Metal Matt Fan Fic: The Big Metal Matt

[Metal Matt]

So... in anticipation for what will definitely be Spanky and Gee's best Movie Mayhem episode, I have decided to do a parody of The Big Lebowski.

CAST:

Metal Matt as METAL MATT
Spanky as SPANKY
Gee as GEE
Matt Crater as The Big Metal Matt (MATT CRATER)
Jennifer Tilly as Maude (JENNIFER)
Tiffany as Bunny (TIFFANY)
UndeadPunk as Brandt (PUNK)
Chucky as The Stranger (STRANGLER)
The Doctor as Jackie Treehhorn (DOCTOR TREEHORN)
Fiona Dourif, Ryan Gosling, and Johnny Depp as NIHILISTS 1,2,3
Chucky115Awesome as Jesus (GOD)

ACT I, PART I:

STRANGLER: A way out west there was a fella, fella I want to tell you about, fella by the name of Matt Crater. At least, that was the handle his lovin' parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. This Crater, he called himself Metal Matt. Now, Metal Matt, that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about Metal Matt that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where he lived, like- wise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place rather interestin'. They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. I didn't find it to be that exactly, as I liked living near the Lakeshore a lot better, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there. 'Course, I can't say I seen London, and I never been to France, and I ain't never seen no queen in her undies as the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing Los Angeles and thisahere story I'm about to unfold--wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever' bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any a those other places, and in English too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin' like the Almighty Damballa gypped me.

METAL MATT is seen in the grocery store getting several packets of Tropical Punch, Black Cherry, and Grape Kool-Aid.

STRANGLER: I'm talkin' about Metal Matt here-- sometimes there's a man who, well, he's the man for his time and place, he fits right in there--and that's Metal Matt, in Los Angeles. ...and even if he's a lazy man, and Metal Matt was certainly that--quite possibly the laziest in Los Angeles County. Which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide--but sometimes there's a man. . . sometimes there's a man. Well, I lost my train of thought here. But--oh hell, I've introduced him enough.

METAL MATT walks into his house and finds two people. They drag METAL MATT into the bathroom and dunk his head in the toilet.

VOICE: We want that money, Crater. Jenny said you were good for it. Where's the money, Crater! WHERE'S THE MONEY, DOPEHEAD!

METAL MATT: It's uh, it's down there somewhere. Lemme take another look.

VOICE: Don't mess with us. If your wife owes money to Doctor Treehorn, that means you owe money to Doctor Treehorn.

CHINESE MAN: Ever thus to deadbeats, Crater.

He starts peeing on Metal Matt's guitar.

METAL MATT: Oh, man. Don't do--

BLOND MAN: You see what happens? You see what happens, Crater?

METAL MATT: Look, nobody calls me Crater. You got the wrong guy. I'm Metal Matt, man.

BLOND MAN: Your name is Crater. Your wife is Jenny.

METAL MATT: Jenny? Look, moron. You see a wedding ring? Does this place look like I'm married? The toilet seat's up! I don't have any fine china!

BLOND MAN: Woo?

WOO: Yeah?

BLOND MAN: Wasn't this guy supposed to be a millionaire?

WOO: Uh?

BLOND MAN: What do you think?

WOO: He looks like a loser.

METAL MATT: Well, that's just hurtful. At least I'm housebroken. You can't say that too often.

We cut to a bowling alley, where METAL MATT, SPANKY, and GEE are.

SPANKY: Mark it, Metal Matt! This was a valued guitar.

METAL MATT: Yeah man, it really tied the room together-- What's your point, Spanky?

SPANKY: There's no reason--here's my point, Metal Matt--there's no reason--

GEE: Yeah Spanky, what's your point?

SPANKY: Forget it, you two. You're out of your element.

METAL MATT: This Chinaman who peed on my guitar, I can't go give him a bill so what the hell are you talking about?

SPANKY: What in the name of Ryan Gosling are you talking about?! This Chinaman is not the issue! I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Metal Matt. Across this line you do not, uh--and also, Metal Matt, Chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American. Please.

METAL MATT: Spanky, this is not a guy who built the rail- roads, here, this is a guy who peed on my--

GEE: He peed on the Metal Matt's guitar. Wait, Metal Matt, I think I have the solution. There's another guy called Matt Crater. He's a millionaire. He's gonna be easier to find anyway than these two. And he has the wealth and the resources. That guitar really tied the room together, did it not?

METAL MATT: Definitely. Yeah, I could find this Crater guy--

SPANKY: His name is Crater? That's your name, Metal Matt!

MEtal MATT: Yeah, this is the guy, this guy should compensate me for the guitar. I mean his wife goes out and owes money and they pee on my guitar. Thank you Gee, maybe you two can tag along with me. Go on an adventure.

GEE: No problem, man. That's what friends are for. We will gladly accompany our friend and the leader of the Metal Army anywhere. Let's go on an adventure!

ACT I, PART II coming soon...

[Spanky]

Awesome dude, I am liking it so far.

[Metal Matt]

ACT I, PART II:

METAL MATT enters a mansion with a young man, PUNK.

PUNK: And this is the study. You can see the various commendations, honorary degrees, et cetera.

METAL MATT: Yes, uh, very impressive.

PUNK: Please, feel free to inspect them.

METAL MATT: I'm not really, uh.

PUNK: Please! Please! Somebody like John Cena could only dream to have as many accomplishments as Mr. Crater.

METAL MATT: Uh-huh.

PUNK: That's the key to the city of Pasadena, which Mr. Crater was given two years ago in recognition of his various civic, uh.

METAL MATT: Uh-huh.

PUNK: That's a Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce Business Achiever award, which is given--not necessarily given every year! Given only when there's a worthy, somebody especially--

METAL MATT: Hey, is this him with Homer Simpson?

PUNK: That is indeed Mr. Crater with the Simpson patriarch, yes, taken when--

METAL MATT: Crater on the right?

PUNK: Of course, Mr. Crater on the right, Mr. Simpson on the left, taken when--

METAL MATT: Are these.

PUNK: These are Mr. Crater's children, so to speak--

METAL MATT: Different mothers, huh? Guy gets around.

PUNK: No, they--

METAL MATT: I guess he's pretty, uh, racially pretty cool--

PUNK: They're not his, heh-heh, they're not literally his children; they're the Little Crater Urban Achievers, inner-city children of promise but without the--

METAL MATT: I see.

PUNK: --without the means for higher education, so Mr. Crater has committed to sending all of them to college.

MR. CRATER enters the room.

MR. CRATER: Okay sir, you're a Crater, I'm a Crater, that's terrific, I'm very busy so what can I do for you?

METAL MATT: Well sir, it's this guitar I have, really tied the room together-

MR. CRATER: You told Punk on the phone, he told me. So where do I fit in?

METAL MATT: Well they were looking for you, these two guys, they were trying to--

MR. CRATER: I'll say it again, all right? You told Punk. He told me. I know what happened. Yes? Yes?

METAL MATT: So you know they were trying to piss on your guitar--

MR. CRATER: Did I urinate on your guitar?

METAL MATT: You mean, did you personally come and pee on my--

MR. CRATER: Hello! Do you speak English? I'll say it again. Did I urinate on your guitar?

METAL MATT: Well no, like I said, Woo peed on the guitar--

MR. CRATER: Hello! Hello! So every time--I just want to understand this, sir--every time a guitar is micturated upon in this fair city, I have to compensate the--

METAL MATT: Come on, man, I'm not trying to scam anybody here, I'm just--

MR. CRATER: You're just looking for a handout like every other--are you employed, Mr. Crater?

METAL MATT: Look, let me explain something. I'm not Mr. Crater; you're Mr. Crater. I'm Metal Matt. So that's what you call me. That, or The Ayatollah Of Rock n' Rollah. Or El Metalrino, if, you know, you're not into the whole brevity thing--

MR. CRATER: Are you employed, sir?

METAL MATT: Employed?

MR. CRATER: You don't go out and make a living dressed in a ribcage shirt and leather pants in the middle of a weekday.

METAL MATT: Is this a--Is Thursday a weekday?

MR. CRATER: But I do work, so if you don't mind--

METAL MATT: No, look. I do mind. Metal Matt minds. This will not stand, ya know, this aggression will not stand, man. I mean, if your wife owes--

MR. CRATER: My wife is not the issue here.

METAL MATT: Ah, screw it.

MR. CRATER: Sure! Screw it! That's your answer! Tattoo it on your forehead! Your answer to everything!

METAL MATT exits the office.

MR. CRATER: Your "revolution" is over, Mr. Crater! Condolences! The bums lost!

MR. CRATER: ...My advice is, do what your parents did! Get a job, sir! The bums will always lose-- do you hear me, Crater? THE BUMS WILL ALWAYS--

METAL MATT shuts the door on the old man's bellowing to find himself in a high coffered hallway. PUNK is approaching.

PUNK: How was your meeting, Mr. Crater?

METAL MATT: Okay. The old man told me to take any guitar in the house.

PUNK: Manolo will load it into your car for you, uh, Metal Matt.

Tracking toward the pool. A young woman sits facing it, her back to us, leaning forward to paint her toenails.

PUNK: Well, enjoy, and perhaps we'll see you again some time, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: Yeah sure, if I'm ever in the neighborhood, need to use the john.

Arcing around the woman's foot as she finishes painting the nails black No. 1.

TIFFANY: Go ahead. Play with them.

PUNK: Our guest has to be getting along, Mrs. Crater.

METAL MATT: You're Tiffany?

TIFFANY: I'll have sex with you for a thousand dollars.

PUNK releases a gale of forced laughter:

PUNK: Ha-ha-ha-ha! Wonderful woman. Very free-spirited. We're all very fond of her.

TIFFANY: Punk can't watch though. Or he has to pay a hundred.

PUNK: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That's marvelous.

He continues to lead away METAL MATT.

We then cut to GEE getting a strike, bowling.

GEE: WOO! I am slamming it tonight!

SPANKY: All right, way to go Gee!

SPANKY, just arriving, is carrying a leatherette satchel in one hand and a large plastic carrier in the other.

SPANKY: If you will it, it is no dream.

METAL MATT: Huh?

SPANKY: State of Israel. If you will it, Metal Matt, it is no--

METAL MATT: What are you talking about? The carrier. What's in the carrier?

SPANKY: Huh? Oh--Cynthia's Tabby. Can't leave him home alone or he eats the furniture.

METAL MATT: What the hell are you--

SPANKY: I'm saying, Cynthia's Tabby. I'm looking after it while Cynthia and Marty Ackerman are in Dawson's Creek.

METAL MATT: You brought a freakin' Tabby cat bowling?

SPANKY: What do you mean "brought it bowling"? I didn't rent it shoes. I'm not buying it a beer. He's not gonna take your turn, Metal Matt.

He lets the fat cat out of the carrier. It wanders around the alley and jumps on another bowler, tearing him to shreds.

METAL MATT: Hey, man, if my ex-wife asked me to take care of her cat while she and her boyfriend went to Dawson's Creek, I'd tell her to go screw herself. Why can't she board it?

SPANKY: First of all, Dude, you don't have an ex, secondly, it's a special kind of cat. You simply wouldn't understand. We listen to Jay Mohr and Adam Carolla's podcasts together. We have a special kind of bond.

GEE: Hey man--

SPANKY: [to SMOKEY, another bowler who has long grey hair] OVER THE LINE!!!!

SMOKEY turns from his last roll to look at SPANKY.

SMOKEY: Huh?

SPANKY: Over the line, Smokey! I'm sorry. That's a foul.

SMOKEY: Bullcrap. Eight, Gee..

SPANKY: Excuse me! Mark it zero. Next frame.

SMOKEY: Bullcrap. Spanky!

SPANKY: Smokey, This is not Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.

GEE: Come on Spanky, it's just--it's Smokey. So his toe slipped over a little, it's just a game.

SPANKY: This is a league game. This determines who enters the next round-robin, am I wrong?

SMOKEY: Yeah, but--

SPANKY: Am I wrong!?

SMOKEY: Yeah, but I wasn't over. Gimme the marker, Gee, I'm marking it an eight.

SPANKY takes out a gun, which has John Cena stickers all over it.

SPANKY: Smokey my friend, you're entering a world of pain.

METAL MATT: Hey Spanky--

SPANKY: Mark that frame an eight, you're entering a world of pain.

SMOKEY: I'm not--

SPANKY: A world of pain.

A manager in a bowling-shirt style uniform is running for a phone.

SMOKEY: Look Metal Matt, I don't hold with this. This guy is your partner, you should--

SPANKY primes the gun and points it at his head.

SPANKY: HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY? AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO GIVES A CRAP ABOUT THE RULES? MARK IT ZERO!

GEE: Spanky, they're calling the cops, put the piece away.

SPANKY: MARK IT ZERO!

SMOKEY: Spanky--

SPANKY: YOU THINK I'M SCREWING AROUND HERE? MARK IT ZERO!!

SMOKEY: All right! There it is! It's freakin' zero!

He points frantically at the score projected above the lane.

SMOKEY: You happy, you crazy Skype using, podcast listening lunatic?

SPANKY: This is a league game, Smokey.

Outside the parking lot, SPANKY, GEE, and METAL MATT walk to the METAL MATT's car.

GEE: Spanky, you can't do that. These guys', they're pacifists. Smokey was a conscientious objector.

SPANKY: You know, I myself dabbled with pacifism at one point. Not in Nam, of course--

METAL MATT: And you know Smokey has emotional problems!

SPANKY: You mean--beyond pacifism?

METAL MATT: In the words of Joan Jett, he's fragile, man! He's very fragile!

As they get into the car:

SPANKY: Huh. I did not know that. Well, it's water under the bridge. And we do enter the next round-robin, am I wrong?

METAL MATT: No, you're not wrong--

SPANKY: Am I wrong!

GEE: You're not wrong, Spanky, you're just odd.

They watch a squad car take a squealing turn into the lot.

SPANKY: Okay then. We play God and Justin next week. They'll be pushovers.

METAL MATT: Just, just take it easy, Spanky.

SPANKY: That's your answer to everything, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: Well, just take it easy, man.

SPANKY: I'm perfectly calm, Metal Matt.

GEE: Yeah? Wavin' a gun around?!

SPANKY: (smugly) Calmer than you two are.

DUDE'S HOUSE

A Gibson Les Paul Cherry Sunburst '59 lies beside the Dude's beat-up old furniture.



At the table next to the answering machine Metal Matt is fixing Kool-Aid.

VOICE: Dude, this is Smokey. Look, I don't wanna be a Tommy Lee like hard-on about this, and I know it wasn't your fault, but I just thought it was fair to tell you that Gene and I will be submitting this to the League and asking them to set aside the round. Or maybe forfeit it to us, so, like I say, just thought, you know, fair warning. Tell Spanky.

A beep.

ANOTHER VOICE: Mr. Crater, this is Punk at, uh, well--at Mr. Crater's office. Please call us as soon as is convenient.

Beep.

ANOTHER VOICE: Mr. Crater, this is Fred Dynarski with the So Cal Bowling League. I just got a, an informal report, uh, that a uh, a member of your team, uh, Spanky Kosanke, drew a loaded, tacky weapon during league play--

We hear the doorbell.


THE DOOR

It swings open to reveal a short, hairy, muscular but balding middle-aged man in a black T-shirt and black cut-off jeans.

METAL MATT: Hiya Allan.

ALLAN: Metal Matt, I finally got the venue I wanted. I'm Performing my dance quintet--you know, my tribute to Michael Jackson--at Crane Jackson's Fountain Street Theatre on Tuesday night, and I'd love it if you came and gave me notes.

