Midnight Cowboy Page #18

Joe's voice is angry.

JOE:

Listen, I gotta have money.

TOWNY:

Oh. Yes. Of course. I should have

thought. You shouldn't have to ask.

That was thoughtless of me. Yes.

Wait here...

Towny hurries across the room to the bedside table. Beside

the telephone is a picture of a prosperous pioneer woman

wearing a hearing-aid.

Towny tries to conceal his movements as he takes a wallet

from the drawer, lifts out a bill and tucks the wallet back

and turns -- terrified to see Joe close behind him -- almost

knocking the lamp off the table in his fright. Pressed

against the table, protecting but calling attention to his

wallet, Towny holds out the bill.

TOWNY (CONT'D)

Here. Don't even thank me.

JOE:

(takes the bill)

I gotta have more'n ten. I gotta

have fifty-seven dollars.

TOWNY:

I simply don't have it, Joe.

JOE:

Get outta my way.

TOWNY:

You're wasting your time. There's

nothing in there.

Towny clutches the table, staring at Joe, shaking his head

like a bad little boy. Joe backhands him angrily. Trying to

duck the blow, Towny stumbles and slips to the floor, but

grabs the table in his arms, watching Joe out of the corner

of his eyes, whimpering. Joe grabs his hair, turning his face

up.

JOE:

Let go. Let go of the table.

Joe slaps him, but Towny clings more fiercely to the table as

Joe tries to jerk it free. Joe strikes him with his fist.

TOWNY:

I deserved that, I know I did.

But he clutches the table wildly. His mother's picture falls

unnoticed. Joe stands in panic, sickened, unable to fulfill

the role Towny has assigned him.

TOWNY (CONT'D)

I brought this on myself. I'm

bleeding, my nose is bleeding,

isn't it?

Towny's eyes shine, teeth clenched in a crazy smile, blood

trickling from his nose. Suddenly Joe jerks the lamp free of

its socket.

JOE:

You wanna gimme fifty-seven dollars

or you wanna busted skull?

Towny simply stares at the lamp.

JOE (CONT'D)

Please let go of that table.

Joe threatens, swings the lamp down, but stops short of

hitting Towny. Towny shrieks -- eyes rolling back as he falls

limp -- loosing his grip on the table, leaning on the bed,

laughing and crying hysterically. Joe has to step over him to

reach the wallet in the drawer. He takes all the money --

probably twice what he needs -- desperate to get out of the

room.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS TERMINAL - DAY

Joe carries Ratso up the steps onto the bus.

INT. TOWNY'S BEDROOM-SITTING ROOM - NIGHT

Towny's shrill little whisper says...

TOWNY:

Thank you, Joe.

... provoking Joe to glance back. Towny is reaching for the

telephone, his eyes on Joe with wild brightness, holding his

hand on the receiver. Joe knocks the phone from his hand,

hits Towny in the mouth, jerks the cord from the wall as

Towny falls -- gagging -- finally dislodging his dentures on

the carpet. Joe stands sick and confused, holding the useless

phone in two hands...

EXT. GREYHOUND BUS TERMINAL - DAY

The bus driver revs the powerful engine, shifting gears.

INT. TOWNY'S BEDROOM-SITTING ROOM - NIGHT

... Joe is about to hang the dead receiver on its hook when

on sudden impulse -- he shoves the small end of the receiver

into the toothless mouth of the man on the floor.

EXT. LINCOLN TUNNEL - DAY

The bus roars into the tunnel.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS - DAY

Joe and Ratso sit near the rear of the bus. Ratso's teeth

chatter, wrapped in the blanket.

RATSO:

Thirty-one hours.

They ride a few moments in silence.

RATSO (CONT'D)

The trip is. Nine-thirty in the

morning we get there. Not this

morning but the next one at nine

thirty.

Both nod for a moment in silence.

JOE:

These guys're good drivers.

RATSO:

They gotta be.

JOE:

Yeah.

EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY

The bus tires sing as it speeds South.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS - DAY

Joe and Ratso have reversed places, putting Ratso by the

window. Joe watches a middle-aged couple try on their new

straw hats, unaware that Joe is watching them.

RATSO:

You get your first palm tree in

South Carolina.

JOE:

How'n hell a dumb Bronx kid like

you know that?

RATSO:

I read it.

JOE:

Shee-it. You believe all you read?

EXT. BRIDGE - NIGHT

The metal grating rings as the bus soars onto it.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS - NIGHT

Two aging young ladies in brand-new resort wear are casually

examining Joe, along with the other men on the bus, but Joe

is frowning at Ratso, who shivers despite the bright sun.

JOE:

If you have to shiver, why don't

you pull the blanket up more?

RATSO:

I been thinking. I hope we're not

gonna have a lotta trouble about my

name down there. Because like

what's the whole point of this trip

anyway?

JOE:

Keep the goddam blanket on.

RATSO:

I mean New York's one thing, but

can you see this guy, imagine it,

running around the goddam beach all

suntan and he's going in swimming,

like, and then somebody yells 'Hey,

Ratso' -- how does that sound to

you?

JOE:

Sounds like they knew you.

RATSO:

Sounds like crap, admit it. And I'm

not gonna have it. I'm Rico all the

time, okay, do you blame me? That's

agreed, okay? We're gonna tell all

these new people my name's Rico?

Joe nods. Ratso closes his eyes, momentarily at peace.

EXT. HIGHWAY - DAWN

The bus passes a Florida hotel sign too swiftly to read it.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS - DAWN

Joe frowns in his sleep, awakens, lifts his Stetson to see

Ratso wide awake, in misery, wiping tears from his eyes.

JOE:

Hey -- whatsa matter?

RATSO:

(barely audible)

I'm wet.

JOE:

You're what?

RATSO:

I wet my pants! My seat's all wet.

JOE:

Hell, don't cry about it!

RATSO:

Here I am going to Florida and my

leg hurts, my butt hurts, my chest

hurts, my face hurts, and like that

ain't enough, I gotta pee all over

myself.

Joe laughs suddenly, uncontrollably.

RATSO (CONT'D)

I'm falling apart, that's funny?

JOE:

(nods, laughing)

You just -- just -- what happened,

you just had a little rest stop

wasn't on the schedule.

Ratso begins to laugh with Joe as if it were the funniest

thing they'd ever heard. Then Ratso's face pales as he starts

to choke and cough. Joe pats him on the back.

JOE (CONT'D)

Hey, what size pants you wear?

EXT. SMALL TOWN STREET - DAY

The bus is parked in the distance. Joe comes from a clothing

store, bare-headed, wearing plain slacks and sport-shirt. He

carries the boots, Stetson and cowboy suit in one hand, a

bundle under his arm. He dumps his cowboy regalia in the

trash bin of a sandwich stand and calls to the WAITRESS.

JOE:

Couple crullers'n coffee to go.

The Waitress draws coffee, wraps crullers.

WAITRESS:

Where you from?

JOE:

New York.

Joe pays. She smiles, gives him change. Joe smiles, starts on

toward the bus, hardly aware that he has accomplished

something rare and remarkable for Joe -- a simple human

contact without fear or threat, a pleasant everyday

happening.

INT. GREYHOUND BUS - DAY

Joe and Ratso have moved to the seat farthest back, wider

than the others. Joe blocks the view of the other passengers

as he helps Ratso into a new pair of corduroy pants and a

Florida shirt. In the middle of the operation, Ratso dozes

off. Joe shakes his head, scowling, annoyed, but continues,

lifting Ratso enough to slide the pants around his waist.

Ratso awakens as Joe zips the fly.

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