Wheels Of Rage
Book & Screenplay by Kurt Saxon
©2001 by The Author
Opening: The screen is dark. There is a low sound of motorcycle engines, increasing in volume. The credits begin with the book’s cover. As the volume rises to full blast the screen is filled with the book’s drawn illustrations, over which the credits are superimposed.
Interior. A dimly-lit, sleazy modern biker’s bar. About a dozen scroungy bikers are sitting around listening to an old biker, obviously out of it, but one who has been there and is accepted by the patrons as an interesting relic. He’s wearing a set of his old colors, on the back of which is “IRON CROSS MC. SOUTHERN CALIF”.
The camera pans from his back, showing his colors and the faces of the pretty well-oiled audience. Then it moves around nearly to the front, to the backs of the bikers, showing their colors and the face of the old biker.
You guys are just a bunch of punks, what we called “rumpkins”. You got no class. You wanna know about class? I’ll tell you about the Iron Cross M.C.
One time we were coming back from a run to Phoenix and stopped in at this roadside tavern.
Int. A typical roadside tavern for motorists and locals. There is a wide window showing a line of motorcycles parked in front. Inside are several Iron Cross bikers sitting in the booths. At the rear are a couple of the bikers playing a bowling game. At the bar is an obviously drunk baseball fan going on loudly to the disinterested bartender about his love for the Mets.
Old Biker (narrating off-screen):
The guys were just trying to relax, talking low amongst themselves and not bothering anybody. But there was this geek at the bar, going on about the Mets at the top of his voice and drowning out the guys. I could see the guys were getting edgy and I was about to go and pop him one when I sees this young guy with a suitcase looking over our bikes. They were all alike, shiny black, with peanut tanks and stripped to the bare bones, not like the trash-wagons most of you guys ride. Anyway, this young guy comes in and sits at the bar near the loudmouth and right next to Gargantua, who had come to the bar with maybe the same idea I had.
About then, one of the guys, who was really bugged by that Mets fan says:
I can’t stand that creep. Let’s stomp him.
No. Let’s put him down instead.
Paranoid George, a short chunky biker with long, stringy black hair and the wildest eyes outside a nuthouse, comes to the bar alongside the Mets fan and orders another pitcher of beer. While the bartender was drawing another pitcher, the Mets fan is saying:
Now, you see, the National League has the Mets.
Hey, Mister, what’s the Mets? Is it like the clap or something?
Why, the Mets are a baseball team, the best there is. I’ve followed the Mets ever since they were organized.
Gargantua, a giant of a man but surprisingly cleancut, with a neat Hollywood-type hairdo, arises and moves to the other side of the Mets fan.
My mom followed troop trains. She wore Army boots. Do you wear baseball shoes?
Mister, I still think the Mets is some kind of disgusting disease. Are you sure you ain’t just putting me on because I’m ignorant and been deprived?
No, Paranoid, the Mets really are a baseball team. People like William Ehrens root for them.
The Mets fan nods approvingly, encouraged.
Yes, some of the best people root for the Mets. By the way, Pard, who is William Ehrens?
William Ehrens was convicted of the rape-slaying of a six-year-old girl in Chicago.
While the Mets fan is sorting this out, Gargantua moves closer to him and says, confidentially;
You being a fan of the Mets, maybe you can clear up a rumor about them. You know the one about how they carry on in the showers. Tell me, are any of them normal?
The Mets fan looks like he’s about to start slugging and says;
Why, you must be crazy, Man. The Mets are as normal as you are.
Gargantua then grabs the Mets fan by both shoulders, spins him around to face him and says:
Oh, I’m just so glad.
Then he gives the Mets fan a sloppy kiss on the mouth. The Mets fan then jumps off the bar stool, shuddering with rage and embarrassment and leaves. All the bikers have a good laugh at the put-down. Two of the bikers go back to the bowling game and the young man says to Paranoid George:
You guys did a beautiful job on that bore. He was driving everybody nuts.
Yeah, Samson wanted to stomp him but I figured it would be better to put him down. That’s more fun a lot of times because you take a guy like that and you really blow his mind and he remembers it longer than if you just thumped on him. Besides, we’re partying and in a good mood, anyway. The young man orders two pitchers of beer and shoves one toward Paranoid George. It is accepted.
I’m a reporter. Small paper. I was just fired. I saw your motorcycles and now your colors. I figured you for a political group. You people look like you’d be a good subject for a series I could peddle in L.A. I’m thumbing my way there.
I don’t know about political. I voted once and I didn’t like it. As far as stories are concerned, we guys don’t give interviews. If you want to write about us you’d better talk to our club president, Big Mike Brown. He can give you a real story. Hey, Man, why not come along with us?
Well, I don’t think so. I’ve got other offers. And I’ve got no life insurance.
Paranoid George grabs the young man’s suitcase in one hand and his collar in the other and drags him out into the parking lot.
Fine. It’s all settled. You’ll be the club’s press agent.
External. As the young man is half way struggling, the other bikers leave the bar and prepare to mount their machines. Just then, more bikers arrive in the parking lot along with a car and a camper. One of the bikers who was in the bar (the narrator) is having trouble starting his machine. He gives up and wheels it to the camper and with the help of some of the others, lifts it into the camper.
Look, we got a car. Now you don’t have to ride to California in back of me.
Three of the guys bikes broke down in Phoenix. At least, that’s what they said. I think they were just too drunk to ride. They borrowed a car which they had to wire since someone didn’t leave the keys in.
Paranoid George stuffed the reporter in between the two guys in the back seat and I got in with the driver.
At this point the director can follow the narration along the highway.
About twenty motorcycles assemble two-by-two in a column, followed by the crash truck, a hollowed-out camper and the stolen car with the three bikers and the reporter in the front.
We all started off, us in front of the column. Nothing happened for a few miles. The two guys in back were even drunker but were okay except for hollering and giving the finger to motorists we passed.
When we got to Blythe, California we was overtaken and passed by this car lit up with flower designs and peace symbols. Two hippies were in the front seat and the one on the passenger’s side reached out and gave us the finger. He must have behaved while passing the rest of the column or someone would have saw the insult and cut him off.
But as he passed us he hit the gas and sped ahead, thinking he was safe. The guys in the back were teed off and yelled for our driver to go after the hippies. By the time we got near the little town of Desert Center the two guys in the back seat cranked up their Carbines.
Ahead, a tractor pulled out onto the highway and the hippies nearly hit it. They swerved across the road and nearly ploughed into an oncoming oil truck. When they got back on their side of the road they started throwing suitcases and tools out onto the highway hoping we’d bounce over them and crash. After dodging the hippie’s trash we finally overtook ’em and cruised alongside.
The guy at the right rear window started firing through the hippie’s open rear windows. All the bullets went in one window and out the other. The hippies really thought they were goin’ to be shot. After about the fourth blast they swerved off the highway at ninety miles an hour and caromed into a sand dune and out of sight. That was fun and we all had a good laugh. After that, when we passed a car with both rear windows open the shooter would fire a couple of rounds through the windows. After about a dozen cars the guy was too drunk to aim so he and the other guy went to sleep until we got to Glendale.
INT. A couple of dozen bikers are in the living room of an apartment. A motorcycle is in the middle of the carpet and dripping oil. Noah, a hulking, bearded biker wearing a backward collar and a German helmet and holding an open Bible, is standing by the motorcycle as if it’s an altar.
As soon as we got back from Phoenix we had to get Gorilla Snot married to Peggy. The guy who’se place we used wanted to break his lease. This gave us an excuse to have a real party without taking care not to mess up anything.