The Dude takes a swig of Kool-Aid.

METAL MATT: Sure Allan, I'll be there.

ALLAN: Metal Matt, uh, tomorrow is already the tenth.

METAL MATT: Okay.

ALLAN: Just, uh, just slip the rent under my door.

METAL MATT: Yeah, okay.

BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM

The voice continues on the machine.

VOICE: --serious infraction, and examine your standing. Thank you. Beep.

VOICE: Mr. Crater, Punk again. Please do call us when you get in and I'll send the limo. Let me assure you--I hope you're not avoiding this call because of the guitar, which, I assure you, is not a problem. We need your help and, uh--well we would very much like to see you. Thank you. It's Punk. You know, the guy that hates John Cena and Roman Reigns?

We are pushing PUNK down the high-ceiling-ed hallway. Distantly, we hear Drowning Pool's Tear Away playing.




PUNK talks back over His shoulder:

PUNK: We've had some terrible news. Mr. Crater is in seclusion in the West Wing.

PUNK throws open a pair of heavy double doors. The music washes over us as we enter a great study where Matt Crater, a blanket thrown over his knees, stares hauntedly into a fire, listening to Drowning Pool.

MATT CRATER waves the METAL MATT in without looking around.

MR. CRATER: It's funny. I can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome. I've accomplished more than most men. What. . . What makes a man, Mr. Crater?

METAL MATT: Metal Matt.

MR. CRATER: Huh?

METAL MATT: I don't know, sir.

MR. CRATER: Is it. . . is it, being prepared to do the right thing? Whatever the price? Isn't that what makes a man?

METAL MATT: Sure. That and a pair of testicles.

MR. CRATER: Tiffany.

He turns back around and the firelight shows tear tracks on his cheeks.

METAL MATT: 'Scuse me?

MR. CRATER: Tiffany. . . She is the light of my life. Are you surprised at my tears, sir?

METAL MATT: I guess.

MR. CRATER: Strong men also cry. . . Strong men also cry.

He clears his throat.

MR. CRATER: I received this fax this morning.

PUNK hastily pulls a flimsy sheet from his clipboard and hands it to METAL MATT.

MR. CRATER: As you can see, it is a ransom note. Sent by cowards. Men who are unable to achieve on a level field of play. Men who will not sign their names. Weaklings. Bums.

METAL MATT examines the fax.

"WE HAVE TIFFANY. GATHER ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN UNMARKED NON-CONSECUTIVE TWO-DOLLAR BILL. AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS. NO FUNNY STUFF."

METAL MATT: Bummer.

MR. CRATER looks soulfully at METAL MATT.

MR. CRATER: Punk will fill you in on the details.

PUNK tugs at the METAL MATT's shirt and points him back to the hall.

HALLWAY

Drowning Pool is once again faint. PUNK's voice is hushed:

PUNK: Mr. Crater is prepared to make a generous offer to you to act as courier once we get instructions for the money.

METAL MATT: Why me, man?

PUNK: He suspects that the culprits might be the very people who, uh, soiled your guitar, and you're in a unique position to confirm or, uh, disconfirm that suspicion.

METAL MATT: So he thinks it's the guitar-pissers, huh?

PUNK: Well, Metal Matt, we just don't know.

ACT II, PART I coming soon...

[Spanky]

Awesome man, pretty good. You did leave some "Lebowski", "Dude", and "Walter" in there though, lol.

[Metal Matt]

Yeah, I just copy and paste parts from the script and then edit in what I'm thinking in my mind what I want in the story, lol. But glad you like it.

[Gee]

This is really awesome man, I laughed quite a bit. Cannot wait for more

[Metal Matt]

ACT II, PART I:

We are looking across the length of the bowling alley at a tall bowler displaying perfect form. He wears an all-in-one dacron-polyester stretch bowling outfit with a racing stripe down each side.

METAL MATT, GEE, and SPANKY are staring off towards the bowler.

METAL MATT: That creep can roll, man--

SPANKY: Yeah, but he's a oddball, Metal Matt. Spent six months in Chino for dressing up as Spider-Man and interrupting a parade. Anyway. How much they offer you?

METAL MATT: Twenty grand. And of course I still keep the guitar.

GEE: Just for making the hand-off?

METAL MATT: Yeah.

He slips a little black box out of his pants pocket.

METAL MATT: They gave me a beeper, so whenever these guys call--

SPANKY: What if it's during a game?

METAL MATT: I told him if it was during league play--I figure it's easy money, it's all pretty harmless. I mean she probably kidnapped herself.

SPANKY: Huh?

GEE: What do you mean, Metal Matt?

METAL MATT: Guitar-peers did not do this. I mean look at it. Young trophy wife. Marries a guy for money but figures he isn't giving her enough. She owes money all over town, It's all a fake. Like Lenin said, look for the person who will benefit. And you will, uh, you know, you'll, uh, you know what I'm trying to say--

SPANKY: I am the Walrus.

GEE: No, Spanky, V.I. Lenin! Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov!

SPANKY: That's exactly what happened, Metal Matt! That makes me SICK!

METAL MATT: Yeah, well, what do you care, Spanky?

GEE: Yeah, why are you so pissed off?

SPANKY: Those rich crapsacks! This whole thing-- I did not watch my buddies die face down in the muck so that this strumpet--

METAL MATT: I don't see any connection to Vietnam, Spanky.

SPANKY: Well, there isn't a literal connection, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: Spanky, face it, there isn't any connection. It's your roll.

VOICE: Are you ready to be screwed, man?

They both look up.

GOD, on his way out, looks down at them from the lip of the lanes. Over his polyester all-in-one he now wears a windbreaker with a racing stripe and "Fiona Forever" stitched on the breast. Behind him stands his partner, JUSTIN.

GOD: I see you rolled your way into the semis. Deos mio, man. Justin and me, we're gonna mess you up.

METAL MATT: Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man.

GOD looks at the three.

GOD: Let me tell you something, bendeco. You pull any your crazy crap with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you and stick it up your bunghole and pull the trigger til it goes "click".

GEE: God.

GOD: You said it. Nobody plays mind games with God.

We follow PUNK down the familiar marble hallway. Again there is a distant aria. PUNK throws out a wrist to look at his watch.

PUNK: They called about 15 minutes ago. They want you to take the money and drive north on the 405. They'll call you on this iPhone with instructions in about 15 minutes. One person only or I'd go with you. They were very clear on that: one person only.

They have reached the little desk outside of the big CRATER's office; opens its bottom drawer with a key and takes out an attache case. He hands this to METAL MATT along with an iPhone.

PUNK: Here's the money, and the phone. Please, Metal Matt, follow whatever instructions they give.

METAL MATT: Uh-huh.

PUNK: Her life is in your hands.

METAL MATT: Oh, man, don't say that..

PUNK: Mr. Crater asked me to repeat that: Her life is in your hands. And report back to us as soon as it's done.

We pan off METAL MATT, driving, to his point of view through the front windshield. The headlights play over SPANKY and GEE standing waiting in front of the storefront of Wal Mart. GEE is holding an irregular shape bundled in brown wrapping paper.

The car stops in front of him and GEE opens METAL MATT's door and hands in the briefcase.

GEE: Take the ringer. I'll drive.

METAL MATT takes the briefcase and slides over.

SPANKY: Have they called yet?

METAL MATT opens the briefcase and paws bemusedly through it as the car starts rolling.

METAL MATT: What the hell is this?

SPANKY: My apartment friends. Jumbo the cone, John Cena, Demetri, Batman, they're all there.

METAL MATT: Spanky, I'm sure there's a reason you brought all these--

SPANKY: That's right, Metal Matt. The weight. The ringer can't look empty.

GEE: Me and Spanky got to thinking after we recorded our Movie Mayhem podcast. We got to thinking why should we settle for a measly twenty grand, when we can keep the entire million?

METAL MATT: Nice idea, Gee.

The phone rings Joan Jett's "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" as METAL MATT grabs it.

METAL MATT: METAL MATT here.

VOICE: Who is this?

METAL MATT: Metal Matt the Bagman. Where do you want us to go?

VOICE: ...Us?

METAL MATT: Uh, yeah, you know, me and the driver. I'm not handling the money and driving the car and talking on the phone all by my --

VOICE: Shut the hell up. (Beat) Hello?

METAL MATT: Yeah?

VOICE: Okay, listen--

SPANKY looks over at METAL MATT and bellows:

SPANKY: Metal Matt, are you screwing this up?

VOICE: Who is that?

METAL MATT: The passenger, man, I told you--

Click. Dial tone.

METAL MATT: Oh crap.

SPANKY: What the hell is going on there?

METAL MATT: They hung up, Spanky! You screwed it up! You screwed it up! Her life was in our hands!

SPANKY: Easy, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: We're screwed now! We don't get crap and they're gonna kill her! We're screwed, Spanky!

GEE: Don't worry, you two, nothing is screwed. They'll call back. Look, she kidnapped her--

The phone rings.

GEE: Ya see? Nothing is screwed here, guys. Nothing is screwed. These guys are amateurs!

Into the phone:

METAL MATT: Metal Matt here.

VOICE: Okay, we proceed. But only if there is no funny stuff.

METAL MATT: Yeah.

VOICE: So no funny stuff. Okay?

METAL MATT: Hey, just tell me where the hell you want us to go.

A HIGHWAY SIGN: SIMI VALLEY ROAD

It flashes by in the headlights of the roaring car.

METAL MATT: That was the sign.

GEE wrestles the car onto the two-lane road.

GEE: Yeah. So as long as we get her back, nobody's in a position to complain. And we keep the money.

METAL MATT: How do we get her back?

GEE: That's the simple part, Metal Matt. When we make the handoff, all three of us grab the guy and beat it out of him.

SPANKY: That's right, Metal Matt. The beauty of this is its simplicity. If the plan gets too complex something always goes wrong. If there's one thing I learned in Nam--

The phone rings.

METAL MATT: Metal Matt.

VOICE: You are approaching a wooden bridge. When you cross it you throw the bag from the left window of the moving car. Do not slow down. We're watching you.

Click. Dial tone.

SPANKY: What'd he say? Where's the hand-off?

METAL MATT: There is no hand-off! At a wooden bridge we throw the money out of the car!

SPANKY: We can't do that, Metal Matt. That screws up our plan. Wooden bridge, huh?

GEE: Alright, The bridge is coming up! Gimme the ringer!

METAL MATT and SPANKY hand GEE the ringer and she throws it out the window.

GEE: This is it, let's take that hill!

The car, however, swerves and lurches. The car clunks and screams around in a skid. As METAL MATT struggles out holding the satchel of money. The front of his car is crumpled into a tree. The car body saps back to the left, where the rear wheel has been shot out.

SPANKY: WE HAVE IT! WE HAVE IT!!

After a long silence:

SPANKY: Ah, screw it, let's go bowling.

BOWLING LANE

A ball rumbles in to scatter ten pins.

METAL MATT: What are we gonna tell Crater?

SPANKY: Huh? Oh, him, yeah. Well I don't see, um-- what exactly is the problem?

The iPhone stops ringing.

METAL MATT: Huh? The problem is--what do you mean what's the--there's no--we didn't--they're gonna kill that poor woman--

GEE is trotting excitedly up.

GEE: They posted the next round of the tournament.

SPANKY: When do we play?

GEE: This Saturday. God and--

SPANKY: Saturday! Well they'll have to reschedule. I told that lunkhead down at the league office-- who's in charge of scheduling?

GEE: Burkhalter.

SPANKY: I told that kraut a thousand times I don't roll on shabbas.

GEE: How come you don't roll on Saturday, Spanky?

SPANKY: I'm shomer shabbas.

GEE: What's that?

SPANKY: Saturday is shabbas. Jewish day of rest. Means I don't work, I don't drive a car, I don't ride in a car, I don't handle money, I don't take a huge, steaming dump,  I don't turn on the dutch oven, and I sure as hell don't roll!

The three exit the bowling alley.

GEE: Hell, you just tell him--well, you tell him, uh, we made the hand-off, everything went, uh, you know according to plan.

SPANKY: Say, where is the car?

The three bowlers, stopped at the edge of the lot, stare out at an empty parking space.

GEE: Where's your car, Metal Matt?

METAL MATT: I have no idea. It must have been stolen.

METAL MATT'S LIVING ROOM

The three are slumped disconsolately back on the couch, Facing them are two uniformed policeman, one middle-aged, the other a fresh-faced rookie. At the cut the portable phone, in METAL MATT's lap, is ringing. METAL MATT waits for the rings to end. When they do:

METAL MATT: 1972 Ford Gran Torino

YOUNGER COP: Color?

METAL MATT: Red. Like on that Starsky and Hutch show.

YOUNGER COP: And was there anything of value in the car?

METAL MATT: Huh? Oh. Yeah. CD holder. Couple of Joan Jett CDs. And there was a, uh. . . my briefcase.

YOUNGER COP: In the briefcase?

METAL MATT: Papers. Just papers. You know, my papers. Business papers.

YOUNGER COP: And what do you do, sir?

METAL MATT: I'm a rock star.

OLDER COP: ...Most people, we're working nights, they offer us coffee.

METAL MATT: Oh, sure, I'll go make you some.

Beep.

FEMALE VOICE ON MACHINE: Mr. Crater, I'd like to see you. Call when you get home and I'll send a car for you. My name is Jennifer Crater.

Beep. Dial tone.

We are moving through the open living area of a large downtown L.A. loft. A huge unfinished canvas, lit by standing industrial lights, dominates one wall. The furnishings are spare given the space.

METAL MATT: I'll be with you in a minute, Mr. Crater.

She rumbles by in another pass.

JENNIFER: All right, Mr. Crater, let's get down to cases. My father told me he's agreed to let you have the rug, but it was a gift from me to my late mother, and so was not his to give. Now. As for this. . . "kidnapping"--

METAL MATT: Huh?

JENNIFER: Yes, I know about it. And I know that you acted as courier. And let me tell you something: the whole thing stinks to high heaven. Do you like sex, Mr. Crater?

METAL MATT: What?

JENNIFER: Sex. The physical act of love. Do you like it?

METAL MATT: Well, who doesn't?

JENNIFER: I like it too. I was just curious, just want to get to know you better. Anyway, back to the subject. I am one of two trustees of the Crater Foundation, the other
being my father. The Foundation takes youngsters from Watts and--

METAL MATT: Yeah, the achievers.

JENNIFER: Little Crater Urban Achievers, yes, and proud we are of all of them. I asked my father about his withdrawal of a million dollars from the Foundation account and he told me about this "abduction", but I tell you it is preposterous. This compulsive fornicator is taking my father for the proverbial ride. My father and I don't get along; he doesn't approve of my lifestyle and, needless to say, I don't approve of his. Still, I hardly wish to make my father's embezzlement a police matter, so I'm proposing that you try to recover the money from the people you delivered it to. If you successfully do so, I will compensate you to the tune of 1% of the recovered sum.

METAL MATT: A hundred.

JENNIFER: Thousand, yes, bones or clams or whatever you call them. What happened to you? You look like you're hurt.

METAL MATT: Got involved in a minor car accident.

JENNIFER: Oh, well, here's the name and number of a doctor who will look at it for you. You will receive no bill. He's a good man, and thorough.

LIMO

METAL MATT sits in back holding a glass of Kool-Aid, listening to the chauffeur, a man of about the same age from whose livery cap a ponytail emerges.

