4366 lines
134 KiB
Plaintext
4366 lines
134 KiB
Plaintext
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÛßßßßßÛÛÜ ÜÜßßßßÜÜÜÜ ÜÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÛßß ßÛÛ
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ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÛ ÜÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÜÜ ßÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÝ Ûß
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ßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÞÝ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÛÜÞÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßßÛÛÛÞß
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Mo.iMP ÜÛÛÜ ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÝ ßÛß
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ß ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛ
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß
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ÜÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÜÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛßß
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ÜÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÛÛÜÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÞÛ ßÛÛÛÛÛ Ü ÛÝÛÛÛÛÛ Ü
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ÜÛ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ßÛÜ ßÛÛÛÜÜ ÜÜÛÛÛß ÞÛ ÞÛÛÛÝ ÜÜÛÛ
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ÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßÛÜ ßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ÜÜÜß ÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛß
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ßÛÜ ÜÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ßßÜÜ ßßÜÛÛßß ßÛÛÜ ßßßÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßß
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ßßßßß ßßÛÛß ßßßßß ßßßßßßßßßßßßß
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ARRoGANT CoURiERS WiTH ESSaYS
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Grade Level: Type of Work Subject/Topic is on:
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[ ]6-8 [ ]Class Notes [Screenplay for "Life ]
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[ ]9-10 [ ]Cliff Notes [is for the Living" ]
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[ ]11-12 [ ]Essay/Report [ ]
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[x]College [x]Misc [ ]
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Dizzed: o4/95 # of Words:16677 School: ? State: ?
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>Chop Here>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ>ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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Life is for the Living
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A Screenplay by
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Robert Armstrong and Srinivas Krishna
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(c) Copyright 1991 Robert Armstrong & Srinivas Krishna
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The following text is fully protected by copyright law. It is offered
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solely to the members of the Bulletin Board "Powder Keg" as an example of a
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screenplay, and in search of critical commentary. All comments should be
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addressed to Robert Armstrong care of "The Powder Keg". Please do not
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distribute this work in any form, electronic or other. It won't do you any
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good, anyway.
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Life is for the Living
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1. INT. PRISON - DAY
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In the harrowing darkness, rows of prison bars streak past. The
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occasional flash of light splashes across a haunted face. A section of
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bars swings away, and a lean twenty- eight year old man, LEWIS LAZULI,
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alias LOPI, steps forth. In his threadbare jacket and ill-fitting pants,
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Lopi and the Prison WARDEN stride down the corridor. The Warden offers
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Lopi a cigarette as sullen INMATES stare at their departing comrade.
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WARDEN
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I know it's competitive out there. But don't think of
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thieving.
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With his dark eyes, Lopi flashes a quick glance at the Warden. He
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leans over to accept a light.
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WARDEN
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Do anything you want. Doesn't matter if it's immoral, just
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as long as it's not illegal.
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2. EXT. PRISON GATES - DAY
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From the deep shadows of the towering gateway, LOPI emerges. The gate
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ATTENDANT snickers.
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ATTENDANT
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Welcome to the free world, mate.
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Lopi ignores the Attendant and ventures into the pouring rain. He
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pauses and turns his marked face expectantly to the sky. With trembling
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fingers, he lifts the sodden cigarette and takes a deep, long drag.
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3. EXT. CITY - DAY
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Beneath a brooding sky, a train thunders out of the city.
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4. INT. TRAIN - DAY
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There sits LOPI, cowering beside the window, his hands clutching his
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shivering shoulders. His eyes twitch across the shimmering city as it
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steps down to the flat horizon of the country.
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5. EXT. VILLAGE STREET - DAY
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LOPI drifts through the mist that envelopes the desolate village and
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pauses before a delapidated bungalow. He pushes open the small gate. It
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collapses at his feet. Stepping over it, Lopi walks past the unkempt
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garden and raps loudly on the front door. He waits. Impatiently, Lopi
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lifts the mat and picks up a key.
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6. INT. BUNGALOW - DAY
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Lopi's MOTHER, a frail, old woman, sits in the grey light by the
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kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. Unseen by her, LOPI closes the front
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door. He glances into the parlour. On the chesterfield sits a frail,
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ancient man, Lopi's DEAD FATHER. He chain smokes. As Lopi appears in the
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doorway, the Dead Father raises his hand and waves. Lopi smiles weakly and
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nods.
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MOTHER
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There's no money left, Lewis.
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Lopi enters the kitchen.
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LOPI
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How did you know it was me, mum?
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MOTHER
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I could smell you.
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Lopi kisses her.
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LOPI
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You look old.
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MOTHER
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I'm tired and lonely. I want to die and join your father.
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In the parlour, the Dead Father nods emphatically.
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MOTHER
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Would it be too much trouble?
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LOPI
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I can't pay for your funeral. I need a job.
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She caresses his cheek tenderly.
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MOTHER
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You tried, Lewis. But you'll never have money. Go speak to
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Michael.
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LOPI
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I'll look after you, mum.
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MOTHER
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I want to see your brother.
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Lopi hesitates.
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LOPI
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He doesn't want to see you.
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MOTHER
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That's not true! It's just that he can't afford to visit.
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Do you know how hard it is to get by in the city?
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Lopi considers his mother for a moment.
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LOPI
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You've never been to the city.
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The woman begins to cry.
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MOTHER
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I want to see my children.
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Lopi cradles his Mother as she weeps.
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7. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - DAWN
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Perched by the window of his well-appointed apartment, his narrow
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features softened by his mid-thirtyish age, MICHAEL looms over the vista of
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the city. Hurriedly, he gulps his morning cup of tea.
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8. INT. CRAMPED OFFICE - DAY
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His tie loosened, MICHAEL runs a manicured finger down a ledger and
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with his other hand rapidly punches numbers into a desk calculator. A
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ribbon of adding tape spools forth. The telephone warbles. Michael picks
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it up.
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MICHAEL
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What?
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Michael listens.
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MICHAEL
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You're being uneconomical.
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9. INT. CORRIDOR - MOMENT LATER
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Closing his office door, MICHAEL bumps into a gurney in the corridor.
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On it, under a white sheet, lies the form of a BODY. A DRIVER lounges
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nearby in a long black coat, chair tilted back against the wall.
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MICHAEL
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Why are you still here?
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DRIVER
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The school of anatomy doesn't want it.
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MICHAEL
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You should check that before you claim a body, shouldn't
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you?
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DRIVER
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It's not my fault. They changed their minds.
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MICHAEL
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Then take it back.
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The Driver stands.
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DRIVER
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No one wants it.
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MICHAEL
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Who's the next of kin?
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Michael checks the toe tag.
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DRIVER
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There's isn't any.
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Michael glares disdainfully at the Driver, then moves down the
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corridor.
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MICHAEL
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Then get it into cold storage. We'll have to pay for this
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too.
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10. INT. INNER OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
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SEXTON DRING, a cherubic man greying into interminable middle-age,
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leans over his dictaphone. From his pursed lips issues forth a miraculous
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stream of bird whistles. A human skeleton dangles from the coat rack
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behind him. MICHAEL steps through the door.
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DRING
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We're going out of business, Michael. We didn't get the
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contract.
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Caught off guard, Michael carefully lowers himself onto a chair.
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MICHAEL
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What about your friends on city council?
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DRING
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We're just a taxi service for corpses. It's very
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competitive.
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MICHAEL
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How are we going to meet the payroll?
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DRING
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We need some fresh ideas. Got to be innovative!
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Dring pins Michael with an expectant glare.
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MICHAEL
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I don't know. I'm just the accountant.
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DRING
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This business, it's like taking care of a family. Sometimes,
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the family can't stay together. The children have to get
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out on their own. Even if you love them.
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Dring levels his gaze at Michael. Michael twitches.
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DRING
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Time for lunch.
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11. EXT. ALLEYWAY - MOMENTS LATER
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LUCKY, a pudgy man in his early forties, stands next to his "Lucky's
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All-Beef Doner Kebab" truck, serving hot chunks of spitted meat to several
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DRIVERS. DRING and MICHAEL appear on the loading dock beneath a sign,
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"Sexton & Sons".
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LUCKY
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Morning, boss. My wife made something special for you.
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Dring hurries down the loading dock to the alley. Lucky lifts a
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sticky-sweet pastry from a tray and aims it at Dring. Dring crams the
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pastry into his mouth.
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MICHAEL
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It'll make you diabetic.
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DRING
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People need their pleasures.
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Lucky hands Michael a cup of tea.
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LUCKY
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Why don't you come around sometime, see your old mates?
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Michael hands Lucky some change.
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MICHAEL
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No.
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Michael takes the cup and disappears into the loading dock. Lucky takes
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a sandwich from the truck and wolfs it down.
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DRING
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You're eating your profits, Lucky.
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LUCKY
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I've been thinking about my profits, Mr. Dring.
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Lucky glances sideways at Dring.
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LUCKY
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I have to drop you from my route.
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Stunned, Dring begins to whistle. Lucky gestures to the building.
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LUCKY
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You're just not big enough.
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12. INT. SUBWAY - NIGHT
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MICHAEL hunches down in his seat, his eyes closed. The train rattles
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back and forth, and he sways with the motion. Michael opens his eyes. A
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young INDIGENT COUPLE neck furiously in the seat before him, surrounded by
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their bagged possessions. Provocatively, they intertwine their tongues.
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Michael shuts his eyes and slinks deeper into his seat.
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13. EXT. STREET - NIGHT
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MICHAEL ambles along the sidewalk, past mounds of garbage awaiting
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removal. A FIGURE lurking in the mouth of an alley beckons to Michael.
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FIGURE
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Looking for a friend?
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Michael glances toward the alley and quickly moves on.
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14. EXT. CAFE - NIGHT
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Behind a plate-glass window front, MICHAEL slops his coffee as he
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claims an empty table. An Indian SAILOR, dressed in a threadbare coat and
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clutching a stained cap, stands on the sidewalk and peers through the
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window. He locks eyes with Michael.
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15. INT. CAFE - NIGHT
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MICHAEL tries to look away as the SAILOR hurries into the cafe.
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SAILOR
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You are gentleman, are you not?
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MICHAEL
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Go away. I'm busy.
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The Sailor produces three brightly-coloured balls and begins to juggle,
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much to Michael's consternation. With an elaborate flourish, the Sailor
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finishes by placing them on the table. He bends toward Michael.
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SAILOR
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Ship has left and we have not.
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The Sailor offers his hat.
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SAILOR
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Nice country, no food.
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Michael catches the eye of a WAITER. The Sailor follows his line of
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vision.
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SAILOR
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Please, sir, you are gentleman!
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The WAITER intercedes and hustles the Sailor to the door. Michael sips
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his coffee.
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16. EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
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MICHAEL warily climbs from the dark shadows of the street toward the
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weak light of the foyer's entrance.
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17. INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT
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As the elevator doors slide together, MICHAEL slips between them. He
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comes face-to-face with VERA, an alluring woman of twenty-four years. She
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appears absolutely furious. Apologetic, Michael backs away from her into
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the corner. Vera's boyfriend, RUPERT, a handsome man in expensive clothing,
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gives Michael a supercilious inspection, and places a strong grip on Vera's
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arm. She immediately shrugs him off and stares straight ahead.
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Determined, Rupert reaches for her again, but Vera steps away, forcing
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Michael to shift to the other corner.
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RUPERT
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Vera.
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Michael flicks his gaze from Vera to Rupert, then drops it to the
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floor. Aggressively, Rupert steps between Michael and Vera. Michael
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sidles deeper into the corner. Rupert tries to caress Vera's hair but she
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pushes his hand away and flattens her back against the wall of the
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elevator. Vera and Rupert stare at Michael. He clears his throat and
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regards the floor. The elevator softly pings.
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18. INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT
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The elevator doors open and MICHAEL steps into the hall. He marches
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toward his door, followed by VERA and RUPERT. Vera reaches into her bag
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for her keys as Rupert peers over her shoulder. Vera whirls on him.
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VERA
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Go away!
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RUPERT
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I love you.
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VERA
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What do you know about love?
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Rupert appears hurt.
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RUPERT
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I've got money.
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Vera turns back to the door. Michael glances back down the hall.
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Grabbing Vera's arm, Rupert wrenches her around and forces her against the
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wall.
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RUPERT
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Listen when I'm talking.
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VERA
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You think you can buy everything.
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Rupert strengthens his grip. Michael comes back down the hall toward
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them. Rupert gesticulates wildly with his free hand.
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RUPERT
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Are you suggesting I'm trying to buy you? My father did not
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buy his peerage. I did not buy my partnership as attorney
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at law. And I could never buy you because...
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Rupert caresses her hair.
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RUPERT
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I love you, Vera.
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Vera slaps him.
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VERA
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Hands off!
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Rupert's face contorts with fury. He pins Vera against the wall.
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RUPERT
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You never let me finish talking!
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Michael punches the elevator button.
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MICHAEL
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She said hands off, mate.
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RUPERT
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Go away!
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Michael grasps Rupert by the shoulder as Vera struggles free. The
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elevator arrives with a ding.
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MICHAEL
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I think you should leave.
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Rupert swings at Michael, missing. With a short, brutal blow, Michael
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drives his fist into Rupert's solar plexus, then hustles the winded Rupert
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into the elevator, dumping him on the floor. Michael presses the "lobby"
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button and deftly steps out between the closing doors. Vera smoothes her
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jacket.
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VERA
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I can take care of myself.
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Michael nods, and walks toward his apartment. Vera slips a key into
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her door. Inside her apartment, a telephone RINGS. She removes the key,
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and listens. Vera hurries to Michael's door. Hesitant, she knocks.
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Michael opens the door.
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VERA
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Thanks for helping me.
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Michael stares at her for a moment. Vera glances toward the elevators.
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VERA
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May I use your phone?
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MICHAEL
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Why certainly!
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With expectant smile, Michael remains blocking the doorway.
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VERA
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I'm worried about staying in my apartment. I made the
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mistake of giving Rupert a key.
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MICHAEL
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Well, do come in.
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Vera quickly steps through the door.
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19. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
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Surreptitiously following her with his eyes, MICHAEL closes the door.
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MICHAEL
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Is there anything else I can do for you?
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VERA
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Oh, please... just the phone is enough.
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Michael motions to a chair beside the telephone. Vera picks up the
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telephone and dials.
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MICHAEL
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But surely... would you like a drink?
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He goes to the sideboard, and returns carrying a bottle of brandy.
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VERA
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I'd rather have water.
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MICHAEL
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Good choice, considering the circumstances.
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|
Receiving no answer, Vera sets the telephone back in its cradle.
|
|
Michael places a glass down before her.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
No one home?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Friends are never home when you need them.
|
|
|
|
Michael eases himself down close beside her.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Who needs friends?
|
|
|
|
A fist POUNDS loudly at the front door. Michael and Vera share a quick
|
|
glance. She puts her finger to her lips and hurries into Michael's
|
|
bedroom. Michael warily approaches the front door and opens it. From the
|
|
darkness of the hall, LOPI looms, his eyes flashing.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lewis.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Michael.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lopi...
|
|
|
|
Lopi locks Michael in a powerful embrace.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
It's good to see you.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
What are you doing here?
|
|
|
|
Still holding his shoulders, Lopi regards Michael warily.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I have a message from Mum.
|
|
|
|
He brushes past Michael and strides into the apartment. He surveys the
|
|
ordered luxury.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Life has treated you well.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
We all get what we deserve.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You will, one day.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
What does Mum want?
|
|
|
|
From the bedroom, Vera eyes the visitor. She steps into the living
|
|
room. Michael glances nervously at her.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Vera... what a pleasant surprise! Meet my brother, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Lopi? Hello.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Vera's a friend.
|
|
|
|
Lopi glances back at Michael.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I like meeting Michael's friends.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lopi's just returned from a sojourn in the country.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I've never been to the country. It must be beautiful.
|
|
|
|
Lopi sits down, testing the softness of the cushions.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You get used to it.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Where are you staying, Lopi?
|
|
|
|
Lopi looks hard at his brother.
|
|
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Vera's in a bit of a spot at the moment, you see. I'm
|
|
putting her up tonight.
|
|
|
|
Vera stares at Michael.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
No, no, don't put yourself out. It would be so much
|
|
trouble.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Trouble? This is an honour! Isn't it Lopi?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
That's what Mum taught us.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lopi has lots of friends he can stay with.
|
|
|
|
Lopi stands and approaches Michael.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Mum wants to see you.
|
|
|
|
Michael sighs.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I cannot afford to drop everything and come running every
|
|
time she beckons.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
She's dying.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Oh God...
|
|
|
|
Michael drops his head, then looks up at Vera with a small smile.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
She's said that many times before.
|
|
|
|
Michael turns to find his brother glaring at him. Breaking into a loud
|
|
laugh, Lopi moves toward the door. Michael relents.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'll have to arrange something at work. In the meantime, if
|
|
you need anything, feel free to call.
|
|
|
|
Lopi pauses in the doorway and looks back at Michael.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'll do that, Michael. I'll do that.
|
|
|
|
Michael firmly shuts the door. He turns and smiles at Vera
|
|
enthusiastically.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
20. EXT. STREET - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI passes Lucky's doner kebab truck, parked against a mound of
|
|
garbage and splintered crates. Broken glass sparkles on the greasy
|
|
pavement. Lopi pauses before a door. He knocks. No answer. He knocks
|
|
louder. Still no answer. He tries the door. It opens, revealing LUCKY and
|
|
his sprightly Philippino wife, ROWENA, locked in a passionate kiss. Lucky
|
|
turns to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Lopi! You're just in time.
|
|
|
|
Lucky resumes kissing Rowena. Lopi waits patiently outside. Finally,
|
|
Lucky desists.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Rowena, could you please make up the extra bed?
|
|
|
|
Rowena flashes a wicked smile.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Good idea. I'm tired of sleeping with you.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
No, we have a guest.
|
|
|
|
Rowena regards Lopi innocently.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Oh, I sleep with the guests now?
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
This is not the third world, love. This is England.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
So we're all going to sleep together?
|
|
|
|
Lopi shifts uncomfortably in the doorway.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'll sleep on the sofa.
|
|
|
|
Lucky chucks Rowena under the chin.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Rowena, show some respect.
|
|
|
|
He bends forward and kisses her again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
21. INT. LUCKY'S TRUCK - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
With rapt attention, LUCKY races the truck through the empty streets.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Don't look so glum.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
This is illegal.
|
|
|
|
Wheels slipping on the wet pavement, the truck skids to a halt. A
|
|
huge, completely bald man, NIGEL, crams himself into the cab beside Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
You remember Nigel?
|
|
|
|
Lopi nods his greeting. Nigel grunts.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
Life is hard.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Only for the living.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
22. EXT. BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
NIGEL fumbles with a ring of keys, trying to open the lock of a grey
|
|
door. LOPI glances about uneasily. Nearby, Lucky's truck softly idles.
|
|
LUCKY motions them to hurry up. Lopi looks at Nigel who shrugs helplessly
|
|
and resumes his attempt. Lopi pushes him aside. He slides a thin pick
|
|
into the lock and clicks it open.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
Now we're in business.
|
|
|
|
Nigel disappears through the door, and a moment later emerges carrying
|
|
a side of beef. He dumps it on Lopi's shoulder and returns inside.
|
|
Surprised, Lopi staggers to the back of the truck and shoves the beef
|
|
inside. Nigel joins him, and together they cram a second side of beef on
|
|
top. They climb in behind and the truck zooms away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
23. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Lucky's truck rounds a corner and stops before a small shish-kebab
|
|
restaurant. A great mound of cooked beef hangs on a spit behind the greasy
|
|
window, in which hangs a sign announcing: "Cheapest Kebabs Going!
|
|
Revolutionary Pricing Policy!" A line of raggedy INDIGENTS queues out the
|
|
door and along the sidewalk. After a quick glance up and down the street,
|
|
NIGEL and LOPI hustle the beef through the parting queue and into the shop.
|
|
LUCKY follows behind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
24. INT. KING KEBAB - MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
In the tiny shopfront, LOPI and NIGEL pass behind the short counter
|
|
into the kitchen. They disappear through a door at the back. LUCKY
|
|
follows.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
You went home?
|
|
|
|
Straining under the weight of the beef, Lopi nods.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Anyone left?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
They're all here in the city
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
The three men lug the carcasses through the kitchen prep area, toward a
|
|
large walk-in freezer, beside which rests a massive band saw. Nigel
|
|
deposits his side of beef on the saw and triggers it to life. Lucky helps
|
|
Lopi hang the other in the freezer.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
How's your mother?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
She's given up.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
You can't give up. If you
|
|
want to live, you have to stay
|
|
competitive.
|
|
|
|
Nigel rams the beef through the blade. Tiny flecks of meat spit
|
|
through the air.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
25. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
In the dimly-lit room, MEN play cards with quiet gusto. The Indian
|
|
SAILOR circulates through the crowded tables, serving drinks. A
|
|
weasel-faced MAN leans back in his chair, and up- ends the Sailor's tray.
|
|
The Sailor scuttles to pick up the broken glass. The other MEN break into
|
|
snickering laughter at the sight. Behind the bar at the far end of the
|
|
room, a door opens, spilling bright light from the kitchen. NIGEL walks
|
|
through the door, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. LOPI and LUCKY follow
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
26. INT. BACK OFFICE - A MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
Behind a large table, beneath various pictures of naked women, reclines
|
|
an impish, mustached KINGSLEY. Beside him, an edgy, sharp-faced man in a
|
|
business suit, ATTILAH, sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands
|
|
cradling a glass. NIGEL and LUCKY usher LOPI into the room. Kingsley waves
|
|
his hand.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
You found us. At last. Sit.
|
|
|
|
Lopi takes a seat. The SAILOR pours a drink and hands it to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
So good to see you. You bring back... memories.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Bad memories.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Then you should drink and forget.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Better bad memories than no memory at all.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
I remember only good times!
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
You're an idiot.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
No, don't you remember when we were drinking with Michael
|
|
and he told us the story about his father who --
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Lopi's brother is a ghost.
|
|
|
|
They all turn to Attilah. He smiles back at them. Apologetically,
|
|
Nigel nods his head.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
For us, he is dead.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Dead but still moving.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Michael's a very intelligent man! KINGSLEY (to Lucky) You
|
|
drink too much coffee.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Your belly is squeezing your brain.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Better than my hand squeezing your throat.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Your hand's too busy squeezing your cock!
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You're talking about my brother.
|
|
|
|
The table stops its chatter and turns to Lopi. He draws a knife from
|
|
his coat and places it on the table.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Who wants to die?
|
|
|
|
Attilah stands up.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Okay.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Good, good, good. This is good. I will watch.
|
|
|
|
Lucky stares at Kingsley in horrified silence. Kingsley picks up his
|
|
glass.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Drink. Be civilized.
|
|
|
|
Attilah and Lopi each tensely raise a glass. They quickly shoot back
|
|
their drinks, and set their glasses down. Lopi picks up his knife and
|
|
falls into a practiced stance. Attilah begins to giggle.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Where's your knife?
|
|
|
|
Still giggling, Attilah pulls out a pistol from inside his jacket. He
|
|
admires it.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
I live in the city now!
|
|
|
|
Lopi lunges, his blade gleaming. Nigel seizes Lopi by the neck and
|
|
drives him back against the wall. The knife clatters to the floor.
|
|
Attilah point the gun at Lopi's head and giggles uncontrollably. He pulls
|
|
the trigger. The hammer clicks on an empty chamber.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
I have no money for bullets.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
But even an empty gun is a market force!
|
|
|
|
Kingsley gestures to the Sailor, and another round of drinks appear.
|
|
Lopi resumes his chair.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
What do you want? You wouldn't visit me simply for
|
|
pleasure.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I want to live.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Business. Everyone comes for business. It's very
|
|
competitive.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley raises his glass to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
To business.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I don't want to be a thief anymore.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley stares at Lopi, then shrugs.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
You have no capital, Lopi.
|
|
How do you plan to acquire surplus value?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
27. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
While MEN continue their card games around the crowded tables, the
|
|
SAILOR sings a sad, very sad song.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
28. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Cheerless morning light suffuses the room. From beneath a tangled
|
|
clump of bedsheets, MICHAEL emerges on the sofa.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
29. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Fully dressed, MICHAEL sits on the corner of the bed and spies on the
|
|
sleeping VERA, her hair fanned across the pillows. Vera rouses,
|
|
momentarily confused by Michael's presence.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Will you be here when I get back?
|
|
|
|
Disconcerted, Vera pulls up the covers.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I have a busy day.
|
|
|
|
Michael pauses, his gaze lingering.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Then you'll need the key.
|
|
|
|
He stands and drops a key on the night table. Vera picks it up, and
|
|
smiles warmly.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Thanks.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You should change your locks.
|
|
|
|
He strides toward the door. Vera considers his departing back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
30. EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL hurries away, down the street. From the other direction,
|
|
Lucky's truck pulls up to the curb.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
31. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - DAY
|
|
|
|
Before the bathroom mirror, VERA pats dry her face with a towel. She
|
|
stops, listening.
|
|
|
|
|
|
32. INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - SAME TIME
|
|
|
|
LOPI slides a thin pliable wedge into the door of Michael's apartment.
|
|
He jiggles it expertly. Suddenly, he steps back. The door opens, and VERA
|
|
peers out suspiciously over the safety chain. Lopi regards her with
|
|
surprise.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Hello.
|
|
|
|
Vera opens the door. Lopi steps through.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
33. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Michael's at work, you know.
|
|
|
|
LOPI watches Vera collect her coat. She smiles at him.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'll wait.
|
|
|
|
Vera shoulders her bag.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Tell him I'll call.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You like Michael?
|
|
|
|
Vera turns in surprise.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
He's a nice guy.
|
|
|
|
Lopi extends his hand to her.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
That's good.
|
|
|
|
Vera reaches to shake his hand, but Lopi turns his palm up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
The key?
|
|
|
|
Vera laughs nervously, and hands over the key. As Lopi watches, she
|
|
closes the door behind her. Lopi walks into the bedroom. He re-emerges a
|
|
moment later, shrugging himself into a sport jacket and counting some
|
|
money. Lopi admires himself in the hall mirror.
|
|
|
|
|
|
34. EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI crosses the street and hops into Lucky's truck. LUCKY starts the
|
|
engine, shooting a glance at the jacket.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
I thought you weren't going to steal anymore?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
He's my brother.
|
|
|
|
The truck pulls away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
35. INT. STUDIO - DAY
|
|
|
|
From between the breezing interplay of flowing fabric, emerges VERA.
|
|
Bright light flashes across her arrogant features. She strikes a pose,
|
|
then another, her long elegant limbs scything the air. The PHOTOGRAPHER, a
|
|
bald, sagging man, moves in close, the aperture on his camera flickering
|
|
open and shut.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
You need a fuck.
|
|
|
|
Vera curls her lips and sneers. Click.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
36. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
VERA sits primly on a hard-backed chair. A NURSE spoons food to Vera's
|
|
MOTHER, who reclines on a bed. Between swallows, her Mother takes oxygen
|
|
from a mask draped over a tank nearby. Vera's FATHER, a big man collapsed
|
|
with age, perches precariously on the edge of the other bed.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Mother's fine.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Good.
|
|
|
|
The Father glances out the window at the under-foliaged tree. The
|
|
Mother takes another gulp of oxygen.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
But it's cold.
|
|
|
|
He turns back to Vera.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Mother's been asking about Rupert. How is he?
|
|
|
|
Vera glances uneasily at her hopeful Mother.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I don't know. I'm pretty busy right now.
|
|
|
|
Her Father cocks an eyebrow and nods thoughtfully.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Should always keep busy.
|
|
|
|
The Mother glares sourly at Vera. The Nurse pauses to pat the Father
|
|
on the head, and then leaves. Her Father appears quite shrunken.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Don't know how much longer you'll need to make these visits.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Don't say that.
|
|
|
|
A sly grin spreads across her Father's wrinkled face. From beneath the
|
|
bed, he procures a matching set of cowboy hats.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Let's wrestle.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I'm too old for that.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Come on. Just for me.
|
|
|
|
Her Father draws a chair up to the table, and enthusiastically motions
|
|
for Vera to follow suit. He hands Vera one hat and perches the other on
|
|
his own head.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Must we wear the hats?
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Yes!
|
|
|
|
Settling the cowboy hat carefully over her hair, Vera takes her
|
|
Father's gnarled hand in her own slender grip. They plant their elbows on
|
|
the table and lock wrists. Her Mother grips the oxygen mask, and regards
|
|
her husband with worry.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
You want a head start?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Okay.
|
|
|
|
Her Father tilts his arm backwards, giving Vera a head start. He then
|
|
throws himself into the wrestling, pushing her hand well over. Vera
|
|
recovers and slowly forces his knuckles toward the table. He struggles,
|
|
then gives up. Vera removes the hat and rests her hands in her lap.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Where's my umbrella?
|
|
|
|
His eyes closed, her Father nods slowly, apparently asleep. Vera rises
|
|
and plants a kiss on his forehead. She approaches her Mother, who purses
|
|
her lips in anticipation. Vera removes the oxygen mask and touches her
|
|
Mother's cheek with her lips. They exchange a glance barren of affection.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Good bye.
|
|
|
|
Her Mother takes a deep gulp from the mask.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
37. EXT. OXFORD CIRCUS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Jostling through the crowd, VERA catches an advertising placard
|
|
displaying her image in a store-front window. She stops and approaches the
|
|
window. On the poster, her conspiratorial grin exposes impossibly white
|
|
teeth. Pent-up breasts cradle a jar of coffee-whitener. Distraught, Vera
|
|
moves closer to the glass-shielded placard. After a moment, she turns away
|
|
and daubs her weeping eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
38. INT. SEXTON & SONS - CRAMPED OFFICE - DAY
|
|
|
|
With one hand, MICHAEL hurriedly sifts through a tangled clump of
|
|
papers. His other hand moves toward the calculator, upsetting his tea cup.
|
|
He inhales sharply.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Shit!
|
|
|
|
Looking up, Michael sees DRING step lightly past the doorway, a WOMAN
|
|
in a business suit holding his arm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
39. EXT. SEXTON & SONS - FRONT DOOR - DAY
|
|
|
|
DRING smiles charmingly and shakes the WOMAN'S hand. As she climbs in
|
|
her car, Dring lifts an imaginary telephone receiver to his ear, and with
|
|
his right index finger dials an imaginary number. Giddy, he laughs and
|
|
waves at her, then hesitantly blows a kiss to her departing car. Lucky's
|
|
truck rolls past.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
40. EXT. SEXTON & SONS - ALLEYWAY - DAY
|
|
|
|
LUCKY opens the side of the truck and pours coffee. A few DRIVERS
|
|
crowd around. LOPI walks around from the other side. Dring arrives on the
|
|
loading dock.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Morning, boss.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Don't give up on us yet! We have a new lease on life.
|
|
|
|
Dring descends to the alley.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Once I contract a supplier, I shall expand.
|
|
|
|
Lopi pats Lucky on the stomach.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Lucky's always expanding.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
This is Lopi. He's Michael's brother.
|
|
|
|
Lopi thrusts his hand out. Dring takes it.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Michael never mentioned family.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Well, we're very proud of him.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I could use another Michael. Industrious, hard-working,
|
|
honest.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Lopi only works for himself.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
That's not true. What do you need?
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
What have you done?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Oh, many things. Automobiles, televisions... beef.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Wholesale or retail?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Both. You have a big place.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Big?
|
|
|
|
Dring turns and looks at his facilities. He turns back to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Pretty big.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
41. INT. SEXTON & SONS - CORRIDOR - DAY
|
|
|
|
DRING leads LOPI through the decrepit, squalid premises towards his
|
|
office.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
This will be a growth industry. We have the equipment to
|
|
handle our end. I'm looking for a specialist to handle the
|
|
supply end.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I've always wanted my own business.
|
|
|
|
A gurney blocks their path. Dring opens a door and hurls it into
|
|
Michael's office. MICHAEL looks up in shock. Dring smiles benignly at
|
|
him. He and Lopi continue down the corridor.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
You've come at a very propitious time.
|
|
|
|
Lopi stops Dring.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You still haven't told me what you need.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
42. INT. SEXTON & SONS - INNER OFFICE - AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Are you sure it's legal?
|
|
|
|
DRING purses his lips.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Absolutely. Your trick is to get people to sign a
|
|
contract. Then think of yourself as a... collection agency.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
And this is entirely proper?
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
How long have I been doing this?
|
|
|
|
Lopi searches for an answer.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Three generations. I think I know what's proper.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Very good.
|
|
|
|
Dring picks up his telephone.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I want to introduce you to someone you already know,
|
|
Michael.
|
|
|
|
He replaces the receiver and locks eyes with Lopi.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
This is a new business. We are new people. Cutting edge.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL enters the tawdry office warily. Dring smiles at him.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I didn't know you had such a talented family.
|
|
|
|
Michael eyes Lopi.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
It all depends on the talents you need.
|
|
|
|
Dring indicates Michael should shake Lopi's hand.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
We have hope, Michael. Sit down and I'll tell you why.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
43. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI picks through the liquor cabinet as MICHAEL closes the door and
|
|
hangs his coat in the closet.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Nice brandy.
|
|
|
|
Lopi pours a glass and savours the taste.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Things'll be nice for me soon. How about a toast, Michael?
|
|
|
|
Lopi reclines comfortably into a chair. Michael approaches Lopi and
|
|
fingers the lapel of his jacket.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Nice suit, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
The best.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Have you ever been in a condominium?
|
|
|
|
Lopi shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Hot water, shag carpet, it's warm in the winter... and there
|
|
are no thieves.
|
|
|
|
Michael shakes his head in mock disappointment.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You're still a thief, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
No I'm not. I'm in business now.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Not after I acquaint Mr. Dring with your history.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
And put yourself out of business? No you won't.
|
|
|
|
Lopi produces some money and approaches Michael.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You remember Mum, don't you? I took it for her funeral. But
|
|
I won't be needing it now.
|
|
|
|
Michael puts out his hand but Lopi drops the money to the floor.
|
|
Michael collars Lopi and slams him against the wall. He presses his face
|
|
close to Lopi and shouts. Through clenched teeth, Lopi shouts back.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
When did you get out of prison?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
How did I get there?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Don't play that trick on me, Lopi! I had nothing to do with
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You were too busy here in the city, weren't you?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm a self-made man!
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
With Mum's money.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
That was for my education.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You never gave anything back!
|
|
|
|
Michael releases Lopi. He collects himself and pours a drink. Lopi
|
|
rubs his bruised shoulder.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I don't have any money.
|
|
|
|
He waves to the apartment.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
It's all tied up in equity.
|
|
|
|
Lopi stares at Michael, then plucks the bottle from the table and
|
|
refills his glass.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Leave me alone, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
Lopi continues to stare.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
We're partners now, Michael. I'm going to keep you in
|
|
business. Remember that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
44. INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The elevator doors open before LOPI, and VERA steps out.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Hello. Did you meet Michael?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Face to face.
|
|
|
|
Lopi steps into the elevator.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
It's your turn now.
|
|
|
|
Lopi's face disappears as the doors slide together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
45. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Would you like a drink?
|
|
|
|
He procures clean glasses from the sideboard and pours.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Keep the key as long as you need it.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Oh, Lopi didn't return it?
|
|
|
|
Michael stiffens.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lopi?
|
|
|
|
He feigns a feeble smile.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'd love to love my brother, but he makes it so difficult.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I'm sorry. I didn't realise.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Sometimes family can be so... distressing. Do you know what
|
|
I mean?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Especially when they're dying, it's very distressing.
|
|
|
|
Michael flinches.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
My mother's dying.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Oh dear. I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Makes me wish I'd gotten along with her better.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Yes.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
She's never liked what I do. She calls it whorish. She's
|
|
going to die thinking that. Maybe it's not too late to make
|
|
amends. Got to try.
|
|
|
|
With an eager smile, Michael nods vehemently in agreement.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Yes, I know. That's why I've rented a car. I'm going to
|
|
the country tomorrow to make amends with my mother.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Tomorrow? I wanted to repay your kindness with dinner
|
|
tomorrow night.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Perhaps I can postpone my trip!
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
No, no, you mustn't do that.
|
|
|
|
Michael searches desperately for an answer.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
But you see... well... you're right. But I can be back for
|
|
dinner. Country food is terrible, you know.
|
|
|
|
Vera smiles and rises.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Good. You can meet me at my photo shoot. See me in action.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'd like that!
|
|
|
|
She kisses him goodnight. Caught off guard, Michael gawks as Vera
|
|
disappears into the hallway.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
46. INT. LUCKY'S FLAT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI, LUCKY and ROWENA sit around a small table in the kitchen. All
|
|
three laugh with such force that their gaping mouths emit no sound.
|
|
Several bottles of beer litter the table top.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I love your wife, Lucky.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Go dip your wick elsewhere, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
I need more than a wick.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
That's why she married me. I have a Roman candle!
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
(to Rowena)
|
|
Well, aren't you lucky!
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
I'm Lucky!
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
No you're not. You just have a job.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
That's more than Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
That's not true. I have an opportunity.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
I'd give Lopi an opportunity.
|
|
|
|
Rowena appraises her husband.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
I have to learn from my mistakes.
|
|
|
|
Lucky appeals for Lopi's sympathy.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
I paid good money to put up with this! But I love her.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
He loves me. He found love with a mail order bride!
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Rowena, I rescued you.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
And that's how I made it to the big city.
|
|
|
|
Lucky snatches a kiss from her.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Which is why I treat her like my mother.
|
|
|
|
Rowena and Lucky laugh. Lopi remains sober. Lucky slaps Lopi on the
|
|
shoulder.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Laugh, Lopi, laugh. This is your party!
