Darrell Vickers – Mick Fire For Hire: Chapter Eight (Episode 3 – Part 2)

Mick Fire is a flaming, insalubrious has-been rock photographer. When albums were king, he was the toast of the town. Then, he was just toast. With the coming of CD’s, his career sank quicker than a Pakistani ferryboat. His fairytale life consists of a long suffering daughter, a 23 year old girlfriend, an ex-wife, an agent who hates him, a room-temperature refrigerator and a dead ferret.  Then one day, as Mick is wallowing at the bottom of his self-made shit well, someone lowers him a bucket. A job! A job that could put him back on top. And that’s when his troubles begin.

INT. RECORD STORE – DAY

The discerning customer has departed and the girls are alone to gab and gulp Pabst Blue Ribbon from a can.

MAX
So, what drags you down to my humble boutique on a Sunday morning?

FANNY

I’m freaking out a little. We were given a new refrigerator.

MAX

Yeah, I can see how that would have you shitting hairy bananas.

FANNY

It’s where it came from that has me defecating hirsute fruit. I think Mick might be mixed up in organized crime.

MAX

Fear not. Nothing your father has ever done in his life is organized.

FANNY

Well, we now own a 10 grand Sub Zero with matching wine cooler. Plus, these really unhappy Jewish people are being forced to fill it with food.

MAX

(she now gets it)

Fuck a circumcised duck.

FANNY

 

I just don’t want to come home one day and find Mick’s severed head in a bowling bag.

MAX

I’m afraid, that’s where you and I part company.

FANNY

When he’s gone, you’re going to miss him with all your heart.

MAX

Unfortunately, the only thing I’ve ever missed your father with, is my car.

FANNY

No wonder I grew up so well adjusted.

MAX

So, other than being up to his cracked and missing teeth in the Cosa Nostra, what’s on the schedule?

FANNY
Mick’s doing some important interview this morning. Knowing him, he’ll fuck it up.

MAX

I just pray he doesn’t tell that Joan Baez story.

FANNY

Christ, I hope not.

MAX

You know, she played Woodstock.

FANNY

(nodding head)

And inflatable livestock.

The girls ponder this deep thought.

INT. PROVIDENCE RESTAURANT – LUNCHTIME

Mick is already two-sheets to the wind, as he arrives with Savory. He drops down into his chair like a bag of moldy lemons. Nobby and Vinny have been waiting for him.

MICK

Gentlemen! I certainly appreciate you inviting me to dine down here in the heart of Swank-Ville. Is it my inestimably witty repartee you crave or do you have other specific desires that only I can fulfill?

NOBBY

Vinny is wondering how the cover concept is coming.

VINNY

(warmly smiling)

Yes, Mick. We are very curious to see what that magnificent brain of yours is cooking up for us.

MICK

Is this food for me?

NOBBY

Yes. You’re an hour late…

MICK

Really? What time zone is this?

He looks at his watch and then around the room to try and figure it out. Nobby points at Mick’s meal.

VINNY

So we took the liberty of ordering for you. That’s A5 Wagyu, the world’s finest beef.

MICK

Is A5 the freeway they found it dead on?

He guffaws, sharing his mouthful of wine-spray with the table. Nurse Savory cuts up Mick’s meat for him.

NOBBY

The thing is; they’ve already started to press the vinyl.

VINNY

And we’re anxious to wrap this wonderful music in your gorgeous creation.

MICK

Yes. Absolutely. Completely get where you’re all coming from.

Savory plops a piece of buttery beef into her patient’s maw. Mick chews and talks.

MICK (CONT)

My thought process on the matter, though far reaching and revolutionary, has been somewhat in abeyance while I wait for some of my brain cells to come back out of hiding.

Savory lifts Mick’s wine glass to his lips. He takes a big gulp.

VINNY
This is in no way meant to pressure you, Mick. We’re not looking for anything this second.

NOBBY

Hear. Hear. We’re just wondering if you have a loose E.T.A.

MICK
(to Savory)

My left testicle seems to be trapped under my leg.

The good nurse reaches deep into his sweat pants and makes the necessary adjustment. Mick continues to chow down on pre-cut beef and swig vino.

MICK

(pitch mode)

It can’t be rushed but it most certainly cannot be allowed to languish. It must fill your eyes but not tell everything. It needs to be a timeless; dazzling portrait but it must also function as merely a frame through which we see the mesmerizing music within. I am, in essence, creating a signpost, pointing to genius.

Vinny is catapulted to his feet with excitement.

VINNY

That is absolutely fucking beautiful!

Vinny notices that he has erred in the volume of his alacrity.

VINNY

(to shocked and hoity crowd)

So sorry everyone.

(pointing)
This is Mick Fire the famous rock and roll photographer.

(pointing at Nobby)
And this is Nobby from the Civilians.

Nobby rips open his shirt show the astounded clientele his self-advertising chest tattoo. Nobody seems particularly impressed.

VINNY (CONT)

Please enjoy the beverage of your choosing on me to celebrate their upcoming album.

The criminally smug quickly move from horrification to ordering Bordeauxs and Puligny-Montrachets. Nobby cannot help notice the amount of free wine Mick is guzzling.

NOBBY
Not that I’m anyone to judge Mick, but, should you be drinking that much on top of all those pain meds?

MICK

Oh, it’s perfectly safe. It has to be. I’m having them administered to me by a registered nurse.

Mick’s obliging nurse refills his depleted beaker.

NURSE SAVORY

(holding up the peace sign)

Do no harm.

INT. BAD GUY’S HIDEOUT – DAY

Manny and his kidnap victim are alone. Manny dabs a little water color here and there on his masterpiece.

MANNY
I think I’ve really captured the look of fear in your eyes.

CAROL

(trying to be cheerful)

I can’t wait to see it.

MANNY

Unfortunately, I’ll have to burn it after we’re all done here. You know, because it’s evidence.

CAROL

It pays to be cautious.

(a thoughtful beat)

I know you were the one who chloroformed me, helped tear off all my clothes and tied me to this chair, but other than that, you’ve been very kind.

MANNY

I like to think I make a difference in my own small way.

CAROLE

I realize you can take anything you want but, I just want to say, if you were to choose to take certain “liberties”, I wouldn’t think any less of you.

MANNY

Certain liberties?

CAROL

(blush)

Pleasuring yourself in my mouth.

MANNY

Oh. (beat) I don’t know. Under the circumstances, that might be hugely inappropriate and just plain wrong.

CAROL

You’re a hardened criminal, does that even enter into the equation?

MANNY

(seeing her logic)

No, I suppose you’re right.

Manny unzips his pants and pulls out his penis.

INT. FIRE KITCHEN – DAY

Fanny glides into the room, carrying a b-flat trumpet. Skychild is all dolled up in a big black funeral dress, complete with veil. She has her head bowed and is trying hard to look grief stricken.

FANNY
Hey, what’s with the getup?

SKYCHILD
I’m practicing looking mournful.

FANNY

Man, could I give you lessons on that.

SKYCHILD
Where,d ya get the trumpet?

FANNY
Al Hirt once beat my father off his wife with it.

SKYCHILD

(idea)
Huh. Maybe we could learn to play taps on it for the funeral!

Fanny opens the cookie jar on the counter.

FANNY
Well, waste not, want not.

The emptiness inside is not received well.

FANNY (CONT)

Sky? Where’s the money I put in this cookie jar?

(frightening thought)

You didn’t tell Mick where it was, did you?

SKYCHILD

No-di-odie, I sure didn’t. You are going to be soooo thrilled, when you hear!

FANNY

Gosh I hope so. There was 8 grand in there.

SKYCHILD

Exactly. Thanks to those 8 big ones, I was able to put the down payment on a beautistically situated grave at Forrest Lawn in Hollywood.

FANNY

You blew 8 grand on a stuffed ferret?!

SKYCHILD

(wondrously)

Eight Thousand! I thought I’d never see that much money in my whole life.

FANNY
Add the word “again” to that sentence, and you’re probably correct. Shit!

SKYCHILD

And wait till you hear who his neighbors are gonna be! Tom Bosley, from Happy Days, is buried there. Bette Davis. Ronnie James Dio. And Carrie Fisher is in there. Imagine, our Ethelred getting to hobnob with Pricess Leia!

FANNY
Actually, I don’t know how much socializing the residents at Forrest Lawn do.

SKYCHILD

I also read that Donald O’Connor will be just down the underground street. Though, it doesn’t say where they buried his mule.

INT. BAD GUY’S HIDEOUT – DAY

Carol is plying her oral skills on Manny. From the sound of it, her efforts are being truly appreciated. Then, like all good things, it suddenly comes to and end.

MANNY
Don’t stop. I was almost there.

CAROL

(readjusting her mandible)

Sorry, but my jaw is starting to ache. I usually use my tender, rhythmic hands to help me finish the job.

MANNY

Your hands?

CAROL

I know that’s not possible. It’s such a shame because I sooo want to please you…

(seductively)

And taste you.

MANNY

(looking at watch)
What time did they say they were going to be back?

INT. BOB’S APARTMENT – DAY

Two doors down from Mick, Abernathy is meeting her blob of a housemate. Bob could teach a college course on how to let oneself go.

BOB

I’m Bob. I smoke pot and listen to Grateful Dead records and sometimes cry. Is that a problem?

ABERNATHY

No. I’ve always been quite fond of Truckin’.

BOB

And I’m old. You may have noticed. I hope you don’t have any houseplants because my farts’ll kill ‘em dead.

ABERNATHY

This isn’t your way of trying to raise the rent, is it?

INT. BAD GUY’S HIDEOUT – DAY

Carol is untied and orally and manually pleasuring to beat the band. Manny is certainly getting his kidnapping’s worth. The chair has been moved. Manny stands beside his easel with his hand resting on the top of the canvas for balance.

MANNY
Oh. Oh. You’re amazing. This is…I think I’m going to…

Before Manny can finish his sentence (and his sex act), Carol grabs the paint brush off his easel and jams it up through his testicles.

MANNY

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Manny looks down in horror at the thin piece of wood sticking up through the hilt of his manhood.

MANNY (CONT)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

He does the torturous dance of a man impaled

=DV=

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Darrell Vickers started out as one half of Toronto area band, Nobby Clegg.  CFNY fans may remember the cheery song “Me Dad” which still gets airplay.  From there, he valiantly ventured to L.A. and eventually became head writer for The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.  Since then, he’s created numerous sitcoms and animation shows in Canada and the U.S.  He still writes music and has an internet band called Death of the Author Brigade (members in Croatia, Canada and the U.S.)   Mr. Vickers also had a private music mailing-list where he features new and pre-loved music.  Anyone who would like to be added to his daily mailing list, just write him at Radiovickers1@gmail.com