Election Page #4

Tracy is miffed as she puts her things away: slam, stuff, zip. She

slings her backpack over her shoulder and heads toward the door. She

looks back at --

MR. MCALLISTER who himself now FREEZES as he talks to a couple of

students

TRACY (VO)

Now that I have more life experience, I

feel sorry for Mr. McAllister.

CLOSE-UP FROZEN DETAILS - of Jim's appearance - his slightly frayed

collar and bad tie; the heels of his old docksiders worn down at

irritating angles; the faded impression his too-big wallet has made in

his khakis; his growing bald spot; his ear hairs.

TRACY (VO)

I mean, anyone who's stuck in the same

little room saying the exact same things

year after year for his whole life,

wearing the same stupid clothes, while

his students go on to good colleges and

move to big cities and do great things

and make loads of money has got to be at

least a little jealous. It's like my

room says - the weak always try to

sabotage the strong.

Tracy turns and walks out the door.

INT. TRACY'S HOUSE -- DAY

CLOSE ON A SMILING LITTLE TRACY - in a Sears-style portrait. PAN

across a wall full of other framed photos of Tracy accepting awards,

dancing in a recital, poised to dive at a swim meet.

TRACY (VO CONT'D)

One thing that's important to know

about me is that I'm an only child. So

my Mom is really devoted to me, and I

love her so much. She wants me to do

all the things she wanted to do in life

but couldn't.

AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE

Tracy's mother, BARBARA FLICK, finishes a letter and puts it in an

envelope.

TRACY (VO CONT'D)

See, Mom used to be a stewardess for

Northwest and now works as a para-legal.

She likes to write letters to successful

women like Janet Reno and Elizabeth Dole

and ask them how they got to be where

they are and what advice do they have

for me, Tracy, her daughter.

CLOSE ON BARBARA'S TONGUE as the envelope flap slides across it.

INT. MILLARD HALLWAYDAY

A politician's SMILE plastered to her face, Tracy is at her card table

vigorously gathering signatures.

TRACY (VO CONT'D)

Nine times out of ten they say you have

to hold on to your dreams no matter

what. The pressures women face mean you

have to work twice as hard, and you

can't let anything or anyone stand in

your way.

A shabbily dressed BURNOUT -- DOUG SCHENKEN -- walks past and grabs a

huge handful of gum.

TRACY:

One per person! Put those back I

John just keeps on walking away, and his two BUDDIES take great

delight in his nimble-witted, quick retort.

DOUG SCHENKEN:

Eat me

INT. HILLARD LIBRARY -- DAY

While other students sit in groups around her, Tracy sits apart at her

own table, concentrated and alone. She is writing little numbers by

her signatures.

TRACY:

Ninety-seven.. .ninety-eight.

TRACY (VO)

But you know, winning isn't

everything. If you play fair and follow

all the rules thoroughly, you'll always

come out ahead. Win or lose, ethical

conduct is the most important thing.

Just ask Mr. McAllister.

EXT. PARKING LOT -- DAY CLOSE ON TRACY'S EXCITED FACE

TRACY:

Mr. McAllister? Mr. McAllister! Wait up

I:

Jim, his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up, looks up from unlocking

his car. Tracy runs toward him holding out a TERM PAPER FOLDER.

TRACY:

I got all my signatures. One hundred

and fifty-eight -- way more than I need!

JIM:

Hey, that's super

TRACY:

Here they are.

JIM:

You can put those in my box. I'll look

at them tomorrow.

TRACY:

Could you approve them now? I'd like

to kick off my campaign right away, you

know, in the morning.

JIM:

(resigned)

Right

He cursorily flips through the bound pages and offers them back to

Tracy.

JIM (CONT'D)

Looks good to me.

TRACY:

Aren't you supposed to keep them?

JIM:

NO, that's fine

TRACY:

I thought you were supposed to keep

them.

JIM:

Okay, fine. Sure

JIM throws his briefcase and Tracy's folder into the backseat.

TRACY:

Thanks for everything.

JIM:

You bet.

Tracy stays put as JIM climbs in, shuts the door and fastens his seat

belt.

TRACY:

(cheery, awkward)

I can't wait to start campaigning.

JIM:

Should be easy. So far no competition.

TRACY:

Hell, you know, Coca-Cola's the world's

number one soft drink, but they spend

more money than anybody on advertising.

I guess that's how come they stay number

one.

JIM:

Yeah. Okay. well, good luck Tracy

They exchange a long, curious stare. There's a tone at once

confrontational and vaguely sexual about this moment.

TRACY:

You know, Mr. M., when I win the

presidency, that means you and I are

going to be spending a lot of time

together next year. And I for one would

like that time to be harmonious and

productive. Wouldn't you?

JIM:

Sure

TRACY:

Okay. That's good. I just wanted to

make sure.

JIM:

Good luck, Tracy.

JIM pulls away and heads for the parking lot exit.

INT.EXT. JIM'S CAR ON STREET -- DAY

JIM drives stone-faced, unblinking. Something about the music on the

radio mocks him.

JIM (VO)

I don't blame Tracy for what happened

with Dave. How could I? Dave was an

adult more than twice her age.

EXT. GROCERY STORE PARKIKG LOTDAY

JIM pulls to a stop next to a giant DUMPSTER

Out of his window come yellowed newspapers, balled-up fast food bags,

and other detritus. He speeds away.

JIM (VO CONT'D)

Sure, she got on my nerves once in a

while, but I admired Tracy. I really

did.

INSIDE THE DUMPSTER we see Tracy's little bound book of signatures.

INT. MCALLISTER DIKING ROOM - MIGHT

JIM and his wife Diane sit at their dining room table, eating chicken

pot pies, baked potatoes with sour cream, salad with Lite Ranch

dressing. Not a word passes between them.

JIM (VO CONT'D)

Thank God for Diane. She was my best

friend, my source of love and strength.

Oh sure, we'd had our share of bumpy

times, but we'd always seen them

through. After nine years of marriage,

we were closer than ever. And the

secret? Good communication.

DIANE:

Anything wrong?

JIM:

Everything's fine. Just, you know,

school.

INT. MCALLISTER BEDROOM - NIGHT

JIM lies awake in bed while Diane snores beside him. Something seems

to be echoing in his head.

TRACY'S VOICE

...You know, Coca-Cola's by far the

number one soft drink... When I win the

presidency we're going to be spending a

lot of time together... a lot of time...

lots and lots and lots of time...

president and advisor. . .

CLOSE ON JIM'S EAR as Tracy's LIPS magically whisper into it.

TRACY:

...harmonious and productive... close

and special... you and I... so close...

so intimate... together...

INT. MCALLISTER BASEMENTNIGHT

In the darkness a light pops on, and JIM quietly pads down the stairs.

He opens an old CEDAR TRUNK, lifts out a few blankets and a piece of

cardboard to reveal a row of PORNO TAPES cleverly concealed in the

bottom of the trunk.

ON THE TV SCREEN -

A FOOTBALL PLAYER in uniform and helmet filets a CHEERLEADER in a

locker room.

JIM watches with detachment, as though watching the news. He sips a

can of PEPSI. The football stud continues to bump and grind. Looking

at his Pepsi can, JIM is suddenly inspired.

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