American Graffiti Page #15

Terry stands with his eyes closed.

TERRY:

I don't want to see the whole thing. Especially if it's us he--

oh, why me? I'm going to look lousy with your legs and a goat's

head and--

DEBBIE:

Shhh--he's stopped. I can't see him very--I think he's coming

this way.

She edges off to get a better view.

TERRY:

Well, as long as he's not--Debbie! Debbie!

She's gone. Terry starts off, taking one step, turns, takes

another, turns, takes another. Suddenly Terry hears something

behind him. He turns very slowly and looks...

A figure is standing right behind him, silhouetted by the moon,

its face obscured. Terry jumps about three feet and yells.

STEVE (off)

Terry!

TERRY:

Who, me? Why me?

Terry stops yelling, seeing that it's Steve.

STEVE:

Terry.

TERRY:

Steve!

Debbie comes back through the bushes and Terry looks ather

nervously.

TERRY:

Where'd you go, anyway?

DEBBIE:

Over there.

TERRY:

Well, don't go off again. Come on, let's get out of here.

Terry and Debbie start to walk with Steve back toward town. Terry

keeps taking pulls fromthe bottle of bourbon.

STEVE:

What're you doing out here? Hey, where's my rod?

TERRY (choking):
Um, oh, did I introduce you? This is debbie.

Debbie, this is Steve.

DEBBIE:

Hello.

STEVE:

Hi.

DEBBIE:

Hi.

They continue to walk along the dark canal bank.

STEVE:

Well, what about my car?

TERRY:

Um...I'ts in the garage. I put it in the garage for safe keeping.

I mean...I don't want to take any chances with it.

STEVE:

Oh, great.

DEBBIE:

Yeah. Yeah. It's a good thing too. 'Cause somebody stole our car.

STEVE:

Really? That's terrible. What kind was it?

TERRY:

Gee, ah, where's Laurie, anyway?

STEVE:

I guess we broke up.

TERRY:

You broke up? Bull!

Steve just shrugs. The three of them go off into the darkness.

CRUISING MAIN STREET-'32 YELLOW DEUCE COUPE

The coupe makes an eccentric swerve as it cruises along the main

drag. Inside, Carol is looking at the gear-shift know that she's

taken off the shift arm as they listen to "Do You Want to Dance?"

CAROL:

It doesn't look like a gear shift knob.

JOHN:

Come on, will ya? Give it back to me.

CAROL:

Well, go ahead, cream me. What's wrong, you're a tough guy. Break

my arm, see if I care.

JOHN:

Forget it.

He ignores her, and finally his silence makes her take a small

round knob out of her pocket and put it back on the shifter where

it belongs.

CAROL:

I was just going to keep it for a little while. You're an ogre,

just like my father. He won't let me play records, or stay out

late, or anything.

JOHN (worried)

He ah--doesn't like you to stay out late?

CAROL:

No--he's terrible. Once I was at a party that didn't end till

late and he called the cops. Can you imagine? It was only a

little after midnight and he had the whole police force--

JOHN:

Say, where do you live anyway?

CAROL:

Over on Ramona, why? (She suddenly smiles) Oh no. Uh uh. You

thought I'd tell you where--not me, not old Carol. The night is

young and I'm not hitting the rack until I get a little action.

John sighs, wondering if he'll ever get rid of her. He looks back

at something in the rear view mirror. He speeds up and checks the

mirror again.

CAROL:

What do you keep lookin' at? (she looks around behind them) Who's

that? You know him? He's following awful close.

JOHN:

Grab onto something.

Carol looks scared and graps onto the dash. John suddenly hits

the brakes. The deuce coupe noses down and Bob Falfa's Chevy has

to swerve abruptly to avoid a crash.

Falfa pulls the Chevy around and alongside the coupe. He has

another new girl with him.

FALFA (shouting over)

Sorry if I scared ya, man.

JOHN (looking ahead)

Takes more than that to scare me.

FALFA:

Where ya been hinding? Didn't anyone tell ya I been looking for

ya?

JOHN:

Hey, I can't keep tracka all the punks lookin' for me.

FALFA:

They say you're the fastest thing in the Valley. But that can't

be your car, man. That must be your mama's car. Hell, I feel

embarrassed just getting near ya.

JOHN:

Ya should, man--you're driving a field car.

FALFA:

Field car? What's a Field Car?

JOHN:

Field Cars drive through the fields, dropping cow sh*t all over

the place to make the lettuce grow.

FALFA (laughing)

That's pretty good. Hey, I like that paint job you got. What they

call that--sorta a cross between Piss Yellow and Puke Green,

ain't it?

JOHN:

Yeah, well, you're car's so ugly you must have to sneak up on the

pumps to get a tank of gas.

FALFA:

Well, at least I don't have to move over to let a funeral go by,

man.

Through all the insults, Carol has been cracking up.

CAROL (shouting)

Your car's uglier than I am.

John and Falfa both look at her and she sits back.

That didnt' come out right...

They both stop at a light now. Falfa roars his engine.

FALFA:

Come on, boy, prove it. Let's go.

JOHN:

Look kid, why don't you go out and win a few races, then come

back and see me.

CAROL:

Oh, race him, you can beat him.

John gives Carol a very fierce look and she sinks back into her

corner.

FALFA:

Hey, that's a tough lookin' girl you got with you, man. What're

you doin'? Trying to pick up a few extra bucks babysitting?

(grinning at Carol) Hey, Doll. Why don't you come on and ride

with me--in about ten years?

JOHN:

Leave her out of this. This is just between you and me.

Falfa revs his engine again. John thinks a moment, then shifts

down into first.

The light changes, and John and Falfa take off, tires screaming.

The two cars perfectly in sync, rocket down the block toward the

next red light. John starts to slow for the light. Falfa looks

over, laughs, and runs the red light. John stops.

CAROL:

Wow! He's really fast, isn't he?

JOHN:

Yeah. But he's stupid.

CRUISING 10TH STREET-PHAROAH'S '51 MERCURY

Curt is still out riding with the Pharoahs. He seems a little

easier with them now, after their successful heist at the

miniature golf course. The radio is playing "Party Doll."

CURT:

Hey--any of you guys know a blonde in a white T-Bird?

JOE:

Yeah, I seen her, what about it?

CURT:

I was just wondering who she is.

JOE:

She's outta your price range, man. My brother's been with her and

he clued me in.

CURT:

Price range? You mean she's a--

JOE:

Yeah, Thirty Dollar Sheri. Can you believe that? Thirty dollars.

CURT:

We must be thinking of different blondes.

CARLOS:

Hey man, don't tell Joe what he thinks.

ANTS:

Thirty dollars ain't much. I saw ten thousand once. My old man

had it in a suitcase. They caught him the next morning though.

CARLOS:

Fuzz ahead, watch it.

JOE:

Where?

CARLOS:

Fuzz ahead, watch it.

JOE:

Where?

CARLOS:

At Jerrie's Cherries. You can just barely see the fender.

ANTS:

That's rotten, man. Hiding like that.

CARLOS:

That's shitty.

CARLOS:

It's dishonest.

Ants gives him the evil eye. Joe watches the cop car in the used

car lot as they pass it.

JOE:

We oughta do something. I got an idea. I got a good idea. MAIN

STREET:

Steve, Terry and Debbie have made it back into town from the

canal. They walk past the closed stores and stop on a busy

corner.

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