Mumford

EXT. BOARDING HOUSE - DAY

Old three story gothic house in ill-repair beyond a peeling

picket fence and a scruffy yard. The sign says -- ROOMS TO

RENT. The Newcomer goes in the gate.

FOLLETT (V.O.)

...Oh yeah, one other thing I need --

an angle.

He squints through the dirty screen door but sees nothing,

then knocks and turns away to survey the neighborhood.

FOLLETT (V.O.)

I was thinking -- if it weren't for

bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck

at all...

LANDLADY (O.S.)

Can I help you?

The Newcomer turns toward the door. Standing there, holding

the screen open, is the LANDLADY. She's a knockout in a cheap,

small-town way:
a cotton dress that buttons down the front

and clings with sweat to her generous curves.

FOLLETT (V.O.)

Either my luck had just changed, or

Fate just bought me another round of

trouble.

INT. BOARDING HOUSE - DAY

The Newcomer's POV of the Landlady as she leads him up the

narrow, gloomy stairs from the second floor to the third

story / attic. She has a Monroe-like sway to her walk. We

can barely HEAR her DISTANT, ECHOEY DIALOGUE:

LANDLADY:

...not very fancy... house needs

repairs... We haven't had a man around

here for so long...

FOLLETT (V.O.)

She kept yammerin' the whole time,

but her hips were doing all the

talking...

The Landlady reaches the tiny landing at the top of the stairs

and opens a door to a squalid room with a bed, bureau and

tiny window. The Newcomer has to squeeze by her voluptuous

body to get inside and look around. It doesn't take long.

His gaze returns to the Landlady who is leaning against the

door, chest thrust forward. He focusses on her fingers, toying

with the button at her sweat-shiny cleavage.

FOLLETT (V.O.)

It couldn't 'a been any clearer what

the set-up was. The next move was up

to me...

The Newcomer takes a step in the Landlady's direction --

MUMFORD (V.O.)

Don't tell me!

INT. MUMFORD'S OFFICE - (PRESENT) DAY

CLOSE-UP of MUMFORD wincing.

MUMFORD:

(softer)

-- That's all the time we have.

Sorry...

(indicates his watch)

...next time.

We see Mumford's office: the office of a Psychologist, a

therapist with a doctorate. It's modest, comfortable, neat,

with a calm, relaxed ambience. [The movie is now in COLOR.]

His patient, HENRY FOLLETT, looks nothing like The Newcomer

in the soft-core fantasy he's been narrating. Instead, he's

a mild-looking pharmacist with glasses and a receding

hairline. Only the voice is the same; it's as studly as his

fantasy alter-ego. Follett has been lying on a couch, but

now has twisted with some irritation to look at Mumford.

FOLLETT:

I have eighteen more minutes!

MUMFORD:

I don't want to hear any more today.

FOLLETT:

Why not?

MUMFORD:

Mr. Follett, do you trust me or don't

you?

FOLLETT:

Well, I don't know... I only been

seeing you --

MUMFORD:

Without trust, there's no point to

any of this. You might as well not

come.

FOLLETT:

Now hold on, I didn't say I didn't

want to come --

MUMFORD:

Good, then go.

INT. LILY'S CAFÉ- DAY

Lunch crowd. Mumford can be seen out the big front window,

crossing from the two-story building that houses his office

on the main drag of this small town which, oddly enough, is

also called Mumford. He comes inside and goes to the counter

to pick up some take-out. The Proprietor is a woman around

forty named LILY, who talks to him as she works.

LILY:

You're early... it's not ready. What

happened?

MUMFORD:

My patient had to leave early.

LILY:

Who was that?

She comes over to the register with an order. Mumford is

am[...] her, likes her a lot.

MUMFORD:

Does the phrase "nosy" have any

meaning to you, Lily?

LILY:

I think it's like... inquisitive.

MUMFORD:

It was Henry Follett.

LILY:

(reacts)

Man, you see him a lot. And it's

very wrong to reveal it. Next you'll

be saying what his problem is.

MUMFORD:

What do you want to know?

LILY:

You're terrible. I'm never telling

you anything.

A Patron passes on the way out.

PATRON:

Hey, Doc... how's it going?

MUMFORD:

Fine, Vincent... how's yourself?

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