DRIVER: So he says, "My son can't hold a job, my daughter's married to a loser, and I got a rash on my backside so bad I can't hardly sit down. But you know me. I can't complain."

METAL MATT: I was feeling really crappy earlier in the day, I'd lost a little money, I was down in the dumps.

TONY: Aw, forget about it.

METAL MATT: Yeah, man! I can't be worrying about that. Life goes on!

The limo has rolled to a stop. METAL MATT gets out, still holding his drink.

TONY: Home sweet home, Mr. C. Who's your friend in the Volkswagen?

METAL MATT: Huh?

His eyes on the rear view mirror, TONY jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

He followed us here.

METAL MATT turns to look.

HIS POV

Halfway up the block a Volkswagen bug has pulled over to the curb. In the driver's seat we see a man's shape.

THE DUDE

He scowls.

METAL MATT: When did he-

METAL MATT is grabbed from behind and muscled away in a half-nelson by another uniformed chauffeur.

SECOND CHAUFFEUR: Into the limo. No arguments.

As he is frog-marched towards another limo METAL MATT holds his drink away from his chest and cups a hand underneath it.

METAL MATT: Careful, man! There's a beverage here!

The waiting limo's back door is flung open.

INSIDE

METAL MATT is shoved in and awkwardly takes a seat facing the rear. The door is slammed behind him.

MR. CRATER: Start talking and talk fast you lousy bum!

PUNK: We've been frantically trying to reach you, Metal Matt.

PUNK sits catty-corner from METAL MATT; directly across from METAL MATT is the big CRATER.

MR. CRATER: Where's my money, you bum?!

METAL MATT: Well we--I don't--

MR. CRATER: They did not receive the money, you nitwit! They did not receive the money. HER LIFE WAS IN YOUR HANDS!

PUNK: This is our concern, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: No, man, nothing is screwed here--

MR. CRATER: NOTHING IS SCREWED! THE PLANE HAS CRASHED INTO THE MOUNTAIN!

The Dude takes a hurried sip from his drink.

METAL MATT: C'mon man, who're you gonna believe? Those guys are--we dropped off the money--

MR. CRATER: WHAT?!

METAL MATT: I--the royal we, you know, the editorial--I dropped off the money, exactly as per--Look, I've got certain information, certain things have come to light, and uh, has it ever occurred to you, man, that given the nature of all this new crap, that, uh, instead of running around blaming me, that this whole thing might just be, not, you know, not just such a simple, but uh--you know?

MR. CRATER: What in the name of Freddy Krueger are you blathering about?

METAL MATT: I'll tell you what I'm blathering about! I got information--new crap has come to light and--crap, man! She kidnapped herself!

MR. CRATER stares at him, dumbstruck. METAL MATT is encouraged.

METAL MATT: Well sure, look at it! Young trophy wife, I mean, in the parlance of our times, owes money all over town, but I'm saying, she needs money, and of course they're gonna say they didn't get it 'cause she wants more, man, she's gotta feed the monkey, I mean--hasn't that ever occurred to you...? Sir?

MR. CRATER: (quietly) No. No, Mr. Crater, that had not occurred to me.

PUNK: That had not occurred to us, Metal Matt.

MR. CRATER: Punk, give him the envelope.

PUNK is handing him a letter-sized envelope which is distended by something inside.

PUNK: We received it this morning.

METAL MATT, frowning, untucks its flap, takes out some cotton wadding and unrolls it.

MR. CRATER: Since you have failed to achieve, even in the modest task that was your charge, since you have stolen my money, and since you have unrepentantly betrayed my trust.

The wadding, undone, reveals a smaller wad of gauze taped up inside. METAL MATT undoes the tape with his fingernails and starts to unroll the inner package.

MR. CRATER: I have no choice but to tell these bums that they should do whatever is necessary to recover their money from you, Matt Crater. And with Punk as my witness, tell you this: Any further harm visited upon Tiffany, shall be visited tenfold upon your head.

Between thumb and forefinger METAL MATT holds up the contents of the package--a little toe, with black No. 1 nail polish.

MR. CRATER: ...By God sir. I will not abide another toe.

COFFEE SHOP

METAL MATT, SPANKY, and GEE sit at the counter.

SPANKY: That wasn't her toe.

METAL MATT: Whose toe was it, Spanky?

SPANKY: How should I know? I do know that nothing about it indicates--

METAL MATT: The nail polish, Spanky.

SPANKY: Fine, Metal Matt. As if it's impossible to get some nail polish, apply it to someone else's toe--

GEE: Someone else's--where the hell are they gonna--

SPANKY: You want a toe? I can get you a toe, believe me. There are ways. You don't wanna know about it, believe me.I'll get you a toe by this afternoon--with nail polish. These amateurs. They send us a toe, we're supposed to crap ourselves with fear. Jesus Christ. My point is--

METAL MATT: What about the toe?

SPANKY: FORGET ABOUT THE TOE!

A waitress enters.

WAITRESS: Could you please keep your voices down--this is a family restaurant.

SPANKY: Oh, please dear! I've got news for you: the Supreme Court has roundly rejected prior restraint!

METAL MATT: Spanky, this isn't a First Amendment thing.

WAITRESS: Sir, if you don't calm down I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

SPANKY: Lady, I got buddies who died face-down in the muck so you and I could enjoy this family restaurant!

METAL MATT and GEE get up.

GEE: All right, we're leaving. We're sorry ma'am. Come on, Metal Matt, let's go bowling together.

The two leave.

SPANKY: Don't run away from this! This affects all of us!

SPANKY: Our basic freedoms!

He looks defiantly around.

SPANKY: I'm staying. Finishing my coffee.

He stirs the coffee, bopping his head in time to the muzak, which is playing Rob Zombie's Return Of The Phantom Stranger:



SPANKY: Finishing my coffee.

ACT II, PART II coming soon...

[Spanky]

Awesome man, I am liking it!

[Gee]

Awesome man this is great. Love the song choice just before "I'm finishing my coffee"

One of my personal favourite Zombie songs

[Metal Matt]

Love that Zombie song. My favorite song from Hellbilly Deluxe. The music video is crazy awesome.

[Metal Matt]

ACT II, PART II:

METAL MATT'S BATHROOM

METAL MATT sits in the bathtub, staring stuporously, with a washcloth draped over his head.

We hear the phone ringing in the other room.

After METAL MATT'S outgoing message we hear:

VOICE THROUGH MACHINE: Mr. Crater, this is Duty Officer Rolvaag of the L.A.P.D. We've recovered your vehicle. It can be claimed at the North Hollywood Auto Circus there on Victory.

METAL MATT: Far out. That's awesome.

MESSAGE: You'll just need to present a--

The message is interrupted by loud smashing sounds, as of someone applying a baseball bat to the answering machine.

METAL MATT: What the hell?

He looks blearily at the open doorway.

Two men and one woman dressed in black leather with baseball bats stride across the living room towards the bathroom.

METAL MATT: Hey! This is a private residence, man!

One of them holds a string at the other end of which a small kitten skitters excitedly about the floor.

The Dude looks curiously at the small, nattering animal.

METAL MATT: Nice kitty.

The man with the string scoops up the kitten and tosses it, screaming, into the bathtub.

METAL MATT: What the hell, man?

NIHILIST FIONA: We want the money, Crater.

NIHILIST RYAN: You think we're kidding?

NIHILIST JOHNNY: We could do things you've never dreamed of.

NIHILIST RYAN: Yeah, we could really do it. We believe in nothings.

He scoops the kitten out of the water.

NIHILIST FIONA: We believe in nothings, Crater! Nothing!

NIHILIST RYAN: Tomorrow we come back and cut off your johnson.

METAL MATT: Excuse me?

NIHILIST RYAN: I SAY WE CUT OFF YOUR JOHNSON!

The three turn to leave. Over their retreating backs:

NIHILIST JOHNNY: Just think about that.

