08/27/2012 02:39 pm ET Updated Dec 06, 2017

'Premium Rush': Pages from Lost Movie Novelizations

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Sometimes, movies are based on books. Sometimes, novelizations are written to promote a movie. Sometimes, no books are written at all. We're here to fill in that gap. Today, we novelize the scene from Premium Rush in which we learn the fate of Michael Shannon's Detective Robert Monday. (Spoilers ahead.)

It felt like a pinch.

Detective Robert Monday knew that things had gotten out of hand. Manic, even. Which was fitting considering that "Manic" had been Monday's nickname back at the academy after an ill-timed combination of too many Tanquerays and a Bangles song that happened to be playing on the jukebox.

The pinch now felt like something more. Reminiscent of when Monday was 10 years old and his barber had accidentally clipped the back of his neck. "Stop crying, Bobby. Be a man." Be a man, Monday now thought to himself.

Robert Monday always had a fascination with dominoes. As a child, he once created a one-fifth scale domino diorama of the stage from Flashdance -- a setup that even culminated with a shower of water once the dominoes were set in motion. Monday's father -- a blue-collar bricklayer from Bayside, Queens named Dominick -- never understood. The elder Monday could not fathom why his son wasted so much time fooling around with dominoes. Dominick, or, as his friends called him, "Mini," didn't say a word about the Flashdance recreation. Hoping the "problem," as he saw it, would go away on its own. It didn't

The follow up, a meticulously detailed reimagining of the entire Amish town from Witness was too much. Dominick flew into a rage, kicking over what represented Rachel Lapp's domino house, setting off a chain reaction that wasn't ready. "It wasn't ready!" Robert Monday screamed at his father. Robert Monday never touched a domino again ... that is, until he discovered pai-gow.

Something was wrong. Robert Monday's head swelled with pain.

Monday knew he had been too hard on that kid Wilee today. Perhaps it was Monday's own often cantankerous relationship with his father that fueled what had transpired. Monday realized that he had to get his life in order. He knew that his gambling debts from playing back-room pai-gow had escalated to a breaking point. It was time to make amends. It was time to reach out to his estranged father. Maybe even take up dominos again ... only as an art form instead of a vice. If anything, Detective Robert Monday learned, today, from one scoundrel of a bike messenger and an improbable flash mob: This was the first day of the rest of Robert Monday's life. And he sure as hell wasn't going to waste it.

Robert Monday felt the trickle of blood streaming down his neck. He had never seen his assassin sneak up behind him and fire the bullet into the back of his head. Robert Monday finally realized, now, that he had been shot.

Monday sat down in his car, "I just need to think. I just need to think," he said to nobody. The reveling flash mob of bike messengers didn't seem to notice that their plan of halfheartedly slapping Monday into submission had drastically escalated. While they cheered - while Wilee, finally, successfully delivered the package -- Robert Monday was dying.

Monday could hear the echoes. The day Monday graduated from the academy, his class serenaded him with "Manic Monday," only cleverly replacing the word "manic" with his first name, "It's just another Robert Monday. He wishes it was Sunday. Because that's his fun day. His 'I don't have to run' day. It's just another Robert Monday ..." That was a good day. Robert Monday was not always a corrupt cop. On that day, Robert Monday was pure.

Those would be Robert Monday's last thoughts. Robert Monday closed his eyes for the last time. "Manic" Monday was now one with the eternal flame.

Mike Ryan is senior entertainment writer for The Huffington Post. He has no future in movie novelizations. You can contact Mike Ryan directly on Twitter.

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