His Girl Friday Page #39

BURNS:

Not if he's inside the desk. We'll

carry the desk over.

(into phone)

Give me Duffy!

HILDY:

You can't take that desk out. It's

crawling with cops outside.

BURNS:

We'll lower it out of the window

with pulleys. Quit stallin'.

As Hildy seems abstracted:

BURNS:

Hildy!

HILDY:

(coming to)

Huh!

BURNS:

Get the lead out of your typewriter

and start pounding out a load, will

you? Snap into it!

HILDY:

How much do you want on it?

BURNS:

All the words you've got.

HILDY:

(turning)

Where's some paper?

Goes out of scene.

BURNS:

(into phone)

Hello...! Hello!

SHOT AT DESK:

As Hildy comes in, going to desk, she turns to call back:

HILDY:

Can I call the Mayor a bird of prey --

or is that libelous?

CLOSEUP BURNS AT PHONE

BURNS:

Call him a love-child, if you want

to.

(into phone)

Duffy!

CLOSE SHOT HILDY

Having opened the drawers of Bensinger's desk, she is tossing

play manuscripts, syringes, patent medicines and old socks

into the air, in a frantic search for paper.

HILDY:

(calling to Burns)

How about the time he had his house

painted by the Fire Department?

CLOSE SHOT BURNS

BURNS:

Give him the works.

(into phone)

Hello, Duffy, get set! We've got the

biggest story in the world. Earl

Williams caught by the Morning Post --

exclusive!

TWO SHOT HILDY AND BURNS

Hildy has unearthed a package of Bensinger's private

stationary. She rises with it.

BURNS:

(to Hildy)

Fine!

(into phone)

Now, listen, Duffy -- I want you to

tear out the whole front page...

That's what I said -- the whole front

page! Never mind the European war!

We've got something a whole lot bigger

than that. Hildy Johnson's writing

the lead and I'll phone it over to

you as soon as she's finished.

(he starts to hang

up, then thinks of

something else)

Oh, Duffy! Get hold of Butch O'Connor

and tell him I want him to come up

here with half a dozen other wrestlers --

right away! Tell him we'll run his

picture on the sport page for two

weeks straight. What? I've got a

desk I want moved. Never mind what

desk!

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. STREET NIGHT MED. LONG SHOT

as the taxi darts through traffic, narrowly avoiding cars,

trucks, etc., it comes almost head-on to an oncoming car.

INT. TAXICAB - NIGHT - PROCESS CLOSE SHOT

Louie, worried, ducks unconsciously. Mrs. Baldwin faints

across his lap.

EXT. STREET MED. LONG SHOT

The taxi swerves just in time to duck the oncoming car. As

it starts forward again a truck comes toward the cab, head

on.

INT. TAXICAB - PROCESS CLOSE SHOT

Diamond Louie pushes Mrs. Baldwin into an upright position,

takes a look through the windshield, sees the truck and gives

a big "takem" and faints across Mrs. Baldwin.

EXT. STREET MED. SHOT

The truck and taxicab crash and the screen blacks out.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. PRESS ROOM - NIGHT CLOSE SHOT HILDY

at typewriter, smoke rising from her cigarette. As the CAMERA

ANGLE WIDENS we see a fairly disheveled Hildy typing away

furiously.

BURNS' VOICE

(Into phone)

"The Blackest cesspool in American

city life!" Hold on Duffy, I'll see

if she's got any more.

Burns comes into the scene, tears a page out of Hildy's

typewriter. She inserts another one without noticing.

MED. SHOT

Burns goes back to the phone as Hildy continues to type

furiously.

BURNS:

(into phone)

Duffy -- Duffy!

(clicking the phone

furiously)

Operator! Operator! Get me Duffy

back. Somebody cut us off!

ANOTHER ANGLE FAVORING DOOR

as Bruce Baldwin enters.

BRUCE:

Hildy!

BURNS:

What the devil do you want? Listen,

Bruce, you can't come in here now!

We're busy!

(suddenly, into phone)

Where you been, Duffy? Stick around!

What? What Chinese earthquake? The

deuce with it... what's that?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes