Cool Hand Luke Page #10

---

LUKE:

(thoughtful)

Yeah.

JOHN:

You must've really flung a binge

this time. You really hit that cop?

LUKE:

(not liking the smug

pride in John)

Much as I'd like to oblige you, John,

I didn't hit the cop.

(beat)

She's in pretty bad pain, ain't she?

JOHN:

(nods)

Fulla dope, Luke.

LUKE:

Keep it with her all the time. Let

her have all she wants.

They understand each other. Luke chucks John-Boy under the

chin, then stops, looks at John, kneels beside him.

TWO SHOT LUKE AND JOHN-BOY

LUKE:

You don't want to admire them chains,

John-Boy. They ain't medals. You get

them put on for makin' mistakes.

(beat)

And if you make a really bad mistake,

then you got to deal with the Man...

and he is one tough old boy.

THEIR P.O.V.

Godfrey stares at them, his glasses mirroring.

BACK TO THEM:

LUKE:

So long, Arletta. Take care.

ARLETTA'S VOICE

You know it, kid.

John holds Luke for a beat and reaches into the truck and

pulls out a battered banjo which he gives Luke.

JOHN:

Now there's nothin' for you to come

back for.

ARLETTA'S TRUCK

LEAVING down the road, kicking up dust. Barracks in b.g.

EXT. HIGHWAY WITH YOYO SUPPORT (DAY)

cutting away at the time...

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BARRACKS (NIGHT)

Luke sits on his bunk plunking aimlessly at the BANJO. The

barracks are quiet, an air of [...]. Suddenly there is an

unidentifiable SOUND, low, but all the heads in the barracks

look up, waiting, silently. It has begun to rain, the big

drops DRUMMING on the roof. It begins to fall heavily. There

are moving slams around the building as outside the guards

SLAM the storm shutters. It is hot, oppressive.

ALIBI:

I guess they have to close those

things, or we'd drown. But it's really

suffocating.

TATTOO:

Talk about drownin', I did some

trainin' on a submarine once. Boy,

when you're under there you really

feel it.

LOUDMOUTH STEVE:

Shut up, man. It's too hot to talk.

The air is stifling, desultory. Out of boredom, Dragline

turns to Dynamite.

DRAGLINE:

You see mah skinny lid boy at chow

tonight. He was matching you plate

for plate.

DYNAMITE:

I wasn't feelin' good. Think I got a

ulcer or somethin'.

DRAGLINE:

He had a spoon like yours, he'd make

you look like a possum [...] on a

tree bark.

Society Red is lying on his bunk looking at the bottom of

the bunk above.

SOCIETY RED:

Oh, come on, Clarence.

Dragline sits up and looks at him aggressively.

DRAGLINE:

What do you mean, Clarence? You

callin' me a liar?

He waits.

SOCIETY RED:

Not a liar. You just have a common --

and likable -- tendency toward

exaggeration.

DRAGLINE:

(proudly)

He's the champeen hog-gut of this

camp. Hell, I seen him eat ten

choc'lat bars and seven cold drinks

in fifteen minutes. He kin eat busted

bottles and rusty nails, any damn

thing. If you'd so kindly oblige as

to let me cut off your yankee head,

he'd even eat that.

LUKE:

I can eat fifty eggs.

They turn to look at him as though surprised to find him

there. Before Dragline can think he says...

DRAGLINE:

Nobody kin eat fifty eggs.

SOCIETY RED:

(to Dragline)

You just said he could eat anything.

DRAGLINE:

(doubtfully, to Luke)

You ever eat fifty eggs?

LUKE:

Nobody ever ate fifty eggs.

GAMBLER:

Bet! Bet! Babalugats!

DRAGLINE:

Mah boy say he kin eat fifty eggs,

he'll eat fifty eggs.

LOUDMOUTH STEVE:

Yeah but in how long?

LUKE:

One hour.

SOCIETY RED:

Well I believe I'll have to take

part of that wager.

DRAGLINE:

Two bucks.

GAMBLER:

Let's talk money.

DRAGLINE:

Awright, twenty bucks. Anything! The

Syndicate'll cover any money you

got. Koko, get paper.