NIHILIST FIONA: It would be a shame too. It looks quite nice.

NIHILIST RYAN: What are you talking about?

NIHILIST FIONA: Oh, you two were thinking the same thing.

NIHILIST JOHNNY: Yeah. Yeah we were.

NIHILIST FIONA: See! I knew you two couldn't deny it! If I believed in romance, he would be my boyfriend.

METAL MATT: Well, a lot of people fantasize about it!

At the Auto Shop...

COP: Came in last night. Seems to be no minor damage.

METAL MATT takes a look around. He finds a kid's homework in there.

JENNIFER'S LOFT

JENNIFER: Matt, you haven't gone to the doctor.

METAL MATT: No it's fine, really, uh--

JENNIFER: Do you have any news regarding my father's money?

METAL MATT: I, uh... money, yeah, I gotta respectfully, 69 you know, tender my resignation on that matter, 'cause it looks like your mother really was kidnapped after all.

JENNIFER: She most certainly was not! She is most definitely the perpetrator and not the victim.

METAL MATT: I'm telling you, I got definitive evidence--

JENNIFER: From who?

METAL MATT: These three nihilists-

JENNIFER: Fiona, Ryan, and Johnny?

METAL MATT: You know them?

JENNIFER: They had some type of band together called "Side Effect". It should be in my LPs.

METAL MATT fingers through the albums filling one bookshelf.

JENNIFER: They released one album a few years ago.

METAL MATT: "Weird Al" Yankovic... Lisa Marie Presley... Stabbing Westward... Here it is, Side Effect.

JENNIFER: Yeah, they're music is sort of a Type O Negative type sound, it's quite good.

METAL MATT: Jeez. I miss vinyl.

JENNIFER: Are they pretending to be the abductors?

METAL MATT: Well...yeah--

JENNIFER: Look, Matt, you don't really kidnap someone that you're acquainted with. You can't get away with it if the hostage knows who you are.

METAL MATT: Well yeah...I know that.

JENNIFER: So they have the money?

METAL MATT: Well, no, not exactly.

JENNIFER: Do you still have that doctor's number? Please Matt. I don't want to be responsible for any delayed after-effects.

METAL MATT: Delayed after-eff--

JENNIFER: I want you to see him immediately.

She is picking up a telephone.

JENNIFER: I'll see if he's available. He's a good man, and thorough.

CLOSE SHOT METAL MATT

His eyes are closed, a headset on, his shirt off. Leaking tinnily through the headset we hear the opening bars of "I Love Playing With Fire" by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts:



Behind him, cropped so that we see only a little of his torso, a white-smocked figure taps at METAL MATT'S back. After a moment the figure circles to one side, out of frame. His hand reaches in to pull one arm of the headset away from METAL MATT'S ear, and as he does so the music issues more strongly.

VOICE: Could you slide your pants down please, Mr. Crater?

METAL MATT'S eyes open.

METAL MATT: Huh? No, the dashboard hit me right here.

VOICE: I understand sir. Could you slide your pants down please?

METAL MATT gets back in his car and notices a paper. It is lined spiral notebook paper, slightly singed and dripping Kool-Aid, covered with handwriting. In the upper right-hand corner is the name Lawrence Falchuk, and under that, Mrs. Jamtoss 5th Period. The theme is titled "The Louisiana Purchase." In red ink is a large circled D and some handwritten marginal comments; misspelled words are circled in red throughout.

CRANE JACKSON'S FOUNTAIN STREET THEATER

We are behind METAL MATT, SPANKY, and GEE, facing the stage in the background where ALLAN, METAL MATT'S balding landlord, is performing a dance modern.

As GEE talks to the two she leans in to them, her voice hushed, so as not to disturb the rest of the very sparse audience.

GEE: He lives in North Hollywood on Radford, near Checkers. This kid is in the ninth grade, and his father is--are you ready for this?--Brad Falchuk.

METAL MATT: Who is that?

GEE: Have you heard of the show called American Horror Story, Metal Matt?

METAL MATT: Yeah.

GEE: Brad Falchuk wrote 7 episodes, Metal Matt. And yet his son is a dunce.

SPANKY: We'll, uh, brace the kid--he'll be a pushover. We'll get that money, if he hasn't spent it already. Million clams. And we'll be near Checkers--some burgers, some sodas, a few laughs. Our troubles are over.

THE FRONT DOOR

GEE rings the bell. It is opened by a matronly Spanish woman.

WOMAN: Yes?

SPANKY: Hello, Pilar? My name is Spanky Kosanke, we spoke on the phone, this are my associates Metal Matt and Gee.

WOMAN: Yes.

GEE: May we uh, we wanted to talk about little Larry. May we come in?

WOMAN: Yes.

CALLS UP THE STAIRS:

PILAR: Larry! Sweetie! Those people are here!

There is a rhythmic compressor sound; GEE places it and nudges METAL MATT. At the other end of the living room a man lies on something that looks like a hospital gurney with its midsection enclosed by a motorized stainless-steel bubble. It is an iron lung, artificially breathing with distinct hisses in and out.

GEE: That's him, Metal Matt.

PILAR: Sit down, please.

SPANKY: Thank you, ma'am.

The three sit on a sagging green sofa. In a lowered voice, to Pilar:

GEE: Does he, uh. . . Is he still writing?

PILAR: Oh, Yes, for the new season, he's taking a break right now.

SHE BELLOWS ACROSS THE ROOM:

GEE: I just want to say, sir, that all three of us are enormous fans--on a personal level, American Horror Story, especially the early episodes, has been a source of, uh, inspir---

There are footsteps on the stairs. LARRY, a fifteen-year-old, looks at the three.

PILAR: Sit down, Sweetie. These are the police--

METAL MATT: No ma'am, we didn't mean to give the impression that we're police exactly. We're hoping that it will not be necessary to call the police. But that is up to little Larry here. Isn't it, Larry?

SPANKY pops the latches on his attache case and takes out the homework, which is now in a ziploc bag. He holds it out at arm's length, displaying it to LARRY.

SPANKY: Is this your homework, Larry?

LARRY does not respond.

SPANKY: Is this your homework, Larry?

METAL MATT: Look, man, did you--

SPANKY: Metal Matt, please!. . . Is this your homework, Larry?

METAL MATT: Just ask him if he--ask him about the car, man!

SPANKY is still holding out the homework.

GEE: We know it's his homework, Spanky! Where's the money, you little brat?

Throughout SPANKY has been staring at LARRY with the homework extended towards him.

SPANKY: Look, Larry. . . Have you ever heard of Vietnam?

METAL MATT: Oh, for Damballa's sake, Spanky!

SPANKY: You're going to enter a world of pain, son. We know that this is your homework. We know you stole a car--

METAL MATT: And the money!

SPANKY: And the money. And we know that this is your homework, Larry.

No answer.

FINALLY, IN DISGUST:

SPANKY: Ah, this is pointless.

As he shoves the homework back in the attache case:

SPANKY: All right, Plan B. You might want to watch out the front window there, Larry.

He is heading for the door. METAL MATT and GEE, puzzled, rise to follow him.

SPANKY: This is what happens when you FIND a STRANGER in the ALPS, Larry.

OUTSIDE

SPANKY is striding down the lawn with his attache case like an enraged Wendys Cashier.

He pops METAL MATT's trunk, flings in the briefcase and takes out a tire iron.

SPANKY: Maybe he'll understand this.

He is walking over to a Corvette that is parked by the house.

SPANKY: YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS, LARRY!

CRASH! He swings the crowbar into the windshield, which shatters.

SPANKY: YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS?!

CRASH! He takes out the driver's window.

SPANKY: THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FIND A STRANGER IN THE ALPS!

Lights are going on in houses down the street. Distant dogs bark.

SPANKY: HERE'S WHAT HAPPENS, LARRY!

CRASH!

