Peggy Sue Got Married Page #11

Peggy realizes she's blown it. Charlie isn't ready for this.

PEGGY:

This is a mistake. We better

forget it.

CHARLIE:

You're damn right! Jesus! Peggy!

You sure know how to spoil a mood.

Charlie straightens himself up, starts the car and burns out.

EXT. KELCHER HOUSE — NIGHT

Charlie drops her off.

PEGGY:

I'm sorry Charlie.

CHARLIE:

Save it.

Peggy watches him go. Looking at her darkened house, she

turns and walks down the street.

EXT. STREET — SHOWER'S CAFE

Peggy peeks in the window. The kids from the party are eating

and laughing. Rosalie Testa is dancing. Shaken by Rosalie,

she turns away. In the distance she SEES the lights of:

ART'S DONUT HOLE. OPEN 24 HOURS.

INT. ART'S DONUT HOLE

A few people linger over coffee. The waitress serving them is

Monica (the same but younger woman from LOVIN' OVEN).

In a corner, Michael Fitzsimmons, in a red leather jacket,

sits alone, reading. He looks up to check on his motorcycle

parked outside. He's splendid in his isolation.

Peggy enters, taking a seat at the counter, startled to see

Monica, who doesn't know her.

MONICA:

What would you like?

PEGGY:

Monica? Aren't you Monica Hines?

MONICA:

Yes. Who are you?

PEGGY:

Ah... never mind. Can I have a

coffee, please? And a cinnamon

cruller.

(sotto)

How's Bobo?

Peggy notices Michael staring at her. Peggy smiles, Michael

doesn't. Monica brings Peggy her coffee and donut.

MONICA:

Twenty cents, please.

PEGGY:

You're kidding?

Picking up her donut and coffee, she walks over to Michael's

table and sits opposite him.

PEGGY:

I was impressed with what you said

in English class today.

MICHAEL:

Gilfond's okay, except he thinks

Hemingway's great Literature.

PEGGY:

You don't?

MICHAEL:

(contemptuously)

He's a fisherman! The most

overrated writer of the century. I

mean, he's the perfect American

author — fat, violent, drunk...

PEGGY:

Maybe you're confusing his life

with his work.

MICHAEL:

A writer's life is his work. Jack

Kerouac doesn't have to kill a bull

to have something to write about.

He's out there feeling, burning...

grooving on life!

Michael leans back in his chair. He's said his piece. Peggy

studies him for a beat.

PEGGY:

The young man leaned back in his

chair. No bulls would die today.

MICHAEL:

What're you doing here anyway?

PEGGY:

Coffee and a donut.

MICHAEL:

I thought chicks like you traveled

in packs.

PEGGY:

Hey, man, I'm a hip chick.

EXT. ART'S DONUT HOLE

Long shot of the brightly lit donut shop. Michael and Peggy

are clearly visible.

INT. CAR

Dolores and Terry are driving by.

DOLORES:

Terry, slow down.

TERRY:

Okay.

DOLORES:

Terry! Slow down.

TERRY:

What, why?

EXT. ART'S DONUT HOLE — DOLORES'S POV:

Peggy and Michael leave the donut shop, get on Michael's

motorcycle.

DOLORES:

There's Peggy with Michael

Fitzsimmons.

TERRY:

That commie beatnik? What's she

doing with him? Wait'll I tell

Charlie.

DOLORES:

First a nerd and then a weirdo.

What a bunch of nose pickers. I'll

tell Charlie.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT — DRIVING

Peggy on Michael's bike, clasped around him. Her eyes closed,

enjoying the wind blowing in her hair. They head out of town.

EXT. GAS STATION

Michael pumps gas. Peggy walks to the washrooms. Looking

around she waits a beat, then enters the men's.

INT. MEN'S WASHROOM

With all the aplomb of a divorcee, Peggy takes a quarter and

deposits it in a condom machine. She puts the packet in her

skirt pocket, pulls out the joints and stares at them for a

beat. She checks her hair in the mirror and exits.

EXT. GAS STATION

Michael pumps air into the tires, bunched against a building.

Peggy approaches him, holding up a joint, smiling

conspiratorially. She lights it, inhales deeply, then passes

it to him. He smiles back at her, a bit surprised, but still

takes the joint and inhales.

EXT. MOUNTAIN ROAD

They drive up to a mountain top, Peggy wearing the leather

jacket. She directs Michael with one arm.

The motorcycle is parked. Peggy and Michael lie on the grass,

staring down at the town lights below. Michael inhales the

joint, then passes it to Peggy.

MICHAEL:

This is great reefer.

PEGGY:

Yeah. I'm surprised. It's really

old... (inhales) Travels well

though.

(beat)

You know, the world looks a lot

better from up here.

MICHAEL:

The world is fantastic. It's the

ultimate absurd circus. I am shot

from a cannon into the energy.

PEGGY:

What are you shooting for?

MICHAEL:

Maximum intensity. Yeah. I can't

wait to get out of here. I'm gonna

write. I'm gonna check out of this

bourgeois motel. Push myself away

from the dinner table and say 'No

more Jell—O for me, Mom.'

PEGGY:

Don't you get along with your

parents?

MICHAEL:

The only thing my father digs is

cold, green money. All my mother

cares about is her standing at the

country club.

PEGGY:

They care about you. They're just a

different generation.

MICHAEL:

Hey what's with you? I thought you

were cool. You rode my bike. You

blew some pot.

(beat)

What's your scene Miss Majorette?

You gonna marry Mr. Blue Impala and

graze around with all the other

sheep for the rest of your life?

PEGGY:

I already did that. I want to be a

dancer, I want to dance.

Peggy takes off her sweater, kicks off her shoes and begins

to dance. Her eyes are closed, her body silhouetted by the

moon. Michael is transfixed. After a few beats, he walks over

to her. He stretches out his arms and places them around her

neck. They sway together for several beats, their bodies

touching. Peggy opens her eyes and sees Michael gazing at her

tenderly.

MICHAEL:

You know, I had you pegged all

wrong.

Michael kisses Peggy. She responds passionately.

MICHAEL:

A ray of oneness piercing the

solitude. Falling bodies in the

ecstasy of flesh. You'll be a

chapter in my memoirs of desire.

PEGGY:

Is that one of your poems?

MICHAEL:

No, I just made that up. Do

you want to hear one?

PEGGY:

I'd love to.

MICHAEL:

(eyes ablaze)

Okay. Here's a new one. It's called

Tenderness.

(beat)

I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd

scream

Betrayed by a kiss, sucking pods of

bitterness.

In the madhouse of Dr. Dread

Razor shreds of rat puke fall

On my bare arms

(sees Peggy grimace; he

calms down)

I'm sorry. I guess I was trying to

impress you.

(kisses her)

Peggy is falling for it. He fumbles with her bra straps.

PEGGY:

Michael... you're as good as you

looked.

His other hand reaches to undo her skirt.

MICHAEL:

I'll respect you for eternity.

(reciting tenderly)

'When you are old and gray, and

full of sleep, And nodding by the

fire, Take down this book, and

slowly read, And dream of the soft

look your eyes had once."

(beat)

I didn't write that. That's Yeats.

Peggy is moved by the beauty of the poem. She sits up, leans

over Michael, runs her hand through his hair, almost

motherly.

PEGGY:

I envy you. You have your whole

life ahead of you and you know

exactly what you want to do.

(beat)

But forget the rat puke; write

something beautiful.

Peggy lies back down on the ground. Michael takes her hand

and kisses it.

PEGGY:

You know, this isn't really

happening.

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