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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
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:
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."
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.
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,
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:
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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"Life" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/life_450>.
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