Gorilla Snot and Peggy stand on the other side of the motorcycle while Noah reads the service. The wedding goes amid sniggering and goosing by the onlookers.
Noah, looking up from the Bible:
And do you take this here woman and her afflictions…
Nearest biker, laughing:
Why, you stupid, damned fool; it’s “affections”, not “afflictions”. I ought to know. I been married about ten times.
Noah, enraged, reaches out and grabs the laugher and knees him viciously. Then he throws him back into the pack. At this, two of the laugher’s friends dive at Noah and Big Mike and Samson throw them down and begin kicking them. The bride and groom wait patiently.
With all the turmoil the neighbors must have called the law. They must have been close or waiting outside. They came pounding on the door, hollering:
Come on out with your hands up. This is the police.
Pinochio then throws open the door and while glaring at four cops, yells:
What do you mean, “Come out with your hands up?” It’s a wedding in here, you sons-of-bitches.
One of the cops:
Come on in, you shits. See for yourselfs.
The four policemen file in, looking at the weird scene in ill-concealed amazement. One of them stops by one of the laugher’s friends, sitting on the floor and rubbing his kicked jaw.
Man, you’ve been worked over. Do you want to press charges?
Blow it out your ass.
After looking over the bride and groom the head officer says to the others;
Hell, if these people are getting married to each other, they don’t need any more trouble. Let’s go.
The cops leave and the wedding continues.
Noah, with a sigh:
I now pronounce you man and wife and I ain’t got nothing more to say on the subject except you can kiss the bride; but don’t do nothing else, here.
After Noah’s pronouncement, everyone kisses the groom and shakes hands with the bride. Then one of the bikers takes off his boot, leaving his sock inside. He then fills the boot with beer and champagne and passes it around. One of the straighter citizens, visibly drunk, says:
Gad, how disgusting. How could anyone drink out of a filthy boot like that?
One of the bikers takes out his upper plate and when the tipsy one isn’t looking, drops it into his glass of beer. After the drunk takes a long swig the biker says;
Hey, gimme that there glass. There’s my false teeth. He then yanks them out of the glass and puts them in his mouth. The drunk then has a near fatal case of the dry heaves
A gigantic cake is then delivered, plenty big enough for fifty people. One biker pushes his portion into his neighbor’s face. That starts off a cake-throwing battle and fist-fight that finishes the cake and destroys the apartment. The fight is all in fun but the place is in shambles. The tenant throws up his arms, looks around and says;
Crap, I wanted to break the lease but this is ridiculous. So I’m going to leave right away. I need you people to help me move.
Then each of the party-goers grabs an armload of the tenant’s stuff and staggars out. One even goes out with the tenant’s garbage.
Ext. Two of the bikers carry out the console TV and tie a rope around it. They attach the rope to one of the motorcycles and its rider goes off dragging the TV down the street. There are knobs and tubes strung out for a block and a half. Other bikers come out with boquets of wedding flowers. They decorate their machines with them and now look like a flock of crazed garbage men celebrating a wedding on motorcycles and collecting the trash at the same time. In the exodus the whole block is littered with bedding, garbage, phonograph records and kitchen utensils. Except for a couple of suitcases full of personal effects, the tenants have nothing left.
Ape approaches the couple, the girl in tears.
Don’t cry, Gwendolyn. I just got this here Master card. You can bunk with Mike tonight and tomorrow we’ll get you a new place and go shopping to replace all your stuff.
The girl brightens and finally everything is jettisoned and the bikers go roaring off into the night.
Int. Inside the clubhouse, fixed up with couches and other furniture.
Soon after the guys got settled in after Phoenix, Big Mike and Muskrat were asleep on couches in the clubhouse about 10 a.m. when a dynamite blast went off on the roof.
Big Mike jumps up, grabs a shotgun and yells;
What was that?
Muskrat, rolling over:
Just a low grade explosive.
Ext. Big Mike runs out of the clubhouse with the shotgun and sees a tall, thin kid with long black hair and engineer boots running away.
Big Mike couldn’t fire because there were citizens in the way. When they saw the shotgun some of them screamed and dived out of the way. But you can’t trust citizens so the creep got away.
There wasn’t much damage to the clubhouse except for a hole in the roof over the John. But it was enough to get them evicted. Big Mike put out contracts on Fuzzy and Whodat, a couple of renegades he figured put the kid up to it. A few days later, Big Mike, Noah and Paranoid George were driving around in the camper.
The three bikers are in the cab of the camper and driving around Glendale. They see the long-haired kid walking along and window shopping. They double-park and Noah and Paranoid George jump out and grab him and throw him to the sidewalk. He recognizes them and starts fighting like a wildcat. Big Mike joins in and it takes all three of them, punching and kicking, to quiet him down.
They meant to take him out into the desert and question him as to where Fuzzy and Whodat were. If he wouldn’t tell them what they wanted to know, they meant to kill him.
The bikers drag their victim out into the street and try to stuff him into the back of the camper. At that he begins fighting again and trying to tear away. A crowd has gathered on the sidewalk and in the street behind the camper.
Old lady to her neighbor:
It’s funny that three strong men, especially that big hairy one, can’t manage one young man. I guess it’s the devitalized foods. It’s the Communists, you know. They’re devitalizing our foods.
That’s not exactly it, Maam. That boy is plenty excited. And when a person’s excited he’s harder to handle. I know; I worked in a madhouse once.
By this time the guy was getting weaker and yelling in terror. He was actually screaming like an animal. Big Mike was ashamed for him.
Big Mike and Paranoid George are in the camper pulling and Noah is outside trying to push him in. Then another old man comes up and whacks Noah across the back with his cane.
Police brutality! Cossacks! Release the lad!
Noah gives a howl of rage and turns on his attacker. Startled, Big Mike and Paranoid George relax their holds. The victim then breaks loose and runs like a scalded dog. Noah faces the old man, speechless with rage, but doesn’t hit him. Big Mike jumps out of the camper and says to the other two;
Let’s go before we get booked on attempted kidnapping.
It turned out that that guy didn’t know what they thought he did. He was just paying back a favor. If they had took him out and questioned him they would have probably ended up killing him. Big Mike said he was sort of glad they didn’t.
Ext. Big Mike, Gargantua and an elderly man are in a cemetery walking toward a mausoleum.
Big Mike liked having all kinds of weird talent but that didn’t mean he felt right about some of his troops. One biker who gave him the creeps was Gargantua. He used to be a member of Anton Szandor LaVey’s Church of Satan. He was a practicing warlock and made spells and everything. Big Mike was very superstitious and a Christian but Gargantua was so intelligent and strange he came in handy for odd assignments.
One such assignment was due to a lot of tomb desecrations up at the Tujunga Cemetary.
Int. Inside a large mausoleum. Big Mike, Gargantua and the elderly man examine the desecration.
Someone had broken into this big mausoleum where a ritzy family stored its dead in marble crypt drawers. They had pried open the tomb’s heavy iron gate and broken the seals to the burial drawers. Then they had actually undressed three of the corpses and put on their clothes. At least it seemed like that from the way the corpse’s clothes were laying in piles a considerable distance from the naked bodies.
The cemetary manager wanted the desecration stopped once and for all. He told his problem to Big Mike’s minister and the minister, after a lot of tearful soul-searching and praying, decided to turn the Iron Cross loose on the ghouls.
Elderly man to the bikers:
This is awful. These crazy people have come around several times but they stay away when the police are posted. I’ll pay a hundred dollars to each of up to four of you gentlemen if you will either catch or forever drive off those awful people.
Well, Mike, I think we can do it. Us and Paranoid and Pinochio should do the trick. Come around to my place tonight and we’ll plan it out. I’ve got a cottage in the Glendale unit of Forest Lawn. I’ll be near the gate digging a grave. I’ll point the way and you can visit with the wife and kid until I’m done.
Ext. Big Mike enters the main gate of Glendale’s Forest Lawn Memorial Park and stops his bike near where Gargantua is digging a grave. Gargantua simply waves him on, pointing ahead where the cottage is. Big Mike rides along the curved road until he comes to a neat little cottage, gets off and knocks on the door.
Int. Inside is a living room, dimly lit and the air heavy with the smoke of incense. The walls are hung with hippy posters and magical symbols. The most prominent is a poster over the mantlepiece, a larger upside-down star with a horned Goat’s head in it surrounded by more magic symbols. Also on the mantle is a skull with a black candle burning on it and two more on either side.
Gargantua’s little girl, Ariel, is sitting at a desk, listening to the phone. Gargantua’s wife, Andra, sweeps in upon hearing Big Mike’s knock. She is a pale beauty, wearing a long, black dress like that worn by Morticia of the Addams family. She opens the door and ushers Big Mike inside. She says nothing as Big Mike stares in astonishment at his surroundings. Finally he notices little Ariel as she is saying;
Nonsense. So very paranoid. Oh, so awfully oogly.
She’s listening to Dial-A-Prayer. She can’t understand that it’s only a recording. She’s only five and she’s wonderful with words but she hasn’t got her concepts down yet. So she dials it over and over, thinking the speaker is fixated or something.
Andra to Ariel;
Ariel, put down the phone and meet Mike Brown, the president of Daddy’s motorcycle club. He’s a Christian.
Ariel, looking at Mike:
A Christian? That’s all right. Daddy says the Great Pumpkin tolerates all kinds of notions.
Big Mike to Andra:
I saw Gargantua digging a grave. He pointed the way up here.
That’s his job and he does it very well. I’m proud of him.
Just then Gargantua comes in and greets Big Mike and then goes into the kitchen for beer. Ariel comes out of another room with a bowl and starts flicking water at Big Mike. He jumps back and Andra says:
Oh, isn’t that sweet? She’s sprinkling you with defiled water. She likes you.
Hell, I don’t want to be defiled. Get that stuff away, Kid.
It’s only holy water that’s been used in a black mass. It’s to keep the demons and elementals around here from attaching themselves to you. It’s sort of like that stuff you put on furniture and bushes to keep dogs away.
Big Mike calms down as Gargantua gives him a beer and they go over and sit on a sofa.
Big Mike to Andrea:
No offence, but this is a kind of weird place. Do you really like being among all the dead in Forest Lawn?
Well, actually, I’d like anywhere just being with Gar. But I do sometimes dream of a little graveyard like in Louisiana, you know, with Spanish moss hanging from the trees. I’d like something personal and intimate like that and with real tombstones. Here in Forest Lawn it’s so business-like with only brass plaques on the ground instead of stones. I’d like a more informal place like so I could let my hair down, as it were. How about you, Gar?
Oh, I don’t know, Honey. The gods have been good to us. I’ve got a job I can do. I’ve got a nice little family. I couldn’t be more contented if I was buried under a rock.
Then to Big Mike;
Anyway, Mike, let’s go around there tomorrow night, Thursday. Their kind of stuff is usually done on Friday nights so we can look things over with little chance of them knowing we’re on to them.
Int. It’s the next evening and Big Mike, Paranoid George, Gargantua, Pinochio and the caretaker are in the mausoleum with flashlights. Paranoid George begins pulling open the three drawers that had been broken into.
Hey, man, there ain’t no bodies in here.
Well, stupid, do you think they would just pick up the bodies and plop ’em back in and shut the drawers? They got ’em in storage until we clear up this mess. I swear, Paranoid, you don’t have a real brain. What you got is a bunch of nerve endings like a goddam frog.
Look here on the floor. Wasn’t this some kind of design in chalk?
Gargantua examines the floor.
I can make out a pentagram and where there were some symbols. They’ve rubbed it out pretty well so I can’t make out what kind of ritual they were doing. But they were sure enough doing more than just prancing around in the corpse’s clothes. By the way, when’s the last time they were here?
They were here last Friday night that we know of. But they saw the police and ran off. Private police have been here nearly every night since then but the boss thinks they just scare the creeps off. But they don’t catch ’em or do nothing.
Okay, I think they just come around on Fridays. That’s their night, man. Fridays are good for witchcraft. There’s something about this mausoleum they like for their rites. This being only Thursday, we’ll be here and ready for ’em tomorrow night and there won’t be any cops and we’ll get ’em, you’ll see.
Ext. The caretaker leaves and the bikers wander around the graveyard. They see a car drive in and stop near a freshly dug grave. They sneak up to the car and listen to a man and woman inside talking.
But you’re the weirdest. You’re awful weird. Who ever heard of making out in a grave?
Well, how are we going to keep our marriage together if you don’t let me get my jollies? Besides, you agreed at home. Now you’re getting cold feet.
Better cold feet than a cold back. If we could only use a blanket.
Gargantua signals the others to move away from the car. The couple get out of the car and climb down into the grave and undress. Gargantua leads the others to the caretaker’s shack, goes in and brings out four shovels. When they get back to the grave the man is grunting and the woman is lying there complaining.
You’re weird. Your own mother says you’re weird.
Gargantua then plunges his shovel into one of the two piles of earth on either side of the grave and the others follow his lead. They begin filling up the hole. The couple is in an instant panic and fall back several times, being hit by several facefuls of earth. The grave is one-third full before they manage to scramble out naked and run to their car. When they get the engine going and speed out of the cemetary the bikers collapse, laughing.
Then Gargantua jumps down into the grave and digs up the clothing. He comes out carrying the clothing and waving the man’s wallet. He opens it and begins dividing its contents with the others.
That was an easy two hundred. All-in-all the graveyard business can be pretty good if you work all the angles. What say we get out of here now and meet at Mike’s tomorrow at about seven?
Int. Big Mike’s front room. Big Mike, Paranoid George and Pinochio, Mike’s wife and kids and a couple of girls are waiting for Gargantua. He comes in carrying a Max Factor makeup kit and four black robes.
First he rubs white grease paint all over Big Mike’s face and hair. Then he paints his eye sockets black and blackens both sides of his nose. Next, he lines in teeth over the upper and lower lips. When he combs Big Mike’s hair straight out on all sides he looks like a terrified skeleton.
All he does to Pinochio is to cover his face with gray grease paint and paint his eye sockets black. With his German flak helmet on, Pinochio looks like a real goblin.
When he gets to Paranoid George he wipes a yellowish-green paint all over his face and uses a blue eye shadow to darken his eyes. When he’s finished, Paranoid George looks like a vampire. Gargantua makes himself up to look like just any monster and they all go out and mount their motorcycles.
The four bikers ride toward the cemetery. Pinochio has a six-pack tied on his sissy bars and Paranoid George has a gallon jug of Red Mountain Burgundy on his.
Since Gargantua was so close to the cemetary business he planned the strategy. He figured the ghouls would do what they had been doing and try the drawers they had opened before to see if the bodies had been put back. Gargantua thought it would be great fun for him and Paranoid George to be in a couple of the drawers, waiting for the ghouls. Paranoid George was the only one besides Gargantua who would hide in a burial crypt. Big Mike and Pinochio meant to lurk outside. To Gargantua, it was a thing he could shine at and really show class.
