'SATURDAY MORNING' - SimplyScripts
"Saturday morning"
Written by
Alex Vo
Agency Name (if applicable)
123 Main Street
2nd Addr Line if Needed
Anytown, ST 99999
(999) 555-1212
“saturday morning”
FADE IN:
INT. DREAM LANES/BAR – NIGHT
It’s Saturday morning. 1:00 a.m. in the morning. Stools are overturned. Shot glasses are scattered on all the tables. AMIR, the bartender, is cleaning up the place ready to go home and relax after a crazy night.
IN WALKS REID.
AMIR
This place was closed a half hour ago.
Reid approaches the counter and plants himself on a stool.
REID
C’mon, man. Just one drink. I’ve had a wild fuckin’ night.
amir
Save me the sappy stories. I work at a bar.
Reid lights himself a smoke.
AMIR (CONT’D)
Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?
reid
What does it look like I’m doing?
Amir snatches the cigarette from Reid’s hand and sends it to the ashtray.
AMIR
Can’t you fuckin’ read? We’re closed and we don’t smoke here.
reid
Calm down, man. Calm down, all right? Here…
Reid pulls out a wad of CASH from his pocket and tosses it on the table as if it was nothing.
REID
Help yourself.
Amir looks at the money, and is hesitant.
AMIR
You’re giving this to me?
reid
Yeah. In return, I want you to tell me who you are, I want you to serve me, and I want to talk to you.
Amir takes the money.
AMIR
I’m Amir. What do you want?
reid
A beer.
Amir gives Reid a beer.
REID (CONT’D)
(savoring the taste)
Mmmm. So how long have you worked here?
amir
You’ve never been in here before?
reid
Nah, man. This is my first time.
amir
Three years. And what do you do?
(jokes)
Are you a drug dealer?
reid
I’m a hit man.
amir
A hit man?
reid
(nods)
I’m afraid so.
amir
(scoffs)
Shut the fuck up!
reid
Want proof?
Reid pulls out his 9mm and SLAMS IT on the counter. He takes another sip of his beer. Amir takes time to register this.
AMIR
You’re not supposed to bring firearms in this place.
reid
I’m also not supposed to be here.
Reid lights another smoke.
REID (CON’TD)
And I’m also not supposed to be smoking. But you’re going to make an exception today, aren’t you?
amir
Only because you’re generous with the tips. But I have limitations.
(a beat)
It isn’t loaded is it?
reid
Not fully. I had to use a lot of rounds tonight.
amir
Whatever just get it out of my site.
Reid holsters his gun.
AMIR (CONT’D)
So you do illegal stuff for a living?
reid
I kill people.
amir
You know, doesn’t mean you have a gun with you, doesn’t make you an assassin. Plenty of people conceal firearms with them, for protection. Why don’t you tell me what you’re all about or I’m gonna have to kick your ass outa here. Nothing personal, man. I just don’t wanna be puttin’ my hands in places they’re not supposed ta be in.
reid
Not even if I’m payin you? There’s a whole lot more where that came from.
A BEAT. Amir is silent.
REID (CONT’D)
So today, I get an e-mail from my client. You know, the usual things: the names and addresses, photos, and general information needed. I thought it was going to be an easy job. Five people, alright? All young: college and high school students. Don’t ask me why they’d be hangin’ with each other. Hell if I know, they’re just hangin’ with each other. You know, college kids and high school boys. I think their names were Charles, Rick, Louis, Adam, and… I forgot the last guy.
amir
Who would pay money to get a couple of kids cleaned out?
reid
Fuck if I know. But the rate is five grand, a grand per knuckle-head. It’s not as easy as that though, ya know? It’s all or nothing. I can’t just fuck three guys up and leave two runnin’ away. Doesn’t work like that. I have to send all five of em packin’. Which sounds hard, but is quite easy considering they’re all going to be hangin’ together in the same fucking place at the same fuckin' time. So my plan was sloppy but simple: I’m going bring my berretta along, ring the doorbell and let the neighbors hear five bangs. Just shoot them all there and then, quickly, and then leave, without getting caught. But as you probably know, anything that could go wrong does go wrong. One of the pricks got a way.
reid (cont’d)
Being a hit man is hard work. It is grueling hard work. I started out as a drug dealer when I was younger, you know. Smuggling shit and sellin’ them at the friendliest fuckin’ prices you wouldn’t believe. Why should they be expensive? I don’t use the fucking shit. I quit that shit a long time ago. Moved on. I don’t care for their value. If it’s cheap, it’s easier to sell. It doesn’t matter to me; I’m always making a profit because I stole the shit. But anyways, as I was saying, being a hired cleaner is hard work. You’ve got to be merciless and skillful.
amir
How old are you?
reid
How old am I? How fuckin’ old are you?
amir
Twenty-two. You look too young.
reid
Too young?
amir
Yeah. You’re about my age. I don’t believe any of this bullshit. You look like you’re around my age. And this autobiographical shit has gotten me thinking’. All this life of crime pish-posh.
reid
You look too fucking young to be a bartender. If you were shaved and baby-faced I’d bet that you’re no more than seventeen years old.
amir
Anyways, why are you telling me this? If you are what you say you are, you’ve got to be the most amateur assassin in the history of assassins. What kind of person walks into a closed bowling alley bar late at night and details their day of crime? There’s a flaw in your “bragging” charade.
reid
Why don’t you do me a favor and whip me up a screwdriver.
amir
You got ID?
reid
What for?
amir
I want to make sure you’re twenty-one or older. You’re drinkin’, drinkin’, drinkin’. Like a high school student at his best friend’s first alcoholic birthday party.
reid
Do you want to keep the money or what? Keep fuckin’ attacking me.
amir
Where’d a kid like you get so much money to throw around anyways?
reid
I get paid to do what I do. I’m the best at what I do. A professional. Anyways, if one is involved in this kind of shit, why the fuck would one carry around ID for?
amir
Ha ha ha. I think you’re just some crazy fucked up teenage delinquent looking for some attention. Your stories today made completely no fuckin’ sense. I think you should go home to your mommy and daddy. I’m gonna jet it’s been a long fuckin’ night.
Amir tidies the place up and is preparing to leave.
REID
Hey, man! I’m a hit man!
amir
Again, my point exactly. Do you think I’m stupid? If you’re a hit man, you are such a fuckin’ dumbass walking into a random bar and telling your stories. Go back to school, kid.
A BEAT.
AMIR (CONT’D)
Now I’ve got to go. Gonna get some beauty sleep. Time for you to get the fuck out here.
Reid draws out the gun and POINTS IT STRAIGHT AT Amir. Amir FREEZES in his last position: looking at Reid questioningly. His hands are at his sides, half raised, and moving down. Its body language meaning “please put the fucking gun down.”
AMIR
Why are you doing this to me? What are you trying to prove? (desperate)
I just wanna fuckin’ go home, man!
Reid approaches very slowly towards Amir, gun still pointed at Amir’s head. He keeps walking until the gun is smack dab against Amir’s temple.
AMIR (CONT’D)
(scared)
You’re not going to kill me now, are you?
reid
Give me back my money.
Nervously shaking, Amir reaches into his pocket and grabs the wad of cash. He hands it over to Reid.
REID (CONT’D)
(walking away)
What a waste of time.
Reid exits the bar.
AMIR STILL STANDS, STATIC, HAPPY TO BE ALIVE. WE ZOOM CLOSER TO HIM, TO HIS FACE. HE IS IN DISBELIEF.
FADE OUT.
THE END
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