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
Don’t shout, Wayne. I was just enjoying the peace. Isn’t it a beautiful home? Don’t you just love the silk cushions and glass coffee tables and all?
Scout kicks off her shoes and walks about.
Closeup of her feet luxuriating in the thick carpet and rugs.
Pan up her legs. Her hands are against her thighs, playing nervously with her dress. She absently pulls the skirt up a little.
We see bruising on her thigh. Two shot Wayne and Scout.
WAYNE
You know why they have those glass coffee tables, precious? You want to know why they have them?
SCOUT
So’s they can put their coffee down, Wayne.
WAYNE
No it ain’t, baby. It’s so they can get underneath and watch each other take a dump.
Closeup on Scout, her jaw dropping in astonishment.
WAYNE
Yes it is, honey. I read that. It sure is.
Wide shot of room. Wayne has thrown himself on to a vast couch, his big booted feet up on the table under discussion. His comments have completely deflated Scout. She is very volatile; tears show in her eyes.
SCOUT
That is not so, Wayne! It is just not so and I do not want to hear about it just when everything is nice, you have to start on about people going to the bathroom on their coffee tables.
WAYNE
That’s the real world, honey. It’s weird. People are weird – they ain’t all nice like you and me. Aw c’mon, sugar, don’t feel bad. I feel good. Do you feel good, baby doll?
Scout’s moods change with alarming speed.
SCOUT
Yeah, I feel good, Wayne.
WAYNE
I always feel good after I kill a whole bunch of muthas. It’s like a pick me up, you know. They should make a commercial… like for Alka Seltzer.
Closeup on Wayne.
WAYNE
Feeling low? Dull? Shitty? Don’t waste a minute. Burn some muthafucka’s ass. You’ll feel great.
Pull out to two shot Wayne is laughing at his fantasy.
WAYNE
You know what Dr Kissinger said, baby?
SCOUT
You didn’t tell me you’d seen no doctor, honey.
Scout flops down beside Wayne on the couch. Her dress rides up; again we see the bruising, this time from Wayne ’s POV. He can not avoid seeing it. Embarrassed, Scout quickly pulls her skirt over it.
WAYNE
He wasn’t no real doctor, he was the Secretary of State. A powerful man, killed a whole lot more people than we ever will, not matter how hard we try. Well, you know what he said? He said that power was an aphrodisiac, which means it gets you horny.
SCOUT
I know what an aphrodisiac is, honey.
WAYNE
Well, you ain’t never gonna get more power over a person than when you kill them, so I guess killing is an aphrodisiac too.
SCOUT
I guess so, honey.
A joke occurs to Wayne. He sits up in excitement, which means he has to move the gun on his lap. Moving it makes a harsh metallic sound.
WAYNE
And get this, baby doll… if you kill a black guy, it’s an AfroAmericandisiac!
Wayne falls back, laughing, into the thick cushions. He makes himself more comfortable on the couch.
SCOUT
I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey, but you keep your dirty boots off that couch and be careful of all that blood on your pants. This is a nice house and I’ll bet the people who own it are real nice people and we don’t want to get no blood on their couch.