Mumford Page #31

FOLLETT:

What exactly is it supposed to do?

MUMFORD:

You remember when I asked you about

pornography --

FOLLETT:

-- I find it degrading. Maximum

gynecology and minimum turn-on --

MUMFORD:

-- and you told me that. Still,

there's some kind of imagery that's

haunting you and, I think, getting

in your way --

FOLLETT:

-- Which I don't necessarily agree.

MUMFORD:

But you did come to me.

Follett reacts. It's true, even if he keeps forgetting.

MUMFORD:

My guess is these images were burned

into your brain when you were young.

Maybe if we could nail down the exact

fantasies that are haunting you --

maybe you could get past them...

Anyway, I thought we could try an

experiment.

FOLLETT:

(indicating the box)

And the experiment is in here?

Mumford nods, but suddenly looks depressed, distracted.

MUMFORD:

You know what? I think this was a

dumb idea...

He starts to take hold of the box.

MUMFORD:

...I just heard myself talking and I

realize I'm completely unqualified

to be doing this. Let's forget the

whole thing.

Follett grabs the box back.

FOLLETT:

Whoa, whoa, what are you doing? I

want to know what's in here.

MUMFORD:

(pulling on the box)

There's absolutely no reason to think

this is going to have any impact on

you. I'm embarrassed to have --

Follett stands up and grabs the box, taking sole possession.

Loud --

FOLLETT:

Hey! I agree with you that you don't

know what you're talking about. That's

what I've been saying all along. And

I can guarantee you that looking at

the Lost Ark or whatever you got in

here is not going to mean diddly to

me...

(quieting down)

...but if you think I'm going to let

you walk out of here without seeing

what's in this box, you don't know

much about Henry A. Follett.

Mumford gives up. Follett gestures to ask whether it's safe

to put the box on the desk; Mumford reassures him. Now, with

much more anticipation and ceremony than before, Follett

carefully cuts open the package.

THE CONTENTS OF THE BOX is revealed as Follett opens the

flaps. There is an inner, brown paper wrapping upon which

has been set a low-rent catalogue: "METROPOLITAN COLLECTIBLES --

Periodicals, Erotica, Adult Nostalgia." Follett lifts away

the wrapping --

There are perhaps a dozen men's magazines of the late fifties

and early sixties: Nugget, Adam, The Adam Reader, Swank,

Dude. Plus several cartoon collections: Sex to Sexty, Stag

Humor. Plus trashy adult novels of the era, with provocative

illustrations on the covers: Night Call Nurse, The Neighbors

Have No Curtains, Secretarial Sluts, etc. Finally, two video

tapes, both of Russ Meyer films: MUDHONEY and COMMON-LAW

CABIN.

We stay CLOSE ON the contents of the box as Follett's hands

shuffle through it, rapidly flipping through the pages. Very

soft-core by today's standards, the common thread is clear:

voluptuous, heavy-breathing sirens in tight clothes (and out

of them) tempting muscular, he-man drifters or libidinous

businessmen. A world of lusty secretaries, siren babysitters,

and frustrated, neglected wives. In other words, exactly the

erotic ambience of Follett's fantasies.

SLOW TILT UP TO FOLLETT'S FACE. He is transported, mesmerized,

galvanized. In fact, at this moment, as the MUSIC SWELLS, a

tear is rolling down his cheek. He dare not take his eyes

from this Holy Grail to look up at Mumford. The only thing

that could wreck his mood now, is --

YOUNG PHARMACIST (O.S.)

Mr. Follett --

Follett jumps, startled from his revery. As the Young

Pharmacist steps tentatively into the office, Follett jams

everything back into the box as best he can and tries to

cover it.

FOLLETT:

What?! What the hell is so important

I can't have five minutes --?

The Young Pharmacist is cowed and doesn't advance into the

room.

YOUNG PHARMACIST

It's her, sir. You told me to get

you when she came to pick up her

prescription.

It takes Follett a moment to understand, but when he does,

his whole manner changes. He dismisses the Young Pharmacist

with a nod, then gives a quick, self-conscious glance to

Mumford.

FOLLETT:

Uh, sorry, I'm going to have to...

(indicates box)

...I really appreciate what you're

trying to... uh, I can't thank you

enough for...

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