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
She's going to die alone.
|
|
|
|
Lucky blinks.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I want to bring my mother to the city. Now.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Now?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I need your truck for tonight.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Lopi... no. That's my capital. I have to work tomorrow.
|
|
To support Rowena.
|
|
|
|
Lucky smiles lovingly at Rowena.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Lucky, go.
|
|
|
|
Lucky and Rowena exchange sharp glances.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
He's your friend.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
47. EXT. MOTORWAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Lucky's truck tears past on the dark wet pavement, charging from the
|
|
high glittering lights of the city toward the low black expanse of the
|
|
countryside.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
48. INT. LUCKY'S TRUCK - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
In the darkness of the cab, LOPI's face appears frozen, his lips drawn
|
|
tight across his teeth. LUCKY tests the tension on his seatbelt.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
It's true. You should always love your mother.
|
|
|
|
Lucky casts a sidelong glance at Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Business is like motherhood. You nurture it, help it grow,
|
|
knowing one day it will be sold.
|
|
|
|
Lucky looks out the windshield for a moment.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
You love your mother, don't you?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Shut up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
49. EXT. VILLAGE STREET - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI parks the truck up on the curb. Lucky walks to the centre of the
|
|
street and looks at his surroundings. He performs a small jig step.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Hallooo! I'm back!
|
|
|
|
The deserted streets remain silent. Lucky follows Lopi across the
|
|
broken gate to the front door. Lopi knocks. The two men regard each other
|
|
for a moment, then Lopi stoops and retrieves the key from under the mat.
|
|
They enter the house.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
50. INT. RUN-DOWN BUNGALOW - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
On the kitchen table, a spoon rests on the saucer of a soiled teacup.
|
|
Down the hall, LOPI and LUCKY close the door and peer about. They enter
|
|
the kitchen and Lopi examines the table. Lucky lifts the tea cozy and
|
|
touches the pot. He pours himself a cup of tea. Lopi suddenly turns and
|
|
strides back down the hall. He disappears up the stairs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
51. INT. RUN-DOWN BUNGALOW - BEDROOM - MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
LOPI kneels next to the bed. Her eyes open, his MOTHER lies with her
|
|
hands resting on top of the coverlet. Lopi reaches out and covers her
|
|
hands with his. LUCKY comes into the room.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Would you like some tea?
|
|
|
|
Lucky stops at the foot of the bed. Lopi turns and shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Get a doctor.
|
|
|
|
Lucky steps backward, staring at the Mother, until he bumps into the
|
|
door frame. Then he slips away down the stairs. Lopi rests his head on his
|
|
Mother's breast. He closes his eyes. For a time, he remains quiet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
52. INT. RUN-DOWN BUNGALOW - PARLOUR - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LUCKY perches on the faded material of the sofa, facing an UNDERTAKER,
|
|
a young man already running to fat. At the desk, a DOCTOR, an elderly man
|
|
with a waxy complexion, slowly fixes his signature to several forms.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Then the Morgan factory closed down and burned.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
It was after that I left.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
The village is rather dead now. Not much hope for us.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Business seems good for you.
|
|
|
|
Lucky looks up and they rise as LOPI comes down the stairs. Lopi takes
|
|
the papers from the Doctor and signs. The Undertaker offers his hand in
|
|
condolence.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Difficult times make for difficult decisions. When would
|
|
you like the service?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
There's no money.
|
|
|
|
The Undertaker smiles sadly.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
The body cannot remain in the house. Health regulations.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'm taking it.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Back to the city? You need a permit.
|
|
|
|
Lopi produces some papers from his jacket and hands them to the Doctor.
|
|
The Undertaker peers over his shoulder.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Sexton and Sons? You work for them?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I work for myself.
|
|
|
|
The Doctor appears surprised but signs the papers, then hands them back
|
|
to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
53. EXT. RUN-DOWN BUNGALOW - DAWN
|
|
|
|
Observed by the UNDERTAKER, LOPI and LUCKY shoulder the sheet-wrapped
|
|
body of the MOTHER from the front door to the back of the truck.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Give her a proper burial. For God's sake, she's your mother.
|
|
|
|
Lopi and Lucky pull away.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
You'll put us all out of business!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
54. INT. LUCKY'S TRUCK - MORNING
|
|
|
|
LUCKY dozes fitfully as LOPI drives. The truck slows, and Lopi draws
|
|
off onto the side of the road. Lucky blinks at their pastoral
|
|
surroundings.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Take over, mate.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly a heaving sob wracks Lopi. To the astonishment of Lucky, Lopi
|
|
leans forward against the steering wheel and cries. Uncertain what to do,
|
|
Lucky flutters his hands slightly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
55. EXT. MOTORWAY - MORNING
|
|
|
|
In the widening light of the day, Lucky's truck stands parked on the
|
|
shoulder. From the city, a small car approaches.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
56. INT. RENTAL CAR - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Opera music fills the interior of the car. Singing along as loud as he
|
|
can, MICHAEL cruises down the motorway toward the country. Intent on the
|
|
music, Michael fails to see Lucky's truck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
57. EXT. VILLAGE STREET - DAY
|
|
|
|
Shutting off the car's wiper blades, MICHAEL parks the rental car on
|
|
the empty street before the house. He surveys the delapidated fence
|
|
through the drizzle, and shakes his head as he moves to the door. Michael
|
|
knocks. After a moment, he tries the door. It opens.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
58. INT. RUN-DOWN BUNGALOW - DAY
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL walks through the door, closing it behind him. He looks
|
|
around.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Hello?
|
|
|
|
Michael peeps into the empty parlour, then wanders down the hall to the
|
|
kitchen. Finding nothing, Michael returns to the stairs and calls up.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Mum? Hallooo?
|
|
|
|
He goes up the stairs. At the top, he glances into the bathroom, then
|
|
into his childhood bedroom. For a moment, Michael surveys the few
|
|
surviving relics of his youth, neatly displayed on the dresser. Then he
|
|
wanders into the master bedroom. Stripped of its sheets, the bed lies
|
|
empty. Puzzled, Michael returns downstairs and stands alone in the hall of
|
|
the empty house.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
59. EXT. VILLAGE STREET - DAY
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL passes his car, and walks down the centre of the street. The
|
|
houses lean together, weatherbeaten and unkempt, their darkened windows
|
|
unshuttered. In the centre of the village, a heavy chain rests across the
|
|
door of the public house. The grocery store boasts a "To Let" sign propped
|
|
up in the unlit window. Michael lifts his collar against the drizzling
|
|
rain. Under a sign, "Afterbury Funeral Parlour", a weak light fixture
|
|
burns. Michael enters the funeral home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
60. INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL shifts uncomfortably in the pastel waiting room. A spray of
|
|
flowers stands on a low table at one end. A moment later, the UNDERTAKER
|
|
enters, stretching out his hand in greeting. Michael offers the Undertaker
|
|
his business card.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm looking for my mother.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
Sexton and Sons?
|
|
|
|
The Undertaker eyes Michael suspiciously and hands the card back.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
I'm afraid I can't help you. She's dead.
|
|
|
|
Stricken, Michael blanches.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Let me see her.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
You can't.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Why not?
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
She's not here.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You're the only funeral home in town.
|
|
|
|
The Undertaker leans toward Michael, glowering.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
That doesn't mean I get all the business. Some people
|
|
prefer to handle these things on their own these days.
|
|
People will do anything to make a fast buck.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Yes, it's true.
|
|
|
|
Deeply worried, Michael nods his thanks and departs. A spasm of rage
|
|
seizes the Undertaker.
|
|
|
|
UNDERTAKER
|
|
You shameless city bastard! Think you can sell anything!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
61. EXT. MOTORWAY - DAY
|
|
|
|
The rental car surges from the desolate countryside toward the menacing
|
|
towers of the city, rising in the distance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
62. INT. SEXTON & SONS - LOADING DOCK - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
What happens now?
|
|
|
|
LOPI and DRING stand before a sheet shrouded gurney deep in the shadows
|
|
of the loading bay. In the alley behind, LUCKY dispenses refreshments and
|
|
kebabs to the workers.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Brain, heart and liver go for research. Pituitary, ovaries,
|
|
and the remaining organs go for drug extraction. The
|
|
skeleton, if we keep it intact, is worth a lot of money. We
|
|
shear the hair, and sell it to the wig-maker.
|
|
|
|
Lopi blinks, then shakes his head sadly.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
No waste?
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
No waste.
|
|
|
|
Lopi holds out his hand.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I need the money now.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Lopi... this is your mother.
|
|
|
|
Dring peels back the sheet, and together they look down at the quiet
|
|
face of the MOTHER.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Life goes on.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
What's Michael going to say?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
He doesn't care.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I can't accept this.
|
|
|
|
Dring attempts to hand the papers back to Lopi. Lopi cuts him off with
|
|
a gesture.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I need the capital, Mr. Dring.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lopi gazes down at his mother.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I can't make more deliveries unless you pay me.
|
|
|
|
As Lucky approaches, Lopi gently slips the wedding rings off his
|
|
Mother's finger. He holds them tightly in his hand. Lopi looks up at
|
|
Lucky, who shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
She isn't there anymore.
|
|
|
|
Dring looks at the rings Lopi holds.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
But it's good to keep something.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
63. EXT. SEXTON & SONS - ALLEYWAY - DAY
|
|
|
|
Lucky's doner kebab truck pulls out of the alley way into traffic.
|
|
Turning in from behind the truck, Michael's rental car drives into the
|
|
now-vacant parking spot.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
64. INT. SEXTON & SONS - LOADING DOCK - DAY
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I'm sorry. That's a terrible tragedy.
|
|
|
|
Standing next to the gurney bearing his Mother's sheet- covered body,
|
|
MICHAEL begins to cry. Dring purses his lips to whistle, then changes his
|
|
mind. Taking Michael by the arm, Dring leads him away from the gurney.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off.
|
|
|
|
Michael continues to sob. Dring appears increasingly at a loss.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Do you have a friend who can stay with you?
|
|
|
|
Michael shakes his head, weeping, as he goes out the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
65. EXT. ALLEYWAY - AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL, his features once again composed, steps around a mound of
|
|
garbage and approaches a door bearing the hand- lettered sign, "Butcher's
|
|
Club." He tries the door but it refuses to open. Michael stands back,
|
|
then walks to end of the alley, and rounds the corner.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
66. EXT. KING KEBAB - AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL walks alongside the queue of raggedy INDIGENTS stretched out
|
|
the door of the shish-kebab shop. The queue blocks the doorway. Michael
|
|
raps on the window, attracting Nigel's attention. NIGEL looks away.
|
|
Michael bangs harder. Finally, Nigel presses his way outside. From inside
|
|
the shop, impatient and hungry Indigents shout as Michael explains
|
|
something to Nigel. Nigel reluctantly nods his head, and clears a path for
|
|
Michael to enter the shop. He leads Michael to a door at the back of the
|
|
kitchen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
67. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - AFTERNOON
|
|
|
|
LOPI, LUCKY, KINGSLEY and ATTILAH sit and drink around a table in the
|
|
deserted club room. Attilah cleans his gun while the SAILOR mops the
|
|
floor. Lopi rolls his Mother's two wedding rings in his right hand.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
We must remember the dead.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley raises his glass.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
To your mother's memory.
|
|
|
|
Lucky too raises his glass. The door opens. The men turn to see NIGEL
|
|
lead MICHAEL into the room. Lopi clenches his fist over the two rings.
|
|
Attilah springs to his feet.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Be civilized.
|
|
|
|
Slowly, Attilah resumes his seat. Michael arrives at the table, his
|
|
gaze locked on Lopi.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Mum's dead.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
How do you know?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I was just there.
|
|
|
|
Lucky eyes Lopi uneasily. Lopi keeps his eyes fixed on Michael.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I couldn't find her body.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Fine time for you to be concerned, now that she's dead.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Please, no angry words.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley motions to an empty seat. He fills a glass and offers it to
|
|
Michael. Michael regards the others seated at the table. After a moment,
|
|
he accepts the drink and sits. They raise their glasses and drink. Michael
|
|
looks at Lopi.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I shall miss her.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Lopi, just tell him.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Tell him what?
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Where you buried her.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You were there too?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I only got there after she died.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Where is she?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I don't know. I had no money for the funeral.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Why didn't you ask Michael?
|
|
|
|
Lopi raises his eyes and stares at Michael. Michael casts a miserable
|
|
glance at the men. He hangs his head in shame. Kingsley looks gravely at
|
|
Michael.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
A pauper's grave.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor refills the glasses.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
She didn't deserve this!
|
|
|
|
Lopi fixes him with a sharp look. Fidgeting, Lucky backs off.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
It's sacrilegious.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
What need has the seed for the shell?
|
|
|
|
Tears roll down Michael's face. Kingsley shakes his head ruefully.
|
|
Michael empties his glass. He pushes back from the table and rises.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I have to go.
|
|
|
|
The other men stand. Michael rounds the table and gives Lopi a
|
|
powerful hug. Awkwardly, Michael disentangles himself.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm sorry. I should have listened.
|
|
|
|
He steps back, nods to the men, and leaves. Lopi opens his hand and
|
|
gazes down at the rings. Attilah snaps the chamber of his pistol back into
|
|
place. Squinting an eye, he aims the gun at Michael's departing back. He
|
|
fires the empty gun.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
The dead are quickly forgotten.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
68. INT. STUDIO - MAKE UP ROOM - EVENING
|
|
|
|
VERA sits in a tall chair before a row of make-up mirrors. Cooing, the
|
|
hyperactive STYLIST rapidly brushes a new look with broad sure strokes. In
|
|
an immaculate white suit, Vera's AGENT paces behind, furtively puffing on
|
|
his cigarette.
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
You need an edge. We need a hook.
|
|
|
|
STYLIST
|
|
Hook me, baby, hook me!
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
Colour contacts, a little henna, no surgery this time. We'll
|
|
call you Virago. Simple, exotic, sexy.
|
|
|
|
STYLIST
|
|
You'll love it, darling.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I like the way I am.
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
And you'd like to have a job.
|
|
|
|
The Agent leers at Vera.
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
It's only image, Virago. Your body's your capital.
|
|
|
|
STYLIST
|
|
And you do have a capital body.
|
|
|
|
Vera considers for a moment.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
You change my body, you change me too. No, it's not that
|
|
simple.
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
The world's a simple place. We all want simple things.
|
|
Money, a home, but mostly sex.
|
|
|
|
STYLIST
|
|
I love sex.
|
|
|
|
AGENT
|
|
Simple economics is always good advice.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
69. INT. STUDIO - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Before a painted backdrop of the Kremlin, VERA remade as the new VIRAGO
|
|
poses in a black cocktail dress. MICHAEL quietly steps into the studio and
|
|
observes.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
Your hair's rubbing against my chest. Go down on me, down!
|
|
|
|
She twirls, and the fan-blown air catches the hem of her dress. It
|
|
rises up her legs. The Photographer draws closer.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
Lips. They're wet. They drip. Lick me.
|
|
|
|
Virago runs the tip of her tongue along her lips. Michael eyes the
|
|
Photographer uneasily, who stops clicking his camera. Virago stops her
|
|
posing.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
You bore me. You don't put out. You just don't put out.
|
|
|
|
The Photographer turns to two COSSACKS who lounge nearby.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
Boys, teach Virago a lesson.
|
|
|
|
The two Cossacks lumber toward Virago. One falls to his hands and
|
|
knees. The Second Cossack seizes Virago, and places her across the First
|
|
Cossack's back. He begins to spank Virago, whose face assumes the
|
|
immaculate conception of a cry-baby. The Photographer starts clicking
|
|
pictures.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
I love it. The virgin's a magdelana wannabe! But only for
|
|
tonight.
|
|
|
|
Michael grabs the Second Cossack by his collar.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'll teach you a lesson.
|
|
|
|
Michael begins to slap the man across the face repeatedly.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
Oh, a knight errant!
|
|
|
|
The Photographer rushes in for several close ups. The First Cossack
|
|
receives the back of Michael's hand on his face. Virago tries to pull
|
|
Michael off. The Photographer clicks wildly.
|
|
|
|
PHOTOGRAPHER
|
|
I love it! Beatific. This is simply beatific!
|
|
|
|
Michael clutches the First Cossack's beard. It pulls away in his
|
|
hands. Michael stares at it, dumbfounded.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Michael!
|
|
|
|
The Second Cossack whirls on Michael. He speaks with an extraordinary
|
|
upper class accent.
|
|
|
|
SECOND COSSACK
|
|
This is the city, man! Here we do not resort to fisticuffs!
|
|
|
|
As Michael edges off the set, the Photographer continues to shoot film.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Sorry. I'm very, very, truly sorry.
|
|
|
|
Michael offers the beard back to the First Cossack, who fixes Michael
|
|
with a wounded stare of disgust. The First Cossack slaps Michael full on
|
|
the face.
|
|
|
|
FIRST COSSACK
|
|
Back to the country with you. Go!
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
No, no, I'm sorry. It's my fault.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
(shouts)
|
|
Yes, it's your fault!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
70. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
VERA, her make-up now removed, sits on a chair.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I can't believe you thought it was real. I thought you were
|
|
more sophisticated.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I'm sorry. I've said that already. I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
Michael sits heavily on the chesterfield.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
My mother's dead.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Oh dear. I'm so sorry.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I didn't get there in time. I never had a chance to speak
|
|
to her.
|
|
|
|
Vera searches for words. She sits next to Michael.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Come here.
|
|
|
|
Michael leans against Vera. With maternal affection, she strokes his
|
|
head and kisses him on the brow.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Poor Michael.
|
|
|
|
Michael raises his sorrowful eyes to her. Vera kisses him again.
|
|
Michael responds, with ardour.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
71. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Michael's sock-clad foot emerges from under the bedsheets. Vera and
|
|
Michael make love. Michael opens his excited eyes. In the corner, he sees
|
|
the grinning faces of his dead MOTHER and his emaciated FATHER. Michael's
|
|
pace begins to slow.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Kiss me.
|
|
|
|
Michael closes his eyes. He kisses her, his desire returning.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Oh yes!
|
|
|
|
He opens his eyes again. Entwined beneath the sheets beside him, he
|
|
sees his dead parents. They too make love, slowly, tenderly, their faces
|
|
frozen in a rictus of grinning ecstasy.
|
|
|
|
DEAD MOTHER
|
|
Life goes on.
|
|
|
|
His Dead Father nods emphatically. Michael abruptly sits up and rolls
|
|
off Vera.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
What's wrong?
|
|
|
|
Michael remains silent for a while.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Grief, I suppose.
|
|
|
|
Vera pulls him down beside her and cradles him.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Life goes on, Michael.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
72. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
In a corner of the Club, LOPI stares into a pint glass. The SAILOR
|
|
croons the last few bars of a pop song. He picks up his tray and winds his
|
|
way over to Lopi with a fresh glass. Lopi points to an empty chair. The
|
|
Sailor sits, and turns his sad eyes toward Lopi. Lopi sizes him up.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
What's the matter, mate?
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
I want to see my family.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
So go home.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Home is far away.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor begins to rise from his chair.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Work is money. Money gets me home.
|
|
|
|
Lopi grasps the Sailor by the arm and pulls him back to his seat.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You'll never get out of here. You want to go home? Come
|
|
work for me. I'll get you home.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor casts an apprehensive glance around the club. Then, he turns
|
|
to Lopi and breaks into a joyous smile.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Thanks, mate.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor's smile fades as Lopi starts to weep. He rests a comforting
|
|
hand on Lopi's shoulder. Lopi shudders with spasms of grief.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
God is dead, my friend. We are few.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
73. EXT. STREET - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI, still wearing the jacket he stole from Michael, marches down the
|
|
street with a determined expression.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
74. INT. NURSING HOME OFFICE - DAY
|
|
|
|
A HEAD NURSE stares impassively as LOPI displays his contracts on the
|
|
counter. Beside him appears a burly ORDERLY, who taps him on the shoulder.
|
|
They exchange a glance. Lopi gathers his papers together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
75. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - OFFICE - DAY
|
|
|
|
A middle-aged MANAGER, his weak chin coiled with fleshy jowls, slowly
|
|
shakes his head. Across the desk, LOPI leans forward in earnest
|
|
explanation. With increasing fervour, the Manager shakes his head until
|
|
his jowls swag and quiver with the violence of his rejection.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
76. EXT. PARK - DAY
|
|
|
|
Dejected, LOPI rests on a bench. Pigeons flutter about him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
77. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
An OLD WOMAN, her poorly dyed hair trussed under a hair net, lies
|
|
propped on her bed. Lopi's head appears in the doorway. He waves. The
|
|
Old Woman waves back. LOPI waves again. The Old Woman beckons him into
|
|
the room. Lopi checks up and down the corridor, then ducks into the room.
|
|
He pulls up a chair. The fleshy-jowled Manager enters the room, scowling.
|
|
The Old Woman points toward the door and shouts at the Manager.
|
|
|
|
OLD WOMAN
|
|
Fuck off!
|
|
|
|
The Manager beats a hasty retreat. Lopi turns to the Old Woman and
|
|
smiles charmingly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
78. EXT. STREET - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI inspects a display of flowers. The VENDOR winks at him. Lopi
|
|
smiles sheepishly. He selects a bouquet of roses and hands her some money.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
79. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
The OLD WOMAN takes the roses and sniffs them.
|
|
|
|
OLD WOMAN
|
|
You won't forget me, will you?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
No, of course not.
|
|
|
|
The Old Woman smiles at LOPI. She signs some papers and hands them to
|
|
Lopi.
|
|
|
|
OLD WOMAN
|
|
Good. Now get some proper clothes and brush your teeth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
80. INT. SHOP - DAY
|
|
|
|
Wearing a new, jaunty jacket, his hair neatly cropped, LOPI sits in a
|
|
throne-like chair. A crotchety OLD MAN shines his shoes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
81. INT. PALLIATIVE CARE WARD - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
The money goes into trust immediately, and becomes part of
|
|
your estate.
|
|
|
|
Lying in bed, a middle-aged WOMAN with a pallid demeanour peruses the
|
|
papers Lopi hands over to her. Her small, mousy HUSBAND sits nearby, a
|
|
resigned expression on his face. The SAILOR stands by the door, watching
|
|
the Husband.
|
|
|
|
HUSBAND
|
|
What about a proper burial?
|
|
|
|
The Husband twists at his wedding ring.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Proper? Isn't it proper to return some good to society?
|
|
|
|
The Husband stands and advances on Lopi. The Sailor touches the
|
|
Husband on the arm. He turns, menacing the Sailor. The Sailor produces a
|
|
lollipop, and offers it kindly to the Husband. Stunned, the Husband
|
|
sheepishly accepts it. He turns to Lopi. Lollipop protruding from his
|
|
mouth, the Husband shakes Lopi's hand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
82. INT. MEDICAL OFFICE - DAY
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
I don't do house calls.
|
|
|
|
A DOCTOR, his thinning hair slicked fast against his round skull, tugs
|
|
at his waistcoat. On the wall behind him hangs a poster of the human
|
|
anatomy. Near the door behind LOPI stands the SAILOR, his hands clasped
|
|
shyly.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
The city has ambulances for that sort of thing, my dear boy.
|
|
|
|
The Doctor lets loose a high-pitched cackle. The Sailor giggles at the
|
|
Doctor. With a scowl, Lopi silences the Sailor. He turns to the Doctor
|
|
and leans forward in his chair.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
But if you could set the rate, what would you charge for a
|
|
house call?
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
It all depends on what I have to do.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor nods in sympathy.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
For example, to sign a death certificate.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
As much as possible.
|
|
|
|
The Doctor lets loose another trill of laughter. The Sailor giggles
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Four hundred pounds?
|
|
|
|
The Doctor blinks.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Five.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Done.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
83. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
The jowl-cheeked MANAGER guides LOPI down the marble corridor. He
|
|
turns back to witness Lopi disappearing through a doorway. He waddles
|
|
quickly to the door. In the room, the OLD WOMAN, with her mass of
|
|
poorly-dyed hair, warmly welcomes Lopi. She caresses his cheek tenderly.
|
|
Lopi takes her hand in his and bends to kiss it. Through the open door
|
|
behind the oblivious Manager, the SAILOR cruises past, merrily pushing a
|
|
gurney bearing a CORPSE.
|
|
|
|
|
|
84. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The SAILOR approaches the narrow bed, on which, under the drawn up
|
|
sheets, lies a human figure. He glances at the family photos arrayed on
|
|
the top of the dresser: the grandchildren's graduation photos, the family
|
|
outing snapshots, and the yellowing black and white portrait of a bride and
|
|
groom in the fashions of fifty years ago. The Sailor draws back slowly,
|
|
his sad eyes looking at the floor. The DOCTOR appears in the door behind
|
|
him, holding an invoice.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Six hundred pounds! Surcharge for midnight calls!
|
|
|
|
The Doctor emits a piercing cackle.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
My boy, what are you waiting for? The dead to wake?
|
|
|
|
Gingerly, the Sailor reaches out and removes the sheet covering the
|
|
male CORPSE. He touches the corpse's cheek, then touches his own cheek.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
You are gentleman.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor covers the face of the Corpse.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
85. INT. TAILOR'S SHOP - DAY
|
|
|
|
In a new suit, LOPI admires himself before a mirror as the TAILOR
|
|
checks the hem on the pant leg.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
86. INT. PALLIATIVE CARE WARD - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI flees from a room, under the well-aimed blows of an
|
|
umbrella-wielding WIDOW. Nearby, the SAILOR waits with a gurney. A moment
|
|
later, the DOCTOR flees the Widow as well. Lopi and the Doctor look at the
|
|
Sailor. The Sailor enters the room. A moment later, he emerges carrying a
|
|
sheet- wrapped body by the legs. The Widow follows proudly, clutching her
|
|
dead husband's head. They place the body on the gurney and the defiant
|
|
Widow pushes it down the hall.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
87. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
LOPI, appearing quite refined now, stands sadly before the bed of the
|
|
OLD WOMAN. She lies arranged beneath the covers, dead. Lopi looks at her,
|
|
mournful. The SAILOR touches Lopi, gently. Lopi steps aside with a nod,
|
|
then turns his back as the Sailor takes the Old Woman's corpse away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
88. INT. RECTORY - DAY
|
|
|
|
A tremulous Anglican RECTOR reclines on a day bed, receiving last rites
|
|
from a PARSON. LOPI hands him a contract. As the rites drone in the
|
|
background, the Rector signs it. The Parson stares with consternation at
|
|
the dying Rector.
|
|
|
|
RECTOR
|
|
The money, father. The money.
|
|
|
|
The Rector quietly expires. The DOCTOR steps up, and checks for vital
|
|
signs. With a sad shake of his head, the Doctor signs the death
|
|
certificate. Lopi hands a cheque to the Parson. The Parson reads the
|
|
figure and gasps. The SAILOR carefully wraps the Rector in a shroud, and
|
|
transfers him onto a waiting gurney. The Parson looks up in time to see
|
|
the backs of Lopi, the Doctor and the Sailor as they disappear through the
|
|
door. The Parson remains where he stands, clutching the cheque before his
|
|
gaping mouth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
89. INT. SEXTON & SONS - LOADING DOCK - DAY
|
|
|
|
Standing on the loading dock, DRING observes the SAILOR and LOPI
|
|
approach in a delivery truck.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Now, we're in business.
