PROTECTING OUR STREETS

Written by Ethan Haughie

FADE IN: EXT. GAS STATION PARKING LOT - DAY The lot has a large main row of parking to the left of the building, and a smaller row across from it. Parked in the left-side row is a beat up, tan TAURUS. INT. TAURUS Two teenagers sit with fast food wrappers strewn about. Behind the wheel is EVAN, skinny and cute. EVAN Always waiting. He always keeps us waiting. Im fucking mad. When did he say hed be here? BRADLEY, curly headed with a round, jiggly gut, rests in the passenger seat. He checks his phone. BRADLEY He said 10 minutes 8 minutes ago, man. Evan takes a sip from his drink. EVAN Alright, 120 seconds on the clock. This fuckin guy makes us wait every time. Its disgusting. Bradley laughs. BRADLEY I disagree. A man is entitled to at least ten minutes leeway. Especially if hes selling you some dank trees, dude. Evan turns to him. EVAN Ten minutes?! Are you insane?! Bradley shrugs.

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BRADLEY You need to learn to appreciate how important a relaxed schedule is. Like mine. Evan shakes his head. EVAN You dont have a relaxed schedule Brad. You dont have any schedule. You jerk off and smoke all day. BRADLEY Whatever, dude. EXT. GAS STATION PARKING LOT A couple cars over from the Taurus is an immaculate, black, RANGE ROVER. INT. RANGE ROVER In the drivers seat is MARCO (30s), a heavy Mexican wearing a black suit and a gold necklace. His face is covered in tattoos. MARCO Hes on his way. Says he wants half a kilo. LOCO, also heavy and also Mexican, wearing a white wifebeater and a heavy silver chain, smiles and claps his hands. LOCO Damn, Marco, this cats seriouso! Im excited! MARCO Yeah. When he gets here you arent gonna say a fucking word. Loco throws his hands up. LOCO What?! Why not, yo?! MARCO Because you fuck everything up when you talk to the customers, Loco. Loco drops his head and swings it side to side.

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LOCO Marco, dafuq, yo. You know I been doin my best to get better at dat shit. Gotta practice to get perfect. MARCO Then practice on your own time, Loco, and on your own customers. You scare people away. Loco sinks in his seat. LOCO Fine. But you really hurt my feelings with this shit. Hurt em real bad, man. MARCO Grab a half bag from the back. Loco turns around and reaches behind the seats. EXT. GAS STATION PARKING LOT Parked across from the row of cars including the Range Rover and Taurus is an old school BMW. INT. BMW In the passenger seat is DETECTIVE MACKEY, a young, slim 30-something. Hes studying a clipboard with lots of pages on it. DETECTIVE MACKEY Youve been on these guys for eight months? Behind the wheel is DETECTIVE WHITZ, Mackeys older, fatter partner. Hes got a long beard. DETECTIVE WHITZ A whole six months Ive been neck deep in this investigation. Spying, collecting evidence, and its all culminating now. This is the crown jewel of my drug busting career, Mackey. Detective Mackey giggles.

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DETECTIVE MACKEY If you catch these guys, itll be pretty big news. Will you say I helped? Detective Whitz rubs his beard. DETECTIVE WHITZ Maybe. Well see how I feel. Their guy should be pulling in any minute, and when he does... Bam, we got em locked away for good. DETECTIVE MACKEY Fuck yeah. INT. TAURUS EVAN You got the twenty bucks? Bradley fumbles with his pocket and pulls out a twenty. BRADLEY Right here, bro. EVAN Sweet. Oh is this him?! A MINIVAN pulls into the lot. BRADLEY Maybe. He definitely doesnt drive a minivan, but then again, he could be in his moms car. They watch the van meander towards them. INT. RANGE ROVER Loco sits with a palm-sized bag of cocaine on his lap. LOCO Shit I think our guys here. Hes driving a fucking minivan! Marco pulls out two PISTOLS from his center console. He hands one to Loco. MARCO Safety first.

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INT. DETECTIVE WHITZS BMW. Detective Whitz grabs at his keys, puts them in the ignition. DETECTIVE WHITZ Didya clock the minivan? Just came in. DETECTIVE MACKEY Saw it! Uh-DETECTIVE WHITZ Is it him?! DETECTIVE MACKEY One sec I dropped the clipboard! INT. TAURUS Evan and Bradley watch the van pull into the spot next to them. EVAN Sweet. Should we get out or is he gonna get in? BRADLEY I don't know dude, lets just chill a moment. INT. RANGE ROVER MARCO Not our guy. A red jaguar pulls in. LOCO Oh, this looks more like it. MARCO Definitely. Hand it to me. Loco hands him the coke. INT. TAURUS BRADLEY Okay, its cool, Im jus gonna hop in the van I guess.

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He gets out of the car, twenty dollars in hand. INT. RANGE ROVER Marco and Loco each count a stack of money. A FAT GUY sits in the back, eying the coke. Marco finishes counting. He nods to Loco, and hands the white bag to the fat guy. FAT GUY Pleasure doin business with yall. He gets out. Marco shifts gears and pulls out of the parking spot. Seen through the drivers side window, across the parking lot... Detective Whitzs BMW is parked in front of the white minivan. Whitz holds Evans face down onto the pavement while SCREAMING at him. Detective Mackey holds Bradley and his young, scrawny POT DEALER at gun point. He waves them toward the van. LOCO Yo, remind me why we do meet-ups at fuckin gas stations? MARCO Cause any cops around are busy looking for pot dealers. LOCO Why? MARCO Theyre easier to arrest. Loco turns around, looks out the back window at... Detectives Whitz and Detective Mackey jumping up and down and smiling. The three kids sit, handcuffed against the van. The detectives fit bump repeatedly. Marco rolls down his window, rests his arm. Loco turns up some ROCK MUSIC. They pull out of the gas station. FADE OUT.