This is a concept I and a friend of mine worked on together. We're both avid fans of film and hope to be making our own very soon. We hope you enjoy what we've written and hope it gets us a shot to win this competition. Thank you.
Welcome to “Jack-Rabbit Slim’s” the swingin’est 50’s joint in the 1990’s and my own personal hell. Sure it pays the bills, but hell hath no fury like a minimum wage job, if you catch my drift. I’m just a wet-back, bus-boy and waiter in this crummy joint. They pay me to dress up to look like Buddy Holly and make an ass of myself, all while also taking shit from these hillbilly customers.
“May I take you orders, cool cats?”
I fucking hate this place...
Still, this sure as shit beats being a cop, I tell ya that.
After my shift’s over I hop in my shit-box of a car and drive home to watch a Lee Marvin film and fall asleep. As I’m driving I can’t keep my eyes from shooting back and forward between the road and the pack of Marlboro on the dashboard, but I know I shouldn’t. My girlfriend’s been on me to quit for a while.
There ain’t a light on when I get home but hear something, that don’t rub me the right way as I turn the key in the lock. Damn, I hope my Honey’s ok. She’s breathing heavy, I can hear her from the hall so I grab the baseball bat we keep by the door. I turn on the light in the hall...
“Honey? Baby, you home?”
I hear more noise around the bedroom as I round the corner.
“Baby is that you? You’re home early.”
“Yeah, I got off a little early tonight.”
There’s a hush voice in the room, sounds like a guy.
I bust in the door and see her half naked in bed with a jigaboo.
“HONEY WHAT THE FUCK?!” “Oh my god baby, I’m sorry, you were never meant to see...”
The nigger is half on his feet pulling on a pair of jeans tripping over his feet. “Oh damn, brother.”
“WHAT the-- WHAT?! I Ain’t your fuckin’ brother, man! Get the hell outta my house!”
Honey starts screaming; “Baby please.” “Ahh, save you whore, I want you out too!
“Get the fuck out of my house, get the fuck out of my life, now!”
She packs her shit and her boy waits for her in the car. She bitches at me forever about how neglected she felt while I was out there busting my ass to buy her nice shit... Fuckin’ bitch, man.
She finally leaves slamming the door and Christ do I need a beer. So I light up a smoke, because, fuck that slut, hop in my shit-box mobile and head to the nearest bar for a drink. Two Budweiser’s, three shots of tequila, and one whiskey sour later, I’m feeling a little better.
That is until I notice Nice Guy Eddie walkin’ in the joint... Jesus, this just ain’t my night. The prodigal prick child himself, just keep you head down, maybe he won’t see you...
“Well well, if it ain’t my old Buddy.”
“Don’t call me that Eddie, and fuck off will ya? I’m not in the mood.”
What am I saying, this is Joe’s son, and he’s practically family, I should show some respect.
“I’m sorry, Eddie, I just walked in on Honey screwing some fucking coon...”
“Aw, Jesus. H Christ, Charlie, I’m sorry.” Eddie sits and we have a few on his dime. Before long we’re talking about the old days when I used to work odd jobs for his pop. “You should give my daddy a call sometime, man. Get you some work, clear your mind of all that life shit, huh?”
We talk business for a while and he tells me his father is looking for a few loyal and trustworthy guys for a job, sounds intriguing so I ask what the cut it, whatever it is, it’s better than the chump change I’m getting paid to dress up as Mr. 1950s night after night...
The next night, while I’m on my smoke break, I make a phone call to Joe, and tell him I’m in. Who knows where this’ll take me huh? Might be the best thing that ever happened in my life. So long Honey and good bye Buddy Holly...
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