American Graffiti Page #19

TERRY:

Yeah. I'll die soon and it'll all be over.

DEBBIE (looking at John)

Wow--you're just like the Lone Ranger.

JOHN (eyeing Debbie)

Yeah. Listen, are you with the Toad, or were you with them?

Terry manages to raise his head.

TERRY:

You're talking to the woman I love...

His head falls back again.

JOHN:

What happened, man?

Terry opens his mouth to start to explain, but it's too hard. He

can only moan.

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

The drive-in is emptying out finally as the midnight hour

approaches and passes. The die-hards and the hard-ups are still

wheeling through Mel's looking for remains of any action.

Steve sits inside in a booth. Two gossipy looking girls come in

smiling and slide into the booth across from him.

STEVE:

Hi, Karen, Judy.

JUDY:

Hi, Steve. Have you seen Laurie lately?

Steve shakes his head no.

Well, we have.

STEVE (already annoyed)

Oh yeah. So what?

JUDY:

So nothing. She was just with a really cute guy in a boss car. We

wondered who he was.

STEVE:

I wouldn't know.

JUDY:

We do. His name's Bob Falfa.

The name registers with Steve.

Terry and Debbie pull into the drive-in and park. Terry, his face

swelling, groans as he leans toward the intercom.

TERRY:

Help...I mean, I want two cherry cokes with lots of ice. Never

mind, forget the cokes, just bring the ice, pronto.

The intercom repeats his order in a foreign language and suddenly

Steve arrives and opens the door.

STEVE:

Out! OUT!

TERRY:

What??

STEVE:

I need the car--now.

Terry gets out and Debbie gets out her side. Steve gets in.

TERRY:

What's going on?

STEVE:

I'm about to find out.

Steve roars out of the drive-in, leaving Terry and Debbie

standing in an empty space.

DEBBIE:

I don't believe it! You practically get killed trying to get your

car back, then you let him have it.

Terry looks at her, his eye swollen, his lip ballooning, his

glasses broken. Finally, he gives up--it's not worth the trouble

any longer.

TERRY:

It's not my car.

DEBBIE:

What?

TERRY:

What?

TERRY:

IT IS NOT MY CAR!

DEBBIE:

Well, where is your car?

Terry is upset now.

TERRY:

I DON'T HAVE A CAR!

DEBBIE:

You don't--no car at all. What about your jeep?

Terry shakes his head.

No car...well, how am I going to get home?

Just then the car hop approaches with the two cokes on two trays.

CAR HOP:

Where's your car? I gotta hook 'em to your car.

Terry shrugs, standing in the empty stall, the carhop witht he

trays and Debbie watching. There's a low rumbling sound and the

girls turn as John's deuce coupe glides into the stall next to

them. Terry shuffles toward John's car, a defeated man.

Terry leans against John's car and John looks out the window at

him.

JOHN:

What's wrong, Toad? You lose the car again?

TERRY (softly)

No...Steve took it.

WOLFMAN (voice over)

It's a shame, Baby. I'll tell yuh...Got to take it easy when

you're drivin' that car of yours. You got to cruise easy, baby.

Don't be doin' any accidents or anything on me.

And the radio plays "Cryin' in the Chapel."

John smiles and gets out of the car. He goes and opens his hood,

making a last-minute check on something. Terry sits down gently

on a curb by John. Debbie has been talking with some other boys.

Eventually she wanders up slowly and looks at Terry. He looks up

at her, then away, disgraced and embarrassed. She sits down by

him and they're silent.

DEBBIE:

You know, I had a pretty good time tonight.

TERRY:

Oh come on, you're just--

DEBBIE:

No, no, really. I really had a good time. I mean, you picked me

up and we got some hard stuff and saw a hold-up, and then we went

to the Canal, you got your car stolen, and then I got to watch

you gettin' sick, and then you got in this really bitchin'

fight...I really had a good time.

Terry looks at her, starting to regain a little cool.

TERRY:

You think so? Yeah--well I guess I have pretty much fun every

night.

DEBBIE:

Anyway if you're not doing anything tomorrow night, why don't you

come over?

TERRY:

Yeah--well, I might be busy, you know. But we could--well, I got

a little Vespa I just play around with.

DEBBIE:

Really? Why that's almost a motorcycle. And I just love

motorcycles.

He feels his swollen lip and she touches it. THen she leans over

and kisses him.

DEBBIE:

I got to go.

TERRY:

Ow.

DEBBIE:

Goodnight.

TERRY:

See ya.

She smiles, walks off, swinging her purse. She looks over her

shoulder and smiles. He smiles back.

OUTSIDE RADIO STATION--CITROEN

The little Citroen bumps along a lonely dirt road, winding its

way through dark peach orchards and wizened grape vineyards. Curt

watches the deserted landscape when suddenly, the radio increases

in volume and he turns it down. Then it begins to roar and

distort eerily as the signal becomes more powerful. Then Curt

sees it.

He stops the car and gets out. He stands looking at an isolated

white frame house hitting in the moonlight. Curt looks up at a

spidery radio antenna that rises toward the stars, its black

wires humming in the stillness.

Curt starts up the gravel walk to the door. Under the glare of a

naked spotlight, he sees a small intercom which plays soft Rock

and Roll. He hesitates, then pushes a buzzer. He pushes it again

and finally a voice comes over the intercom.

VOICE (over)

Yeah, who is it?

CURT:

It's--I want to talk to the Wolfman.

VOICE:

The Wolfman ain't here.

CURT:

I know, but I got to get in touch with him. I got something to

give him before--

VOICE:

We don't take no deliveries after eight. Come back tomorrow.

CURT:

No, I can't. I want to ask him something that--

VOICE:

Dedications by phone is Diamond 75044. Wolfman Top 40 is Box 13,

Chula Vista. Wolfman Sweatshirts is Wolf Enterprises,

Bakersfield. 'Bye.

CURT:

Listen, I got a right to talk to him. I listened to him every

night for as long--for twelve years almost. I know him and it's

personal and it'll only take a minute and I bet Wolfman would be

upset if he knew a friend couldn't get in touch with--

A buzzer interrupts him and the door opens an inch. Curt pushes

it open slowly--no one is there. A little scared, he goes inside

and closes the door.

INSIDE RADIO STATION

Curt walks slowly down a dark eerie corridor, passing strangely

lit rooms with electronic generators, humming dynamos and

glassed-off booths filled with flashing electronic apparatus.

Curt goes through this other-worldly maze until he comes to a

small, dimly lit control booth. A figure inside is barely visible

through the reflections in the double glass windows. The figure

turns and walks up to the window. Curt backs off a bit. A face

stares at him--long hair greased in a ducktail, a short

chinbeard. Then he speaks, his voice filtering strangely through

a hidden speaker.

MANAGER:

What do you want?

Through the window, Curt can be seen but no sound is heard.

MANAGER:

Pull the red switch.

CURT:

I'm looking for a girl.

MANAGER:

Aren't we all. She ain't here. Come on back to the booth.

Curt walks around through a few more glass doors and ends up in

the booth with the manager.

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