|
|
|
|
Flat on his back, with eyes closed and grinning exultantly, Dring rides
|
|
the newly-installed conveyor belt. In the midst of the completed
|
|
renovations, near a stainless steel dissection table, MICHAEL stands
|
|
admiring an elegant ring mounted in a small black velvet box. The Sailor
|
|
opens the back of the van, revealing several CORPSES, as Lopi comes round
|
|
the side. In his fingers, he rolls his Mother's wedding rings. Seeing
|
|
Michael, he quickly pockets them. Seeing Lopi, Michael snaps the ring box
|
|
shut and stuffs it in his jacket.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You look good, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I've been working hard, keeping you in business.
|
|
|
|
Lopi reaches out and fingers the lapel of Michael's jacket.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
We should go shopping for you sometime. You can afford it
|
|
now, partner.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Things have certainly changed since Mum died.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
All for the better.
|
|
|
|
Dring glances toward them. Lopi shifts nervously.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
There's something I want to tell you.
|
|
|
|
Michael grins giddily.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
And there's something I want to tell you, too.
|
|
|
|
Dring's grin fades.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Michael! We have business to do! Come here!
|
|
|
|
As Dring watches Michael approach, he purses his lips. Bird whistles
|
|
fill the loading bay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
90. INT. STUDIO - MAKE UP ROOM - EVENING
|
|
|
|
VERA gathers her belongings. The lanky STYLIST waves to her.
|
|
|
|
STYLIST
|
|
Goodnight, Virago!
|
|
|
|
Vera regards him sourly for a moment, then steps out the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
91. EXT. STREET - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Exiting the photo studio, with a stylish sports bag slung over her
|
|
shoulder, VERA hurries down the street. It begins to rain. The window of
|
|
the only open shop in the vicinity displays sexy underwear, "Flame of Love"
|
|
massage oils and erotic "how-to" manuals beneath a sign that flashes "HOT
|
|
SEX!! -- get it while you can!" Shivering and drenched, Vera enters the
|
|
shop.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
92. INT. SEX SHOP - EVENING
|
|
|
|
VERA checks a rack of posters depicting semi-clad women in maid
|
|
outfits, nurses' uniforms and house gowns. The CASHIER, a young man,
|
|
appears at her elbow.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
The prostitutes like those. To hang on the wall, you know. I
|
|
guess it gets the punters excited.
|
|
|
|
The CASHIER points to a glass display case near the cash register.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
The housewives prefer the hardware.
|
|
|
|
Curiousity draws Vera to the display. A full array of vibrators takes
|
|
up the interior. She notices a box of pens lying beside the till. She
|
|
holds one up. Karl Marx, clothed in a funeral suit, his arms folded across
|
|
his dishevelled beard, floats in the transparent pen top. She inverts the
|
|
pen. The clothes disappear to reveal a naked, muscular Marx, phallus
|
|
erect, his beard raging around his grinning face.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
Each one's different.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
How do you know?
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
It's very competitive out there. Everyone wants something
|
|
special.
|
|
|
|
He picks up a vibrator.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
That's why I'm in niche marketing. I'm after women. They
|
|
say there's only two kinds. Housewives and whores.
|
|
|
|
Vera takes a long look at the CASHIER.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I'm neither.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
Then, why are you here?
|
|
|
|
Vera points outside.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I forgot my umbrella.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
You should find a man. He'll help you.
|
|
|
|
The CASHIER tilts his head toward Vera and smiles suggestively.
|
|
|
|
CASHIER
|
|
I'm a man.
|
|
|
|
Vera sizes him up.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Congratulations.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
93. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dressed in his fine suit, LOPI slips in the back door of the empty
|
|
club, followed by the SAILOR. Grim-faced, ATTILAH eyes Lopi for a moment,
|
|
then allows him to pass. Attilah stops the Sailor.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Where have you been?
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Business, everyone has business.
|
|
|
|
Slowly, Attilah holds out his hand, rubbing together his forefinger and
|
|
thumb. The Sailor regards this gesture for a moment, then hands Attilah
|
|
some money. Attilah allows the Sailor to pass. From a table in the
|
|
corner, KINGSLEY raises a hand in greeting.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
How good of you to visit.
|
|
|
|
Lopi sits next to Kingsley, who reaches out and fingers the material of
|
|
Lopi's suit.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
How's business?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Good, very good.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
I've been thinking of diversifying.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Tired of beef?
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Even a thief gets tired of stealing.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor sits at the table as well. Surprised, Kingsley glances
|
|
toward Attilah, who stares at the Sailor.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
We need drinks here.
|
|
|
|
Lopi and the Sailor look at Attilah.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Don't we, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
Lopi follows his gaze to the Sailor, whose eyes shift uneasily between
|
|
the three men. After a moment, the Sailor rises and walks toward the bar.
|
|
Attilah sits down in the Sailor's chair. Kingsley and Lopi watch the
|
|
Sailor pour some drinks.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
The revolution needs an underclass.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor returns with a tray of glasses.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Have you considered expanding your work force?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Remember, Kingsley. I work inside the law.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
All the law does is turn crime into taxable profits.
|
|
|
|
Attilah points to the corner, where rests a mop and bucket. The Sailor
|
|
looks blankly at Attilah.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Gives me heartburn.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Go straight, then.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
No, I enjoy the torment. If I suffer long enough, I will
|
|
achieve martyrdom. Oh, to be canonised, to rise above my
|
|
state and join the celestial chorus of yesterday's heroes
|
|
and martyrs, we all remember so fondly.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
They'll just put you in jail.
|
|
|
|
Attilah snaps his fingers at the Sailor.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
What are you waiting for?
|
|
|
|
The Sailor hesitates, then moves to the corner and picks up the bucket
|
|
and mop.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Sit down.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor turns and looks back at the table.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You don't work here anymore.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley and Attilah stare at Lopi. Lopi stares back. Kingsley cocks
|
|
an eyebrow.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Oh, he only works for you?
|
|
|
|
Lopi nods curtly. Attilah glowers.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
And what, exactly, is it that you do, Mr. Lazuli?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
94. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
While dishing up an order of doner kebabs, NIGEL notices a commotion in
|
|
the QUEUE outside. A uniformed POLICEMAN wrestles a doner kebab from a
|
|
raggedy INDIGENT. He raises the kebab to his nose and sniffs. Nigel,
|
|
seeing trouble, collects the proceeds from the till, then hastens toward
|
|
the club room.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
95. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I run a legitimate business.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY stares hard at Lopi.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
And we make money. Money is honoured, and so is its
|
|
possessor.
|
|
|
|
His hair on edge, his eyes unblinking, the ever-alert ATTILAH wheels
|
|
and aims his pistol at NIGEL, who closes the door behind him.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
Shoot me.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Put that toy away!
|
|
|
|
Attilah resumes his seat. Nigel motions to Kingsley.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
The police.
|
|
|
|
Through clenched teeth, Kingsley inhales sharply.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Shit!
|
|
|
|
Kingsley rises and follows Nigel to the front shop. Lopi bolts for the
|
|
back door. He turns to the Sailor.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Come on!
|
|
|
|
The Sailor hands the bucket and mop to Attilah and hurries after Lopi.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
96. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
INDIGENT CROWD
|
|
Please, sir! Have pity on us! Leave us our doner kebabs!
|
|
|
|
Bird-like, the Policeman's head pivots. A coughing INDIGENT jostles
|
|
the POLICEMAN. Another INDIGENT bumps the Policeman from behind. The
|
|
Policeman pushes back in panic.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
97. INT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
With gleeful calculation, KINGSLEY surveys the impending riot outside.
|
|
He ventures forth. NIGEL watches Kingsley admonish the crowd, and gently
|
|
steer the POLICEMAN back into the shop. Once inside, the Policeman turns
|
|
and looks out at the raucous mob of INDIGENTS. He turns back to Kingsley,
|
|
who fixes him with a polite, expectant smile.
|
|
|
|
POLICEMAN
|
|
I know this is illegal! I just can't prove it.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley gestures to the shop.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Please. Look about. You'll find nothing untoward here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
98. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Outside the shop, Lucky's truck pulls up to the curb. Leaning over the
|
|
wheel, LUCKY takes in the unruly, jostling crowd. He spots the POLICEMAN
|
|
inside the shop. Quickly, Lucky drives away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
99. INT. LUCKY'S FLAT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI enters the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket. He hangs it on
|
|
the back of a chair. Producing some money, he hands it to ROWENA. She
|
|
gives him a quick kiss. Lopi's gaze follows Rowena as she closes the oven
|
|
door.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
You're so good to us.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
You're my friends.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
This may be your home, but we're not your family.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I don't have family anymore.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
You've forgotten them already?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
That's not the way you act.
|
|
|
|
Lopi sits down and reflects.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'm finally safe.
|
|
|
|
He looks up at Rowena and smiles.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Things will only get better.
|
|
|
|
Rowena places the money on the table. She combs his hair with her
|
|
fingers.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
That doesn't make us your family.
|
|
|
|
They hear LUCKY close the front door. Rowena stills her hand. Lopi
|
|
looks at her apprehensively. As Lucky's footsteps draw near, Rowena
|
|
resumes caressing Lopi's hair. Lucky walks in. Rowena smiles at him.
|
|
Lucky takes her by the arm and leads her to the counter. He presses his
|
|
mouth firmly against hers. As they engage in their prolonged kiss, Lopi
|
|
sits in his chair and watches. He rises and turns on the television. He
|
|
returns to his chair and watches the news. Lucky loosens his grip on
|
|
Rowena and turns to Lopi.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Do you mind?
|
|
|
|
Lucky resumes kissing Rowena.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Sorry, mate.
|
|
|
|
He plucks his jacket from the back of the chair and departs. When Lucky
|
|
hears the front door close, he steps back.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Is he after you?
|
|
|
|
Rowena smiles blithely.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
I'm after him.
|
|
|
|
Lucky snorts.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Lopi works hard.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
So do I.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
He's paid the rent for the last two months.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
He owes it to me.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Lucky, he's your friend. And you are lucky to have a friend
|
|
who isn't stingy.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
If I made money the way he does, I'd want to get it off my
|
|
hands too. And I am not stingy!
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
You're right. You paid good money for me. I'm still amazed
|
|
when I think of it.
|
|
|
|
Lucky looks at her reproachfully.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
Rowena, I love you.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
You love me, do you? I'm from the third world and look
|
|
where I am now.
|
|
|
|
Rowena takes in the squalid flat. Lucky follows her gaze.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
Lopi's from the country. And look where he is now.
|
|
|
|
Lucky's expression sours.
|
|
|
|
ROWENA
|
|
But look at you. But you're still a miserable country
|
|
bloke, just stuck in the city.
|
|
|
|
Lucky glares at Rowena. A loud knock sounds at the front door. Lucky
|
|
goes to answer it. On the television appears a shot of the queue of
|
|
raggedy INDIGENTS outside KING KEBAB. They jostle together, attempting to
|
|
elbow their way into the shop.
|
|
|
|
ANNOUNCER
|
|
(voice-over)
|
|
An admirable example of niche marketing, this shop caters to
|
|
the unemployed and down-on- their-luck.
|
|
|
|
Lucky opens the front door. The Police SUPERINTENDENT steps into the
|
|
hall, flanked by two very large POLICEMEN.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Are you Lucky?
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Good. Come with us.
|
|
|
|
They hustle him out the door. Back in the kitchen, Rowena lights a
|
|
cigarette. Alone, she breathes deeply and sadly. On the television,
|
|
KINGSLEY poses behind the counter of the shop.
|
|
|
|
ANNOUNCER
|
|
(voice-over)
|
|
How does King Kebab do it?
|
|
|
|
Kingsley beams at the camera.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Philanthropy. I just love humanity!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
100. INT. INTIMATE CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Behind a crowd of dancers, VERA and MICHAEL sit at a table holding
|
|
hands. Vera watches Michael while he stares at the dancers. A champagne
|
|
bottle pops, startling Vera. The WAITER pours them some champagne as
|
|
Michael and Vera share a laugh.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Shall we dance?
|
|
|
|
Among the throng of dancers, to the brassy music of a tired big-band
|
|
ensemble, Michael waltzes out of time with Vera. Michael nods his greetings
|
|
to the other dancers while Vera stares at the ceiling.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
101. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
In the darkened apartment, LOPI paces before the balcony door, gazing
|
|
out over the city. He sits down and lightly punches his fist into the palm
|
|
of his other hand. Lopi reaches into his pocket and fishes out his
|
|
Mother's wedding rings. Ruefully, he turns them in his fingers. After a
|
|
while, he sets them on the table. He sighs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
102. INT. ELEVATOR - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL and VERA step into the elevator. Vera presses the twelfth
|
|
floor button and the doors close. Michael catches her in an embrace and
|
|
she kisses him. With his other hand, Michael reaches out and pushes the
|
|
"STOP" button. Vera looks up in surprise as the elevator comes to a sudden
|
|
halt between floors.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
What are you doing?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Remember? This is where we met.
|
|
|
|
Michael drops to one knee.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Oh my god.
|
|
|
|
He produces a small, black velvet box.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Will you marry me?
|
|
|
|
Michael looks up at her and flips the box open, displaying an
|
|
engagement ring. Vera looks at him in utter surprise, then casts her
|
|
glance around the elevator.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Michael...
