Blood Sports

by Eden Robinson

  C. BAUER: He was teasing you, Richard.

  R. PATOLMIC: He’s a mouthy kid.

  C. BAUER: He’s fifteen.

  R. PATOLMIC: Stop coddling him, Chrissy. Set rules. Enforce them.

  C. BAUER: Don’t tell me how to raise my son.

  00:00:14 silence.

  R. PATOLMIC: My shift starts in an hour.

  C. BAUER: Here. Take a burger.

  [00:08:39]

  The camera focuses on a wristwatch. The time is 3:42 a.m.

  J. RIEGER: Tommy locked himself in the bathroom an hour ago. Let’s see what kind of porn Tommy whacks off to, shall we?

  Mr. Rieger picks the lock. He slowly opens the door. Tom Bauer – a mid-teens Caucasian male with blue, shoulder-length hair – reads on a bathroom floor. He bobs his head to music on his Walkman.

  J. RIEGER: Not exactly Mr. High Alert, is he? [kicks Mr. Bauer] What ’cha doing?

  TOM BAUER: You fucking freak! When the bathroom door is closed and locked –

  J. RIEGER: Let’s see what turns your crank.

  T. BAUER: Give that back!

  J. RIEGER: Mechanisms of Drug Resistance in Temporal Lobe Dysfunctions: Lessons from Oncology. Wow. You are one sick puppy.

  T. BAUER: Mom!

  J. RIEGER: She’s not home. It’s just you and me.

  [00:12:22]

  Tom Bauer sits cross-legged on the couch in the living room. He cuts marijuana leaves onto a dinner plate.

  J. RIEGER: I would tape Billy the Kid vs. Dracula but somebody hocked the VCR.

  Mr. Bauer makes an obscene gesture with his middle finger.

  J. RIEGER: I’m assuming that’s how you bought your pot.

  T. BAUER: This? This is just some crappy shake we found in a dumpster, man.

  J. RIEGER: We?

  T. BAUER: The royal we. As in, “We are of the opinion that this movie is crap.”

  J. RIEGER: I happen to think this movie puts some much-needed edge in John Carradine’s oeuvre.

  T. BAUER: His oeuvre, huh?

  J. RIEGER: I can explain it in small words.

  T. BAUER: Man, his oeuvre needed to pay rent real bad.

  J. RIEGER: Don’t use words unless you know what they mean. It gives away your ignorance.

  T. BAUER: Blow it out your oeuvre.

  J. RIEGER: Why were you reading a medical textbook in the bathroom with the door locked?

  T. BAUER: I said let it go.

  J. RIEGER: Why would you want to hide that?

  T. BAUER: Man, you’re a bug.

  [00:13:59]

  Tom Bauer carefully soaps a silver 1992 Jaguar XJS coupe.

  J. RIEGER: You shouldn’t let Richard push you around.

  T. BAUER: For a couch surfer, you got one fancy car.

  J. RIEGER: You have to stand up to him.

  T. BAUER: If I was you, I’d sell this car and get my own apartment.

  J. RIEGER: Are you listening to me?

  T. BAUER: Richard’s a fling. She’s already avoiding his phone calls. She’ll –

  J. RIEGER: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?

  T. BAUER: I’m rinsing off the soap.

  J. RIEGER: How many times do I have to tell you? Rinse with the tepid water from the buckets.

  T. BAUER: This is so not worth what you’re paying me.

  J. RIEGER: What did I just say? No cold water!

  Mr. Rieger is hit with a spray of water. He tips backward and sits on the ground, shielding his face. Mr. Bauer laughs. Mr. Rieger stands and charges. Mr. Bauer drops the hose. Mr. Rieger chases Mr. Bauer around the Jaguar four times.

  The camera tumbles and comes to rest, focused on a brick wall. Mr. Rieger and Mr. Bauer can be heard struggling nearby.

  J. RIEGER: You’re going to clean my car exactly the way I tell you to, when I tell you.

  T. BAUER: Go fuck yourself.

  J. RIEGER: You will do it.

  T. BAUER: Or what?

  J. RIEGER: I’ll go to your school, find Paulina Mazenkowski, and tell her everything you told me. [pause] And a few things you didn’t.

  Mr. Rieger laughs. Footsteps approach the camera.

  T. BAUER: You’re such an asshole.

  J. RIEGER: Paulina! I wooove you! I can’t wiiive without you! When you put your big, pouty lips on your flute and blow, I –

  T. BAUER: Shut up! Shut –

  [00:16:17]

  Two unidentified early-twenties females pose nude on a bed. The first female, a Caucasian with a small build and blond hair, is prone with two pillows under her hips. Her wrists are handcuffed behind her back. The second female, a slim Hispanic brunette, wears a brown strap-on. They both stare into the camera and wait.