SPANKY: HERE'S WHAT HAPPENS!

CRASH!

A man in a sleeveless T-shirt and boxer shorts has run over behind SPANKY and grabbed him from behind on a backswing of the crowbar.

MAN: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, MAN?!

He wrestles the crowbar away from the startled SPANKY.

MAN: I KILL YOUR CAR!

He runs over to METAL MATT's car.

CRASH! CRASH!

METAL MATT'S BUNGALOW

METAL MATT is hammering a two-by-four into the floor just inside, and parallel to, the front door. He hangs up and has just finished sliding the chair into place with its top under the doorknob and its legs braced against the two-by-four, thus wedging the door closed, when the door is opened--outwards. The chair clatters to the floor.

METAL MATT: Huh?

Woo and the blond man who earlier peed on the guitar stride in, kicking the chair away.

WOO: Doctor Treehorn wants to see you.

BLOND MAN: And we know which Crater you are, Crater.

WOO: Yeah. Doctor Treehorn wants to talk to the deadbeat Crater.

BLOND MAN: You're not dealing with morons here.

At a party, a man dressed in a suit and bow tie appears.

MAN: Hello Metal Matt, thanks for coming. I'm Doctor Treehorn.

INSIDE THE BEACH HOUSE

METAL MATT is looking around at the '60's modern decor.

DOCTOR TREEHORN: I can see you're anxious for me to get to the point. Well, here it is. Where's Tiffany?

METAL MATT: I thought you might know, man.

DOCTOR TREEHORN: Me? How would I know? The only reason she ran off was to get away from her rather sizable debt to me.

METAL MATT: But she hasn't run off, she's been--

DOCTOR TREEHORN waves this off.

DOCTOR TREEHORN: I've heard the kidnapping story, so save it. I know you're mixed up in all this, Metal Matt, and I don't care what you're trying to take off her husband. That's your business. All I'm saying is, I want mine.

CHIEF'S OFFICE

METAL MATT is hurled against the chief's desk, which he bounces off of, to come to rest more or less seated in a facing chair.

His wallet is tossed onto the desk.

The chief leans forward, takes the wallet and sorts through it with disgusted incredulity.

CHIEF: This is your only I.D.?

He is looking at METAL MATT's  Disney World Hotel card.

METAL MATT: I know my rights.

CHIEF: You don't know crap, Metal Matt.

METAL MATT: I want a lawyer, man. I want Roy Cohn.

CHIEF: Mr. Treehorn tells us that he had to eject you from his garden party, that you were out of control.

METAL MATT: That guy treats women like objects, man.

CHIEF: Mr. Treehorn draws a lot of water in this town, Crater. You don't draw crap. We got a nice quiet beach community here, and I aim to keep it nice and quiet. So let me make something plain. I don't like you sucking around bothering our citizens, Crater. I don't like your dummy name, I don't like your dummy face, I don't like your dummy behavior, and I don't like you, dummy --do I make myself clear?

METAL MATT stares.

METAL MATT: I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.

The CHIEF hurls his steaming mug of coffee at METAL MATT. It hits him in the forehead with a thud, the scalding coffee splashing everywhere.

The CHIEF is already up off his chair, rounding the desk. The CHIEF slaps him twice.

CHIEF: Stay out of Malibu, Crater!

CAB

METAL MATT, in the back seat of a taxicab that rocks and squeaks with every bump, is gingerly touching at sore spots on his face and scalp.

Meanwhile a car oncoming, its radio blaring Motley Crue, speeds by.

INSIDE THE OTHER CAR

It is a red convertible. The driver, singing loudly along with the radio, her hair blowing in the wind, a dreamy smile on her face as she speeds along, is Tiffany.

THE FOOTWELL

On the accelerator her right foot, in an open-toed black high-heeled shoe, has five painted toes. When she downshifts her left foot enters to engage the clutch.

Five more toes.

METAL MATT'S BUNGALOW

METAL MATT staggers in the open front door, one hand pressed to a lump on his forehead, and looks around. The place is a wreck. Furniture has been overturned, upholstery slashed, drawers dumped.

Quiet.

The door to the bedroom starts to creak open. JENNIFER emerges from the bedroom. She is wearing a bathrobe.

JENNIFER: Matt.

METAL MATT: Jennifer?

She pulls open the bathrobe as she approaches.

JENNIFER: Love me.

ACT III coming soon...

[Spanky]

Lol "find a stranger in the alps", I'm loving it so far dude.

[Metal Matt]

Yeah, as you and Gee said in your podcast, they rarely air this on TV, but when it does, I believe that's the edited line they use, lol. So I decided to use that line in the story.

[Metal Matt]

ACT III:

ON THE EMBRACE WE CUT TO:

BLACK

After a beat, a long sigh, and then a voice from the blackness:

JENNIFER: Tell me a little about yourself, Matt.

METAL MATT: Well, uh. . . Not much to tell.

Click--METAL MATT turns on a bedside lamp. He and JENNIFER lie next to each other in bed.

METAL MATT: Been a rock star for a few years. It's pretty fun.

He climbs out of bed but JENNIFER remains in it. She wedges a pillow into the small of her back and clasps a hand on each kneecap. She pulls her knees in toward her chest to keep her pelvis raised.

JENNIFER: What happened to your house?

METAL MATT: Doctor Treehorn trashed the place. Wanted to save the finder's fee.

JENNIFER: Finder's fee?

METAL MATT: He thought I had your father's money, so he got me out of the way while he looked for it.

JENNIFER: It's not my father's money, it's the Foundation's. Why did he think you had it? And who does?

METAL MATT: Larry Falchuk, a high-school kid. Real brat. I'm real close to your father's money, real close. It's just--

JENNIFER: I keep telling you, it's the Foundation's money. Father doesn't have any.

METAL MATT: Huh? He's loaded.

JENNIFER: No no, the wealth was all Mother's.

METAL MATT: But your father--he runs stuff, he--

JENNIFER: We did let Father run one of the companies, briefly, but he didn't do very well at it. He helps administer the charities now, and I give him a reasonable allowance. He has no money of his own. I know how he likes to present himself; Father's weakness is vanity.

METAL MATT: Huh. Jeez. Well, so, did he--is that yoga?

Throughout, JENNIFER has been lying on her back with her knees pulled in.

JENNIFER: It increases the chances of conception.

METAL MATT: Increases?

JENNIFER: Well yes, what did you think this was all about? Fun and games?

METAL MATT: Well...no, of course not--

JENNIFER: I want a child. And I want to raise it with you, if that's alright.

METAL MATT: Yeah, that's definitely alright. So your father. . . Oh man, I get it!

JENNIFER: What?

METAL MATT: Yeah, my thinking about the case, man, it had become uptight. Yeah. Your father--

LIVING ROOM

METAL MATT finishes punching a number into the phone.

PHONE VOICE: This is Spanky Kosanke. I'm not in; leave a message after the beep. Takes a while.

Beep.

METAL MATT: Spanky, if you're there, pick up the phone. Pick it up, this is an emergency. I'm not--

SPANKY: Metal Matt?

METAL MATT: Spanky, listen, I'm at my place, I need you to come pick me up--

SPANKY: I can't drive, Metal Matt, it's erev shabbas.

METAL MATT: Huh?

SPANKY: Erev shabbas. I can't drive. I'm not even supposed to pick up the phone, unless it's an emergency.

METAL MATT: It is a emergency.

SPANKY: I understand. That's why I picked up the phone.

METAL MATT: THEN WHY CAN'T YOU--never mind, just call Gee then, and ask him to--

SPANKY: Metal Matt, I'm not supposed to make calls--

METAL MATT: SPANKY, YOU RYAN GOSLING LOVER, WE GOTTA GO TO PASADENA! COME PICK ME UP OR I'M OFF THE BOWLING TEAM!

SPANKY'S CAR

SPANKY'S eyes are on the road as he listens, driving, to METAL MATT and GEE.