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I want to have a family. I want you to be my wife and the
|
|
mother of my children.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Michael --
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
And I love you. I very, very, truly do.
|
|
|
|
Vera puts her back to the wall and slides to the floor.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Michael, how do we get out of here?
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I thought this would be romantic.
|
|
|
|
Vera looks at him, dumbfounded.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
103. INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI presses the elevator button and waits. Nothing happens. Finally
|
|
he turns and walks to the stairs at the far end of the hall. As the
|
|
stairwell door closes behind Lopi, the elevator door slide apart, and out
|
|
step VERA and MICHAEL.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I just need some time to think about it, Michael. That's
|
|
all.
|
|
|
|
She kisses him and proceeds to her apartment door. She waves to
|
|
Michael and disappears into her apartment.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
104. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL sits heavily on the sofa. He sees the wedding rings on the
|
|
table. He leans forward and picks them up. As he turns them in his
|
|
fingers, Michael looks about the room in bewilderment.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
105. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - DAY
|
|
|
|
VERA bends and plants a brief kiss on her Mother's cheek. Behind her,
|
|
her FATHER slips into a coat, then sits on the bed beside the MOTHER.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Don't worry, don't worry. We won't forget you.
|
|
|
|
Her Mother produces a change purse from beneath the sheets and stuffs a
|
|
few notes into her husband's hand. The Father kisses her gently. He hands
|
|
the money to Vera.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
You're young. This won't weigh you down.
|
|
|
|
Vera leads her Father out of the room. He pauses to wave good-bye to
|
|
the Mother. Weakly, she returns the gesture.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
106. EXT. OPEN AIR MARKET - DAY
|
|
|
|
VERA and her FATHER peruse a table of cigarette lighters, quill pens,
|
|
post cards and other antique memorabilia. The crowd swirls around them:
|
|
Japanese TOURISTS, viewing the world through their video cameras; CHILDREN
|
|
plucking items from the tables in the view of their scolding PARENTS;
|
|
fashionable ADOLESCENTS seeking new accessories. Across the table, the
|
|
VENDOR stares at Vera and her Father sullenly.
|
|
|
|
VENDOR
|
|
These antiques are valuable.
|
|
|
|
Vera looks up.
|
|
|
|
VENDOR
|
|
There's no free lunch here. You want it, you buy it. I've
|
|
got to eat too, you know.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Good, good. Keep up your strength.
|
|
|
|
The Father eyes an ornate silver cigarette case. The Vendor picks it
|
|
up and displays the inscription.
|
|
|
|
VENDOR
|
|
He's dead now. Doesn`t need this anymore. It's a big
|
|
question. What do you need when you're dead?
|
|
|
|
Vera presses her Father's arm.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Let's go.
|
|
|
|
The Father slips his hand into Vera's, and ambles off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
107. INT. FASHIONABLE RESTAURANT - DAY
|
|
|
|
Surrounded by well-dressed young city people, VERA and her FATHER drink
|
|
tea. A WAITRESS clears the remains of a meal from the table.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
He likes quiet evenings at home, his place is large enough
|
|
for both of us, and he's very sweet to me.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Rupert's a very nice man.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Not Rupert -- Michael.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
He's very nice too.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
You haven't met him.
|
|
|
|
The Father gazes at Vera.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Do you want to be a mother?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I don't know.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
I like small children. Must perpetuate the race, in
|
|
perpetuity.
|
|
|
|
Vera sets her tea cup down.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Should I marry him?
|
|
|
|
Her Father drains his tea cup and considers the question. From his bag
|
|
beneath the table, he produces the matching set of cowboy hats.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Let's arm wrestle.
|
|
|
|
Vera darts a glance at a well-heeled COUPLE sitting at a table nearby.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
If I win, you marry him. If I lose, you go free.
|
|
|
|
Vera glares at her Father. She resolutely plants her elbow on the
|
|
table. Her Father leans forward, and plants a cowboy hat on her head, then
|
|
dons one as well. He rolls up his sleeve and clutches Vera's raised hand.
|
|
The wrestling begins. Gripping his teeth with his lips, the Father strains
|
|
mightily. Her eyes locked on her Father, Vera struggles bravely. Slowly,
|
|
her knuckles approach the table. The Father flashes a toothy, triumphant
|
|
smile. Vera loses.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
I've been practising with your mother.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
108. EXT. HYDE PARK - DAY
|
|
|
|
VERA and her FATHER stroll through the park, past PEDESTRIANS, and
|
|
perambulators, admiring the gardens. At Speaker's Corner, an old,
|
|
shirtless man, Michael and Lopi's DEAD FATHER plunks down an ancient butter
|
|
box. He addresses the PEOPLE, who pass by oblivious and unhearing. He
|
|
waves his hands in the air while the DEAD MOTHER stands behind him,
|
|
nodding.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
Thank you for this opportunity, ladies and gentlemen. Happy
|
|
to be here! Happiness requires a complete lifetime, and your
|
|
life is not complete until you're dead. Now that I am dead,
|
|
I can tell you the complete story of my life!
|
|
|
|
Vera and her Father come upon a distinguished GENTLEMAN in a top hat,
|
|
who tosses bread crumbs from a park bench.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
On a dark and stormy country night in October, 1917, I was
|
|
born, a second class citizen in the First World.
|
|
|
|
Pigeons swarm down onto the feed.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
My. It's very competitive.
|
|
|
|
Vera's Father purchases a bag of bird feed from a vending cart. They
|
|
wander toward a bench, and sit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
I would like to introduce you to my wife. I want to thank
|
|
her, because when I wedded her, I wedded myself to Marxism.
|
|
|
|
Vera's Father tosses the bird seed into the air, which suddenly grows
|
|
thick with pigeons.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
Having been poor all my life, I learned something about the
|
|
free market. Fortune is just an accessory to life. It
|
|
doesn't care whether you're happy or not, and you can't take
|
|
fortune with you. But you can take happiness with you.
|
|
Look at me. I'm happy. I'm dead!
|
|
|
|
Vera looks at her father, worried. He sits rubbing his stomach.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
Heartburn.
|
|
|
|
He sighs.
|
|
|
|
FATHER
|
|
I think it's time to go home.
|
|
|
|
He climbs to his feet and follows Vera to the curb. She flags for a
|
|
taxi. On his soap box, the Dead Father madly gesticulates, flecks of
|
|
spittle flying through the air.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
For those of you whose story begins after the end of mine, I
|
|
have a question. Are the crimes and horrors I have
|
|
perpetrated part of your plot?
|
|
|
|
The Dead Father shrugs.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
No matter. Life goes on. You've forgotten us. Carry on!
|
|
Carry on!
|
|
|
|
Vera assists her Father into the back of a taxi, climbs in behind and
|
|
slams the door. The taxi slips back into the flow of traffic.
|
|
|
|
DEAD FATHER
|
|
As you can see, I'm still here. I could tell you what the
|
|
story is about, but it's not over yet. So, until we meet
|
|
again, a little parting advice. Call no man happy until
|
|
he's dead. Marx is dead. Long live Marxism!
|
|
|
|
|
|
109. INT. TAXI - DAY
|
|
|
|
Vera's FATHER groans with distress. He closes his eyes and slumps his
|
|
pallid, greenish face against Vera's shoulder. She shakes the shoulder of
|
|
the driver.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Hurry up, hurry up!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
110. EXT. HOME FOR THE AGED - MOMENT LATER
|
|
|
|
The taxi stops, and VERA hurries around the car to help her FATHER up
|
|
the stairs. Behind her, the DRIVER counts the fare.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
111. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - MOMENTS LATER
|
|
|
|
VERA deposits her FATHER on his bed. The MOTHER peers over her oxygen
|
|
mask anxiously.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Lie down, lie down. I'll be back in a moment.
|
|
|
|
Her Father reclines onto the pillows. He looks over weakly at his
|
|
wife, then closes his eyes. The Mother struggles to rise, but only
|
|
succeeds in sitting up. The Father's features relax with a smile. The
|
|
Mother stares across the room at him. Vera returns, followed by the
|
|
DOCTOR. He kneels beside the Father and checks for a pulse at the wrist,
|
|
then at the neck. The Doctor fumbles with the buttons on the Father's
|
|
shirt.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Is he alright?
|
|
|
|
The Doctor places his stethoscope over the Father's heart. He listens
|
|
for a moment, then turns toward Vera.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Oh no.
|
|
|
|
She sits on the edge of the chair. The Doctor rises and rests a
|
|
comforting hand on her shoulder.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
She brushes his hand away and looks at her Mother. Her Mother clutches
|
|
the oxygen mask to her face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
112. INT. HOME FOR THE AGED - LATER
|
|
|
|
The FATHER lies reposed on his bed, his shirt done up, his tie
|
|
carefully arranged, his hand folded artificially across his chest. VERA
|
|
holds her Mother's hand, perched on the bed opposite. Her MOTHER appears
|
|
to be asleep as Vera reaches out and brushes away a stray lock of her
|
|
Mother's hair. A noise startles her. She looks up to see the SAILOR
|
|
standing in the doorway with a gurney.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Very sorry. Very sorry.
|
|
|
|
Vera stares at the gurney.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
You wish to wait outside, miss?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I haven't made any arrangements yet.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor smiles reassuringly.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Your father was a well-prepared man.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Who are you?
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Sexton and Sons.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
You work for Michael?
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
No, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
What do you want?
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
I want nothing. I just do what your father wanted.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor moves the gurney into the room.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
What do you think you're doing?
|
|
|
|
Vera rises and tries to push the gurney back out of the room. The
|
|
Sailor flails backwards. LOPI appears beside him.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Is there a problem?
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Yes there's a problem. You're not taking my father!
|
|
|
|
Vera continues to push the gurney. Lopi hesitates.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Vera.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Go away!
|
|
|
|
Lopi squeezes into the room and places his hand on Vera's shoulder.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Please, Vera, stop.
|
|
|
|
Vera glares at him, panting.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Your father and I have an agreement.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
You don't know anything about my father.
|
|
|
|
Again, Lopi hesitates. In the doorway, the Sailor covers his eyes with
|
|
his hands.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
He didn't tell you? I thought you knew.
|
|
|
|
Defiantly, Vera shakes her head. Her Mother watches closely from the
|
|
bed, nodding.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I know what you're going to do. He's not just anyone. This
|
|
is my father!
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
(softly)
|
|
Yes, I know.
|
|
|
|
Lopi points the Sailor toward the door.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I'm sorry about your father.
|
|
|
|
Lopi begins to leave. Vera's Mother removes her oxygen mask and
|
|
struggles to raise herself on her elbows. Her voice strains, raspy with
|
|
disuse.
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
No... wait.
|
|
|
|
Vera and Lopi spin about and stare at her in mute surprise.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Mother...
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
We have a contract, Mr. Lazuli. Honour it.
|
|
|
|
Lopi gapes, speechless.
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
You must, or I'll sue you.
|
|
|
|
Vera stares at her Mother in shock.
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
We're doing it for you, Vera. Look at me. No one can help
|
|
me. Let me help you. I don't want you to become like me.
|
|
|
|
The ailing Mother subsides back onto the bed. She motions Lopi to draw
|
|
near. Lopi quietly approaches her bed. She looks at him sharply and tilts
|
|
her head toward Vera. Lopi casts a nervous glance at his client's
|
|
daughter. He reaches into his pocket and produces a chequebook. He fills
|
|
it out and hands the cheque to Vera.
