Blood Simple Page #11

RAY:

Yeah? What happened?

ABBY:

Psychiatrist said I was the healthiest

person he'd ever met, so Marty fired

him.

RAY:

(sleepily)

...I don't know if you can fire a

psychiatrist, exactly.

ABBY:

Well, I didn't see him anymore, I'll

tell you that much.

HIGH ANGLE RAY:

His eyes half-closed.

RAY:

Uh-huh.

ABBY:

I said, Marty, how come you're anal

and I gotta go to the psychiatrist?

RAY:

What'd he say?

SIDE ANGLE ABBY:

Framed against the window.

ABBY:

Nothing. He's like you, he doesn't

say much.

RAY:

(murmuring)

Thanks.

ABBY:

Except when he doesn't say things

they're usually nasty.

RAY:

...Mm-hmm.

ABBY:

When you don't they're usually nice.

RAY:

...You ever get tired?

ABBY:

Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. Mm-hmm.

Ray's hand rises into frame and coaxes Abby back down onto

the bed, revealing, through the window, a green Volkswagon

now parked at curbside on the lamplit street.

We hear the rustle of sheets.

As we hold on the window, we begin to hear the faint, distant

sound of metal scraping against metal.

HALLWAY / LIVING ROOM

We track down the dark hallway into the living room. As the

camera advances the sound of the scraping becomes louder.

We are moving across the living room up to the front door of

the bungalow. The scraping is louder still as we finally

frame on a close shot of the doorknob, which is jiggling

ever so slightly.

We hear a click as the lock finally releases.

The door swings slowly open, revealing a man's hand on the

outside doorknob. We follow the hand as the man advances

slowly and quietly across the living room.

Abby's purse comes into frame, sitting on a bureau; next to

it is a large tote bag. The hand rummages through the tote

bag briefly, then the purse. The man withdraws Abby's pearl-

handled revolver. He breaks it open.

LOW-ANGLE CLOSE SHOT THE MAN'S FACE

It is Visser. As we hear a click offscreen, his face glows a

dim orange.

BACK TO HIS HANDS

His right holds the revolver, cylinder open, inside the purse.

His left holds his cigarette lighter as he inspects the

chamber. Three of the holes glint silver, the other three

are black--empty.

We hear the faint creaking of bedsprings.

WIDE SHOT LIVING ROOM

Visser c*cks his head, listening, and looks down the hallway.

He takes a couple of quiet steps across the living room and,

as the camera tracks up to him, opens the back door of the

bungalow.

We follow him outside onto the lawn.

EXT. RAY'S BUNGALOW

We track behind him as he rounds the corner of the house and

approaches the open window to Ray's bedroom. He slows, moves

more cautiously, then sinks to his knees under the window.

As he reaches into his breast pocket the camera continues

tracking up to and over him, finally framing his POV through

the window.

On the bed inside we can dimly see Abby and Ray, asleep.

We have been hearing a faint rumble, becoming louder and

louder as if approaching from a distance. Just as the rumble

becomes deafening a sudden bright flash of light illuminates

the room, seeming to polarize the image of Abby and Ray in

bed, and we:

CUT TO:

EXT. PHONE BOOTH DAY

A huge truck roars by on the street behind Visser, and with

it the deafening rumble recedes. It is a painfully bright

day. Visser stands sweating in the phone booth with the

receiver pressed to his ear. We hear the phone ringing at

the other end.

Finally, it is picked up.

VOICE:

Hello.

VISSER:

Marty?

MARTY:

Yeah. Is it...

VISSER:

Ya catch any fish?

MARTY:

...What?

VISSER:

Ya catch any fish?

MARTY:

Yeah...

VISSER:

...What kind of fish?

MARTY:

Listen, what is it? Is it done?

Visser forces a chuckle.

VISSER:

...Yessir, you owe me some money.

MARTY'S OFFICE NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT TWO STRINGS OF FISH

Being plopped down onto Marty's desk.

WIDER THE OFFICE

Visser sits facing the desk. He lights himself a cigarette

and sets the lighter down on the desk in front of him. Marty

settles, fidgeting, into the chair behind it.

The bar is quiet, shut down. We hear only the whir of a fan

somewhere offscreen. Marty and Visser are lit by a lamp on

the desk between them. Light streams into the room from a

bathroom in the background. Visser is looking at the dead

fish.

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