Out of Sight Page #7

---

She pauses. He turns and looks at her.

GLENN:

Like how?

EXT. OVERPASS - SAME

Foley watches a car pass on the highway.

BUDDY:

You want to take her to my place and

get cleaned up? You come out of the

bathroom with your after-shave on and

she goes, "Oh, I had you all wrong"?

FOLEY:

I want to talk to her again, that's

all. See what would happen under, you

know, normal circumstances.

BUDDY:

You're too late, Jack.

Foley doesn't say anything. Just takes a deep breath as we

HEAR THE CAR START and they both look over...

BUDDY (CONT'D)

He wants to get out of here and I don't

blame him.

They start towards the car. Then stop and watch as it takes

off, tires squealing as the rubber hits pavement. Their backs

to us, they stand there watching the tailights until they're

out of sight down the turnpike, neither of them saying a word.

We hear SQUEAKY FOOTSTEPS OVER...

CUT TO:
A CORRIDOR IN LOMPOC FPC

As Maurice Miller and his "man" -- a big black bulk named HIMEY

-- strut purposefully up the hall. They step into...

THE PRISON LIBRARY

Where Richard Ripley sits at one of the tables reading a big

coffee-table book called "THE WARM WORLD OF TROPICAL FISH."

MAURICE:

Dick. My man.

Ripley looks up as Maurice and Himey come strolling into the

library, sit down on either side of a now very anxious Ripley.

MAURICE (CONT'D)

I got your fishies for you.

He sets a small Ziploc with two tiny fish inside down on the

table.

RIPLEY:

(reaches for them)

Thank you...

MAURICE:

(pulls them back)

Not so fast, Dick.

(off Ripley's look)

Starting now, there's gonna be an across

the board cost a living increase.

RIPLEY:

What?

MAURICE:

Year ago, I come in here on credit

card fraud, but after I shanked that

loudmouth p*ssy on the yard the other

day, my Dunn & Broadstreet, has gone

way the f*** up.

RIPLEY:

I think it's Dunn & Bradstreet. But

then, I could be wrong...

MAURICE:

Whoever. The point is, prices are

goin' up, too. Better get your little

black book out, Richard. We got some

business to talk about.

Ripley sighs, takes out his black book and opens it.

MAURICE (CONT'D)

Let's start with the fish. They was

two grand, but now they's three.

Ripley looks at the two tiny fish in the bag.

MAURICE (CONT'D)

That Bausch & Lomb Saline sh*t you

asked for is gonna be eighty bucks.

RIPLEY:

(writing)

Well, I need that...

MAURICE:

...and that extra pillow's gonna be an

even three c's.

VOICE:

Hey.

They all look to where...

JACK FOLEY:

Sits at the far end of the table, reading a thick manual of

some kind. Himey gives him a mean stare. Foley points to a

sign that says "QUIET PLEASE."

FOLEY:

Sign says "Shut the f*** up." Or can't

you guys read?

MAURICE:

(beat)

There a problem, Foley?

FOLEY:

Yeah.

Foley shuts the big book -- CHILTON'S AUTO REPAIR.

FOLEY:

Yeah, I got a problem. This is the

dumbest f***ing shakedown in the history

of dump shakedowns. Three hundred

bucks for a pillow?

MAURICE:

That's right.

RIPLEY:

Sounds high, doesn't it?

FOLEY:

Must be a real soft pillow.

MAURICE:

Faux goose down.

RIPLEY:

Still...

FOLEY:

How much for your company at chow?

MAURICE:

Company, sh*t. I watch the man's back.

FOLEY:

I bet. How much?

MAURICE:

Another C.

Foley shakes his head, turns to Ripley.

FOLEY:

You're smart, Ripley, you'll tell this

guy to f*** off.

RIPLEY:

Really? Well, I uhhh...

FOLEY:

First of all, if he kills you, he's

not gonna get any more money out of

you.

Ripley looks at Maurice: Good point.

MAURICE:

Man doesn't have to get killed. He

could accidentally fall on something

sharp, like a shiv. Or my dick.

Ripley turns back to Foley now: Also a good point.

FOLEY:

You stick anything in this guy, Snoop,

they transfer his ass outta here

faster'n you can throw a fight, and

you still end up with nothing.

Ripley nods, takes this in.

MAURICE:

This doesn't concern you, Foley. Why

don't you go on out to the yard, have

yourself a smoke?

FOLEY:

I don't smoke.

HIMEY:

(slowly rising)

You heard the man. Go on outta here.

Foley doesn't move, just gives the guy a bored once over.

MAURICE:

Himey here's a pro-toh-jay of mine.

He's ranked number thirty-two in the

federal prison system.

FOLEY:

(looking at Himey)

Thirty-two outta what, twenty?

Himey bulldozes forward, pulling his massive fist back to clock

Foley in the head when...

...in one swift motion Foley brings his book up in one hand,

like he's throwing a pie, and drives the hefty repair manual

into Himey's face, snapping the big guy's head back, sending

his feet flying out from under him so that he hits the floor

back-first with a loud thud.

Maurice goes for Foley who picks up the chair just as we hear A

WHISTLE. They all freeze, look to...

A PRISONER AT ANOTHER TABLE

Who nods towards the door. We PAN OVER just as A GUARD APPEARS,

takes in the scene as a dazed Himey slowly pulls himself up,

covers his now bleeding nose.

GUARD:

What's going on here?

MAURICE:

Oh, you know, reading's funnamental

an' sh*t, we just excited.

GUARD:

Clear outta here.

The guard exits. Maurice and Foley are still staring at each

other.

RIPLEY:

Excuse me. Snoopy? Did we settle the

fish thing?

MAURICE:

(looks at Foley)

Yeah. Sure. It's all settled.

He pours the water out of the bag and drops the fish into

Ripley's open hand. Maurice then squeezes Ripley's hand into a

fist, crushing the fish. He taps his fist to Ripley's.

RIPLEY:

That's how you do it.

Maurice gives Foley a last look, starts out of the room with

Himey. Ripley looks at the crushed fish in his hand, then at

Foley.

RIPLEY:

Thanks for your help.

FOLEY:

Any time.

We hear a PHONE RING and then...

CUT TO:
MAURICE MILLER'S HOUSE - THE BEDROOM - (NOW)

As Maurice lies in bed watching a boxing match on television.

MAURICE:

Stick and jab, fool. Stick and jab.

A frisbee whizzes past the television. We hear A DOG YELP OS.

MAURICE (CONT'D)

Hey! Watch that sh*t!

Maurice's girlfriend MOSELLE - about thirty, sleepy-eyed, in a

green bathrobe - picks the frisbee up off the floor as THE PHONE

RINGS AWAY on the bedside table right next to Maurice.

MOSELLE:

(calls OS)

Tuffy. C'mere, boy...

MAURICE:

You gonna answer the phone?

MOSELLE:

What for? It's not for me.

Maurice watches as Moselle now tries to throw the frisbee to a

little wire-haired terrier, but it just bounces off the dog's

head.

MOSELLE (CONT'D)

Bad dog.

MAURICE:

(scoops up the dog)

Moselle, the f*** are you doing to my

little Tuffy?

He lovingly nuzzles the dog like it's his child.

MOSELLE:

I'm trainin' Tuffy, so he can be on a

Kal Kan commercial, make us some extra

money.

He looks at her.

MAURICE:

That's the dumbest thing I heard in my

life. Everybody knows Kal Kan doesn't

pay for sh*t. You gonna get a gig,

it's gotta be for one of the big three:

Science Diet, Iams or that Cycle sh*t

for the fat dogs. Now answer the f***in

phone.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote