O Brother, Where Art Thou? Page #6

DELMAR:

Well now, that's where we cain't

help ya. I don't believe it's in

Mississippi.

The man stops withdrawing the gun and appraises his

passengers. Delmar reacts to the paper currency fluttering

inside the car:

DELMAR:

Friend, some of your folding money

has come unstowed.

DRIVER:

Just stuff it down that sack there.

You boys aren't badmen, I take it?

DELMAR:

Well, funny you should ask-I was

bad, till yesterday, but me'n Pete

here been saved. My name's Delmar,

and that there's Everett.

DRIVER:

George Nelson. It's a pleasure.

He opens his door and steps onto the running board, giving

Everett a casual:

NELSON:

Grab the tiller, will ya buddy?

Everett slides over, startled. George Nelson, now fully

outside and facing the pursuit vehicles, has one hand clamped

on the car roof and waves to Delmar with the other.

NELSON:

Hand up that Thompson, Jack.

Delmar gropes in the footwell.

DELMAR:

Say, what line of work are you in,

George?

EXT. CAR

Nelson sends a spray of bullets back at the pursuit car.

NELSON:

COME AND GET ME, COPPERS! YOU

FLATFOOTED LAMEBRAINED SOFT-ASSED

SONOFABITCHES! NO ONE CAN CATCH ME!

I'M GEORGE NELSON! I'M BIGGER THAN

ANY JOHN LAW EVER LIVED! HA-HA-HA-HA-

HA! I'M TEN-AND-A-HALF FEET TALL AND

AIN'T YET FULLY GROWED!

Nelson fires wildly as the pursuit cars gain on him, returning

fire. He suddenly notices a herd of cattle grazing at the

roadside and murmurs:

NELSON:

...cows...

He swings the tommy gun over with a whoop.

NELSON:

I hate cows worse than coppers!

He lets loose a spray. One of the cows drops and the rest

stampede toward the road.

DELMAR:

Aww, George, not the livestock.

Energized, Nelson resumes bellowing:

NELSON:

HA-HA! COME ON YOU MISERABLE SALARIED

SONSABITCHES! COME AND GET ME!

In bovine ignorance of the conventions of high-speed police

pursuit, some of the cows have wandered up onto the road.

The lead police car broadsides one. George Nelson, cackling

wildly, fires into the air as his car recedes.

SMALL TOWN:

The car is speeding into town, dodging and weaving through

light traffic as George fires into the air - perhaps a means

of clearing a path, perhaps an expression of high spirits.

The car screeches to a halt and George hops out, and the

three convicts emerge to follow him.

NELSON:

COME ON BOYS! WE'RE GOIN' FOR THE

RECORD-THREE BANKS IN TWO HOURS!

Jowls shaking in a full run, George Nelson bursts through

the door of the bank, followed by the three men.

He fires into the ceiling and leaps up onto a table.

NELSON:

OKAY FOLKS! HOLD THE APPLAUSE AND

DROP YER DRAWERS - I'M GEORGE NELSON

AND I'M HERE TO SACK THE CITY A ITTA

BENA!

He leaps down, fires into the air again, and sweeps a young

woman standing in line into a full V-J dip, kissing her on

the lips.

Delmar nudges Everett.

DELMAR:

He's a live wire though, ain't he?

NELSON:

Thanky dear! All the money in the

bag, and you can tell your grandkids

you were done by the best! I'M GEORGE

NELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!

He winks at the three men who obediently wait.

NELSON:

It's a kick and a quarter, ain't it

boys?

Distant sirens again.

EVERETT:

Pardon me, George, but have you got

a plan for gettin' outa here?

NELSON:

Sure boys, here's m'plan!

He whips open his suitcoat to reveal a half-dozen sticks of

dynamite.

NELSON:

They ain't never seen ordnance like

this! WELL, THANK YOU, FOLKS, AND

REMEMBER:
JESUS SAVES, BUT GEORGE

NELSON WITHDRAWS! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-

HA! GO FETCH THE AUTO-VOITURE, PETE!