The four finally get to the cemetery.
It was only about eight o’clock that night. Before going to the mausoleum they decided to test their makeup and costumes on the people in Lover’s Lane on the other side of the cemetery. The place was known as “Stick-Finger Gulch” by lovers of all ages and sexes. This wasn’t like most lover’s lanes which only attract peeping-Toms and muggers. Stick-Finger-Gulch attracted graveyard freaks, which made the place a lot more risky.
Ext. There is a full moon and hip-deep fog covers the area, suggesting a scene from one of the old Wolf Man movies. About fifteen cars are parked in various nooks and crannies around a clearing. The bikers park their machines about a hundred yards away and tiptoe around the cars, figuring the best way to terrorize the occupants.
Nearly all the cars have a man and woman in each, mostly in the back seat. In the back seat of one is a pair of Muscle Beach type gays who have gone so far as to put their pants on the front seat and left the doors unlocked. They are asking for it.
Outside of one car a peeping Tom is slobbering and twitching. He is wearing a Satanic amulet around his neck and is playing with a ceremonial dagger. Gargantua slips up behind him and stops his mouth. They drag him back into some bushes and work him over until he’s dizzy. Then they strip him naked and hustle him over to the car with the gays in the back seat. They open the car’s door and Pinochio grabs the two pairs of pants off the front seat. Then they shove the naked weirdo into the driver’s seat. The dagger has been confiscated by Paranoid George and he waves it under the noses of the shrieking gays.
You two shut up.
To the peeping Tom:
Now, you prevert, there’s the keys in the dash. You rev up this here car and drive it to Hell clear off this place.
The peeping Tom gets the car going and peels off toward the cemetary entrance. The four go back to where the clothes are and examine the wallets’ contents with small flashlights.
Well, here’s about a hundred dollars and all these credit cards should get us a lot of groceries and stuff.
And take a look at these I.D.s. One in the car and the peeping Tom are on the L.A.P.D. vice squad.
It’s only about nine and the ghouls won’t show ’til about eleven. Here’s what we’ll do in the meantime. We’ll use our keys and surround each car and at the same time let the air out of their tires.
They work as a team. As they surround a car each jams a key into the tire valve and the car settles at all four wheels at the same time. When all the cars are with flat tires, the bikers go to the one nearest to the exit lane. Then they all stand at the windows while holding their small flashlights under their faces. Most of the occupants react immediately. As soon as they see those monsters looking in at them from the swirling fog the lovers untangle and begin screaming.
One-by-one the cars’ engines are started and they are driven, the deflated tires flip-flopping, down the lane. When they have wallowed to the highway they lurch crazily all over both lanes, creating a massive traffic jam. In a few minutes, half-naked men can be seen going from car to car pleading for a tire pump.
The bikers then return to their motorcycles and head back toward the mausoleum.
When they get to the mausoleum they park their bikes behind some bushes. Pinochio stays with the machines while Big Mike, Gargantua and Paranoid George go into the mausoleum.
Int. Gargantua opens a lower drawer and helps Paranoid George climb in with his bottle of Red Mountain Burgundy. He then opens the one above and climbs in, his head nearest the front. Big mike then closes both drawers and goes back out.
Instead of getting wiped out and going to sleep, Paranoid decided he would rather talk. He didn’t understand the situation and he was probably a little scared, too. He had to holler to be heard but he was used to hollering.
Hey, Gargantua, how come those creeps want to mess with dead bodies?
Gargantua, yelling back:
Some people believe bodies are magic. They use them in rituals. Some people steal bodies just to sell parts of ’em, especially the skulls. Witchcraft groups will pay up to a hundred bucks for a skull.
Yeah, that sounds like a winner. What say I rip off a lot of skulls; would you sell ’em for me? I’d give you three per cent.
I ain’t fencing skulls, man. I can tell you people who’ll handle skulls and like that but I don’t believe in that kind of traffic. Besides, that kind of stuff is bad luck. Real bad luck. And how would you like it if you were dead and comfortable and some nut comes and rips off your skull?
Hell, man, that wouldn’t bother me. Anyway, I’m going to leave my body to science.
Don’t do it, Paranoid. Your body would set science back a hundred years. Might even upset the space program. Jesus’
Paranoid George was touchy about being short and stocky. Gargantua had always kidded him about being part gnome or a secret troll, so any kidding enraged him.
Paranoid George, yelling:
You want to know the truth, Gargantua? You’re crazy, that’s what. You’re always putting me down and I’ll not stand for it. What I’m going to do is I’m going to take my knife and cut off your left foot and throw it in the garbage. Then I’m going to put the rest of you in various places around the city. I Mean it. You just wait, man. Right in the guts.
Paranoid George finally quiets down and in a short while five ghouls come in and light some candles. They are about college age. They have brought chalk and incense and begin setting up for a ritual.
Big Mike and Pinochio sneak forward and hide out of sight by both sides of the entrance. After placing their candles on flower vase ledges one of the ghouls draws a large, five-pointed star on the floor. Then one of them lights some incense in a burner and puts it and a candle on the floor in the center of the star. Then, while one leafs through a book, another one goes over to the wall and begins to open the drawers. The top drawer is empty and the second drawer down holds Gargantua.
When Gargantua’s drawer is opened he waits for a second for a reaction then raises up, reaches out and grabs the ghoul by the throat and roars.
The ghouls panic, leaping about in terror. The flickering candles make the scene that much more ghostly. One of the ghouls visibly wets his pants .
Big Mike and Pinochio slam the heavy gate shut, locking them in. They both yell as they shove their arms through the bars, reaching for the ghouls. One ghoul faints dead away and another falls to his knees, praying. The other three just run around screaming and gibbering like baboons, while Gargantua climbs slowly out of the crypt.
After about a minute of watching their hysterics, Big Mike opens the gate to let them out. Then Gargantua steps over the fainted one and walks past the one on his knees and then out of the mausoleum.
Ext. The three ghouls are still running around madly and screaming. The three bikers get to their machines and tear around trying to herd the ghouls out of the cemetary. Gargantua goes over a low hill and plunges into another mound of earth by another open grave. He vaults off his bike and goes head-first into the grave and knocks himself out.
Big Mike and Pinochio then herd the three ghouls over a fourteen-foot bank. They can see them leaping out into space with their legs still working. One falls down but the other two hardly miss a step.
On the way back to the mausoleum they hear Gargantua hollering from the grave and go and drag him out. He is unhurt but his bike is stuck into one of the mounds with a bent front wheel.
Int. Inside the mausoleum the other two ghouls have left. Paranoid George is still in his drawer, kicking and screaming. When they open his drawer he sits up with his empty gallon wine bottle. He is slobbering and out of his mind. He clambers out of the drawer yelling;
Buried alive! Buried alive!
Then he runs out and his machine is heard revving up and he is still screaming, “Buried alive!. Buried alive!.
Ext. Paranoid George makes his way out of the cemetary. The camera follows him as he wanders back towards Glendale. He stops by a Catholic church and lurches in.
Int. The church is nearly empty of worshippers and only one priest is seen arranging some candles. Paranoid George wanders to a darker area and sees an open confessional with a seat and goes in and sits down. He closes the confessional door and goes to sleep.
Paranoid George didn’t know where he was. He hadn’t never been in a Catholic church before and he was too drunk to see it as anything but a warm, dark place. A little while after daylight he stirred around and accidentally touched the switch turning on the lighted sign which read, “Priest is in”. About seven o’clock a beautifully built girl sat down at the grille and began her confession.
Girl, barely audible:
Father, forgive me for I have sinned.
Paranoid George woke up to hear the girl going on to tell about what she had done with, to and for her boyfriend last night. He listened, amazed, as she described positions he could only imagine in a motorcycle pileup. She painted a picture that would make most skin flicks look like Sunday school.
Paranoid George still had no idea where he was. All he knew was that a girl he could hardly make out through the grille was telling him the horniest story and had to be hot and wanting him.
When it was only too clear to him he said;
Okay, baby, let’s make it. My place or yours.
For a minute the girl couldn’t believe what she heard. When it finally sunk in she started screaming and going into hysterics. That brought five priests and a bunch of citizens running.
Int. The girl is screaming and the priests and worshippers arrive. She points to the confessional and shrieks:
That goddam priest in there propositioned me.
The citizens are shocked and the monsignor with the priests jerks open the confessional door. When the priests get over their amazement at seeing Paranoid George sitting there in his black robe and vampire makeup they drag him out and stand him on his feet.
Girl, doing a double-take:
Jesus Christ, God Almighty. I confessed to a muppet!
Young man, how dare you sit in there and take a confession. You’re undoubtedly disturbed. Made up like that you must be against everything the Lord stands for. You must be some kind of devil.
Paranoid George, raging:
No, I ain’t. I’m a Christian. I was saved at a showing of “Elmer Gantry”. Then he turns and bolts out of the church.
He hops on his motorcycle and takes off down the street, yelling;
Buried alive! Buried alive!
Ext. Bits and pieces of motorcycle club life during narration.
Being in a bike club was more than just riding around and partying. We helped each other. We bailed each other out and helped each other move when we was evicted and all sorts of other projects to maybe make money for the club.
But one type we didn’t want was guys who wanted to use us for their own projects which would just get us in more trouble.
One time this idiot gets in with us as a prospect and tries to talk some of the guys into burglarizing medical groups for drugs. Big Mike got wind of it right away so he decided to give the guy his just deserts.
Ape’s-mother was a janitoress at a clinic and the guys voted to let her take care of him. Big Mike talked to Ape about it and Ape said;
Well, hell, can’t we just break his arm or something? Ma’s ulcers’ acting up and she’s meaner than usual. He ain’t all that bad a guy.
But Big Mike wanted the fool to be turned over to Ape’s ma and that was it.
Ext. Shots of Ape’s mom in action.
The bikers all called her “Granny Fury”, but not to her face. She was the only female honorary member of the Iron Cross. She rode a big BSA and had gone on a run when Ape was a prospect, to make sure those mean hoodlums didn’t do nothing to warp her little boy.
Her first outrage was to viciously chain-whip a lone Highway Patrolman when he tried to give her a ticket just outside Barstow. When the club made a potty stop at Baker, she tore up a bar and then went after Big Mike with a broken bottle when he turned a fire extinguisher on her. We didn’t tell her about runs after that.
She had been dumped by Ape’s drunken old man and raised eight kids, slinging hash and scrubbing floors. She was nuts and knew it but didn’t care. She had class.
Ape told the prospect about the clinic she worked at and gave him a real line. He had even snuck away his mom’s keys to make copies.
Ape to prospect:
Now, there’s this medical clinic I worked at when I was a mail clerk there. A real pushover. I cased it but never took nothing. Every doc’s office has drugs and even drawers full of samples they get sent. I even got keys to all the offices.
The next night Ape, Paranoid George and Pinochio went with the prospect to the clinic.
Int. The camera shows Ape opening the glass door and letting the others inside. He directs Paranoid George and Pinochio to case the first floor while he leads the prospect upstairs in search of Granny Fury. When they get to the second floor Ape says:
Now, you go down the hall trying doors. I’ll be up later to unlock any doors you can’t get in. Don’t mind the old mop lady. I know her. She won’t call nobody. Just bat her out of the way.
Ape leaves the prospect and runs downstairs. He collects Paranoid George and Pinochio. Before they leave the building Ape goes over to the fire alarm box on the wall and breaks the glass. He pulls down the lever and the three bolt out the door.
Upstairs, the prospect ambles toward Granny Fury and is half way down the corridor before she notices him. When she sees him she yells;
What the hell are you doing here, you goddam bum?
Cool it, old lady. You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.
When he gets nearer she smashes her mop into his face and knocks him down. Then she begins to kick him viciously.
Ext. About a block away, Ape goes into a phone booth and calls the police. When they pick up he says excitedly:
Hey! You guys better get down here to the Martin’s Medical Clinic, a crazy old char woman is killing a burglar in that there clinic. I’m not kidding. You better send an ambulance too. The door’s unlocked. I was with the guy but I wouldn’t tangle with that she-monster for all the dope in L.A.
My name? Are you kidding?
He hangs up as fire trucks pass his booth on their way to the clinic. After he calls, the bikers hang around the clinic to see what will happen. Three fire trucks pull up to the clinic and the firemen begin to connect hoses. Then two squad cars get there, followed by an ambulance. The police rush inside just as the ambulance men get out their stretcher. The firemen enter the building.
Int. The firemen look around and sniff.
No smoke here. A false alarm.
Screaming is heard from the elevator and the police direct the firemen to find the source. They open the elevator door and note that the screams are coming from below in the shaft. The firemen get the elevator up above floor-level and have the doors propped open. The prospect is found crumpled at the bottom of the shaft. The police ask the firemen to get down and lift the prospect out while the police rush upstairs. When they get there they see Granny Fury at the end of the corridor, mopping.
Cop to others:
The elevator door is closed. How did she get him down the shaft?
What she had to have done was to get in the elevator, press the UP button, then press the emergency stop button to stop it a couple of feet above the floor. Then she forced open the door, climbed out and propped open the door with her mop. Then she must have kicked him over the edge, got back in and lowered the elevator, I think.
Well, we’ll go and ask her.
The police approach Granny Fury, who has ignored them. As they get nearer the first cop calls out:
Pardon, Maam, but we want to ask you a few questions.
Granny Fury faces them in an instant rage.
I ain’t got time to talk to no goddam cops. I’m working here. Get the hell out of my clinic.
She then kicks over the mop bucket in their direction, splashing soapy water over the slick floor. As the cops slide around trying to keep their balance she flails at them with her mop. After being knocked all over the corridor the police manage to crawl out of range and take off downstairs. Granny Fury follows them, waving her mop.
Ext. She follows them out the entrance, waving her mop as the still screaming prospect, strapped to the stretcher is being loaded into the ambulance. She curses the police and everyone concerned before going back inside.
Int. There is a banging on Big Mike’s door as he is asleep in his bedroom. He wakes up and goes to the front door. He looks through the peep-hole and then opens the door to a helmeted cop.
What the hell do you want, Corky? It’s two o’clock, man. You woke me up.
Corky was one of the three little pigs, sort of renegade motorcycle cops who partied with us and sometimes gave us tips if the heat was going to come down. We never told them nothing and didn’t much trust ’em. But Big Mike figured they might come in handy, as well as telling the other cops we was all right.
Corky pushes inside and shuts and bolts the door. Then he gets up to Big Mike’s ear and whispers:
Imagine a Minuteman weapons cache with a dozen thirty caliber machineguns, over a hundred Thompson sub-machineguns, ten cases of grenades….
You don’t have to whisper, man. This place isn’t bugged. Now go easy and calm down.
