Yesterday was the first day in about 20 that I didn't write at least six pages of script. It reminded me of that time in a new relationship when you have the first night without sex.
Is it just a blip? Will we go back to the same pace starting tomorrow? Or have things cooled down for good? Will the pace now be a more 'realistic' one. Is this the start of a dry spell. Are the wheels coming off? Is it the end? Oh no?
But this morning I sat down and started writing again. It was just a busy day yesterday. The script and I are still 'into' each other.
UTTERLY RUCKED 17Logo by Guy Landry
by David Tulloch
Part Seventeen, Spear Tackle
Wide panel showing the killer in the middle distance (hard to make out clearly due to the angle and lighting) lying in the hallway where she fell after being ankle tapped in the previous episode. In the foreground Williams is lying on the ground having just ankle tapped the killer. Davies is holding the pool cue in a menacing manner and is about to do something rash. As in the previous episode, have a vacuum cleaner (that has been left by the cleaning staff) in the hallway near the fallen killer.
Davies: " We've got you now!"
Davies charges, screaming, holding the pool cue like a sword or similar weapon.
Davies swings the pool cue down, but it is parried by the killer (who face is still hidden by her cap, arms and the angle) who uses the vacuum cleaner nozzle pipe thing.
Davies pulls the pool cue back for another swing ...
But hits Williams with it on the backswing, right in the nose.
Williams: Hey, watch ... (whack!!)"
The killer runs off.
Davies: 'Sorry, mate."
Davies runs off after the fleeing killer, pool cue in hand. Williams is holding his nose, which is bleeding.
Williams: " Yub bloke my ducken' dose!"
Switch back to the cafe meal. Patel and Patterson finishing their mains.
Patton: "(urp). That was good."
Patel: "Not bad."
Patton: "No sign of my psycho ex then?"
Patel: "No. But she may be waiting until you are walking back to the hotel."
Cellphone ring: (blu-da-beep beep beep)
Patel on the phone ... this can be broken up into separate panels or done as a collage, or whatever you like.
"Well, you can sort it out."
"Just don't let them kill anyone they shouldn't."
"Yes. I'll be back in a while."
"No I'm not going to hurry back."
"Use your initiative."
Patton: "The sergeant?"
Patel: "Yes. It seems a few of your team have decided to go all vigilante. They're out looking to beat a confession out of Wayne."
Patton: "Well, if anyone deserves a beating it's him."
Patel: "Apart from the killer you mean."
Patton: "You sure it's not him. He is a fucking ref."
Patton: "Referee's are a rugby player's natural enemy."
Patel: "Oh? I hadn't thought of that."
Patton: "So it could be him?"
Patel: "Wayne? No. We ruled him out early on. He was being observed by an officer when two of the killings took place."
Patton: "Still, maybe the lads should still give him a thump just to be sure."
Patel: "I'm sure Sergeant Bell has things under control."
Back to the violence.
Davies chasing the fleeing, and mostly out of shot, killer. The killer has opened a door up ahead.
Davies reaches the now closed door. It has a sign saying STAFF ONLY. CLEANING SUPPLIES.
Davies: "Dead end, ya wanker. I've got ya!"
Davies wrenches open the door with one hand, the pool cue raised with the other, ready to strike.
The killer throws something (industrial strength cleaning product) into Davies eyes. He is the blindside flanker after all.
Davies: "Ahhh ... fucking hell!
Davis clucthes at his eyes, dropping the pool cue.
Davies: "Jesus, that stings!"
Down the hall we see Williams running to the scene. The open door obscures the killer. Davies is still clutching at his eyes.
Davies: "Mate? Help me mate. I can't see."
Williams arrives and gets the first good look at the killer. We don't though. Not just yet ...
Williams: "You? But why would you kill anyone?
The killer shoves the pool cue into Willaims' guts, so it comes out the other side. (Spear tackle).
Williams: (erk) "But ... you're just ... (erk) "
Large panel to finish. The killer is revealed. We see the killer's face. Finally. It is, of course, Mel. The daughter of the cuckolded ref. She has one hand on Williams' mouth, and with the other holds a gloved finger up to her lips in the universal symbol to be quiet. In the frame behind the killer and her victim Davies is still clutching at his blinded eyes.
Davies: "What? Who is it? What's going on?"