Mumford Page #7

MUMFORD:

Hello, Lionel.

LIONEL:

You've got to have the right ladder

for the job. You don't know what

you're doing, you can get yourself

in trouble.

MUMFORD:

You're right, as usual. See you.

Mumford continues up the street. We STAY WITH Lionel, who

watches Mumford with a sour look, then turns to enter a small

medical building.

INT. DR. DELBANCO'S OFFICE - DAY

DR. ERNEST DELBANCO, a middle-aged psychiatrist with longish,

vanity hair, and PHYLLIS SHEELER, a psychologist in her

thirties, sit on the doctor's comfortable furniture,

listening. The remains of their take-out lunch is on the

coffee table. They seem a little impatient with their as-yet-

unseen visitor --

LIONEL (O.S.)

...completely inappropriate and highly

unprofessional. Now I don't want to

presume to tell you how to run your

businesses --

SHEELER:

-- practices.

Lionel is sitting across the room, making an ardent case --

LIONEL:

-- Whatever. Six months ago, you two

were the only games in town. The

value of your...

(mocking)

..."practices" could be seriously

undermined by this bozo. A town this

size has only so many headcases to

go around.

DELBANCO:

What exactly would you have us do,

Lionel?

LIONEL:

Protect your turf! Check this guy

out. I smell a rat, I tell you.

Delbanco and Sheeler exchange a look; they find Lionel

distasteful.

SHEELER:

Mr. Dillard, I'm sure Dr. Delbanco

shares my gratitude for your concern.

But I also know he'd agree that you

misunderstand the nature of our

calling to mental health. We're not

in some... widget business, trying

to crush our competition.

LIONEL:

What the hell's a widget?

INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE DR. DELBANCO'S OFFICE - DAY

Lionel comes out of the office, miffed, and goes down the

stairs. A moment later, the door opens slightly and Delbanco

peeks out to make sure Lionel is gone. He closes the door on

us.

INT. DR. DELBANCO'S OFFICE - DAY

Delbanco stands at the door looking across the room at

Sheeler.

DELBANCO:

What an a**hole!

SHEELER:

(agrees)

Ernest, what do you think?

DELBANCO:

I think he's got a point.

So does she.

EXT. BASEBALL DIAMOND - DAY

Idyllic. The beautifully manicured field is surrounded by

lush woods. Standing about forty feet apart, Mumford and

Skip are alone on the field throwing a baseball back and

forth. For quite a while the only sounds are the birds, the

wind, and the regular SLAP of ball into glove. Finally --

SKIP:

This is great!

SLAP... SLAP.

SKIP:

This is exactly what I wanted.

SLAP... SLAP.

MUMFORD:

Skip, you must have lots of people

you can throw a ball with.

SKIP:

You'd be surprised. Most guys have

kids or wives or girlfriends. They're

busy. It's not as easy as you think.

MUMFORD:

Skip, you're the head of the whole

deal here. Are they busier than you?

SKIP:

Well, you know... that's the thing.

Like I said, just about everybody in

town works for me. And it's just not

the same asking someone to throw a

ball when they work for you. It's

like an order or something... And no

one -- no one -- asks me.

Mumford considers. SLAP... SLAP... SLAP.

MUMFORD:

So, would you say we're out here...

let me think how to put this... Is

your problem really that you're...

lonely?

SKIP:

Don't you like this?

MUMFORD:

Hell yes, I like it. What's better

than this? Most guys would kill just

to have someone do this with them

whenever they like.

SKIP:

Okay then.

(SLAP... SLAP)

Have you got a lot of friends?

MUMFORD:

("nope")

Lily and I talk a bit. You know Lily,

runs the coffee shop?

SKIP:

No... I've seen her. Good-looking

woman.

MUMFORD:

(agrees)

She's probably ten years older than

you.

SKIP:

(SLAP... SLAP)

Good-looking woman.

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