  J. RIEGER: Tell her what you’re going to do.

  2nd FEMALE: I’m going to fuck you raw, slut.

  J. RIEGER: Hit her.

  The 2nd Female repeatedly slaps the 1st Female’s buttocks. They engage in intercourse.

  [00:22:03]

  Both women are unconscious. The 1st Female is handcuffed to the headboard. The 2nd Female lies beside her. Mr. Rieger adjusts the 2nd Female’s left hand so it is on the 1st Female’s genitals. He returns to the camera, and the picture focuses on the 1st Female’s torso.

  Mr. Rieger returns to the 1st Female and picks up a serrated buck knife which he traces between her breasts down to her belly button. From the camera angle, it appears as if he suddenly and repeatedly stabs her, but he stabs beside her. Mr. Rieger makes sound effects for the knife entering her stomach and for agonized screaming.

  [00:29:41]

  A Denny’s logo is visible on the dessert menu, which is suddenly lowered. Guy Francis [a.k.a. Firebug], a tall Caucasian male with closely cropped blond hair, has a slight muscle-bound hunch and wears a navy jacket.

  GUY FRANCIS: Craig’s solid. I’ve known him since high school.

  J. RIEGER: I don’t work for free.

  G. FRANCIS: We’re playing for shape. A good word from Craig will open all kinds of doors.

  J. RIEGER: So we bag Rusty.

  G. FRANCIS: No. Listen. We catch Rusty with his hand in the cookie jar. Craig brings a legit complaint to Daddy Jack. Daddy Jack – and only Daddy Jack – solves the Rusty problem.

  J. RIEGER: So I sit around and wait for Rusty to rip me off so Uncle Craig can rat him out. [pause] I hate shit detail. The next job better be one for the resume.

  G. FRANCIS: Ah, to be gung-ho again.

  J. RIEGER: Don’t patronize me.

  G. FRANCIS: Pay up and let’s –

  [00:33:12]

  A large, black suitcase is removed from under a rollaway cot in the second bedroom of apartment 304. A hand unzips the suitcase and opens it, revealing a black garbage bag that hides six packages of white powder wrapped in clear plastic.

  J. RIEGER: Ta-da! The bait. One key of crappy coke and the rest is baby powder. In this stunningly original plan, I play the retard hiding his stash under his bed. [pause] Rusty must be one dumb motherfucker if you think this is going to work.

  Mr. Rieger turns to show Mr. Francis, who is installing a surveillance camera behind a heating vent on the wall.

  G. FRANCIS: Shut that off.

  J. RIEGER: Speaking of dumb motherfuckers, this is the delusional geezer who thinks he’s the boss of me.

  Mr. Francis lunges at the camera. It comes to rest on the floor, showing Mr. Francis and Mr. Rieger as they fight, rolling around the floor and then over the camera.

  [00:34:49]

  Mr. Bauer carries his ten-speed bike out of the storage closet in apartment 304. He wears orange pants with brown piping. Mr. Rieger laughs off-camera.

  J. RIEGER: The Great Pumpkin wants his pants back, Charlie Brown!

  Mr. Bauer puts down the bike and makes obscene gestures with both his middle fingers and then exits the apartment.

  [00:35:27]

  Looking down at Woodcourt Street from apartment 304. A grey sedan idles across the street.

  J. RIEGER: Here, mousey. Come get the nice co
ke.

  The sedan drives off.

  J. RIEGER: Rusty, you motherfucking lazy piece of shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck –

  [00:36:18]

  Mr. Bauer mops the floor at Chuck Wagon Burgers. He wears a cardboard cowboy hat and an orange uniform with brown piping.

  J. RIEGER: You know something has gone seriously wrong in your life when you spend your Friday night staking out a Chuckie Burgers.

  G. FRANCIS: Rusty’s following him. That means something.

  J. RIEGER: Rusty wouldn’t spit on Tom if he was on fire.

  G. FRANCIS: Tom’s a sneaky little shit. I’ve seen hundreds of little shits just like him. He’ll rob you blind as soon as he finds out you’ve got money. You watch him.

  [00:37:11]

  Mr. Bauer dismounts his bike in front of The Woodcourt Apartments. A car honks. Richard Patolmic exits a green Pontiac Grand Am.

  R. PATOLMIC: I’m talking to you!

  T. BAUER: She’s at work!

  Mr. Patolmic approaches Mr. Bauer.

