Clerks Page #2

DANTE tries to jam the key into the window shutter lock. He

looks down at it.

DANTE:

Sh*t!

The lock is gummed up with gum or something hard and obtrusive

like gum, preventing the key from being inserted. DANTE

looks around and kicks the shutter angrily. The car trunk

pops open and a hand reaches inside, pulling out a folded

white sheet.

CUT TO:

INT:
CONVENIENCE STORE. MORNING

A can of shoe polish is grabbed from the shelf. DANTE dips

his fingers into the shoe polish and writes large letters on

the unfurled sheet, leaning on the cooler.

CUT TO:

EXT:
CONVENIENCE STORE. MORNING

DANTE stands on a garbage can and tucks a corner of the sheet

under the awning. He jumps down. The banner reads I ASSURE

YOU, WE'RE OPEN. The door sign shifts from CLOSED to OPEN.

CUT TO:

INT:
CONVENIENCE STORE. MORNING

The clock reads 6:20. DANTE leans behind the counter, the

morning routine completed. He stares ahead, catatonic, then

drops his head in his hands. The day has begun.

CUT TO:

EXT:
CONVENIENCE STORE. DAY

The store, with its makeshift banner looming in the dim

morning hour, just after dawn. A car drives by.

CUT TO:

INT:
CONVENIENCE STORE. DAY

DANTE waits on a customer (ACTIVIST) buying coffee.

DANTE:

Thanks. Have a good one.

ACTIVIST:

Do you mind if I drink this here?

DANTE:

Sure. Go ahead.

The ACTIVIST leans on a briefcase and drinks his coffee.

Another CUSTOMER leans in the door.

CUSTOMER:

Are you open?

DANTE:

Yeah.

CUSTOMER:

Pack of cigarettes.

ACTIVIST:

Are you sure?

CUSTOMER:

Am I sure?

ACTIVIST:

Are you sure?

CUSTOMER:

Am I sure about what?

ACTIVIST:

Do you really want to buy those

cigarettes?

CUSTOMER:

Are you serious?

ACTIVIST:

How long have you been smoking?

CUSTOMER:

(to DANTE)

What is this, a poll?

DANTE:

Beats me.

ACTIVIST:

How long have you been a smoker?

CUSTOMER:

Since I was thirteen.

The ACTIVIST lifts his briefcase onto the counter. He opens

it and extracts a sickly-looking lung model.

ACTIVIST:

I'd say you're about nineteen, twenty,

am I right?

CUSTOMER:

What the hell is that?

ACTIVIST:

That's your lung. By this time, your

lung looks like this.

CUSTOMER:

You're shittin' me.

ACTIVIST:

You think I'm shitting you...

The ACTIVIST hands him something from the briefcase.

CUSTOMER:

What's this?

ACTIVIST:

It's a trach ring. It's what they

install in your throat when throat

cancer takes your voice box. This

one came out of a sixty-year-old

man.

CUSTOMER:

(drops ring)

Unnhh!

ACTIVIST:

(picks up the ring)

He smoked until the day he died.

Used to put the cigarette in this

thing and smoke it that way.

DANTE:

Excuse me, but...

ACTIVIST:

This is where you're heading. A cruddy

lung, smoking through a hole in your

throat. Do you really want that?

CUSTOMER:

Well, if it's already too late...

ACTIVIST:

It's never too late. Give those

cigarettes back now, and buy some

gum instead.

(grabs nearby pack,

reads)

Here. Chewlies Gum. Try this.

CUSTOMER:

It's not the same.

ACTIVIST:

It's cheaper than cigarettes. And it

certainly beats this.

Hands him a picture.

CUSTOMER:

Jesus!

ACTIVIST:

It's a picture of a cancer-ridden

lung. Keep it.

CUSTOMER:

(to DANTE)

I'll just take the gum.

DANTE:

Fifty-five.

ACTIVIST:

You've made a wise choice. Keep up

the good work.

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