Thursday, February 25, 2010

Through the E-mail . . .

. . . a friend and I have been developing a new style of feature: Juggalo Noir. It started as a joke that kept going. I'll give you the log line: For Detective John Hardwicke to catch a juggalo, he must become a juggalo. The story is based loosely on the Caylee Anthony case.

This is how Detective John Hardwicke infiltrates The Family.


A dozen soundsystems blare a dozen soundtracks over the night's throng. The jaunty waltzes filling the cold air. From above, we pan over one thralling mass. Their clothes, dark. Their faces are filled in with the blacks and whites of cheap shoe polish. A fat sweaty Betty stands on the hood of a car, calling out to her fellow Juggalos. Rallying them in an exalted frenzy she lifts her shirt, exposing two large, pale breasts which hang past her curdled stomach. They lunge themselves into one another. Embracing in the moment their bodies crash.

A midway exists.Metal cars with squared edges and faded paint jobs roll through slowly. Juggalos keep to one side, yelling and threatening those on the other.

Where there stand The Maggots. Their music is faster. Their music is violent. Though the night is cold and each breath is visible, many are without shirts. They are tattooed in meaningless tribal markings. Their faces carry the largest gauge steel piercings. Their noses are bloodied. They kick and punch at their own.

Donned in a black ill-fitting Tunnel of Love tee, Detective John Hardwicke approaches five maggots centered around a lowered tailgate. Wait and Bleed pours out from the cab.

Det. John Hardwicke: I'm gonna need one of you faggots to blow me. (pointing to Maggot 5) Preferably you.

Maggot 1: What the fuck'd you say to us, Clown Pussy?

Det. John Hardwicke: Maybe you couldn't hear me over that shitty 17-piece band. I said I need one of you faggots . . .

A crack to his jaw from Maggot 2. Det. John Hardwicke lunges forth. Tackles one to the ground, and is pummeled by the rest. He bites the face of the maggot in his control. A kick to the neck turns him on his back. Exposing him to the vultures.

Juggalo (off-screen): Whoop Whoop!

A figure, shirtless and spry, dives out from the shadows. Feet first, he catches a maggot squarely in the chest. More emerge. They trounce on the maggots. Whipping them with chains as they hoot and laugh. The Woman in the clan spikes a 3-liter of Faygo onto the stomach of a fallen.

When it's over, the five lay bloody and broken, writhing on the pavement. The Juggalos take Detective John Hardwicke in arms. They distribute his weight amongst them. They carry him away.

Fix the typos, that's page eight!

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