My Own Private Idaho Page #5

Scott strokes Denise's hair adoringly and gives her a kiss every

now and then.

Mike looks across the table at CARL, a skinny kid with black hair

and a large floppy sports cap, and GARY, who is talking with him.

MIKE'S THOUGHTS

That's Carl. He's always around

the Broadway, he didn't run away

from home like a lot of these kids

did. He had a mom, and no dad, at

least they didn't know where he

was. And one day, he came home to

the apartment where they lived,

and there was no mom anymore

either. He didn't know where she

went. That was sir months ago.

MARY, an older, wiser street prostitute who is chain smoking Kool

cigarettes.

MIKE'S THOUGHTS

That's Mary over there. She was a

mean old chick. She was maybe

thirty now. Old, old. Somebody

once told me that in the past,

Mary had this enemy, a chick that

had turned her in. And Mary had

gone off and kicked this chick to

death right in the street in front

of everybody. I don't know if it's

true, but I watched out, Just in

case. I was afraid of Mary. And

everyone else was too.

Mary takes a drag from her cigarette and blows smoke in Mike's

face.

Scott notices this. But he attends to Denise's problems.

MIKE'S THOUGHTS

(as he coughs)

This was our little round table, a

point around which everything else

revolved. It was our "center." It was

like our home. Our living room. Not

everyone was the best of friends, but

everyone knew everyone else, and we

kind of stuck together.

Mike on the street. He watches as a man carrying a large bag of

tin cans, crosses at a crosswalk. Mike steps up to him and begins

walking. His name is MARTY.

MIKE:

Hey Marty. What's goin' on?

MARTY:

Is that you Mike? Hey, what's new

with you? You look pretty good.

MIKE:

How many you got so far today?

MARTY:

I reckon that I picked up about

twenty-three bucks so far with

these cans, and some I got stashed

back in the bushes. You know the

old hiding place?

MIKE:

Wow!

MARTY:

Don't tell anybody, though. Just

between you and me. You need a

place to stay?

MIKE:

I always need a place to stay,

dude.

MARTY:

Yeah, well, I'm under the bridge.

You can Join me if you like.

MIKE:

Yeah, I think I'll rooftop it

tonight. I'm hanging with a

friend.

MARTY:

Am I walking too fast for you?

MIKE:

No, but I'll see you around. See

you under the bridge.

MARTY:

Okay, Mike.

Mike stops walking with the guy and he splits down the street at

a fast clip.

Inside the BROADWAY CAFE, Mike smokes a cigarette at the round

table and watches Gary and Carl playing keepaway with Denise's

teddy bear. Denise is swearing, using profanities that are

unusual for a girl.

Night. Mike walks through a dark wet troubled inner-city alley

and on the other side, there is a parked car. In the car sits a

man in his 40's, bestial, good looking but overweight. He beeps

his car horn at Mike.

Mike pauses, lights a cigarette coolly and walks to the car and

leans in the window.

MIKE:

Hey - what's up?

Int. MOTEL, nighttime.

The man is naked in the background standing In front of a mirror

in a motel bathroom, as Mike sits naked on a bed in front of a

t.v. set laughing at the show that is on.

We see various still compositions of the two making love.

Afield. Day. Two figures cross the field. One is Bob Pigeon, a

man in his fifties, and the other, his manservant, Budd. Because

of his girth, Bob has problems crossing the field.

BUDD:

Jesus. ..the things we've seen...

do you remember a thing since we

moved from graffiti bridge?

BOB:

No more of that, Budd.

BUDD:

Ha-ha, what a crazy night.

Above the two walking figures, Gary wakes near a heating duct

atop a ten story building. He yawns, looks down at the street and

spies Bob and Budd.

GARY'S VIEW:
a tiny Bob and Budd are making their way across a

field.

GARY:

Hey, Scottie, here comes that fat

pig himself!!! He owes me money!

Scottie, atop an adjacent building peeks his head over the edge.

The two guys are relatively close to one another but far from the

street.

SCOTT:

Who?

GARY:

You know, the fat one... Pigeon!

SCOTT:

He stole my shoes, the dick!

GARY:

Hey, everybody, here comes Bob the

chiseler!

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