Corky sits down on the couch and takes a few breaths. He’s trembling spastically with excitement. Finally he says:
I been working with this other guy in the department, infiltrating extremist groups, you know. Anyway, we got in this Minuteman band last year and were just gathering info and all.
Like with us?
Don’t worry about us with you, Brown. Your people don’t let us in on anything they wouldn’t tell any other citizen. Besides, I figure you can be useful, like now, so I wouldn’t turn you off by spying on you.
Okay, go on about the machineguns.
Sure, like I said, me and this other officer have been in this Minuteman outfit for the past year. Mainly what we’ve been doing is collecting arms to store. But we were never let in on where it was stored. We donated stuff from the department to stay acceptable, but they didn’t really trust us until tonight.
Anyhow, they’re mostly screwballs and the band gets decimated because they get jailed for one thing and another. Finally, me and this other officer had seniority over most of the band so the leader took me and him out to this cache with thirty cases of depth charges. They’re these small pattern charges shot from destroyers, not the bulky oil-drum type. A sailor in San Diego swiped them from the base down there.
So we went out to this desert land tonight with a truck load of these depth charges. Then the leader dug around and opened a trap door. Under that was a room with an arsenal you wouldn’t believe.
Now what I want is for you to get about a dozen of your guys together right now and let’s go out there and clean that place out. Then we can split fifty-fifty. It has to be tonight because my partner will report it probably this morning.
It sounds great. But why didn’t you get Jack and Charley to get the stuff?
Those shitheads? I wouldn’t trust either of them. Besides, Jack’s too straight and Charley’s too crooked.
Another thing, then, if we should rip off this arsenal and split with you, what would you do with your half? Like, what’s the use of us getting this if you’re going to start peddling all this super illegal weaponry and get busted? Then when they break you, you implicate us and the Treasury people are all over us. I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.
Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to peddle the stuff. I’m going to store it away for my own group. I’m organizing some guys in the department for when they start disarming police. It’s sort of like the Minutemen but we’re all police officers. They’re all right but I don’t trust them yet.
You know, the only weapons we’re allowed to take home is our pistols. That’s the truth. We have shotguns in the cars and in special instances they issue all kinds of weapons, but then they take them all back.
You got me all choked up, Corky. But look, if we do this and it’s some kind of trap you won’t be around to get any commendations. You know that, don’t you?
Agreed, no sweat. Now let’s get to it. You’ll need about a dozen guys and the camper and any other trucks you can get. I’ve got my jeep and that will carry a lot.
Corky leaves and Big Mike starts phoning.
Big Mike called up Noah and told him to pick up Pinochio and Pigpen. Then he called Black Bart and had him pick up Ape and Ginch. Next, Gorilla snot, Samson, Gargantua and Indian were called. Big Mike told them to leave their colors at home, as they didn’t want anyone recognized. The troops were to assemble at the corner of San Fernando and Fletcher Drive in Glendale.
Ext. Big Mike gets into his camper and takes off, followed by Corky in his jeep.
First, Big Mike and Corky went to the fleabag hotel where Paranoid George was crashing.
Int. The camera shows Big Mike and Corky coming into a run-down and dirty hotel. They pass the desk and the little old hotel manager and go upstairs to Paranoid George’s room. After pounding on the door for about a minute and yelling, Big Mike hauls off and kicks the door down.
Paranoid George’s room is decorated with pornographic pictures, Playboy foldouts and pictures of puppies and kittens. The floor is littered with beer cans and wine bottles. Paranoid George is unconscious on a mattress on the floor in the corner. Big Mike shakes him but he won’t wake up. He’s wearing his colors so Big Mike takes them off and slings Paranoid George over his shoulder. The little old hotel manager appears at the doorway.
What are you doing with that guy?
Police business. Don’t interfere and you’ll be all right.
I don’t want any trouble, officers. I would like it if you would take that character off someplace where he can’t find his way back.
The hotel manager follows them down the hall, chattering on.
You know what he done tonight? He brought three teenage girls up here and they had a party. Then his neighbor wanted to share and you know what he done? He beat that fella up and kicked him downstairs. Jesus’ I don’t want him back and what about my door?
Corky, going downstairs:
It’s okay. He’ll fix the door. And you treat him right. He’s a special government agent.
Hotel Manager, dismayed:
The government I pay my taxes to uses that person for an agent? Oh, shit! I sure wish you would fix it so he didn’t get back here.
Big Mike and Corky ignore the old man and go out.
Ext. Big Mike unloads Paranoid George into the back of the camper, Corky gets into his jeep and they drive off.
When they get to the assembly point all the bikers Big Mike had picked are there. Ginch has his panel truck and Black Bart and Indian both have pickups. Noah has a Landrover and Gargantua is there with his old hearse. By this time it is 3 a.m. and they all speed off down the San Bernardino Freeway. They drive madly when they get out into the desert and reach the site of the cache just before five.
On the property is a derrick for drilling for water and an abandoned trailer. Paranoid George is awake by now and joins them as Corky begins digging by the derrick. In moments he comes to a trap door. He opens it and flashes a light down into the cache.
Int. The cache is a regular bunker. It is a room over eight feet high, about twenty feet long and sixteen feet wide. There is an unused sleeping cot in one corner and a small but well equipped chemical laboratory at the rear of the bunker.
The bikers all climb down the ladder and examine the rows of crates holding the weapons. There are, indeed, a dozen disassembled thirty caliber machineguns with many cases of thirty caliber ammo. Other crates hold Thompson sub-machineguns, tear gas grenades and fragmentation grenades. Other crates hold over twenty thousand rounds of .45 ammo, plus eighty unused .45 automatics. There are also two hundred M-l carbines with paratrooper stocks, plus cases of ammo for them. Also there are eight hundred one pound blocks of C-4 plastic explosive with detonators, plus the thirty cases of depth charges.
Ext. The cases are handed up to the bikers topside who divide them into two piles. When the camper and the jeep are full they are loaded into the other vehicles.
Paranoid George to Big Mike:
Hey man, why don’t we just shoot this goddam cop and us take it all? That way we get a jeep, too.
That wouldn’t be right, Paranoid. He might put us onto some other stuff.
Corky to Big Mike:
You sure know how to make a guy feel secure.
By seven a.m. they are loaded up and back on the road. A couple of miles down the highway they meet a column of Army trucks. There are three U.S. Government cars, a red fire chief’s car with its red light flashing, all headed toward the cache.
The raiders get to a vacant lot where a U-Haul is parked. It is loaded with Corky’s half, the jeep is attached to its rear and Corky drives off.
The bikers’ caravan pulls up at Gargantua’s cottage and everything is carried into his front room.
Half the loot was club property and the other half was divided up among the troops who raided the arsenal. Only the six thirty caliber machineguns were club property since Big Mike wouldn’t trust any of the guys not to do something stupid.
When the arsenal was divided the guys took their share and left. They mainly traded for stuff ’til they didn’t have nothing to show for the raid. The club’s half was buried all around Gargantua’s cemetary under those grave plaques. I never heard anything more of it so I guess it’s still there.
Int. A department store where some of the bikers are mopping floors.
One of Big Mike’s church friends fretted over the value of his American money and decided to exchange his money for Mexican gold. He ran a janitorial service and hired some of the guys so they all got gold fever.
That guy was an idiot even when he was sober. So the troops decided to wait and see if he could make the exchange before they tried it themselves. Naturally, he screwed it up but he brung back lessons on how to beat Greaser swindlers and the drinking water. He failed at both but the guys learned a lot.
