From: (nikolai kingsley)
Newsgroups: alt.slack,talk.bizarre
Subject: Killing "Bob" again
Date: Mon, 1 Dec 1997 20:02:43 +1100
Organization: anarchartists/FDP
Lines: 99
Message-ID: <>
X-Newsreader: Anawave Gravity v2.00.753

Scene: the abandoned pier at Spotswood, Victoria; night-time. The end of 
the pier is lit by a single lamp overhead, with a conical shade. In the 
distance, lights wink on and off. There is a faint sound of water lapping 
against the pier pilings.

Two men stand at the end of the pier, looking out into the darkness. GUY 
2 (the one on the right) is holding a briefcase.

Close-up of the two men, seen from their right. They are businessmen in 
dark grey suits and overcoats, hands resting by their sides. The single 
light from above casts stark shadows down their faces, eyes hidden in 
dark sockets.

Neither man moves for thirty seconds (which seems like an eternity). GUY 
1 shoots his right cuff, exposing his expensive watch, brings it up to 
where he can read the time from it, stares at it for a bit longer than 
you'd need to then lets his arm fall back to his side. Silence for 
another thirty seconds.

GUY 1:
He'll be here on time.

GUY 2:
I don't doubt it.

GUY 1:
He's aware of what's hanging in the balance, and I know he has a 
reputation for... frivolity. But he'll be here.

GUY 2:
I said, I don't doubt it.

GUY 1 (softly):
Oh, but you do. I know you better than that. Calling you anal-retentive 
gives anal retention a bad name.

GUY 2:
You say that like it's a bad thing.

There is a pause, during which we can hear the water lapping against the 
pilings quite clearly.

GUY 1:
Your arse is so tight that when you fart, only dogs can hear it.

GUY 2:
And you aren't sure he'll be here. (pause) That's okay. Your nervous 
jabbering doesn't put me off. I'm used to it.

GUY 1:
You got the money?

Close-up on GUY 2's face as he rolls his eyes in exasperation.

GUY 1:
I said, do you have the - 

GUY 2 suddenly swings the briefcase around and hits GUY 1 in the stomach. 
GUY 1 gasps, folds up and falls sideways into the water. GUY 2 resumes 
waiting while we hear GUY 1 thrash about in the water. After about thirty 
seconds, GUY 1 laboriously climbs out of the water and resumes his place 
next to GUY 2. He stands there, water dripping from his suit. Another 
thirty seconds passes in silence.

GUY 1:

GUY 2:
Shut up, okay? You don't need to -

Sudden cut to a medium long shot of the pier as seen from the bank. For 
less than a second you can see the two men standing on the end of the 
pier, then a large boat - too big to be a speed boat, but smaller than a 
tugboat - jumps out of the darkness with no warning or anticipatory 
sound. It smashes into the pier end-on, demolishing it completely. We 
don't actually see the two men, but the implication is that they're dead. 
The boat wedges itself up on the pier which is splintered open in a rough 
V-shape and sagging, creaking as the boat settles into the wreckage, 
half-out of the water.

Close-up: a hand poking out of the wreckage, holding the briefcase. 
Another hand comes into shot and gently unbends the fingers from around 
the handle, then takes the case.

Medium shot: another man, from behind, in silhouette against the circle 
of light from the overhead lamp. He stands on the concrete abutment that 
the unbroken end of the pier is attached to; he holds the briefcase in 
one hand and is smoking a pipe.

Well, everything comes apart, one way or another... (he gives an odd kind 
of laugh) eh, eh, eh!

Fade to black.

bling frunk!