He sends a burst into the ceiling, and heads for the door as

customers murmur.

VOICE:

...it's Babyface Nelson...

George whirls.

NELSON:

WHO SAID THAT?!

The customers stare mutely back.

NELSON:

WHAT IGNORANT LOWDOWN SLANDERIZING

SONOFABITCH SAID THAT?! MY NAME IS

GEORGE NELSON, GET ME?!

The customers shuffle their feet and glance uncomfortably

about. Delmar lays a hand on George's shoulder and tries to

steer him toward the door.

DELMAR:

They didn't mean anything by it,

George.

NELSON:

GEORGE NELSON! NOT BABYFACE! YOU

REMEMBER AND YOU TELL YOUR FRIENDS!

I'M GEORGE NELSON, BORN TO RAISE

HELL!

OUTSIDE THE BANK

The siren grows louder as the four men emerge.

EVERETT:

You gotta be a little tolerant,

George; all these poor folk know is

the legend. Hell, they can't be

expected to appreciate the complex

individual underneath-

NELSON:

Aww, I'm all right-

He shrugs off Everett's hand and lights the fuse on a stick

of dynamite.

NELSON:

This'll put me right back on top!

The car squeals up and, as sirens approach once again, the

three men pile in.

NELSON:

OR-VOIR, ITTA BENA! GEORGE NELSON

THANKS YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

As the car peels out - KA-BOOM! - the dynamite blows a crater

in the street behind.

CAMPFIRE:

It is night.

George Nelson, now strangely quiet, holds a coffee cup and

stares gloomily into the fire.

After a long beat, Delmar, also staring into the fire, slaps

one knee and ejaculates:

DELMAR:

Damn but that was some fun though,

won it George?!

George responds, barely audible and without brightening:

GEORGE:

...yeah...

Everett and Pete exchange significant looks. Delmar, however,

is less sensitive to the Babyface's mood.

DELMAR:

Almost makes me wish I hadn't been

saved! Jackin' up banks - I can see

how a fella could derive a lot a

pleasure and satisfaction out of it!

GEORGE:

...it's okay...

DELMAR:

Whoa doggies!

At length George swishes the coffee around his cup, shrugs,

tosses the coffee and rises.

GEORGE:

...Well, I'm takin' off.

He digs into a pocket and tosses his car keys to a dumbfounded

Delmar.

GEORGE:

You boys can have the automobile.

Glassy-eyed, he continues to dig in his pockets and lets his

money fall to the ground.

GEORGE:

'N might as well take my share a the

riches.

DELMAR:

What the - where you goin', George?

George has turned woodenly and walks away, leaving the

campfire's flickering circle of light.

GEORGE:

...I dunno... who cares...

Delmar stares at Everett, who looks appraisingly at George's

retreating back. Pete scrambles to pick up the loose money.

DELMAR:

Now wuddya suppose is eatin' George?

EVERETT:

Well ya know, Delmar, they say that

with a thrill-seekin' personality,

what goes up must come down. Top of

the world one minute, haunted by

megrims the next. Yep, it's like our

friend George is a alley cat and his

own damn humors're swingin' him by

the tail. But don't worry, Delmar;

he'll be back on top again. I don't

think we've heard the last of George

Nelson.

Delmar, gazing out at the blackness that has closed over

George Nelson, hasn't really been listening. He turns sadly

back.

DELMAR:

Damn! I liked George.

A FIELD:

A ploughing farmer has paused to look for the source of

distant string-band music, growing closer. There is also an

approaching amplified voice:

VOICE:

Don't be saps for Pappy; vote for

Stokes and responsible gummint!

A stakebed truck approaches along the road bordering the

field. It is festooned with Stokes banners showing the

candidate holding high a broom. Pickers perform in the bed

of the truck, along with a dancer doing a two-step as he

pushes a broom. A midget in overalls waves his arms, as if

conducting the music.

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