The Hit-Man Hit

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EXT. BOCCI-BALL FIELD - DAY

DAGGERT “DAGGS” MOSELY,a mid-thirties Italian/Irish picks up a penny. He goes into a field where an older and younger man play Bocci ball.

MARTY SAXON, the older man wears a dark Hawaiian shirt and smokes a cigar. NEDDY stands near him wearing mobster-wear.

Marty rolls a ball and it gets to the white ball almost perfectly. He grins.

Neddy rolls a ball and it doesn’t even get close to the little white ball.

NEDDY SAXON
It’s these shoes Dad, I can’t roll
straight.

MARTY SAXON
We’re wearin’ the same shoes Neddy.

NEDDY SAXON
Their too small or somethin’

Marty notices Daggs. He approaches Daggs as Neddy focuses on his game.

MARTY SAXON (CONT’D)
Daggert, Daggert Mosely, your right ontime.

DAGGS MOSELY
I’m ten minutes late Saxon, and it’s Daggs.

MARTY SAXON
That what ya friends call you?

DAGGS MOSELY
It’s what everybody calls me.

MARTY SAXON
Well I’m not just an everybody, so I call you
Daggert. Clear?

DAGGS MOSELY
So who the lucky dingo to die tonight?

MARTY SAXON
I’ll tell you all about it in the house.

INT. MARTY SAXON’S OFFICE – DAY

Marty enters the Office. Daggs follows, Marty sits down at his desk.

Marty picks up a plastic-wrapped “Golf digest”


MARTY SAXON
It’s a crisp new issue, you golf?

DAGGS MOSELY
I’m not old yet. . . What’s he here for?

MAXIM VETELLI stands in the corner leaning on his shot gun like a cane. He glares at Daggs.

MARTY SAXON
That’s my good pal Maxim, known ‘em for years.
Don’t mind him. He despises hit-men more and more
every week.

DAGGS MOSELY
What’s the shotgun for?

MAXIM VETELLI
(sarcastic tone)
It’s good for my knee’s.



Daggs looks at Maxim for a couple moments then stares at a picture of a woman on the desk.

MARTY SAXON
Takin’ a liking to my wife?

DAGGS MOSELY
A dame a dozen.


MARTY SAXON
A ditz disaster. All she does these days is tan
in my pool and spend Pauly’s money.

DAGGS MOSELY
Isn’t Pauly your brother?

MARTY SAXON
Exactly, and Pauly doesn’t hand out money like
candy on Halloween, he pays people for three
things and three things only. He pays for a new
paint-job on his Royce, He pays to put a
hit on somebody, and he pays for sexual pleasure.
Sharice doesn’t paint cars and she sure as hell
ain’t bumpin’ anyone off.

DAGGS MOSELY
So what is it then?

MARTY SAXON
Beats me.


DAGGS MOSELY
It beats me what I’m doin’ here, who are ya
havin’ me drop?



MARTY SAXON
A buddy of mine says you worked and sweated for
the cops. Turnin’ in the ilk of us. You’d
trap ‘em, bag em’ then cash em’.


DAGGS MOSELY
I was a bounty hunter, it was good money.

MARTY SAXON
And now your workin’ for the very same criminals
you used to deliver to justices front door. Why?

DAGGS MOSELY
Criminals are still payin’ my taxes, this way
Every time I get cash off a criminal he doesn’t
go to jail. The second reason is you tell me
where the soon to be mourned lives. The
investigations are corrosive to my sanity, I
enjoy the simplicity of steppin’ in, givin’ ‘em
the ole lead in the head then steppin’ out.

DAGGS MOSELY (CONT’D)
Workin’ for the Smurfs back at the station, I
gotta go in there, grab ‘em while he kicks around
like a fish on the sand. I dose ‘em a shot, but
85% of the time it’s a fat Jackass so it ain’t
strong enough. I gotta carry ‘em out too so I
can’t tell which fuckin’ roll to grab. I push ‘em
in the back seat like an overstuffed suitcase,
then take ‘em to the station so I can finally
cash the bastard. It’s a question of money. And
crime pays the bills.

MARTY SAXON
It’s a question of morals. High morality is an
overrated quality. In the real world it’s
survival of the fittest. If you had high morals
you’d still be doin’ the Smurfs job for them.
Your lookin’ for money.

DAGGS MOSELY
That’s right, and I have yet to see a cent.


MARTY SAXON
Mick Sarasoza, a legend, put down by a gun,
standin’ behind it a 2-bit hit-man. Your to take
down this sorry son of a bitch. Can you do this?

DAGGS MOSELY
(confident)
Like cuttin’ butta.

