The Daybreaker
"If I were a little pioneer girl," Jake whispered to himself with a sigh. "I'd make friends with all the baby antelope and then never be lonely again."
And that was an unusually wistful thing to say, especially for a Daybreaker--which is a street term that means a Contract Killer who won't ever refuse a contract, no matter how helpless or pure the mark.
(And if you've never heard it used that way, it only proves that you aren't really "street".)
"What did you just say, Daybreaker?!" The client asked, glaring at Jake over the manila folder.
"Nothing." Jake replied softly, looking down at the folder again.
"Good. Keep it that way." The client smacked a greasy thumb into the face of the nun in the photo. "Sister Grace and the orphans saw Boss Guido shoplift a candy bar, in direct violation of his parole. Break her day, Daybreaker, and all the orphans too."
A single tear ran down Jake's cheek and splatted on the photo. The client lurched as if shot, then grabbed Jake's collar and jerked him close.
"Why Daybreaker, you've just gone all mushy and moral."
"No I haven't." Jake protested. And fired indiscriminately into the crowd below to prove it.
Screams drifted up from the busy street. The client peered over the side of bridge, eyebrows raised in appreciation. When he spoke again, his voice was almost kind.
"You've been dreaming about being a little pioneer girl again, haven't you Daybreaker?"
Jake lowered his head, ashamed.
"Yes." He replied with a whisper and moan.
"Will it affect your work?"
"No, of course not."
"So you'll take the job then?"
"Yes." Jake took the folder and tucked it in his satchel. "I'm the Daybreaker. It's what I do."
End of Scene
(Very noir! Very, very deliciously noir! I see Rob Schneider as The Daybreaker. It'll be his Oscar role.)
posted by Latigo Flint @ 2:54 AM
9 comments
9 Comments:
noir indeed! the besto. You've got to make this one into a feature. Just don't mess it up by putting any otters in it.
When did Helga get so down on otters?
And yes, flash noir at its best. I can't help but think there's some more story in Jake.
Poor Jake. Nothing like being denied your dreams because you have to go kill a nun.
I'm all about firing indiscriminately into a crowd, though.
I was seeing Jon Heder in the Daybreaker role, myself.
Unhappily, I'm not "street". Not in America anyway. Even if I got tattooed all over and whored in South Central for a year I suspect deep down I'd still only be "lane".
On the other hand, if you want to know about the intricate social hierarchies of farm animals in a country pasture - when to challenge, when to lower your eyes and be on your way - I'm your sista. Bull nostril-flare interpretation can take a life-time to learn. There are hundreds of 'em but only about 7 reveal deadly intent. You could find yourself running for your life when a bull has merely said "I like your cardigan". Or saying "Gosh, thanks!" when your last moments on earth might be better employed in running for your life. Studies with lightbulbs show this sort of "in the field" interpretation makes much more use of the "survival" patches in our primitive hindbrains than being called Crispin in the slammer.
Being a savage gunslinger, Latigo, your hindbrain would light up like Vegas. They might have to get in some higher wattage bulbs for you.
Holy sweet Jesus! Maybe you ARE Rob Schneider.
If so, you owe me $8.50.
A remarkable story of a terrible profession so overlooked by the Rob Schneider / Oscar contingent of late..
By the way, you wouldn't happen to have any contact details for this 'Daybreaker'would you? You know just so I can tell him what a tough job he has and stuff.. nothing at all to do with taking down that kid that stole my ice cream and gave me a chinese burn the other week...
- Toledo
I'm not down on otters. They are my fifth favourite mammal. It's just I don't think the noir film going public finds them quite so ferocious and terrifying as the great Latigo Flint seems to.
I Spirit-Dreamt an otter Helga Von Porno. My totem is an otter. That's the thing you didn't know that has just turned what was probably intended as a flippant remark into something much, much worse. Devil take your stinking eyes.
Who Nicolas Papaconstantinou? Anyone who doesn't recognize otters as all that is good and furious with this world is dead to me. (And one never knows when The Daybreaker may strike again.)
I know you are Amandarama--that's why I included it.
Spectacular Ghost Dog! Simply magnificent. That movie would gross a billion dollars. (No Oscars though. Jon's deal with Satan doesn't include Academy Awards.)
I hardly know where to begin Sam, you problem child bride you. My hindbrain scuppered its crockery, and then I smelled burning feathers.
You know, LBB... I'm not saying it's so, or even that it's remotely plausible--but honestly now, how frickin' awesome would it be if one day I was in fact revealed to indeed actually be Rob Schneider?
Sure Toledo, contacting him is easy. You just stand on a cliff on the outskirts of town, thrust fists of rage into the purple gloaming and scream: "DAYBREAKER!!!" At the top of your lungs.
(He emails you three to six weeks later.)
There's blood on the water Helga Von Porno. Blame the sharks and gators and motorboat propellers if you want-- but I warn you, you'll just playing right into the otters' furious claws if you do.
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