Midnight Cowboy Page #5

CASS (CONT'D)

Morey? Hi-ee, honey...

Cass gurgles happily as her free hand unbuckles Joe's

garrison belt.

CASS (CONT'D)

I'm just out of breath, honey,

running to catch the phone.

As her fingers reach for Joe's zipper, cut to...

... Joe's hand unzipping her dress.

CASS (CONT'D)

I was walking Baby. Him got to do

him goody-goods, right?

The poodle tugs at Joe's slacks until they fall. Cass steers

her ear to Joe's mouth, shuddering deliciously.

CASS (CONT'D)

Oh God, oh stop. I can't stand

that. I just die...

(quickly into phone)

It's Baby, Morey. Him trying to say

hello. Say hello to Morey, Baby.

Cass holds the phone toward the yapping poodle, twisting

herself against Joe as she wriggles out of her dress, passing

the phone from one hand to the other.

CASS (CONT'D)

Okay, old goosie? Now lookie, when

do you want me to meet you?

Whatever you say. I'll take a nap,

watch TV, you know, kill time.

Okay, but just one, a big wet one.

Cass hangs up. The poodle yaps hysterically, disentangling

himself from her tumbling dress -- hops onto the couch

glances off and flees again as an overturned lamp crashes

O.S.

INT. CASS'S BEDROOM - DAY

The poodle bounces onto the bed -- remaining long enough to

establish a TV REMOTE CONTROL TUNER lying on the satin

coverlet -- then leaps down in panic as he hears Joe and Cass

explode into the bedroom, laughing lustily...

... the remote control tuner buried suddenly under the full

flesh of Cass's hip, activating...

... a twenty-five-inch television screen, blasting at full

volume...

... Cass's eyes widening, profoundly impressed...

CASS:

Ye gods...

... the images and sound of the television set flicking

joyfully from channel to channel...

... Joe laughing, engulfed by Cass's abundance...

... Cass wild-eyed, overflowing the frame...

... a gleaming slot machine -- three Sahara cowgirls clicking

into line for jackpot -- silver dollars overflowing the

frame...

EXT. MANHATTAN SKYLINE - DAY

... the Mutual of New York tower flashes MONY!

JOE'S VOICE

Holy shee-it, this is a goddam

penthouse you got here, Cass, a

real goddam penthouse.

INT. CASS'S BEDROOM - DAY

Joe turns away from a small terrace, buckling his belt,

glancing off toward the sound of Cass in the shower. He

flicks the TV remote control, enjoying his power, ignoring

the silent images on the screen -- battle casualties, a

pretty girl recommending aspirin, a man's stomach flashing

animated pain, starving war refugees, a dog eating pzazz --

flicking it off to concentrate on the costume jewelry and

perfume bottles on Cass's dressing table.

CASS'S VOICE

Don't look, baby...

Joe turns to look as Cass comes from the bathroom, holding a

towel around her as she runs behind the closet door.

JOE:

Say, Cass, I, uh, sure have enjoyed

being here. Believe it's as fine a

time as I've had in my life!

CASS'S VOICE

Me, too, lover.

JOE:

That's good, it is, cause, well I

guess I didn't tell you why I came

to New York, did I?

A tower of black bugle beads emerges from the closet door.

CASS:

Zip this thing, will you, Tex?

Joe zips her dress, follows her to the dressing table, where

she sprays her hair with lacquer.

JOB:

Truth is, Cass, I'm, well, I'm in

business.

CASS:

Oh, poor you. Morey's got terrible

ulcers.

Cass stretches her upper lip across her teeth and she smears

it with, orange lipstick.

JOE:

Don't know what line Morey's in,

but myself now, fact is -- I'm a

hustler.

CASS:

(lips stretched)

Hers'n zodda meg a livig.

JOE:

Beg pardon, ma'am?

CASS:

Said, a person's gotta make a

living.

JOE:

You sure you heard what I said?

CASS:

Scuse me, hon, fraid I'm only half

here. Maybe you oughta run on

along. But why don't you take this

phone number?

Joe grins, relieved as she takes out a gold lame purse and

opens it. He frowns as she folds; it upside down, empty.

CASS (CONT'D)

Darn! I didn't get to the bank --

Tex -- could you let me have a

little coin for the taxi-waxi?

Joe stands mute as she cups his chin in her hand,

seductively.

CASS (CONT'D)

You're such a doll. I hate money,

don't you? God, it's been fun.

JOE:

Funny thing, you mentioning money.

I was just about to ask your for

some...

Joe tries to laugh but it sticks in his throat as Cass speaks

-- an impassioned whisper -- still holding Joe's chin.

CASS:

You bastard! You son of a b*tch!

You think you're dealing with some

old slut? Look at me! You think

just cause you're a longhorn bull

you can get away with this crap?

Well, you're out of your mind. I am

a gorgeous chick, thirty-one,

that's right, you said it!

Sobbing suddenly, she throws herself on the bed. Joe stands

bewildered by the vastness of her grief.

JOE:

Hey. Hey, Cass. Did you think I

meant that? Christ, would I be

asking you for money with a wad

like that riding on my hip?

Joe waves his wallet at her, but she only cries louder. He

hands her a kleenex. She clutches it to her face, wailing.

Joe leans over the bed, whispering in her ear:

JOE (CONT'D)

Hey. You are a gorgeous-looking

piece, Cass. Guy gets horny, just

looking at you. It's a fact. How

much you need for that taxi? Ten?

Twenty? There you go.

Joe tucks a twenty-dollar bill into her bosom, tilts his

Stetson and starts out. Cass blows her nose, looking after

him. O.S. chorus sings, "From this valley they say you are

going -- we will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile..."

EXT. LEXINGTON AVENUE - DAY

From a high angle, Joe walks away from the apartment house,

chorus continuing O.S. "... they say you are taking the

sunshine that brightened our pathway a while."

INT. EVERETT'S BAR - DAY

Joe sits at the bar, staring morosely at his image in the

mirror, already quite drunk, oblivious to the assorted types

hiding from daylight in the barn-like saloon, waiting for

night to fall.

RATSO'S VOICE

Excuse me, I'm just admiring that

colossal shirt...

RATSO studies Joe across the corner of the bar -- a sickly,

child-size old man of twenty-one -- hopefully nursing an

empty beer glass, contemplating the money on the bar in front

of Joe.

RATSO:

That is one hell of a shirt. I bet

you paid a pretty price for it, am

I right?

JOE:

Oh, it ain't cheap. I mean, yeah,

I'd say this was an all right

shirt. Don't like to, uh, you know,

have a lot of cheap stuff on my

back.

Ratso spits as JACKIE leans on the bar next to Joe -- a

feminine young person, heavily made-up, hair teased, wearing

earrings and a lace-trimmed blouse over shocking pink levis.

JACKIE:

Got a cigarette, cowboy?

RATSO:

(a stage whisper)

More goddam faggots in this town.

Reaching for a cigarette, Joe glances at Jackie, startled as

Jackie twitches his pink levis angrily and turns away.

JOE:

Shee-it...

(shakes his head)

Kee-rist, you really know the

ropes. Wish to hell I bumped into

you before. I'm Joe Buck from Texas

and I'm gonna buy you a drink, what

do you say to that?

RATSO:

Enrico Rizzo from the Bronx. Don't

mind if I do.

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