While the narrator is talking the scene shifts to a sleazy hotel room with mariache music coming in through an open window. A couple of mean-looking Mexicans are shown emptying a valise of gold bars and coins onto a table. There is a bottle of tequila on the table and as they talk its content level goes down and down.
He had took ten grand to Mexico and contacted some people who had gold for sale. A couple of spiks came to his hotel with the gold. He made sure it was real and paid them off and invited them to stay for a few drinks and a prayer. He didn’t remember if it was during his fifth or sixth trip to the john, because of the Tiajuana trots, but they switched the gold. When he got back across the border he had several bars of iron and a metate for grinding tortillas.
Int. Big Mike’s front room. The dining room table is piled with bundles of one hundred dollar bills, brand new and pale. The bikers are shown pawing through the bundles and drinking beer. They are then shown dipping the bills into bowls of dye and blotting them while Big Mike’s two children are flushing handfuls down the toilet.
Big Mike decided to get his own contacts through a club sponsor in Marana, Arizona. In the meantime they needed a lot of cash for the transaction.
Turkey was the guy he chose for this one. Turkey was a pert-time counterfeiter who just printed enough to make ends meet. He robbed supermarkets on the side so he wouldn’t have to work full-time at anything. Big Mike approached him and talked him into printing up a few million in hundreds. He did the basic printing and left the dye job to a bunch of the guys.
Before dying, the bills looked like play money. After the black and two shades of green were printed on, the bills had to be dipped, one at a time into a brownish, yellowish, greenish tint. Next they had to be blotted between two paper towels to get rid of the excess dye. Then they were put in the oven for about two minutes to get all the moisture out. Then they were wrinkled a little bit and rubbed with ground coffee to make them look aged. The finished product was beautiful and looked nice.
They printed about three million and salvaged two. The guys partied while they worked so they got a lot of rejects. Big Mike’s two kids got hold of a lot and flushed about a half million down the john.
When the job was done Turkey took a a hundred thousand to Palm Springs. Because of some screw-up the Secret Service men caught him and threw him in Jail.
Ext. The bikers are on the highway passing signs toward Nogales.
The Arizona sponsor had given Big Mike some contacts of gold dealers in Mexico so he made a contact and took off with a bunch of the guys for Nogales.
Noah and Ape stayed behind about five hours and then followed in the camper with the money. They was to pose as missionaries and meant to cross over several hours after the guys. They wore black business suits and with their beards and white shirt fronts they looked like a couple of mules peering over a whitewashed fence.
Ext. The camper goes past the American guards and stops for inspection by the Mexican border guards.
And what do you mean to do while in Mexico, Senors?
Noah waves his bible in the guard’s face and says;
We’re on a mission for the Lord High God. We’re here to bring the word of the Lord to sinners. We’re going to drive Satan down to Guatamala or someplace.
Yeah. We’re going to give you people a break.
We have churches in Mexico, Senor.
You do? No shit, man. I didn’t know that.
The guard waves them on. As they head down the road he looks at his partner, taps his forehead and says:
Int. A Mexican cantina and restaurant, crowded with a dozen young Mexican soccer champs.
Part of the plan was that the guys were to wait in Magdalena, the first town past Nogales. They weren’t there an hour before they had a full-scale riot going. They went into a cantina and just sat down at the tables and ordered tamales and burritos and stuff.
Indian didn’t know about some of the super-hot sauces down there. He put it all over his burritos. After one gulp he was clawing the air.
Indian gasps and reaches for the glass of water. Pinochio slaps the glass out of his hand to the floor.
Stupid. Don’t drink their water. Go get a beer.
Indian gets up and lurches to the bar. The nearest beer is by the hand of one of the soccer players. The soccer player takes immediate offence and punches Indian in the chest, knocking him over the table occupied by Big Mike and Ginch. The cantina erupts as the soccer players and an equal number of bikers throw punches, chairs and bottles.
When the fight got under way Big Mike was yelling, “No weapons, no weapons”. The sponsor in Arizona had told him of the danger of spending years in a Mexican jail. Besides, he wanted them to make a good impression wherever they went in Mexico.
Soon a squad of Mexican police rush in with clubs and are attacked by both bikers and soccer players. Their chief gets to the middle of the room and fires his pistol into the ceiling.
All Yankees to jail, now.
Big Mike, yelling back:
We’re not going to no goddam Mexican jail. Your guys started it, anyhow. And if you shoot any of us our whole club’ll come down here from L.A. and tear this town apart.
The chief wasn’t much afraid of that but he knew if he started shooting he’d not only kill a few Yankee hoodlums but also some Mexican sports heroes. That would bring him shit from all directions. Like a typical cop anywhere he just wanted to go home to his wife and kids and have a job to come back to in the morning.
Chief to bikers:
Okay, no jail. Out of town. Out of town, now.
The chief then yells at the soccer players in Spanish and the groups separate.
Ext. The camera follows the camper to the town square where a mob has formed watching the bikers show off. They are circling, doing wheelies and other stunts while the police watch. The crowd cries, “Yankee go home”, “Ole” and “cukarachas” while a few of the soccer players throw rocks.
When the camper approaches the outskirts of the crowd, Noah honks and leads the bikers out of town.
Int. Another Mexican hotel room, but this time with the mariache music is coming from downstairs in the cantina. Big Mike sits at a table handing out stacks of bills to his troops.
The gold was to be brought to a little village about a hundred miles south of Magdalena. The contact said they could bring close to a million bucks worth of gold and the camper was to be used to smuggle it back in. Noah and Ape figured they could get back to the states without being searched, with their pose as just a couple of missionaries.
Big Mike gave a lot of money to the guys to spend, as they might have to wait around until the spiks could get the amount of gold they promised.
Downstairs in the cantina, all the bikers are standing around swilling beer, dressed in a wild assortment of Mexican serapes and sombreros.
So all the guys went out and bought some real classy Mexican clothes and went to spend the rest of their time in the cantina.
Paranoid George took up with the only prostitute in town. After making out and partying with him, she rolled him.
Paranoid George is passed out on the bed and the prostitute is rifeling his pockets. She takes out a sheaf of hundreds and bolts from the room, still in her slip.
Her pimp sees her going down the stairs with the sheaf of bills.
Her pimp knew she had been with one of the guys and heard they were all throwing American hundred dollar bills around. He knew she was leaving him when he saw all that money. His rank as the only pimp in the village would be shot to hell unless he took to pimping his goat.
The pimp grabs the sheaf of bills and as he does a double-take at all that money, she grabs it back and runs down the stairs.
She tears into the cantina, waving the bills and screaming, with her pimp right behind her.
Big Mike and some of the guys were lounging around the cantina and seen the woman come in. They sized up the situation right away. They had seen Paranoid George with her and figured he had given her the money to hold for him and this Mexican bandito was trying to take it.
Indian wrenches the money from the prostitute and Big Mike and the others give the pimp an unforgettable gang-stomping.
Int. Inside a Mexican infirmary. The much-bandaged pimp is calling from a phone at his bedside.
When the pimp woke up, hours later, the first thing he done was to call his brother, a captain at a nearby militia post.
The pimp told him the Yankees were spending like madmen and if they all had as much as the one his woman serviced, there would be thousands. He said they were probably bank robbers and it would be a legitimate thing to bring a bunch of men and relieve them of their booty. They could easily keep half or more for themselves.
While the pimp was talking to his brother, three Mexicans in trench coats got there with the gold.
Int. Big Mike, Indian, Ape and Noah are in the room over the cantina. A knocking is heard and the Mexicans in trench coats enter. While the Mexicans and the bikers size each other up, Paranoid George lurches into the room.