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
We want you to have an inheritance.
|
|
|
|
Vera sits next to her Mother and strokes her face.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Do you remember the story you told me about the boy who
|
|
couldn't shudder? He had no memory of his dead father. He
|
|
would collect bones from the graveyard and set them up as
|
|
pins. And then he used his father's skull as a bowling
|
|
ball. Everyone hated him, and he didn't know why. He
|
|
wandered the country, and everywhere he went, people locked
|
|
their doors. One day he met a ghost, and the ghost spoke to
|
|
him. I'm your father, said the ghost, have pity on me. The
|
|
boy shuddered. That day, he went home and buried his
|
|
father's bones. And after that he would always remember his
|
|
father.
|
|
|
|
The cheque flutters in Vera's hand.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Have some pity, mother. Let me bury him.
|
|
|
|
MOTHER
|
|
We should pity the living, not the dead.
|
|
|
|
The Mother gestures to Lopi to take the Father's body. Eyes averted,
|
|
Lopi helps the Sailor guide the gurney into the room. He helps the Sailor
|
|
hoist the Father's body onto the gurney. Still holding the cheque, Vera
|
|
watches as they disappear out the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
113. INT. MICHAEL'S APARTMENT - EVENING
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You've decided?
|
|
|
|
Michael looks hopefully at VERA as she rushes into his apartment.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
My father's died.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Oh, I'm very, very, truly sorry.
|
|
|
|
Michael places the engagement ring on the table and hurries to puts his
|
|
arm around Vera. He leads her to the sofa.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Perhaps you'd like to lie down for awhile.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Your brother's taken his body. I want it back.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lie down first and take a deep breath.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
No, there's no time. I want to give my father a decent
|
|
burial. You have to do something fast, or it will be too
|
|
late.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Me? I can't do anything. It's Lopi's business.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
This is immoral.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
It can't be. It's perfectly legal.
|
|
|
|
Vera picks up the engagement ring from the table. Michael's face
|
|
expands with joyous hope. His voice chokes with feeling.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Darling... we'll be happy.
|
|
|
|
She hurls the ring at his head. Michael ducks.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
But darling, I love you!
|
|
|
|
Vera slaps him full across the face.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
Go to hell.
|
|
|
|
She spins on her heel and storms out of the apartment. Michael touches
|
|
his cheek and gawks helplessly at her departure.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
114. EXT. CAFE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Through the plate glass window, VERA leans across a cafe table,
|
|
explaining her predicament to RUPERT. His face contorts with righteous
|
|
indignation. He waves his arm for emphasis as he expounds to Vera. She
|
|
plants her elbows on the table and begins to cry. Rupert stutters and
|
|
blinks. Vera sobs. He scrapes his chair around to her side of the table,
|
|
and throws a condoling arm across Vera's shoulder. With the other hand, he
|
|
holds out his handkerchief and daubs at her tears. Rupert leans close and
|
|
whispers something in her ear. Abruptly, Vera looks up at him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
115. INT. MEDICAL OFFICE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
I think you have an obligation to oblige the lady.
|
|
|
|
The DOCTOR lets loose his high-pitched laugh.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
A contract's a contract. It's all for science. Perfectly
|
|
ethical.
|
|
|
|
VERA stares horrified across the desk at him. After a quick glance at
|
|
Vera, Rupert stands. He paces back and forth before the desk, punctuating
|
|
his questions with jabbing arm gestures.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
But this Lopus Lazuli pays you, doesn't he?
|
|
|
|
The Doctor hesitates. Vera glances back and forth between them.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
It's very competitive.
|
|
|
|
Rupert pauses, as though thinking.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
The question at hand, Doctor, is one of competence!
|
|
|
|
Rupert shifts his gaze to Vera.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
Have you considered a lawsuit?
|
|
|
|
Nervously, the Doctor trills with laughter. Rupert eyes him carefully.
|
|
The Doctor blinks.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
We can negotiate.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
Then do you agree that her father was mentally incompetent
|
|
to sign business contracts?
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Incompetent? A bit hard of hearing, perhaps.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
Vera, tell him.
|
|
|
|
Vera hesitates.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
You tell him.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
I don't know. You're his daughter.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
I can't.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
You must... if you want him back.
|
|
|
|
Impatiently awaiting an answer, they stare at her.
|
|
|
|
VERA
|
|
My father, he liked to arm wrestle... with me... in a cowboy
|
|
hat.
|
|
|
|
Simultaneously, the Doctor and Rupert unleash a hurricane of laughter.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Cowboy hat? That's rather demented!
|
|
|
|
Vera sits tensely. She rises and, unnoticed in the echoing laughter,
|
|
leaves the room.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
116. EXT. SEXTON & SONS - ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI waits in the alley. The SAILOR emerges onto the loading dock.
|
|
Lopi hands the Sailor a wad of bills.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Here, mate. Go home. You don't have to do this any more.
|
|
|
|
The Sailor takes the money. He embraces Lopi.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
We forget. Home is far.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I won't forget you. Come on, I'll buy you a farewell drink.
|
|
|
|
They saunter down the alley.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
117. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI shields the SAILOR from an outraged ATTILAH.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
How are we going to get by now, mate?
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Find yourself a new servant.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY wags his finger, perturbed.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Money can never create true emancipation, Lopi.
|
|
|
|
Attilah towers over Lopi.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
You think you can buy his way out?
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
You're messing up our nice little family.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Your belly's getting to big.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
You think you're better than us.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL walks into the middle of the argument. Attilah wheels and
|
|
produces his gun. He points it at Michael's face.
|
|
|
|
ATTILAH
|
|
Go away.
|
|
|
|
Michael brushes Attilah aside, and advances on Lopi.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Why can't you keep the riff raff out?
|
|
|
|
Still clutching his gun, Attilah glowers at Michael.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lopi, Lopi, please.
|
|
|
|
Lopi rises. Attilah aims his gun at Michael.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Don't do this to me. Vera will never speak to me again.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
I had no choice.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
I love her!
|
|
|
|
Kingsley rolls his eyes.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Love? Is it better to be loved than feared? On the
|
|
contrary!
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You can change your mind.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
Too late. Sexton and Sons already has him.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You sold my fiancee's dead father!
|
|
|
|
Surprised, everyone looks at Lopi.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
How could you?
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
He did it to your mother.
|
|
|
|
Michael swings on Lucky, aghast.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
What!
|
|
|
|
Lucky shrugs blithely.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
He sold his dead mother.
|
|
|
|
Kingsley rises from his chair.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Selling bodies?
|
|
|
|
Attilah's gun shifts to Lopi. Lopi drops his face in his hands.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You took her body? You didn't bury her?
|
|
|
|
Michael hammers Lopi with his fist. Attilah's gun shifts back to
|
|
Michael.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You're a thief!
|
|
|
|
Lopi staggers backwards out of his seat. Michael launches himself at
|
|
Lopi. He collars Lopi, and they fall into a struggling mass. Lopi
|
|
headbutts Michael. Screaming, Michael falls back, clutching his bleeding
|
|
nose. Lopi breaks away. Holding his hands up to seperate the brothers,
|
|
the Sailor steps in between.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Please, please, stop! We are family.
|
|
|
|
Attilah swings his gun back and forth, with the Sailor in the middle.
|
|
|
|
SAILOR
|
|
Business is good. And necessary. I'm not going home. I
|
|
will stay. I would rather be a second class citizen in the
|
|
first world than a first class citizen in the third world.
|
|
|
|
Attilah fires the gun. The Sailor staggers backwards in surprise, red
|
|
blood blossoming on his white shirt. Kingsley snatches the gun away from
|
|
Attilah.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Idiot!
|
|
|
|
The men watch in horror as the Sailor collapses to the floor. Lopi
|
|
kneels beside the Sailor. As he cradles the dying Sailor in his arms,
|
|
outside police sirens WAIL.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
118. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
A line of police cars roars toward King Kebab. They slide to a halt
|
|
before the doors. POLICE scramble out of their cars. NIGEL's head appears
|
|
in the window. He sees the queue of INDIGENTS turn and rush at the police.
|
|
He flees, trembling, into the rear of the shop. Police, shielded by riot
|
|
gear and wielding truncheons, charge the Indigents.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
119. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - SAME TIME
|
|
|
|
NIGEL rushes into the room.
|
|
|
|
NIGEL
|
|
It's a raid!!
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY bobs his head in terror, and darts toward the back door. The
|
|
men plunge after him. LOPI stays kneeling by the SAILOR. MICHAEL grasps
|
|
him by the shoulder. Lopi turns toward him.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
He's dead.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
120. EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
From the rear of KING KEBAB, MICHAEL rushes out. He bolts across the
|
|
alley, followed by KINGSLEY and his cronies. They scramble up the loading
|
|
dock, and through the back door of SEXTON & SONS.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
121. INT. SEXTON & SONS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL charges through the corridor and into Dring's office. Michael
|
|
leans over the desk and lifts DRING by his lapels.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
You took my mother! And you didn't even tell me.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Oh dear! Didn't Lopi tell you? I'm very sorry!
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Sorry isn't good enough!
|
|
|
|
Dring rolls his head helplessly.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
We had to stay in business somehow. You want a job, don't
|
|
you?
|
|
|
|
Through the window, they see police cars careen to a halt. With the
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT and RUPERT at the lead, a squad of POLICEMEN marches toward
|
|
them.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Michael! We're being raided! Like some illicit back-room
|
|
gaming club!
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
(off-screen)
|
|
This is worse than a brothel!
|
|
|
|
They turn to find Rupert's imperious finger aimed at them. Policemen
|
|
crowd the door.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
We have reason to believe that you have stolen property on
|
|
your property!
|
|
|
|
The Superintendent hands Dring a search warrant.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
122. INT. SEXTON & SONS - LOADING BAY - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
What is this?
|
|
|
|
DRING and MICHAEL follow hard on his heels.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
Shipping and receiving.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT and the POLICE squad pushes in behind. The men's eyes circle
|
|
the space and converge on the four, sheet- enshrouded figures lying on the
|
|
conveyor belt.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Are these all the corpses in stock?
|
|
|
|
Dring and Michael gawk at the corpses with trepidation. They nod
|
|
helplessly.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Apparently, you have been contracting people to donate their
|
|
bodies to your cause, people who are not quite in their
|
|
right minds.
|
|
|
|
Rupert steps forth aggressively.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
I have here a certificate of mental incompetence!
|
|
|
|
Rupert's forefinger alights on Michael's horrified face.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
Arrest that man! He is the ringleader!
|
|
|
|
Michael points at Dring.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
He's the owner!
|
|
|
|
Dring blinks repeatedly.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I'm just a businessman! My supplier handles the contracts!
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Who is the supplier?
|
|
|
|
Rupert holds Michael with a fixed stare. Michael stammers.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
Lewis Lazuli.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Where is he?
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I don't know.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Is he here?
|
|
|
|
Dring searches the room.
|
|
|
|
DRING
|
|
I don't think so. Maybe not. I don't know.
|
|
|
|
The Superintendent pins Michael with an accusatory stare.
|
|
|
|
MICHAEL
|
|
He's next door.
|
|
|
|
The Superintendent turns to his men.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Search the premises, from head to toe!
|
|
|
|
The POLICEMEN fan out through the building. Rupert marches up to the
|
|
conveyor.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
What an affront!
|
|
|
|
Rupert flicks on the conveyor belt.
|
|
|
|
RUPERT
|
|
This is the city, man! You can't ship dead people around
|
|
like oranges!
|
|
|
|
The CORPSES float along the humming conveyor belt. A POLICEMAN lifts
|
|
the sheet off one of the corpses, revealing NIGEL. Michael stares, then
|
|
chokes. Uncovered, ATTILAH and KINGSLEY roll past on the conveyor. The
|
|
Superintendent advances to the conveyor belt and lifts a sheet, revealing
|
|
LUCKY. The Superintendent leans close to his face and sucks in his
|
|
breath.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
Lucky!
|
|
|
|
Lucky blinks.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
We have a deal!
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
It's very competitive.
|
|
|
|
Lucky sits up on the moving conveyor belt.
|
|
|
|
LUCKY
|
|
They're not dead.
|
|
|
|
KINGSLEY
|
|
No, I am not dead! I'm merely waiting. Sooner or later you
|
|
too will succumb to the iron law of history! It's
|
|
inevitable, and you know it.
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|
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|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
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Arrest them!
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|
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|
Kingsley bolts for the door. A Policeman apprehends Attilah. Attilah
|
|
punches him in the face. Other Policemen produce truncheons and dash after
|
|
Kingsley. Nigel and Attilah move to shield him. Lucky watches impassively
|
|
as police truncheons rain heavy blows on his friends.
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|
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KINGSLEY
|
|
Oppression! Definitely oppression!
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|
|
|
Kingsley fumbles in his pocket and produces the gun. He aims it at
|
|
Lucky.
|
|
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|
KINGSLEY
|
|
Turncoat! Heretic! Counter- revolutionary! Worry not! Our
|
|
time will come! This is but a minor set-back!
|
|
|
|
A truncheon cracks across his head. Kingsley totters back against the
|
|
wall, the gun falling from his nerveless hand.
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|
|
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|
|
|
123. EXT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
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|
|
|
POLICE in riot gear mop up the last pockets of INDIGENT resistance.
|
|
Hollow cheeked indigents watch from the back of paddy wagons as burly
|
|
POLICEMEN confiscate whole sides of beef from the darkened interior of the
|
|
shop.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
124. INT. KING KEBAB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Diligent POLICEMEN dust the counters for fingerprints. One POLICEMAN
|
|
reaches around the spitted haunch of meat, hanging in the window, and
|
|
unhooks the "Revolutionary Pricing Policy" sign. The SUPERINTENDENT stalks
|
|
through the door. He rotates his head, inspecting the premises. He walks
|
|
toward the back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
125. INT. BUTCHER'S CLUB - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
LOPI crouches beside the SAILOR. The Sailor's eyes stare unblinking.
|
|
Lopi reaches out and closes them. Defeated, he drops his head. The
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT appears beside him.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
So, you're Lewis Lazuli, are you?
|
|
|
|
Lopi looks up tremulously.
|
|
|
|
SUPERINTENDENT
|
|
I'm surprised you're still here.
|
|
|
|
LOPI
|
|
There's nowhere to go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
126. INT. PRISON - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The WARDEN guides LOPI down a long hallway of prison cells. Shaking his
|
|
head, he casts a sidelong glance at the returning inmate.
|
|
|
|
WARDEN
|
|
I always wanted to like you, Lopi. But I can't anymore.
|
|
|
|
He ushers Lopi into a cell. The door closes and the lock rasps into
|
|
place. Lopi squats and looks about at the familiar surroundings: the
|
|
narrow bed; the open toilet; the hard bench. Perched beside him, his dead
|
|
MOTHER and his dead FATHER turn to each other. They exchange a glance of
|
|
profound resignation. Lopi purses his lips, then sighs.
|
|
|
|
THE END
|