Phone Booth Page #7

But Leon continues rocking the booth. It won't come loose --

so in frustration, he punches in a side pane of glass.

The glass shatters all around Stu, who does his best to

shield himself from the slivers.

STU:

(into pay phone)

The guy's insane!

VOICE:

Only one way to stop a mad dog.

Give me permission.

STU:

I can't.

VOICE:

If he forces you out of that booth,

I've told you what to expect. You

or him, Stu.

Leon is smashing other panes of glass now -- one after

another -- as Stu cowers inside.

FELICIA:

Don't cut yourself, honey.

A crowd of derelicts and street people are now gathering to

watch the out of control pimp take out his wrath on the booth

and its occupant.

DERELICT:

Looks like the f***er is comin'

loose.

STREET PERSON:

Shove it out into the oncoming

traffic.

DERELICT:

What'll you bet the bus could knock

that fifty feet?

The booth is being decimated but Stu hangs onto the phone.

STU:

(into pay phone)

Hello? Hello?

VOICE:

(with heavy static)

You're breaking up. We're about to

be cut off.

STU:

I can't help it!

VOICE:

That counts as a hang-up.

STU:

No. It can't. That's not fair.

VOICE:

I can still make him stop. Say the

word. Can you hear me?

STU:

Yes.

Stu sees the red dot reappear on Leon's chest as he continues

to barrage the booth with punches and kicks.

Then Leon recoils, staggers a step backward. He doesn't

realize he's been shot.

There's been no sound of gunfire. Perhaps a silencer was

used -- or the downtown traffic drowned out the solitary

discharge.

Leon looks confused at first. His ladyfriend has no idea

he's wounded -- neither do the derelicts and street people

who've assembled on the corner.

Even Stu isn't sure -- until the blood starts oozing from the

wound on the pimp's chest -- staining his yellow vest.

He isn't assaulting the booth anymore. He's trying to keep

his balance. He slumps forward, hanging onto the booth for

support -- only a few inches from Stu's face. The blood runs

down the side of the booth.

STU:

(into pay phone)

You did it!

VOICE:

You said 'yes.'

STU:

I said 'Yes, I can hear you.' Not

'Yes -- kill the motherf***er!'

VOICE:

Don't try to renege on it. I was

following orders.

STU:

You're twisting it all around. I

didn't do this!

Meanwhile, Leon leans upright against the booth. Then his

legs cave in and he begins to slide to his knees.

Felicia runs up beside him. She sees the blood.

FELICIA:

I warned you not to cut yourself.

(to crowd)

Look at all that blood. He must've

hit an artery.

She screams as Leon topples backwards onto the pavement. Now

his chest wound is evident.

FELICIA:

Oh, Jesus. What is that? Talk to

me! What happened?

The crowd tightens around the fallen body. Street people who

are fascinated but not shocked.

DERELICT:

Gunshot!

STREET PERSON:

Yeah. Sucking chest wound right

over the heart.

FELICIA:

Somebody call an ambulance.

STREET PERSON:

Call the meatwagon. He's f***ed

up.

FELICIA:

You shut the f*** up!

Her focus turns to Stu in the battered phone booth.

FELICIA:

Why did you do that to him?

STU:

I didn't.

FELICIA:

(to crowd)

You all saw it! He shot my man

without no provocation!

DERELICT:

Yeah. Pumped one right into him at

close range.

STU:

How could I? I don't even have a

gun. Look!

STREET PERSON:

Everybody get the f*** back! They

shoot one -- then they shoot

everybody in sight! Kill all the

f***ing witnesses!

The crowd disperses to doorways and around the corner -- out

of immediate range.

STU:

Come back. You've got to see --

I'm not armed.

Only Felicia remains, leaning over the pimp's body, staring

helplessly.

FELICIA:

Hang up and dial 911. Get a

doctor!

STU:

I can't hang up. That's what this

is all about.

FELICIA:

You're gonna stand there and let

him die?

STU:

(takes out cellular)

I can use this.

(he dials)

Emergency. Yes. There's been a

shooting at Forty-fifth and Eighth

-- on the corner. A man is down.

What's the difference who I am? I

don't want to be involved.

FELICIA:

(shouts)

That's bullshit. He's the shooter.

You're talking to the shooter.

Stu quickly disconnects the cellular.

STU:

That wasn't nice.

FELICIA:

Go ahead -- make a f***ing run for

it. I hope they gun you down --

like you did him!

STU:

I'm not going anyplace. I'm

staying right here in this booth.

(into pay phone)

Unless you give me permission.

VOICE:

You're attracting a lot of

attention. I suppose when the

police get there, you'll accuse me.

STU:

What do you expect me to say?

VOICE:

That's up to you. But any mention

of me will not be appreciated.

STU:

You mean...?

VOICE:

You won't even get to finish your

sentence. Oh look, that little red

dot is dancing around all over you

again. You saw how quickly it can

happen. And how accurate I can be.

STU:

They can't blame me -- I'm not

armed.

VOICE:

Who's going to believe that? With

all those witnesses to the

contrary.

STU:

They can see with their own eyes.

Not far away, we hear the BLAST of POLICE SIRENS drawing

closer.

VOICE:

Remember to leave me out of it.

STU:

How can I?

VOICE:

You'll put the proper spin on it.

Isn't that your specialty? Feeding

the public a story that may not

have a shred of truth -- and making

it totally believable?

STU:

This isn't a story. This is real.

This is murder.

VOICE:

If you'd only dealt with the man

reasonably, shown him some respect,

this might not have been necessary.

STU:

I gave him my money, my watch...

VOICE:

But not your respect. Which is

what he required of you.

STU:

He was a f***ing thief.

VOICE:

And now he's a f***ing dead thief.

Do you feel better about that?

STU:

I don't feel a bit guilty. This is

all your doing!

VOICE:

Now you're being disrespectful of

me. You never learn. Your job is

to deal with people -- but you're

not good at it.

STU:

Hey, I'm not taking any more

criticism from some lunatic sniper

who gets his kicks killing

strangers.

VOICE:

You keep insisting I'm a stranger.

Probably because you don't

recognize the voice. But there are

cheap electronic devices available

that disguise the voice. I might

not even be a man. I might be one

of those many women you've almost

totally forgotten. One who doesn't

forgive easily. One who wants to

watch you squirm.

STU:

You're a man. I know you're a man.

Women don't kill with telescopic

rifles. They stab you.

VOICE:

You sound so sure of that. But

you've never provoked any man as

much as have the women in your

life. And so many of them, Stu.

(a beat)

Do you even remember their names?

STU:

I've got no time to rehash my whole

life. Oh my God! The cops are

here.

Police cars are pulling up on all sides of Eighth Avenue.

Traffic has suddenly been shut down. Prowl cars have now

blocked the streets.

PRODUCTION NOTE:
Everything is seen from Stu's perspective

without intercuts.

Half a dozen cops now emerge and approach with drawn guns.

FELICIA:

(pointing)

That's him -- in the booth. He's

got a gun!

As she hurls accusations, she's lugging Leon's lifeless body

out into the gutter into the center of Eighth Avenue.

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