Cage & Kilmer, Part 3

From proposed script “Cage and Kilmer Fight the Devil”

Status:  rejected by smart reviewers

Cage and Kilmer have broken out of a truck carrying fake goats–goats filled with lemonade mix destined for a chemical lab in the Taiwan drug cartel–and are now trekking by foot over the New Mexico border. They still wear the floral-print dresses given to them by the Alabaster Ladies Society and plan to meld into the neighboring community. . . in disguise.

CAGE

Look, there’s a town down in that valley. I’d say it’s about four klicks from here.

KILMER

Great. I need a massage.

CAGE

We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere, Kilmer. That’s not the kind of town that gives out massages.

KILMER

Why not? It’s a perfectly respectable business.

CAGE

Well, yeah. . .

KILMER

Are you dissing the proud women of our massage industry? Do you know how hard it is to become a masseuse in America? You’re talking a minimum of two hundred hours in the lab, plus field lessons, and a two-part exam. You get your license after that.

CAGE

How come you know so much about masseuse training?

Kilmer is rather silent on the matter. He proceeds to hike down the ridge into the valley, but Cage won’t let him off the hook.

CAGE

Kilmer? Why didn’t you answer my question?

KILMER

Hey, did you see that bird? Was that a kingfisher?

CAGE

Yeah, it’s a damned kingfisher. How come you know so much about masseuse training?

Kilmer throws up his hands in frustration.

KILMER

All right! So I was a masseuse! Big deal!

CAGE

When did this happen?

KILMER

Nineteen Eighty-Three. And a little bit of Nineteen-Eighty-Four.

CAGE

One and a half years? Why?

KILMER

I was out of work for about twelve months and got a little desperate. So I talked to a lady in Sacramento who took me in as an apprentice.

CAGE

I don’t believe it.

KILMER

We trained night and day in a secluded mountain dojo. Our master was very wise in the lost arts. My training was not without incident. That year, we repelled a raid from a rival instructor. I myself killed two massage trainees with a towel. We buried their bodies in the rocks.

Cage gawks at Kilmer as they trek further into the valley. Cage wears an incredulous look, which changes into disappointment.

CAGE

You know, I can’t decide if you’re crazy or not.

KILMER

How do I know you’re not crazy?

CAGE

Because I didn’t take two years of masseuse training in Sacramento!

KILMER

That’s not a good enough reason for insanity.

CAGE

All right, forget I asked! We’ll reach the town in a couple hours. We need to start working on our aliases.

KILMER

Great! I’ve already got mine picked out.

CAGE

Let me guess. . . a masseuse.

KILMER

No, dummy. I’m a survivor expert who lost his clothes in a fight and had to steal a lady’s dress. That’s why I’m in the dress. What’s your excuse?

CAGE

I don’t really have one.

KILMER

Well, you do better voices and accents. Why not be a duchess or something?

CAGE

We’re gonna get shot at anyway. I’m going to walk behind you for the next hour. No particular reason for that.

KILMER

At your leisure, my duchess.

CAGE

Please shut up. Just shut up.

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