Petulia Page #10

59 INT. ARCHIE ‘S APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY–DAY

Archie has had a pretty good day with the boys, is thinking about Petulia waiting in his apartment, and feels pretty damn good about the whole thing. He opens the door of his apartment. He is carrying a bag of Mexican paper flowers.

60 INT. APARTMENT

It is empty. Archie knows at once that Petulia is gone. All the joy goes out of him. The apartment is a mess. The television set is on: a program without sound of soldiers fighting. Archie is so disappointed that Petulia isn't here. He angrily flips the dial getting the same type of program.

ARCHIE:
A nice, neat kid.

After all the exuberance he feels so empty. Everywhere things are scattered about.

61 INT. BEDROOM

The bedroom is the worst of all. The sheets and blanket have literally been stripped from the bed and flung pall mall onto the floor behind. Archie really is annoyed. Then he stops, he crosses slowly to the tangle of sheets and blanket on the floor. A lifeless arm protrudes. Archie crumples to his knees and tears at the blankets. Petulia is broken, bloodied and seemingly dead.

The phone is off the hook. Archie doesn't know where to turn first. He feels Petulia's throat for a pulse, isn't sure she has one. Petulia is wearing his hooded sweatshirt from Sc. 23.

Archie attempts heart massage, but Petulia's so taped up from the broken rib that this is impossible. Archie presses his mouth over Petulia's to attempt to get her breathing again. He tries this only for an instant, then crosses to the phone, hangs it up and dials an emergency number. Archie goes back to Petulia. He feels again for a pulse in her throat, can find no pulse. He begins trembling. As always when a crisis really happens, it isn't as easy as the Red Cross advertisements say. Her mouth won't open right. His mouth seems unable to make the connection with hers. It all looks more like very bad love-making than a life-saving procedure.

62 INT./EXT. HALLWAY & STEPS OUTSIDE ARCHIE'S APARTMENT

Two special officers are moving Petulia down a hallway on a stretcher. A third walks behind her pressing a rubber oxygen mask over her mouth. We feel Sunday late afternoon rudely shattered, but limping along nevertheless. Television, cokes, sex, stereo, facials, isometric exercises, funny-papers, ailments; boring endless Sunday late afternoon—suddenly bloodied. Doors are opening up and down the hallway. People come out to stare. A big friendly old sheepdog wild with enthusiasm, leaps at the stretcher and almost topples Petulia. Archie, smeared with Petulia's blood, his shirt-tails out, in a state of shock himself, whams the dog as hard as he can. This entire sequence should seem like a nightmare. The dog's owner goes berserk.

DOG'S

OWNER:
Don't you hit Lennie!

Archie is too distressed about Petulia to even respond. At every door there is a tenant. A jumble of voices all spoken together.

1ST TENANT:
That's sex for you.

2ND TENANT:
It could be a gas leak.

3RD TENANT:
She's dead.

4TH TENANT:
Those rescue cops never give up.

5TH TENANT:
Yes, but they're all racists.

Of course, one of the officers is a Korean and the other a Negro. All through this we have also been aware of many T.V. sets, all with programs with various kinds of violence. One youngster comes to the door holding a portable T.V. and we see on the tube war casualties being flown out of the jungle by helicopters. Archie has crossed ahead of the special officers to lead the way down the steps. Half a dozen "hippies"' loaded down with Chinese food and a yellow guitar are coming up the steps. Everything is chaos. The officers just can't manage the stretcher down the narrow stairway. Poor Petulia is twisted and turned every which way -- all in the name of saving her life.

7TH TENANT:
(a rich old queen in purple Bermuda shorts) I had trouble like that with my piano. Two hundred dollars to bring it through the window. And it's never been the same.

A record player is playing a Herb Alpert recording and the stretcher seems to move along to its rhythm.

63 EXT. A HIGHWAY RESTAURANT–NIGHT

This is the stretch of highway 101 going north from Mexico. The restaurant is a mass of neon, and does very well in the hot coffee department as the sleepy travellers take a break on their way north.

Among the cars many are filled with bull fight afficionados. It's about ten p.m. There is a general feeling of exhaustion and spent passions. People are bleary-eyed, recovering from hangovers, beginning to feel the effects of sunburns. All this we see later. First we see Oliver. Oliver is sitting in the car staring coldly at David who has just awakened. David is probably just about to say "Who the hell are you" when Petulia appears carrying a cardboard carton of coffee and orange juice.

David takes a sip of coffee. Oliver grabs at the orange juice, toppling it, spilling some of it on the seat but saving most. He gulps it down then uses the straw to make bubbles. David looks at Oliver and then at Petulia, all through the bubbles.

PETULIA:
Say hello to "Petulia's Folly."

David says nothing.

DAVID:
Oh?

PETULIA:
(with careful wit) If, in the past, you thought me a bit odd, feast your eyes on this little goodie.

DAVID:
What's the problem?

PETULIA:
(to Oliver) Why can't you speak English? (to David) Why the hell don't they teach them English? This little hustler picked me up in Tijuana

DAVID:
(to Oliver, very gently) What's your name?

PETULIA:
I've got a name for him!

Oliver doesn't understand what is being said, but he is getting uneasy.

OLIVER:
Lady say "hey come on us go San Francisco ten bucks."

PETULIA:
You bleeding little liar!

Oliver looks at Petulia innocently.

PETULIA:
(continuing) I never did!

She's worried about David.

PETULIA:
What I said to this malicious little fink was that maybe one day if we went back to Tijuana—

DAVID:
(to Oliver) San Francisco?

OLIVER:
San Francisco.

Each says it in his own accent, and so begins a word game.

DAVID:
(giggling) San Francisco.

OLIVER:
(giggling) San Francisco.

DAVID:
Okay. "San Francisco."

He pronounces it like Oliver.

PETULIA:
David ...

David doesn't answer her.

DAVID:
(to Oliver) What's your name? (in bad Spanish) What are you called?

OLIVER:
(pronouncing it Spanish) Oliver.

DAVID:
(pronouncing it English) Oliver.

OLIVER:
(pronouncing it Spanish) Oliver.

They begin laughing again. Petulia is becoming completely unnerved.

PETULIA:
David. The San Diego bus is due at twelve fifteen. I've already bought him a ticket.

DAVID:
We've got to get this on tape. He's really something else!, I get a real kick out of him! (imitating Oliver) "San Francisco." Unless he's a midget. Hey, sure! Oliver is a sixty-three-year-old midget.

Oliver grins, not understanding but feeling he has an ally.

DAVID:
(to Petulia) Get in. It's still a long drive. We'll never get home.

PETULIA:
Okay. He can wait inside. The cashier's a sweet old dear. I'll have him keep an eye on the cheeky little bugger! She opens the car door to take Oliver out, tense, wanting to get past this moment but fearful that she won't.

DAVID:
You promised "Oliver" "San Francisco."

PETULIA:
I did not.

DAVID:
Like hell you didn't.

David abruptly hops over the seat and sits behind the wheel. He signals for Petulia to get in beside Oliver. Petulia hesitates.

DAVID:
I dig, b*tch, I dig!

She's stunned. His hand reaches out and brutally jerks her into the car.

DAVID:
I dig.

CAMERA HOLDS on Petulia's frightened face.

Now suddenly the face has a tube in the nose; there's another tube in her throat; and she's unconscious.

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