METAL MATT: I mean we totally screwed it up, man. We screwed up his pay-off. And got the kidnappers all pissed off, and the big Crater yelled at me a lot, but he didn't do anything. Huh? If he knows I'm a screw-up, then why does he still leave me in charge of getting back his wife? Because he doesn't want her back, man! He's had enough! He no longer digs her! It's all a show! But then, why didn't he give a crap about his million bucks? I mean, he knew we didn't hand off his briefcase, but he never asked for it back.

SPANKY: What's your point?

GEE: His million bucks was never in it, Spanky! There was no money in that briefcase! He was hoping they'd kill her! You throw out a ringer for a ringer!

SPANKY: Okay, but how does all this add up to an emergency?

GEE: Huh?

SPANKY: I'm saying, I see what you two are getting at, he kept the money, but my point is, here we are, it's shabbas, the sabbath, which I'm allowed to break only if it's a matter of life and death--

METAL MATT: Spanky, come off it. You're not even Jewish, you're--

SPANKY: What the hell are you talking about?

GEE: You're Polish Catholic--

SPANKY: I converted when I married Cynthia.

GEE: And you were divorced five years ago.

SPANKY: Yeah? What do you think happens when you get divorced? You turn in your library card? Get a new driver's license? Stop being Jewish?

METAL MATT: This driveway.

AS HE TURNS:

METAL MATT: It's just part of your whole sick Cynthia thing. Taking care of her cat. Going to her synagogue. You're living in the past.

SPANKY: Three thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Adam Sandler--YOU'RE RIGHT I LIVE IN THE PAST! I--Jesus. What the hell happened?

THE CRATER MANSION

Through the French doors at its far end we can see TIFFANY, naked, briefly bouncing on the diving board before splashing into the illuminated pool outside. Heavy metal music filters in from a boom box by the pool.

PUNK, approaching, stoops and straightens, stoops and straightens, picking up the discarded clothes that run the length of the hall.

The three enter.

METAL MATT: Where'd she been?

PUNK: Visiting friends of hers in Palm Springs. Just picked up and left, never bothered to tell us.

SPANKY: Jesus, Metal Matt! He never even kidnapped her.

PUNK: Who's this gentleman, Metal Matt?

SPANKY: Who am I? I'm a VETERAN!

PUNK: You shouldn't go in there, Metal Matt! He's very angry!

BANG--the three push through the double doors into--

THE GREAT ROOM

The big Crater turns at the sound of the door. His wheelchair hums as he spins it around.

CRATER: (bitterly) Well, she's back. No thanks to you.

METAL MATT: Where's the money, Crater?

SPANKY: A MILLION BUCKS FROM NEEDY LITTLE URBAN ACHIEVERS! YOU ARE SCUM, MAN!

CRATER: Who the hell is he?

GEE: We know the briefcase was empty, man. We know you kept the million bucks yourself.

CRATER: Well, you have your story, I have mine. I say I entrusted the money to you, and you stole it.

GEE: AS IF WE WOULD EVER DREAM OF TAKING YOUR MONEY!

METAL MATT: You thought Tiffany'd been kidnapped and you could use it as a pretext to make some money disappear. All you needed was a sap to pin it on, and you'd just met me. You thought, hey, a deadbeat, a loser, someone the square community won't give a crap about.

CRATER: Well? Aren't you?

METAL MATT: Well. . . yeah.

CRATER: All right, get out. All three of you.

METAL MATT punches CRATER out.

GEE: Whoa, that was incredible.

SPANKY: Yeah, that was awesome.

METAL MATT: Let's go bowling.

TEN PINS

Scattered at the cut.

METAL MATT and SPANKY and GEE

SPANKY: Sure you'll see some tank battles. But fighting in desert is very different from fighting in canopy jungle.

GEE: Uh-huh.

SPANKY: I mean 'Nam was a foot soldier's war whereas, uh, this thing should be a cakewalk. I mean I had an M16, Whacko Jacko, not an JJ Abrams tank. Just me and Charlie Brown, man, eyeball to eyeball.

METAL MATT: Yeah.

VOICE: HEY!

The three look.

GOD is bellowing from the lip of the lane, and is restrained by JUSTIN.

GOD: What's this "day of rest" crap, man?!

SPANKY looks at him innocently.

GOD: What is this bullcrap, man? I don't care! It don't matter to God! But you're not fooling me! You might fool the people in the league office, but you don't fool God! It's bush league psych-out stuff! Laughable, man! You got a date Wednesday, baby!

SPANKY: He's cracking.

BOWLING ALLEY PARKING LOT

NIHILIST FIONA, NIHILIST RYAN, and NIHILIST JOHNNY in shiny black leather, stand in a line facing them in the all-but-deserted lot. Behind them orange flames lick gently at METAL MATT'S car, which has been put to the torch. The orange flames glow on the men's creaking leather. Next to the car are three motorcycles, parked in a neat row. METAL MATT looks sadly at the burning car.

METAL MATT: They finally did it. They killed my car.

NIHILIST FIONA: We want the money, Crater.

NIHILIST RYAN: Or we kill the girl.

NIHILIST JOHNNY: It seems you've forgotten our little deal, Crater.

METAL MATT: You don't have the girl, you never did.

GEE: Are these the Nazis?

METAL MATT: They're nihilists, Gee, nothing to be afraid of.

NIHILIST FIONA: We don't care. We still want the money.

GEE: There's no ransom if you don't have a hostage. That's what ransom is. Those are the rules.

NIHILIST RYAN: My girlfriend gave up her toe! She
thought we'd be getting a million dollars! It's not fair!

SPANKY: Fair! WHO'S THE NIHILIST HERE! WHAT ARE YOU, A BUNCH OF CRYBABIES?! AND I'D LIKE MY APARTMENT FRIENDS BACK!

METAL MATT, GEE, and SPANKY fight the NIHILISTS. GEE incapacitates NIHILIST FIONA by stabbing her. METAL MATT kills NIHILIST RYAN by decapitating him, and SPANKY incapacitates NIHILIST JOHNNY by beating him over the head with Demetri, the Toilet Paper Holding Bear.

Later, in the bowling alley, all three are sitting at a bar.

GEE: Alright, it's time for the tournament! Metal Matt, you coming?

METAL MATT: In a minute! I'll meet you two on the alley!

GEE: Alright, see ya in a few!

THE STRANGLER ambles up to the bar.

THE STRANGLER: What's up Metal Matt?

METAL MATT: Oh, hey man, how are ya?

THE STRANGLER: Wouldn't miss the semis. How things been goin'?

METAL MATT: Ahh, you know. Strikes and gutters, ups and downs.

THE STRANGLER: Sure, I gotcha.

METAL MATT: Take care, man, I gotta get back.

THE STRANGLER: Sure. Take it easy, Metal Matt--I know that you will.

METAL MATT, LEAVING, NODS:

METAL MATT: Yeah man. Well, you know, Metal Matt abides.

Gazing after him, THE STRANGLER drawls, savoring the words:

THE STRANGLER: Metal Matt abides. I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there, Metal Matt, takin' her easy for all us sinners. I sure hope he makes The finals. Welp, that about does her, wraps her all up. Things seem to've worked out pretty good for Metal Matt, Gee, and Spanky, and it was a pretty good story, don't you think? Made me laugh to beat the band. I also happen to know that there's a little Crater on the way. I guess that's the way the whole human comedy keeps perpetuating' itself, down through the generations, westward the wagons, across the sands a time until-- aw, look at me, I'm ramblin' again. Well, hope you folks enjoyed yourselves.

The End.

So, I heavily enjoyed writing this. The Big Lebowski is one of my favorite movies of all time, so it was great fun to put it in the Metal Universe. Of course, if you have any suggestions, let me know, and thanks for reading!

[Spanky]

Good job man, I thoroughly enjoyed it.