MARTY SAXON
(mildly depressed)
It’s really gettin’ outta hand. First Hablione,
then Donatelli, Saratoza. . . Then Saxon. Hit men
hired by other Mobsters to take out the
competition.

DAGGS MOSELY
Consider the Hit-man hit.

Daggs leaves the room.

EXT. THE TARGETS NEIGHBORHOOD – NIGHT

The back of “Daggert Mosely” strides down the road, his face not shown.

A small dark figure in the backround is seen.

The small dark man in the distance fires four quick shots at “Daggs”, and “Daggs” goes down.

The man in the distance approaches his kill, the distant man is revealed to actually be Daggs.

Shots are fired at Daggs, a THIRD MAN stands in the distance, and then from a FOURTH MAN slightly hidden behind a house.

Fourth Man is then shot by a FIFTH MAN from the side into the head.

Daggs runs to cover behind a small wall.

Daggert, calming down notices a SIXTH MAN hiding behind a dumpster from Daggs.

The Sixth Man shoots at Daggs, then Daggs shoots at the dumpster 4 shots. Nothing happens. 5 shots are fired inaccurately from behind and through the garbage bin. Daggs gets scraped on the shoulder.

Daggs stands up with confidence and a hint of anger shown by his face, and calmly walks to the Garbage.

He front kicks it over. The garbage bin lays across the SIXTH MAN’s torso. He struggles for a second but Daggs immediately plugs him in the head with two precise pulls of the trigger.

The background is filled with the sound of multiple silenced-guns popping from the other side of the wall.

Daggs goes back to the street.

A MAN SEVEN Shoots MAN EIGHT from the middle of the street, MAN NINE comes from behind Man seven and shoots him.

Daggs Shoots Man nine.

MAN TEN stands in clear visibility. He scurries to behind the nearest car. The car is a particularly short car, a low rider.

Daggs looks under the car to see two feet next to the drivers side, a head doesn’t show in the above window.

Daggs now stands close to the car, He opens the door to the back seat, and gets in. He opens the other side of the back seat, extends the door all the way. Four shots are fired at the door, but none of them make it through the door.

Daggs pokes his head and gun out from the side of the door and fires once hitting Man ten in the skull.

Two empty shoes sit next to the driver’s side, Man ten lays dead and barefoot behind the tire.

Daggs stands straight in relief. He shuts the door of the car.

DAGGS MOSELY
They should lock their car.

Maxim Vetelli confidently walks down the sidewalk with his shot gun in both hands.

Daggs points his gun at Maxim, he pulls the trigger, but he ran out of bullets. He quickly picks up Man ten’s gun, but Maxim explodes a round at Daggs before he can even point the gun.

Daggs lays dead on the sidewalk.

INT. A MEETING ROOM – NIGHT

Marty, Neddy, and JOEY SAXON sit together accompanied by chubby older Italians, half of whom are playing pool and smoking cigars.

Maxim enters the room.

MARTY SAXON
Maxim?



MAXIM VETELLI
(holds up shot gun)
15 guns, 14 dead hit-shits.

DONNY FALCELLO, an obese short man with an abnormally large cigar.

DONNY FALCELLO
Bumpin’ off a dingo ain’t out of the realm of
Possibility, if I wanted, I could plug you a
third nostril
(points to Marty’s nose)
Right there, right now.

NEDDY SAXON
Why’re we playin’ pool pops, when we got a
perfectly able Bocci-baller field in the
courtyard.

MARTY SAXON
So I can walk in my slippers, so Shut your
Breathing hole, and pay attention, you could
learn somethin’ Neddy.

NEDDY SAXON
D-
MARTY SAXON
Shut the hell up Neddy.

Joey shoves two chalk pieces in Neddy’s mouth.

MARTY SAXON
An intellectual fella once said if you take away
the temptation, then it’s over. That same man
said shut the hell up Neddy.

The other gangsters laugh.

SAGE MONTY
You sure gotta big rock sittin’ on your neck
Saxon.

MARTY SAXON
You take away a man’s smokies how’s he gonna
smoke.


DONNY FALCELLO
Whats to cut me off from me sendin’ a nephew of
mine? Huh?

His nephew behind him looks up frightfully.

MARTY SAXON
Hit-men are anonymous, someone wants a kill? Plug
the bastard himself. Someone needs to be blamed,
to pay, so the others can at least retaliate.
Thinkin’ before you dig an early grave. Kill,
then get killed. The mafia will no longer shrink
due to hit-shits subtractin’ our numbers.
Injustice requires justice, and justice requires
vengeance.

Fade out






Created: May 18, 2010

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