Grosse Pointe Blank Page #2

MARTIN:

Tell me about it.

Club Member #1 turns to Martin.

CLUB MEMBER #1

P.P.P. Personal Pan Power. All the

secrets of your universe are divided

up into eight easily digestible

slices.

Club Member #1 pulls a laminated card from his wallet and

hands it over to Martin. In the distance, sirens begin to

wail.

CLUB MEMBER #1

See, see. It's in the accessible and

everyday shape of a pan pizza. Each

day you have a little slice of

peace...

INSERT - WALLET-SIZE P.P.P. CARD

A pizza-shaped diagram showing six "sections".

MARTIN:

Oh I see. You got your individual

slices of hope, dignity, confidence,

self-love, justice, and harmony.

CLUB MEMBER #1

You open 'em up and there's the

sayings, stories, little bites of

insight. It's the P.P.P. Six Day

Week.

MARTIN:

So you eat-- read it everyday?

CLUB MEMBER #1

Yes.

MARTIN:

And these pan pizzas have opened up

the doors to heaven?

CLUB MEMBER #1

Correct.

(re:
the card)

That's for you. Keep it.

Sirens are getting louder, closer to the club.

EXT. COUNTRY CLUB - DAY

The source of the sirens are almost upon us. Martin walks

toward his rented Town Car as the VALET pulls it up. He meets

the Valet by the trunk, where he trades tip for keys.

MARTIN AT CAR:

He fishes out the laminated "Personal

Pan Power" card, looks at it, and

tosses it onto the ground. Police

cars, now visible in the distance,

wind into the long club driveway.

Martin gets into his car and pulls

away.

LAMINATED CARD:

As it lays on the asphalt. The wheel of a police car rolls

to a stop on it.

INT. AIRLINER - DAY

Martin sits in a first class seat, the tray table flipped

down. On the left side of the tray is a stack of magazines

of all kinds - Sports Illustrated, Mademoiselle, Wired,

Rolling Stone, National Review, Spin, National Geographic,

and on. He draws one off the top, and flips through it,

impassively taking in images and reading nothing. When he is

done with one, he discards it into the empty seat next to

him and draws another-- Martin's way of instantly and

massively uploading the world around him:

Toothless hockey player in triumph, Sony product parade,

crouched starving child with vulture in the background,

supermodel in suede, Tic Tacs, living former Presidents, arm

in arm, smiling, etc.

INT. HIRED CAR, NEW YORK - DAY

The livery weaves out of the arrival lanes at Kennedy airport.

Martin reclines in the back seat, a conversation having

already begun.

DRIVER:

How was your day, today, sir?

MARTIN:

Effective. But to tell you the truth,

I've lost my passion for work.

DRIVER:

Do you like the people you work with?

MARTIN:

I work alone.

DRIVER:

That's it then. That's it. I've always

been alone. That's why I'm a good

driver. I can handle it. See, I can

think on my feet. I survive, I'm a

thinker. And I can sit there in front

of your house for two hours and it

don't bother me. Some people can't

do it! Some people are ranting and

raving, "Tell them f***in' people to

get out here and get in this car, I

can't-- I want a go!" Where you gonna

go? You're gonna wind up back in

your garage at seven o'clock at night.

You ain't going nowhere. You leave

your house in the morning you get

back to your house in the evening.

What's the big deal, right?

MARTIN:

You understand the psychology of the

job.

DRIVER:

I do. Some guys can't adjust to it;

they can't handle it.

INT. CAR - MANHATTAN STREETS - LATER

The car cuts through the upper east side. Martin and the

Driver exchange looks through the rear-view mirror.

DRIVER:

You look like you're far away. Far

away and thinking about other things.

I'm right about that, aren't I?

MARTIN:

No.

DRIVER:

Well, let's just say that sometimes

I'm right. Sometimes you are.

MARTIN:

Sometimes I am. Sometimes. It's only

natural.

DRIVER:

(laughs to himself at

this great truth)

It's only natural....

The Driver pauses for dramatic emphasis

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