Life Page #15

COOKIE:

I appreciate you going to all this

trouble over my corn bread. I don't

get a lot of compliments in my line

of work.

Cookie shoves Ray back into the ring for more punishment.

Claude emerges from the mess hall, munching on a piece of

corn bread. He squeezes in between Poker Face and Willie.

WILLIE:

Your pal's getting the tar whipped

out of him on your account.

CLAUDE:

How many times I got to tell you? He

ain't my pal. Besides, he looks like

he knows what he's doing.

Just then Claude winces as Goldmouth delivers a jaw-crushing

uppercut that knocks Ray on his back. Claude bristles under

the incriminating looks coming at him from all directions.

CLAUDE:

Alright, alright...

Claude crouches down as Ray rolls over on his stomach and

pushes himself up onto all fours. His eyes are swollen shut,

his face covered with blood.

CLAUDE:

Hey, Ray, I think you made your point,

whatever that is. Maybe now's a good

time to throw in the towel. You know

what I'm saying?

Ray manages a smile and staggers to his feet.

RAY:

(slurring)

Sh*t, Goldmouth. Back in New York, I

know b*tches who hit harder than

you.

Goldmouth pulls back his fist and lets it fly. Ray hurtles

through the crowd, collapsing in the dust. Willie steps in.

WILLIE:

The man's taken enough of a beating.

Let's get him inside.

Cookie, Radio and Poker Face raise Ray to his feet. Goldmouth

slings him over his shoulder and carries him toward the

bunkhouse. Dazed, Ray catches Claude's eye.

RAY:

Got him good, huh, Claude? He won't

be bothering us anytime soon.

A quick elbow jab from Goldmouth and Ray is out for good.

Disgusted with himself, Claude tosses what's left of the

corn bread to the mangy dog, who makes short work of it.

BISCUIT:

(wagging a finger)

Shame, shame, that's your name.

FADE TO BLACK:

INT. MESS HALL -- DAY

On Sundays, the mess hall also serves as a chapel. From a

makeshift pulpit, the blind REVEREND CLAY and his DAUGHTER

lead the congregation of convicts in a rousing chorus of

"Down by the Riverside."

EXT. CAMP 8 YARD -- DAY

The gospel music filters into the yard, where the prisoners

mingle with kinfolk.

EXT. SGT. DILLARD'S HOUSE -- DAY

MRS. DILLARD hums along with the gospel music as she places

a couple of freshly-baked pies on the window sill to cool.

EXT. CAMP 8 YARD -- DAY

The CAMERA FINDS Claude and Daisy walking hand in hand toward

a simple shack just beyond the gun line. This is the TONK

HOUSE and Dillard is the gate keeper.

CLAUDE:

Request permission to go to the tonk,

boss.

Dillard considers Daisy.

DILLARD:

I don't see no wedding ring, Banks.

Conjugal visits are for married

prisoners only.

CLAUDE:

You think you could make an exception

just this once, boss? She came all

the way down from New York.

DILLARD:

I don't need the Baptists on my back,

but I suppose I could issue a

temporary marriage license for a

nominal fee.

Daisy gets the picture. She reaches into her purse and hands

Dillard a couple of dollars.

DILLARD:

I now pronounce you man and wife.

(calling to the shooter

shack)

Claude Banks going to the tonk!

Claude takes Daisy's hand and leads her over the gun line.

ACROSS THE YARD:

Ray watches Claude and Daisy step into the tonk house. Then

he returns to a game of horseshoes, tossing a ringer. Nearby,

Biscuit gives Jangle Leg a haircut.

RAY:

Biscuit, when you're done with Jangle

Leg, you think you could squeeze me

in?

BISCUIT:

Thought you'd never ask. Biscuit

needs some gravy.

RAY:

I'm talking about a haircut.

BISCUIT:

Cost you a pair of nylons.

POKER FACE:

Hey, Ray, Goldmouth don't believe

me. Ain't it so they got trains up

in New York City that run under the

streets?

RAY:

They're called subways. A nickel

will take you from one end of

Manhattan to the other. Helluva ride,

too.

Radio looks up from a vacuum tube receiver he's busy

repairing.

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