The Bartender nervously pours a blenderful of vanilla milkshake into an ornate fountain glass and then adds a huge dose of Absolut, along with a maraschino. (turning to Jaime and Larry) Hey, if it isn't Mutt... Sam grabs a huge glass candle holder from one of the tables and smashes off the end of it, causing a jagged edge. Screaming in pain, the fanatic flees toward the dance floor trying to pull out the shards. The gunshot breaks the ball out of its ceiling home and sends it swooshing down right upon the Sleazebag fanatic's head, knocking him out cold. Each one has a smarmy "Thanks Ford"-type note tagged to it.
Embedded in one of the amplifiers is a wall socket timer clock -- two needles about to touch.
He then lights the vodka shake afire as Ford reaches the bar, blows it out, and slurps. The band stops playing as the CANDLE SIZZLES in Sam's hand. A tremendous music system adorns another wall with a pair of five-foot tall speakers standing like silent sentinels.
His pacing reveals a helicopter pilot in the b.g., flying the dressing room.
The chopper begins to descend upon a makeshift "backstage area" to the side of the stage. The cover reads Black Vomit's Greatest Hits and has a red number one on it. You guys were doing that song, 'I Love You More Than My Own Death,' right, when all of a sudden these penguins come on stage and tell the audience that I used to wet my bed. The SOUNDTRACK suddenly ig- nores the band to go into Grendel's mind where elegant CLASSICAL MUSIC is PLAYING. Two Roadies with fire extinguishers fo-o-osh out the inferno that is the rock star's body. Vomit smolders a bit -- transparent goo oozing over his body. Bobby Vomit wails his way through a toxic first verse. He relifts his microphone and uh, he chokes, making gurgl- ing sounds as if something were trying to crawl out of his body. A final stream of blood rolls from his mouth down the white dam to the crowd who has reached a new level of frenzy beyond the limits of human comprehension. HOTTEST CLUB IN LOS ANGELES - LATER IN NIGHT The VIEWER'S VIEWPOINT TRACKS DOWN a line of men and women standing outside the Rolls-Royce of nightclubs. A mirthful CLUB GAL gets a look at Ford and stops laughing. TWIN SISTER What goes for my sister, goes double for me.
MELODI My name's Melodi, as in 'a pretty girl is like a.' Whatever you're doing tomorrow... Ford closes his eyes and touches the guitar with a religious solemnity. They then each pull out a cigarette and with a similar twist of the wrist, light it up.
Melodi sweetly hands Ford a napkin with her phone number on it. Inside the space is an obviously old, but still in mint condition electric guitar with a picture of Jimi Hendrix propped next to it. Ford and The Kid, in an obliviously synchronized moment, flick out a pair of sunglasses from their breast pockets and put them on. AT BAR Jaime, Larry and the angry, anxious Man in the Hat watch on. FORD IN THOROUGHFARE TWO DRUNKEN COLLEGE BOYS thwap an unhappy Ford on the back. Ford watches with slight concern then tears off, MUSIC BLARING. MINI-MALL DAY A two-tiered mini-mall nightmare looms ahead. Ford chuckles and a romantic whether-they-like-it-or-not moment passes between them. Screenplay by Dan Waters Story by Jay Cappe & Dave Arnott Based on a character Created by Rex Weiner A Silver Pictures Production May 1,1989 [NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS. Vomit savagely snorts into a vial of crystal methe. He wryly murmurs to himself as the reflection on his sunglasses go from the screaming crowd to the landing chopper. The crowd sounds like all ten thousand of them are in labor -- they love this. The desperate-to-get-in crowd are dressed-to-kill-be- killed-and-kill again. POV - RUCKUS AT DOOR The Doorman and the frenzied would-be patrons turn TO the VIEWER and go silent and motionless. short club owners, JAIME and LARRY, dressed almost identically, looking out into their club. She pulls away from her suitor to slap Ford with a growl. Don't you remember the Jacuzzi, Laurel Canyon, the Guns and Roses video wrap party.