KOKO:

Dragline... fifty eggs got to weigh

a good six pounds.

DYNAMITE:

(expertly)

Man's gut can't hold that. They'll

swell up and bust him open.

BLIND DICK:

You're gonna kill him.

DRAGLINE:

Getcha money, up. Gambler! Dynamite!

Everybody. Kokonut Head here is taking

the money. Loudmouth -- get it up!

The initial boredom of the scene is dispelled -- a purpose

has been created to lead them through the endless building

of time.

GAMBLER:

How's he gonna eat 'em?

LUKE:

(cutting in)

Boiled for fifteen minutes. Then

peeled. I eat all fifty in one hour.

Men are all around Dragline and Koko now with money and

wagers. Koko is frantically scribbling.

DRAGLINE:

Koko, write down their names, don't

just make marks.

SOCIETY RED:

One rule! No throwing up. He throws

up, you forfeit everything.

DRAGLINE:

You ever see mah boy throw up? Shut

your mouth and put up your money!

Koko is on the floor now with Babalugats beside him, assorting

papers, handing out betting receipts. Dragline turns to Luke.

DRAGLINE:

Why'd you have to say fifty? Why not

thirty-five or thirty-nine?

LUKE:

Fifty's a nice round number.

DRAGLINE:

Damn, Luke. What's the matter with

you? what's the matter with me?

LUKE:

(winking)

Nothin' to worry about. We got a

deadlock on that mullet.

EXT. PRISON YARD MOVING TWO SHOT (DAY)

Luke and Dragline jog around the yard like roadwork for a

boxer and trainer.

DRAGLINE:

What did I do? Stole and tole lies.

I loved mah neighbor and his wife,

but what did I do to deserve this

lunatic to come in mah happy home

and beat me outa hard earned bread.

LUKE:

(grins)

We got it locked in the sock.

DRAGLINE:

Yeah, I know. But what we gotta do

first is stretch that l'il ol' belly

of yours -- git it all strained out,

in fightin' shape, like a barrage

balloon.

LUKE:

You ol' sack of guts. I had a belly

like yours, we wouldn't have nothin'

to worry about.

DRAGLINE:

(considers paunch)

'Atsa sign I got me an affectionate

nature.

LUKE:

Like an elephant.

DRAGLINE:

(grinning)

Us elephants may be a lil slow, like

in makin' love, but you give us a

coupla three days to really get with

it an' man -- stand back!

Luke grins.

LUKE IN THE CHOWLINE

taking enormous helpings.

DOGBOY:

Lookit this hot gut, Boss. Here's a

man gone bust the State feedin' his

face.

BOSS HIGGINS:

Wisht I could eat like that.

LUKE:

Thing about bad food, you got to eat

a lot of it.

OMITTED:

LUKE:

He sits in a yoga position, rippling his stomach muscles

miraculously. Koko and Gambler pop INTO THE SHOT to watch

with amazement.

INT. MESS HALL (NIGHT)

Luke refuses food. He moves to his place, sits before his

empty plate.

INT. BARRACKS (NIGHT)

as Dragline stops in front of the Wicker Man.

DRAGLINE:

Boss! Man needs a brown bomber and a

dose of salts.

Instant UPROAR of protest.

SOCIETY RED:

Rules Committee! Rules Committee!

ALIBI:

Nobody said nothin' about that!

LOUDMOUTH STEVE:

Same as dopin' a race horse!

SLEEPY:

It don't sound right.

TATTOO:

You can't do that!

DRAGLINE:

You jes' watch us!

BLIND DICK:

Fair's fair.

KOKO:

Got a right to start with a clear

gut!

DYNAMITE:

Man can't eat that much no matter --

LOUDMOUTH STEVE:

You can't just change the rules any

way you want!

All of this is overlapping: Dragline walks through them

carrying the pile and cup of salts passed out from the Wicker,

ignoring it all.

INT. KITCHEN

JABO, the cook, is lowering the sacks of eggs into huge pots

of boiling water. Carr stands by with a watch, timing. Outside

the open door are Dragline, Dynamite and Gambler watching

tensely.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes