O Brother, Where Art Thou? Page #3

Everett cuts in, his voice breaking:

EVERETT:

NOW HOLD ON, BOYS-AINTCHA EVER HEARD

OF A NEGOTIATION? MAYBE WE CAN TALK

THIS THING OUT!

DELMAR:

Yeah, let's negotiate 'em, Everett.

The hayloft is filling with smoke. Flames lick downstairs.

PETE:

YOU LOUSY YELLA-BELLIED LOW-DOWN

SKUNKS-

EVERETT:

Now hold on, Pete, we gotta speak

with one voice here - CAREFUL WITH

THAT FIRE NOW, BOYS!

Pete grabs a flaming f*ggot and hurls it down at the deputized

congregation.

It lands harmlessly in some scattered straw.

BULLHORN VOICE:

You choose it, boys - the prison

farm or the pearly gates!

The straw curls, lights, and the fire scuttles over to a

parked Black Maria.

With a loud airy WHOOOF! the undercarriage of the police van

pops into flame.

The man with the bullhorn sees it.

MAN WITH BULLHORN

Holy Saint Christopher - OUTA THAT

VEHICLE, CHAMP, SHE'S LICKIN' FAR!

Tommy guns are stored in the back of the van. The drum of

one starts spinning.

Flames lick up the outside of the van as - chinka-chinka-

chinka - bullet holes walk across the body.

MAN WITH BULLHORN

Take cover, boys, THAT AIN'T POPCORN!

Yelling men scurry away.

The vehicle rocks and chatters under the force of the many

tommy guns now firing inside. Tires pop, hiss and settle;

doors pop open; glass shatters.

VOICES:

Who's that?

An oncoming car is bouncing crazily across the yard, horn

blaring. Deputies leap out of its path.

The car shoots past the chattering van which still bucks and

bounces on its shocks, its interior strobing and flashing as

if filled with trapped lightning.

The speeding car heads directly for the flaming barn door

and crashes through in a shower of sparks.

The car brakes inside the barn and the driver's door flies

open. The little Hogwallop boy yells over the roar of the

flames:

BOY:

Come on, boys! I'm gonna R-U-N-N-O-F-

T!

Pete, Everett and Delmar pile in.

DELMAR:

You should be in bed, little fella.

The doors slam shut and the boy grinds into gear. He has

wood blocks strapped to his feet so that he can reach

accelerator, brake and clutch. He sits on a Sears Roebuck

catalogue to give him a view over the dash.

BOY:

You ain't the boss a me!

The car speeds for the far wall, sheeted in flame, and bursts

through.

COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

The little Hogwallop boy walks away in long shot down the

middle of the empty road. His walk is unsteady, the wood

blocks still strapped to his feet.

He turns to face us and hollers:

BOY:

You candy-butted car-thievin' so's

'n so's! I curse yer names!

Pete enters in the foreground and throws a dirt clod at the

boy. It lands shy as Pete yells:

PETE:

Go back home'n mind yer pa!

We pan Pete over to the shoulder where the car is stopped,

its hood propped open. Everett and Delmar are looking at the

engine.

PETE:

What's the damn problem?

DRYGOODS STORE:

The proprietor is a bespectacled middle-aged man wearing

sleeve garters and a visor. Behind him are stacked, among

other necessaries, sacks of O'Daniel Flour. He pushes a small

tin across the counter.

PROPRIETOR:

I can get the part from Bristol;

it'll take two weeks. Here's your

pomade.

Everett is stunned.

EVERETT:

Two weeks! That don't do me no good!

PROPRIETOR:

Nearest Ford auto man's Bristol.

Everett picks up the tin.

EVERETT:

Hold on there - I don't want this

pomade, I want Dapper Dan.

PROPRIETOR:

I don't carry Dapper Dan. I carry

Fop.

EVERETT:

No! I don't want Fop! Goddamnit - I

use Dapper Dan!

PROPRIETOR:

Watch your language, young fellow,

this is a public market. Now, if you

want Dapper Dan I can order it for

you, have it in a couple of weeks.

EVERETT:

Well, ain't this place a geographical

oddity-two weeks from everywhere!

Forget it! Just the dozen hairnets!

PETE AND DELMAR:

On a wooded hillside. They sit at a twig fire, roasting a

small creature on a spit.

EVERETT (O.S.)

It didn't look like a one-horse

town...

He stalks into frame and plops disgustedly down by the fire.

EVERETT:

...but try getting a decent hair

jelly.

DELMAR:

Gopher, Everett?

EVERETT:

And no transmission belt for two

weeks neither.

PETE:

Huh?! They dam that river on the

21st. Today's the 17th!

EVERETT:

Don't I know it.

PETE:

We got but four days to get to that

treasure! After that, it'll be at

the bottom of a lake!

He grimly shakes his head.

PETE:

We ain't gonna make it walkin'.

DELMAR:

Gopher, Everett?

Everett has taken out a can of near-empty Dapper Dan. He

scrapes the last of it onto his comb and starts combing his

hair.

We hear distant singing - one lone tenor voice.

EVERETT:

Well, you're right there, but the

ol' tactician's already got a plan-

Everett fishes a gold watch from his pocket and tosses it to

Pete.

EVERETT:

-for the transportation, that is; I

don't know how I'm gonna keep my

coiffure in order.

Pete looks at the watch, puzzled.

PETE:

How's this a plan? How're we gonna

get a car?

EVERETT:

Sell that. I figured it could only

have painful associations for Wash.

Pete pops the front and reads the inscription.

PETE:

To Washington Bartholomew Hogwallop.

From his loving Cora. Ay-More Fie-

dellis.

EVERETT:

It was in his bureau.

He screws the lid back on the pomade.

Delmar whistles appreciatively.

DELMAR:

You got light fingers, Everett.

Gopher?

PETE:

You mis'able little sneak thief...

He lurches threateningly to his feet.

PETE:

You stole from my kin!

Everett scrambles up.

EVERETT:

Who was fixing to betray us!

PETE:

You didn't know that at the time!

EVERETT:

So I borrowed it till I did know!

PETE:

That don't make no sense!

EVERETT:

Pete, it's a fool looks for logic in

the chambers of the human heart.

What the hell's that singing?

We can make out the words now, sung by the lone tenor.

VOICE:

Oh Brothers, let's go down, come on

down, don't you wanna go down...

People in white robes are drifting down the hill, through

the woods behind the campsite. They join in with the lead

voice:

VOICES:

Oh Brothers, let's go down, down to

the river to pray...

Delmar gazes wonderingly at the white-robed figures as he

answers Everett:

DELMAR:

Appears to be... some kinda... con-

gur-gation. Care for some gopher?

Everett too watches the white-robed people following in the

wake of the tenor. He answers absently:

EVERETT:

No, thank you Delmar - a third of a

gopher would only rouse my appetite

without beddin' her back down.

There are more and more white robes drifting through the

woods, all of them strangely oblivious to the three men.

DELMAR:

You can have the whole thing - me'n

Pete already had one...

There is an endless stream now, drifting through the

foreground, the background, the campsite itself.

VOICES:

Oh, sisters, let's go down, come on

down, don't you want to go down...

DELMAR:

We ran acrost a gopher village...

The drifting worshipers wear beatific expressions. One only,

a middle-aged woman, notices the three convicts around whom

the rest of the flock blindly drifts. She calls to them:

WOMAN:

Come with us, brothers! Join us and

be saved!

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