I been robbed! She took it all. She was even wearin’ a cross. I trusted her. How could she have done a thing like that?
He sits down on a couch and sobs drunkenly. Indian then hands him the sheaf of bills he had taken from the prostitute and Paranoid George sits counting it. At the sight of all those hundreds the Mexicans exchange knowing glances. Then they empty three brief cases onto the table. The gold is wrapped in newspaper and as they unwrap the bars, Big Mike weighs them on a scale he had brought. When he finishes weighing the bars he is disappointed.
Hey, man, there isn’t over eighteen grand here. You told the old guy you’d bring a million.
We could not get a million gold, Senor. We thought the old one was mad. We have sold him gold before but not in that amount.
Yeah, but you’re not selling it to him, you’re selling it to us. You should have brought more. We did. Show him, guys.
Big Mike empties a briefcase onto the table and the bikers pitch in their own wads. Then they each take some of the bars and put them in their pockets. At the sight of all that cash the Mexicans go wild. They are laughing and pounding each other on the back and jabbering excitedly.
What’s the party about, you guys? You’re not gonna get all this money.
Oh, but we are, Senor.
Then he signals his dumbest looking honcho and that one pulls out a Thompson sub-machinegun from under his trench coat and aims it at the bikers.
The other two Mexicans go over to the table and start stuffing the money into their brief cases. Big Mike looks at the gun a minute, then he walks over, snatches it away and hits the gunman in the mouth.
The spokesman looks on in shocked surprise while his partner continues madly packing the bills away. Even when he sees Big Mike holding the gun he goes on with his work and the spokesman angrily whacks him on the side of the head with a brief case.
Big Mike to spokesman:
You know, your gunny isn’t very swift. A Thompson won’t fire with the bolt in the forward position. It has to be pulled back, like this.
When you guys get back to the city with your money, I suggest you buy another Thompson and some ammo and practice. Only people who don’t practice make the mistake of leaving the bolt closed. Sloppy.
You mean you will still give us the money?
Sure, I’m all heart. Besides, we might do business again.
The spokesman thanks Big Mike profusely, over and over while Big Mike counts out their money.
Being good natured, Big Mike rounded out the money to twenty thousand. He didn’t intend to take it back to the States, anyhow, but he wasn’t just going to give it away.
When the spokesman pockets the money, he and his partner begin to punch and kick the disarmed gunman. He turns on them and beats them both up while the bikers laugh and drink beer.
While the Mexicans are fighting there is a banging on the door. Ginch opens it and the bikers see a Mexican Army captain, the pimp, with his face all bruised and puffed, and two privates with rifles at port arms. The captain shouts something in Spanish and the pimp translates.
He say Yankee imperialismo all arrest.
Tell him he’s full of shit.
The other bikers all draw forty-five automatics and point them at the doorway. Noah goes over and disarms the privates and gives them each a wad of bills. Then he invites them in and gives them each a bottle of beer.
A group of about twenty soldiers are milling around outside, as seen from the window, while Big Mike talks to the pimp.
You go out and tell those guys to cool it until their captain comes down.
The pimp goes and comes back and talks to Big Mike with occasional interruptions by the captain.
From what Big Mike could make out from the pimp’s rotten English, the spiks wanted to avoid a fight. They meant to jail the guys and take the money. But now they would settle just for the money.
The captain is even more nervous as he sees the bikers pass the trashy rifles around, laugh and then give them back to the soldiers.
The captain is even more nervous as he sees the bikers pass the trashy rifles around, laugh and then give them back to the soldiers.
You pipples have luck today. Captain, he say you give up money and can go. He could call and have border closed. We would have Federales there and you would be in jail for all time.
Big Mike explains things as the pimp translates.
Okay, you can have the cash. And I know you mean to keep most or all of it. But if we don’t get back across the border, I’ll tell your officials how much you took and you’ll have to account for all of it.
Now, what I’m going to do is this;
I’m going to pour gasoline on the cash and take it outside. Then I’m going to have my boys take off while I stand over the money with a torch and if any of your boys get trigger-happy it’ll burn before you can reach it.
Noah to the captain:
Some of your men probably don’t care nothing about the money. Just so they don’t start shooting, anyway, you’re going up the road a piece until he gets out and catches up to us.
Ext. Ginch and the pimp go to the camper for the gas can. Some of the soldiers want to arrest him and some want to beat him up. The pimp yells the captain’s orders at them and he and Ginch go back into the cantina.
Int. The bikers put the money in a waste basket and drench it. They make a torch out of a stick by tying a towel to it and drench that, too.
They all leave the cantina and Big Mike lights the torch. Ginch pours the cash on the ground and kicks it around so it will all go up at once if lit. Big Mike stands over the money, holding the torch high and pointing the Thompson at the soldiers while the bikers roar out of the village. Noah and Ape hustle the captain into the camper and the gold dealers split in the opposite direction.
When the others are well away, Big Mike goes to his motorcycle and starts its engine. Then he throws away the torch and races down the street while the soldiers break and pounce on the money, fighting like dogs over a bone.
About a quarter-mile out of town he finds the bikers waiting for him. They can hear a lot of shooting back in the village and when they let the captain go he goes running and screaming back to the action.
The bikers unload the gold bars and their weapons into the camper and Noah and Ape dress into their black suits and drive off.
The plan to get back to the States was this: The camper was to get to the border just before the guys got there. The guys would then crowd in, making a big disturbance for a diversion and the camper would most likely be waved through without being searched.
The scene follows the narration.
They were lucky because when Noah was passing some of the guys up near the border, he accidentally nudged Indian’s handlebar and Indian went off the road, end-over-end into a meadow. Indian was knocked out and had a cut on his forehead and his face was all scuffed up but he was all right. We put his bike in the camper and Indian up front.
We got back to Nogales after dark. The guys stopped the camper a few blocks from the border and unloaded Indian and he got behind Ginch. Then the camper took off and the guys tore off after it.
Noah drives right by the Mexican border guards and stops on the American side. The bikers roar up and surround the camper. Big Mike and the others pull Noah and Ape out and proceed to give them a pretty realistic thumping. One of the American guards calls the police and another fires a couple of rounds into the air to get the bikers’ attention.
Big Mike to guards:
Those dirty bastards run our brother off the road. Look at his goddam face.
Oh, but sir, it was an accident. Sir, we even offered to take the poor motorcycle person to a hospital. But these people want to kill us and I tried to tell them that was no expression of Christian love….
Four squad cars pull up and the bikers are soon surrounded by police and border guards. The guards tell Noah and Ape to take off and that they would hold the bikers and give them time to get away. Noah takes time to dramatically bless the guards and police and even the bikers. Then he starts the unsearched camper and drives off.
Narration is backed by scenes of bikers being arrested on the highway. Other scenes show the bikers talking over a magazine article. Paranoid George is shown in his room counting counterfeit hundreds.
The time of outlaw bikers ended for most clubs by about 1970. The cops just got tired of putting up with them and there were so many stories about real criminal types on bikes that word went out to ticket them out of business. Bikers were ticketed and even arrested for anything, everything and nothing.
Noah brought Big Mike an issue of Argosy which told about armed citizens in Kentucky. Big Mike thought they were beautiful and his kind ofpeople. They set about planning to take their best troops and move to Kentucky.
The only guy who turned them down was Paranoid George. He had kept back all the loot he could. He had about seventy thousand in counterfeit hundreds stashed in his room and he meant to party from then on.