rifle shot is fired, and Darl's chest explodes. He appears shocked, then begins stumbling and coughing up blood. The shooter's voice (JERRY) calls from below:
Death to the revelers!
The motel guests begin to check out the commotion. Darl lies twitching and gagging on blood. Bud runs out of the motel room and panics like a madman, while the other guests stand dumbfounded and repulsed as Darl convulses in death spasms, then sinks into the dark sleep. The screech of the van's tires, the ocean, and blaring music lay the foundation for screams and sighs of horror.
Holy s***! Who the f***! Man, who shot you!
The commotion is heating up.
In the very far distance, almost blending in with the other sounds, a POLICE SIREN wails.
Bud grabs Darl's lifeless body and drags him down the steps. The crowd is quick to criticize this action. A CONCERNED WITNESS steps forward.
Hey, man, I don't think you should move him. Let somebody call an ambulance.
Get outta my f*****' way, man! Can't you see my friend here's dyin'! I gotta get him to the hospital then catch that shooter!
Bud lifts Darl into the economy car parked below as the motel guests keep insisting that they stay. Bud pulls a gun on them.
All right, who did it? Huh? Which one of you prissy motherf*****s told 'em we were here? What's the matter, did my friend's f*****' blood an' guts splatterin' in your faces make you shy? I want a f*****' answer! Then you're all gonna get it 'cause I'm sendin' Little Bob over here, and he don't shoot just one guy and run!
The crowd disperses as Bud gets in the car and speeds away. The music is still blaring from upstairs as everyone rushes into their rooms.
(laughing, dosed on adrenaline)
Holy s***, man! Those pricks were paralyzed. Woo! Let's see 'em party that s*** off! Those kids are bound for therapy. And you know why? 'Cause they can't get enough. Deep down inside, they want to see more.
Darl is still slumped over in the position of death. Bud starts to notice.
You gettin' into that one. Wake up, man. …. Darl!
Bud pokes Darl, still no movement. He moves in to examine closer, and Darl jumps up, scares the s*** out of Bud, who nearly wrecks.
Give it a rest, you jackass!
Yes, I say we give it a rest.
Ho, is that…?
Jerry is on the side of the road, limping.
S***! What is this?
The car stops to picks up Jerry.
Step on it, man! Get the f*** outta here!
What is it, man? Where's Paolo?
(practically in tears)
It's f****d, man! I managed to jump out before the worst of it. The cops…
No way! There can't be cops!
It was all a blur… I heard shots.
This can't be happening. It's just a game.
Well, it ain't no game to them! They were on our ass before we could even get out in the road good!
You slipped up, Bud. You're gettin' too casual with this s***! That's why we need Paolo in the field to keep that radio contact.
Bud whips the pistol out and pops a blank in Darl's face. Darl gets an extreme rush. He roars.
Remember what I said. Next time it'll be the real deal.