A Home of Our Own Page #3

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each member of the family.

- Murray, we didn't come

here looking for toys.

Come back here and try on this sweater.

- In addition to the clothing

items, the basic food items--

- Mama, look.

- Lynn, no.

- The basic food items and so on, too,

all without obligation,

religious or otherwise.

- Thanks very much, mister, uh, Father,

but we Laceys don't accept charity.

We pay our own way.

- Well, uh, if you change your mind...

- Lynn.

Do me a favor, take this back, will you?

- But it'll look so nice on you.

- Take it back.

- [Shayne] The really bad part

was when mama decided to

make our clothes herself.

- Hey, Lacey, where'd you

get the howdy-doody dresses?

- They're not howdy-doody.

My mama made them.

- Where'd she get the material?

Did somebody shoot a sofa and skin it?

(squeals, chattering)

- [Shayne] Murray still didn't

seem to fit into our world,

but then one day, he found one of his own.

- Stop the bus!

Stop the bus, stop the bus.

Stop the bus.

- [Driver] Get back to your seat, kid.

- Stop the bus or I'll barf in your hat.

- [Children] Eew!

- I'll walk home.

(festive orchestral music)

(thumping)

(shifts to waltzy music)

- You lost, boy?

- No.

No.

I want some of this stuff.

- You got money?

- Hmm, no.

- How do you expect to pay

for the stuff you want?

- Well, mister, I've learned that...

I've learned that the greenback

dollar isn't the only way

to get things done in

this here great country.

Let's talk.

(chuckling)

- All right, son.

Let's find this stuff you want.

And I need help around here.

(rattling)

- Murray.

What's with the wagon and

what's with the toilet?

- I got a job, I earned it.

Come on, give me a hand.

- You got a job, and you earned a toilet?

- Yeah. So we don't have to

use the dumb old outhouse.

I hate the outhouse.

- [Shayne] So for three days every week,

Murray came home hauling some

new treasures from Mr. King.

We never knew what to expect,

French doors, a gas stove,

a set of cracked China dishes.

In smelly old Mr. King,

Murray found a kindred soul,

a fellow connoisseur of junk.

- Come on.

Come on, hurry. (grunts)

- What did you get this time, Murray?

- Little couches and everything.

- Wow.

- I'm tired.

(50s music plays softly)

- Mr. Moon?

- Yes, Miss Faye.

- Where's Mrs. Moon?

- Well...

She went on a long journey ahead of me.

- Why didn't you go with her?

- I had to wait here for the Laceys.

(mooing)

- [Shayne] Every morning,

I went to work in the dark,

then I had to walk four

more miles to school.

Sometimes I'd get a ride,

but more often, I'd walk all the way.

It gave me plenty of time to think,

and mostly what I thought about

was how much I hated Hankston, Idaho.

(pounding)

Hey, Murray, come on up here.

- [Murray] You ready?

(hammering)

(clattering)

- Murray, that's disgusting.

- Murray, just get to work.

- I am.

(hammering)

(yelps, thud)

- Murray!

(coughing)

Murray!

Murray!

Murray, are you all right? Huh?

Murray, come on.

- Look, Shayne!

Shayne, look!

Look, Shayne!

- Shayne, look!

- What?

Hold on. This is gonna hurt, okay?

It's gonna hurt, all right?

(yelps, cries)

It should be all right.

You'll be all right.

(Murray crying)

- I'm getting Mr. Moon.

(Murray crying)

- Don't die, Murray.

- [Shayne] Stay here.

(Murray crying)

But Mr. Moon wasn't home to help us.

He had driven mama into town.

So I had to carry Murray to the hospital,

and he was crying all the way.

(forlorn orchestral music)

- What the hell happened?

- Get him in the truck.

- It's not my fault, mama.

- He fell on a nail and he's bleeding.

(engine starts, speeds away)

- [Doctor] Mrs. Lacey.

- Yes.

- You have a very lucky little boy.

Another two centimeters or so

and that nail would

have punctured his lung.

- [Shayne] So is he okay?

- He's fine.

- [Frances] Can I see him?

- You can take him home.

- Oh!

- Just try to keep him in

bed for a couple of days

and keep that wound clean.

You give that to them upstairs.

- [Frances] Thank you.

- Interesting kid.

- You're okay?

- [Shayne] I had made mama a promise.

I told her I'd keep it.

But I wasn't dad, and I was

sick of pretending I was.

I knew that when the house was done,

I was going back to L.A.

There was more to do, I had friends there,

and it was a lot warmer.

- I'll warm it up for you?

- Yes.

- [Man] You're not here

for the hunt, are you?

(men laughing)

- Can I get you guys anything else?

- No, we're out of here, Franny.

- How about you and your tribe be here

to help us out over on

that new remodeling job?

- Well, I tell you what,

Dave, we'd be on the job site,

not loafing around over here.

- You're not loafing.

- I'm short of cash this week.

This will have to do for a tip.

- You're kidding.

Dave, this means more to me than money.

- [Dave] Let's go, gringo.

- [Shayne] In Los Angeles,

mama had worked her butt off

just to get us from day to day.

Now we all had to earn enough to live on

and put something away for our house.

We all worked on that

house every chance we got,

but there were some things we couldn't do,

so mama hired contractors for those jobs.

God help 'em.

- [Frances] Over here.

- Yeah, sure, we can take care of it.

- I know you guys.

You buy your goddamn

wiring and your fixtures,

and you mark it up 20, 50%

and you soak me for it.

I want an estimate for manpower only

and a list of what material you'll need.

I'll haggle for the materials myself.

Any questions?

I ain't got much time.

I gotta get to my job.

I know you think I'm a

hard-nosed b*tch, Mr. Whitman.

Don't deny it.

I am when it comes to this house.

But I also know I'm at your mercy.

You treat me honestly

like I'm gonna treat you.

Now I'll deal in cash so we

may have to do this piecemeal,

but there won't be any corner-cutting.

I want the best for this house, the best.

Lacey tribe.

Show Mr. Whitman your hands.

Every penny you spend is a penny

me and these little hands earned.

Don't make those blisters

count for nothing.

There. I've tried it all,

guilt, fear, and pity.

You understand me now, Mr. Whitman?

- Shirt. You're skin.

Shirt. You're skin.

Laughlin, come on, get a

haircut or a dog license.

You look like an animal.

You're shirt, you're skin.

Come on, Frank, you stand

up straight like a man,

would you, not like some old woman?

There you go.

Lacey.

- Yeah?

- Just what the hell is that?

- Well, my sister's red

socks got in with the whites,

and it turned the sheets and pillowcases

and the t-shirt kind of pink.

- Go get another one.

- Well, sir, this is the only one I got.

- What, are you kidding?

Lacey, I told you at the

beginning of the term

that you would require a

white t-shirt, did I not?

- Yes, you did.

- White. Is that white?

- No, sir, it's a little off.

- A little off?

I'd call that titty pink,

huh, guys? (laughing)

Come on, you're a shirt,

you're a skin. Let's go.

Shirts over there, skins over there.

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