Grosse Pointe Blank Page #17

LARDNER:

-Look. You want to kill a Good Guy,

but not be a Bad Guy, you wait until

a Bad Guy kills the Good Guy, and

then you come in and kill the Bad

Guy, and then you're the Good Guy.

MCCULLERS:

So if we do his job, we're the bad

guys. If we do our job, we're the

good guys.

LARDNER:

Yup.

They both laugh, as if at some great joke. Their laughter is

caught short by the sight of

LARDNER AND MCCULLERS' POV

GROCER:

moving into the diner.

INT. DINER - LATE MORNING

Martin sits in a window booth splitting nutrient caplets

into an apple juice and looking out the window.

GROCER:

slides into the booth, across from Martin.

MARTIN AND GROCER

Martin draws a nasty little PPK pistol from his waist, and

levels it at Grocer under the table-- but Grocer is already

drawing his pistol down there, and there is an instant Mexican

breakfast stand-off.

GROCER:

Easy, tiger.

A waitress approaches.

WAITRESS:

Hi. Welcome to B.I. McCafferty's. My

name is Melanie and I'll be your

server this morning. Let me tell you

about some of our specials. Today we

have the "Alfalfa on My Mind," our

feature omelette. And there's our

"Gatsby's West Egg Omelette." And if

you're in the mood for something

different there's the "I left my

heart in San Franchezie."

Martin and Grocer's eyes remain locked.

GROCER:

I want two eggs poached, hash brown

well-done. English muffin for the

bread. And a coffee.

MARTIN:

Whole-grain pancakes. And an egg-

white omelette.

WAITRESS:

What would you like in the omelette?

MARTIN:

Nothing in the omelette. Nothing at

all.

The waitress nods pertly and leaves.

GROCER:

(re:
the omelette)

Come on, live a little. I'm sorry

about the incident yesterday.

MARTIN:

No harm no foul.

GROCER:

A little misunderstanding among my

associates.

Beat.

GROCER:

I told them to kill you and they

didn't.

MARTIN:

Hard to get good help these days.

GROCER:

But since we're both here, I think

it's time to take a fresh look at

our relationship.

MARTIN:

I didn't get into this business to

have "associates." And I don't want

to join your Goddamned union. "Loner--

" "Loner gunman." Get it? "On my

own." That's the whole point. Why

don't you become a cop, or something.

You can drink coffee in the morning...

with friends!

Grocer looks a little hurt.

MARTIN:

(easing up)

Look, this is a one-on-one business...

Every time you get to know people,

bad things happen. If it'll make you

feel any better, this is my last

job. So what do you say we put our

guns away and forget the whole damn

thing.

Grocer loses it.

GROCER:

F*** you! No scabs! From now on,

everything's regulated!

Long beat as Grocer gets a hold of himself.

MARTIN:

No deal.

GROCER:

Fine. But we're not going to let you

do your job. Because we're gonna do

it. And then, after we do your job,

we're gonna do another little job...

MARTIN:

(Wry)

Is that right?

GROCER:

Yeah-- after I shoot you through the

f***ing forehead I'm gonna f*** you

in the bullethole.

MARTIN:

Nice talk, Sugarmouth.

INT. SUITE - BATHROOM - NIGHT

Martin sits at a desk, staring at the reunion card. He tosses

it aside, gets up, and moves in front of a mirror. He wears

a crisp black suit and practices his greeting smile...

MARTIN:

(trying on smile)

Yes, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell

couch insurance. I test-market

positive thinking. I lead a weekend

men's group, actually. We specialize

in ritual killings. I'm hungry, are

you hungry, I'm hungry, oooh, ooh.

(sarcastic)

Hi, I'm Martin Blank, remember me?

I'm not married, I have no kids and

I'd blow your brains out if someone

paid me enough... So how've you been?

Where do you stand on The Issues?

Are you Left? Right? Up, down, proud,

shamed, blahblahblahblah--

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