Midnight Cowboy Page #16

SHIRLEY:

It can end in Y day, pay, lay --

hey, pay lay!

One predatory hand rests on his knee -- as if by accident -

disarranging the sheet, talon nails lightly brushing his

thigh.

JOE:

Cut it out. That's cheating,

teasing me so I can't think.

Just one bitsy Y word and I gonna

beat you!

SHIRLEY:

You gonna beat me, Joe?

JOE:

Beat your butt, you don't lemme

think!

SHIRLEY:

Gay ends in Y. Fey. You like that --

gay fey -- is that your problem?

JOE:

I show you what problem --

But the end of his sentence is swallowed by Shirley, taking

his kiss in her open mouth, crushed by its impact, an animal

noise snarling deep in her throat -- the agonized alley cat

wail of pleasure -- Joe's problem is solved. Joe's love theme

swells triumphant. At the same time, Shirley half-rises,

trying to force Joe's head down, her own on top. The issue is

joined. Shirley has named the game. Her objective is to force

Joe onto his back. Joe's objective is to retain his

initiative. Camera ignores the classic action on the central

front, concentrating exclusively on peripheral tactical

maneuvers...

... Joe's elbows pinning her shoulders...

... her eyes bright, accepting the challenge...

... his tight smile revealing clenched teeth...

... her fingers searching out then tickling his underarm...

... Joe laughing as he falls lopsidedly...

... Shirley laughing triumphantly...

... his hand closing on her wrist...

... her talon-nails clawing the air...

... her toes walking up his calf...

... her legs suddenly locking around his knees...

... her free hand grabbing his hair...

... her shoulder rising as she forces his head back...

... her lips pressing down on his...

... his hand swatting an unidentified mass of flesh...

... her eyes popping, teeth clamping his ear lobe...

... his hand catching her ankle...

... her teeth losing the ear lobe as she screams...

... her foot appearing upside down beside her face...

... her talon-nails furrowing flesh, drawing blood...

... his head rearing back, roaring...

... both rolling to the floor, out of view...

... her feet suddenly flying up into view...

... her hand tugging rhythmically at the blanket...

... her other hand wildly exploring Joe's back...

... her ankles locking spasmodically...

... her eyes and mouth wide, gaping...

... the blanket suddenly ripping free, flying into the air as

her arm flings itself around Joe...

... the bedclothes spilling down around them, muffling her

ascending shrieks.

JOE'S VOICE

Whoopee ti yi yo...

INT. SHIRLEY'S BEDROOM - MORNING

Shirley has difficulty reverting to her nine-to-five role as

a Madison Avenue career girl. Half-dressed for work, she is

talking on the telephone, her eyes on the open door to the

bathroom, through which Joe's voice continues singing.

SHIRLEY:

Well, I really can't talk now, if

you know what I mean, but believe

me when I say, Myra, it's an

experience every emancipated woman

owes herself. I'm not. I'm not

exaggerating. Well, what's Phil's

poker night?

(yells off)

Joe -- are you available next

Thursday, eight-thirty?

INT. SHIRLEY'S BATHROOM - MORNING

Thoroughly shaved, bathed and groomed, Joe is sprinkling an

expensive cologne into his boots. He yells back

enthusiastically.

JOE:

Well, lemme think now, Thursday,

eight-thirty, yeah, I guess I could

be available. Hell, yeah.

INT. SHIRLEY'S BEDROOM - MORNING

Shirley turns back to the phone. Joe appears, grinning.

SHIRLEY:

Why don't you just come here? I'll

be working every night this week.

I'll leave a key with the super...

JOE'S VOICE

Well, ma'am -- Shirley -- I sure

hate to trouble you, but...

Shirley opens her purse, savoring the moment. As she places

the money in Joe's hand...

INT. MEN'S STORE - DAY

... Joe slaps a bill on the counter, admiring a fine new

cowboy shirt in the mirror, wriggling new white socks into

his boots. Suddenly remembering, he goes to the sock rack and

buys two pairs, one large and one small. Gradually

dominating, Joe's love theme recurs, continuing over...

INT. CHAIN DRUG STORE - DAY

... Joe slaps down money to pay for an assortment of

medicine.

INT. CONDEMNED TENEMENT - DAY

Joe takes the stairs two at a time to burst in on...

INT. X FLAT - DAY

... Ratso huddled in the overstuffed chair -- wearing the

stolen sheepskin coat -- wrapped in blankets, his teeth

chattering, in spite of the sweat on his forehead. Joe stops

abruptly, his mood shattered by Ratso's alarming condition.

They simply stare at each other for a moment, then Joe turns

away to see soup heating on the Sterno stove. Joe tosses one

of his paper bags onto Ratso's lap...

JOE:

See what you think of that crap.

I'll pour your soup. Got some of

that junk you like to swill, too.

Mentholatum. Aspirin. All that shee

it...

Ratso opens the paper bag, trying to control his shivering,

pulling out the socks and a suit of long underwear. He sees

Joe watching him for a reaction. The best Ratso can do is a

slight shake of his head.

JOE (CONT'D)

They wrong?

RATSO:

No. But while you was buying the

underwear, I could have lifted the

socks.

JOE:

You couldn't lift fly specks from a

sugar bowl. Can you hold this?

Joe hands Ratso the soup. Ratso seems steadied by the warmth

in his hands. He nods, sipping the soup.

RATSO:

But thanks.

(hesitates, then)

Hey, Joe, don't get sore about this

or anything. You promise?

JOE:

Yeah.

RATSO:

Well, I don't think I can walk.

(embarrassed)

I mean, I been falling down a lot

and, uh...

JOE:

And what?

RATSO:

I'm scared.

JOE:

What of?

RATSO:

What'll happen. I mean what they do

to, you know, do with you -- if you

can't -- ah, Christ!

JOE:

Who?

RATSO:

I don't know. Cops. Or the -- how

should I know?

Ratso is trembling so violently that the sou, starts to slop

over. Joe takes it and sets it on the table.

JOE:

Okay. Here it is. You gonna go see

the doctor. I got nine bucks and

twenty more Thursday and I gonna be

riding high before you know it. So

you gonna get you the best goddam

doctor in this town and get

yourself straightened out, that's

what.

RATSO:

No doctors. No, sir. Not me.

Doctors are like goddam auto

mechanics. Fix one-thing, unplug

another. Operate for piles and

while they're there, they unscrew

your liver. My old man, for God's

sake, wasn't any sicker'n I am when

he went to the doctor.

JOE:

Well, just exactly what the hell

you think you're gonna do? Die on

me?

RATSO:

I'm going to Florida, that's my

only chance.

JOE:

You know what's wrong with you? You

got fevers. You kinky as a bedbug.

How you gonna get to Florida?

RATSO:

I'll find the money. If you just

get me on the bus, that's all I

ask.

JOE:

Just when everything's going my

way, you gotta pull a stunt like

this.

RATSO:

I don't even want you to go.

Whaddya think of that? I got other

plans for my life than dragging

around some dumb cowboy that thinks

he's God's gift to women. One

twenty-buck trick and he's already

the biggest stud in New York City.

It's laughable.

Joe sets his Stetson on his head.

JOE:

When I put you on that bus down to

Florida tonight, that'll be the

happiest day of my life!

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