Get Shorty Page #2

Silence. No answer to the question. Chili look up from the

collection book, listens a moment to nothing.

He opens the desk drawer and pulls out a .38. He aims the

gun at the open doorway . . .

OVER CHILI'S SHOULDER

As Ray Bones, a bandage on his nose, appears in the back

hall, then the doorway to the office, his face showing

surprise to see a gun aimed at him . . .

Ray Bones begins firing the big Colt auto in his hand, maybe

before he's ready, the gun making an awful racket, when

Chili pulls the trigger, shooting Ray Bones along the top of

his head, creasing him from hairline to crown.

Chili calmly gets to his feet. Aims once more -- probably

lower this time -- but doesn't fire as Ray Bones grabs his

head and stumbles out of there.

RAY BONES (O.S.)

Somebody call 9 f***ing 111.

EXT. MIAMI HARBOR -- DAY

Ray Bones, a bandage on his head now as well as his nose,

sits on a cigarette boat with his boss, JIMMY CAP and two

bikini clad BABES, both of whom rub lotion on Jimmy.

JIMMY:

Whatta you want me to do Ray? Go to war over a f***in coat?

You're lucky the guy didn't kill you. The coat was a

Christmas present for Christ's sake.

RAY BONES:

You gotta do somethin', Jimmy. This man's got no respect for

us.

JIMMY:

He's got no respect for you, and I don't gotta do sh*t.

Chili Palmer don't work for me, he works for Momo up in

Brooklyn. So as long as Momo's around, nothing happens to

Chili Palmer. You understand?

As an angry Ray Bones sits back, we . . .

FADE TO BLACK:

EXT. BROOKLYN STREET -- NIGHT

We TILT DOWN to REVEAL a dark Brooklyn street as a black

Cadillac pulls to a stop in front of an older building.

VOICE:

Momo. We're here.

Two big guys, BODYGUARDS, get out of the car. One of them

opens the back door for a huge man, MOMO, who gets out of

the car and looks up at the dark building . . .

MOMO:

You check this place out good? If I'm going up alone, I

don't want no surprises.

BODYGUARD:

I checked it out, boss.

INT. BROOKLYN TENEMENT BUILDING -- NIGHT

Momo eyes the bodyguards -- both nervous -- then starts up

the steps. We follow Momo as he enters the building, goes up

the dark stairwell . . . up one flight . . . we're behind

him the whole time . . .

When he gets to the top floor, Momo pauses to catch his

breath, before moving on down the hall to a door. Momo

knocks.

VOICE:

Yeah?

MOMO:

It's Momo.

VOICE:

Come in.

Momo slowly opens the door . . . when, suddenly, the

apartment is FLOODED WITH LIGHT so that we see a room full

of PEOPLE, a banner on the back wall reading 'HAPPY

SIXTY-FIFTH, MOMO!'

EVERYONE:

Surprise!

Silence as Momo drops to his knees, gurgles something we

can't understand and falls over. Suddenly a dozen faces are

looking down on us as we then . . .

CUT TO:

EXT. BARBER SHOP -- DAY

A beautiful day in Miami.

CHILI (V.O.)

So what're you tellin' me, you're never gonna go to sleep

again?

INT. BARBER SHOP -- DAY

Chili and Tommy each sit in a barber chair, reading the

newspaper while Fred and Ed sit nearby playing checkers.

TOMMY:

No, I said I'm never goin' to bed. There's a difference.

See, the article says most people die in their beds. I

figure long as I stay outta bed, I'm safe.

CHILI:

That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. Where do you sleep?

TOMMY:

In an armchair. Or I go to a coffee shop, sleep there. Sit

in a booth, pull my hat down.

A car pulls up. Chili's no longer listening to Tommy, but

now watching as Ray Bones and a BLACK GUY get out of the

car.

TOMMY:

How many people you hear ever die in a coffee shop?

Tommy looks over as Ray Bones -- smaller bandage on the top

of his head -- and his man enter the shop.

RAY BONES:

You cut straight hair in this place, or just fags?

CHILI:

Hey, Bones, looks like you're gonna have a nice scar up

there. Maybe these guys can fit you with a rug, cover it up

for ya.

Ray Bones eyes Chili, then nods to Fred and Ed.

RAY BONES:

Why don't you geezers take your game over to the park.

The two guys leave as the Black Guy steps up to Chili . . .

BLACK GUY:

This man is the man, you understand what I'm saying? He's

Mr. Bones, you speak to him from now on.

Chili exchanges a look with Tommy, watches as 'Mr. Bones'

goes down the hall into the back office, then turns to the

black guy . . .

CHILI:

You can do better'n him.

BLACK GUY:

Not these days. Not less you can talk Spanish.

Ray Bones comes out with the collection book open, looking

at all of the names of who owes what.

RAY BONES:

You got a miss. Leo Devoe. Guy's six weeks over.

CHILI:

He died.

RAY BONES:

How'd you know he died, he tell you?

Ray Bones checks his man to get some appreciation, but the

guy's too busy looking at the hair rinses and sh*t on the

connter.

CHILI:

Yeah, he told me.

RAY BONES:

Personally?

CHILI:

Yeah, Ray, he personally told me he got killed in that Get

Away Airlines' jet went down last month.

RAY BONES:

What Get Away jet?

CHILI:

It was in the Herald.

RAY BONES:

Yeah, well, maybe the guy took out flight insurance. Check

with the wife.

CHILI:

Hey, it's your book now. You want to check it out, go ahead.

He's got a dry cleaning business out on Federal Highway.

Tommy gives Chili a look as the Black Guy comes over to

Chili, stands next to him. Ray Bones steps over to Chili . .

.

RAY BONES:

Momo's dead. Which means anything was his now belongs to

Jimmy Capp, including you.

Tommy watches as the Black Guy picks up a pair of scissors,

runs his hand along the edge . . .

RAY BONES:

Which also means when I speak, I'm speakin' for Jimmy. So

e.g. as of now, you start affording me the proper respect.

CHILI:

'e.g.' means 'for example', Ray. I think what you wanna say

is 'i.e.'

RAY BONES:

Bullshit. E.g. is short for 'ergo'.

CHILI:

Ask your man here.

Ray Bones looks at the Black Guy.

BLACK GUY:

Best a my knowledge, e.g. means 'for example.'

RAY BONES:

E.g., i.e., f*** you. The point is, I say jump, you say

okay. Okay?

TOMMY:

(for Chili)

Yeah, Ray. Okay.

Ray Bones then nods to his man who grabs Chili, holds the

point of the scissors to Chili's throat . . .

RAY BONES:

You owe me the dry cleaner's fifteen grand plus the juice

which is what another, uhh . . .

CHILI:

Twenty seven hundred.

RAY BONES:

Exactly. You either get it from the wife or out of your own

pocket, I don't give a f***. You don't ever hand me a book

with a miss in it.

Ray throws the book at Chili and walks out, his man right

behind him. Chili looks over at Tommy.

TOMMY:

I told you not to --

CHILI:

Don't say a f***in' word.

EXT. FAY DEVOE'S BACKYARD -- DUSK

Where Chili sits with FAY DEVOE -- thirties, attractive, in

a sundress -- on her patio. They each have a drink . . .

FAY:

I hate the dry cleaning business. I hate being inside all

day, around all those machines.

CHILI:

Must be hot.

FAY:

You have no idea how hot it is.

She looks at him. Touches her drink to the side of her face.

Chili finishes his drink, sets it down.

CHILI:

I was wondering, Fay, if Leo had any life insurance.

FAY:

I don't know of any.

They sit there in silence a moment. Fay reaches over, puts a

hand on his leg . . .

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