Blood Simple Page #10

STRIP BAR NIGHT:

EXHORTER'S CUBICLE

Hunched over the public address microphone in his small

cubicle of exhortation, is the middle-aged strip-bar barker.

Years of service in the bar have left his exhortations

depressingly bereft of conviction.

EXHORTER:

How 'bout it, gentlemen, let's show

out appreciation for Lorraine up

there, a registered nurse from Bolton,

Texas, how 'bout it gentlemen, yeah...

THE BAR PROPER:

Meurice is one of a line of men sitting at the bar, all

looking intently at the same point off left. All of the men

except Meurice are conservatively dressed and apparently

well-to-do. An audio loop is blaring a bump-and-grind version

of "Yellow Rose of Texas," punctuated by the crash of cymbals

and the thumping of toms.

Abby enters and sits into an empty chair next to Meurice.

ABBY:

Looks like the state legislature is

out of session.

Meurice continues to stare intently off.

MEURICE:

I thought this is where they met.

All of the heads at the bar start to swivel, including

Meurice's. A couple of patrons hurriedly snatch their drinks

off the bar.

In the extreme foreground a stripper dances on the top of

the bar into frame. We crop her just above her white high-

heeled cowboy boots and her bare calves.

The conversation continues with Abby looking at Meurice, but

Meurice and everyone else at the bar looking up at a point

somewhere above the stripper's calves.

ABBY:

Listen Meurice, you're gonna help me

with a problem.

MEURICE:

I am?

The stripper drops a white leatherette vest onto the bar in

the foreground. The audience cheers.

ABBY:

You're gonna keep an eye on Marty

and Ray, make sure nothing happens.

MEURICE:

It won't?

Two sheriff-star pasties drop onto the bar. The audience

cheers.

MEURICE:

...Ever occur to you, Abby, that

maybe I'm the wrong person to ask?

THE EXHORTER:

Into his microphone.

EXHORTER:

Let's not sit on our wallets,

gentlemen. Lorraine is up there

dancing her heart out, and if you

let that cash money set on your hip,

you might just as well be broke...

ABBY AND MEURICE

She is rising to leave; he is still staring off.

ABBY:

Thanks, Meurice.

MEURICE:

Any time. But you don't have to worry

about a thing for a while. Marty

went down to Corpus yesterday.

An old-west gunbelt hits the bar. The audience roars.

THE EXHORTER:

Into his microphone.

EXHORTER:

And remember, gentlemen, we're always

here, two to two, A.M. to P.M., three

hundred and sixty-four days and

Christmas, God willing and the creek

don't rise...

RAY'S BEDROOM

The room is dark. We are looking across the room toward a

moonlit window. Beyond, across the lawn, the lamplit street

is empty.

Suddenly Abby sits bolt upright into frame from the bed below.

ABBY:

He's in the house.

Offscreen we hear Ray stirring in bed.

RAY:

What's the matter?

Abby twists around to look down at him.

ABBY:

I could've sworn I heard something.

RAY:

Door's locked. Nothing there.

He pulls her down out of frame and we hold on the window and

the empty lamplit street. Then Abby rises back into frame,

in silhouette against the window, looking down at Ray.

ABBY:

I knew it. 'Cause we wouldn't have

heard anything if it was him. He's

real careful. Fact is, he's anal.

RAY:

...Huh?

ABBY:

Yeah, he told me once himself. He

said to me...

She taps herself on the forehead.

ABBY:

..."In here, Abby. In here... I'm

anal."

HIGH ANGLE RAY:

Looking up at Abby.

RAY:

(yawning)

...Well I'll be damned.

ABBY:

I couldn't believe it either...

SIDE ANGLE ABBY:

Framed against the window, looking down at Ray.

ABBY:

...Me on the other hand, I got lots

of personality...

She drops down onto the bed out of frame. The camera holds

on the window through which we see the empty lamplit street.

ABBY:

Marty always said I had too much.

'Course he was never big on

personality...

She rises back up into frame, in silhouette against the

window.

ABBY:

...He sent me to a psychiatrist to

see if he could calm me down some.

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