  R. PATOLMIC: Are you giving her my messages? ’Cause if I find out you’re not –

  T. BAUER: Give her your own messages, dipshit!

  Bauer enters the building. Patolmic pounds on the entrance door. He presses the buzzer for apartment 304 for 00:01:47. When there is no response, he stands under apartment 304.

  R. PATOLMIC: Chrissy! I just want to talk! Chrissy! I just want to talk!

  An unidentified middle-aged Asian male on the second floor leans out his window.

  ASIAN MALE: Hey, shit-for-brains! Some of us have to fucking work tomorrow!

  R. PATOLMIC: Chrissy! Chrissy! Chrissy!

  ASIAN MALE: Read the clues, moron!

  R. PATOLMIC: Chrissy, I love you!

  ASIAN MALE: You see this? I’m phoning the cops!

  R. PATOLMIC: I love you!

  [00:39:27]

  Christa Bauer lights the candles on a train-shaped birthday cake, which reads, “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Tommy!” Mr. Rieger laughs off-camera.

  C. BAUER: Shh. You’ll ruin the surprise. [pause] Tommy! Shake a leg! Your breakfast’s getting cold!

  00:00:21 elapses before Mr. Bauer appears in his boxers and a T-shirt. Ms. Bauer and Mr. Rieger sing “Happy Birthday.” Ms. Bauer leads Mr. Bauer to the kitchen table and sits him in front of the cake.

  C. BAUER: Make a wish!

  T. BAUER: Stop taping this. Mom. Make him stop.

  C. BAUER: Oh, don’t be a grumpy bunny. Hurry, I have to leave for work soon.

  Mr. Bauer blows out the candles. Ms. Bauer hugs him and kisses his cheeks. Mr. Rieger starts to laugh again.

  [00:41:10]

  Mr. Rieger has set up the camera on the kitchen table. He chuckles as he examines various bills and places them back in a shoebox. Mr. Bauer enters the kitchen of apartment 304.

  T. BAUER: What are you doing? Those are private!

  J. RIEGER: How much are you guys in the hole?

  T. BAUER: None of your goddamn business!

  J. RIEGER: They’re cutting off your power in three days. What are you going to do?

  T. BAUER: I can’t believe you went through my things.

  Mr. Bauer attempts to wrest the bill box from Mr. Rieger, who pulls it back. Mr. Rieger holds up a bill and then throws it on the table. He removes his wallet from his back pocket and covers the bill in fifties. He repeats this with four other bills. Mr. Bauer touches the money on the table.

  J. RIEGER: I’ll help with rent and food and bills and all you have to do is one itty-bitty thing.

  T. BAUER: What?

  J. RIEGER: I want you to be good.

  T. BAUER: Define “good.”

  J. RIEGER: You listen to me when I tell you what to do. No arguing. No debates. No whining.

  [00:42:10]

  Mr. Bauer gawks at the drugs in the suitcase under the rollaway cot.

  J. RIEGER: Impressive, huh? Am I hearing apologies?

  T. BAUER: Jer. Jesus.

  J. RIEGER: Your bills aren’t going to break my bank, so if you’re smart, you’re going to follow my rules.

  T. BAUER: You’re out of your mind. You can’t keep that here. What if –

  J. RIEGER: Are you being good? Meep. Uh, no. Now I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Consequences.

  [00:42:47]

  Mr. Rieger does an inspection of apartment 304. Mr. Bauer polishes a shoe at the kitchen table. Mr. Bauer has had his hair cut very short. He looks up when Mr. Rieger approaches.

  J. RIEGER: I’d make you do everything again, but, hey, it’s your birthday.

  [00:46:33]

  Mr. Rieger knocks on a door.

  J. RIEGER: Tommy. Oh, Tommy.

  Mr. Bauer is not in the bedroom. Mr. Rieger enters the living room. Mr. Bauer has fallen asleep on the couch. Mr. Rieger reaches out and shakes Mr. Bauer’s shoulder.

  J. RIEGER: Hey. Wake up.

  Mr. Bauer is not responsive. The camera focuses on the coffee table where three and a half lines of powdered cocaine, a credit card, and a rolled bill are visible.

  J. RIEGER: Some people can’t handle their mickies.

  [00:49:51]

  Mr. Bauer lies unconscious on top of the coffee table. His jacket and shirt have been removed. Mr. Rieger places Mr. Bauer’s hands over his head. Mr. Rieger sits on the couch and picks up a serrated buck knife. He speaks quietly, and is inaudible to the camera’s microphone. 00:07:10 elapses. Mr. Rieger makes no move to use the knife. The lock for the front door snaps open and voices can be heard.

  C. BAUER: Hel-lo! I’m home!

  Mr. Rieger leaps over the coffee table and pushes it against the couch. He rolls Mr. Bauer onto the couch and throws a blanket over him. He pushes the coffee table back into position, turns the TV on with the remote, and sits in the recliner beside the couch, tucking the buck knife into one of the recliner’s side pockets.

  J. RIEGER: Hey, Aunt Chrissy.

  C. BAUER: Jer-e-my! [pause] Ah! Look at Tommy! How did you get him to cut his hair! Ah! I love it!

  A dark-haired man of average height and weight follows Ms. Bauer into the living room. They are obviously intoxicated.

  J. RIEGER: Who’s this?

  C. BAUER: Say howdy, Pete.

  PETE: Howdy, Pete.

  Ms. Bauer and Pete laugh. Mr. Rieger shuts off the TV. Ms. Bauer struggles to lift Mr. Bauer’s head onto her lap as she sits down.

  PETE: I thought we were going to party, Chris.

  C. BAUER: Look at my baby. Isn’t he handsome? Oh, he’s such a sweet boy.

  PETE: Come on, Chris.

  C. BAUER: Just sixteen years ago, he was sliding into the world –

  VHS 2

  Title: SHE’S A LADY

  Date: 04-04-1993

  Duration: 00:58:10

  [00:00:00]

  Paulina Mazenkowski, a late-teens Caucasian female with long blond hair, poses with her arms raised in front of her parents’ two-storey home at 1492 Empress Drive.

  PAULINA MAZENKOWSKI: Welcome to the freak show.

  Ms. Mazenkowski opens the front door. The camera follows her, panning the living room. Screaming can be heard. The camera points down at the floral area rug. Something shatters and heavy thuds can be heard.

  J. RIEGER: Someone’s being killed in your basement.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Relax. That’s just Mom and Dad.

  J. RIEGER: They’re fighting?

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Ignore them.

  J. RIEGER: Should we hide the knives and guns?

  [00:01:14]

  Ms. Mazenkowski sits at her vanity table applying her makeup. The camera focuses on the bed’s white wooden canopy covered with gauzy curtains, plastic butterflies, and roses.

  J. RIEGER: Wow.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: I know. Mom was supposed to give birth to a doll and got me instead.

  Someone pounds on the door. Ms. Mazenkowski continues applying her mascara.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: I’m busy, Daddy. Go away.

  MR. MAZENKOWSKI: Who’s in there w
ith you?

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: No one.

  MR. MAZENKOWSKI: Then whose car is in our driveway? Don’t lie to me! What are you doing?

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: I’m fucking the football team, Daddy.

  MR. MAZENKOWSKI: You fucking slut! Whoring around like –

  J. RIEGER: Do you want me to take care of him?

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Don’t bother. He’ll pass out in a few minutes.

  [00:02:29]

  Ms. Mazenkowski sits nude on a chair at a desk in a hotel room. She practises scales on her flute.

  J. RIEGER: I’m dating a band geek.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Don’t knock it. My parole officer eats this shit up.

  J. RIEGER: Is that all he eats?

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Turn that fucking thing off.

  [00:03:19]

  Ms. Mazenkowski stands naked with her hands on her hips.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Did you turn the camera on?

  J. RIEGER: Relax, babe, I grabbed a condom.

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Jeremy. [pause] You know what? Never mind. I’m outta here.

  Ms. Mazenkowski begins to dress.

  J. RIEGER: Come on, Paulina –

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: I said I’d leave if you turned the camera on and what do you do? You fucking turn it on.

  J. RIEGER: I’d really like you to stay.

  Mr. Rieger moves toward Ms. Mazenkowski who kicks Mr. Rieger in the shins.

  J. RIEGER: Paulie! Come on!

  P. MAZENKOWSKI: Bye, Jer.

  [00:04:02]

  Mr. Rieger is outside, crouching down behind a tree. He holds a semi-automatic paintball gun and wears a protective mask. He lifts his finger.

  J. RIEGER: Be vewy quiet. We’re hunting wabbit.

  [00:04:14]

  A blurry figure is visible through dense brush.

  UNIDENTIFIED MALE: Guys! [pause] Not funny, guys! Jer? Snickering and laughing can be heard.

  [00:04:34]

  Rusty Letourneau, a Caucasian male in his late teens/early twenties with a heavy build and shoulder-length dark hair, holds the leashes of two large, barking German shepherds. He holds a piece of paint-stained clothing in front of their noses and then releases them. He laughs as they disappear into the bushes.