Signs Page #10

CREWCUT GUY:

It's called probing. It's a military

procedure. You send a reconnaissance

group, very small, to check out

things. Not to engage, but to evaluate

the situation. Evaluate the level of

danger. Make sure things are all

clear...

MERRILL:

Clear for what?

The crewcut guy savors the beat of silence.

CREWCUT GUY:

...For the rest of them.

It takes a second, but Merrill smiles. The crewcut guy smiles

back. Merrill points at a poster.

MERRILL:

You have a pamphlet or something I

can read?

The crewcut guy reaches to a stack of brochures. Picks the

top brochure and hands it to Merrill.

The crewcut guy begins to stare at Merrill closely.

CREWCUT GUY:

Hey you didn't used to play baseball

did you?

Merrill looks up from the brochure. Beat.

CREWCUT GUY:

Sh*t. I know you. You're Merrill

Hess. I was there that day you hit

that five hundred and eighty seven

footer over the left field wall and

set the record. That thing had a

motor on it... It's still the record

right?

Merrill nods, "yes."

MERRILL:

(soft)

I got the bat at home... On the wall.

CREWCUT GUY:

You got two minor league home run

records don't you?

Beat.

MERRILL:

Five. The five longest.

CREWCUT GUY:

Boy, why aren't you in the pros making

stacks of cash and getting handfuls

of T and A?

YOUNG MAN (O.S.)

Cause he also has the minor league

strike out record.

Merrill turns to the young man, about his age, who sits at

the folding table.

MERRILL:

Hello Lionel.

LIONEL smirks.

LIONEL:

He'd just swing as hard as he could

every time. It didn't matter what

the coach said, didn't matter who

was on base, he'd whip that bat

through the air as hard as he could...

Looked like a lumber jack chopping

down a tree.

(beat)

Merrill here, struck out more times

than any two players.

Beat.

CREWCUT GUY:

You really hold the strike out record?

Beat. Merrill tucks the pamphlet in his jacket. Looks like

he's not going to say anything. When he does, the words are

soft and worn; they've been said a hundred times.

MERRILL:

Felt wrong not to swing.

Beat. The crewcut guy shakes his head. Merrill turns and

starts walking.

As he passes Lionel, Merrill makes a small, quick move in

Lionel's direction, like he might hit him. Lionel flinches

and covers his face.

Merrill walks out the door of the army recruiting office.

CUT TO:

INT. PHARMACY - AFTERNOON

PHARMACIST:

I cursed thirty-seven times last

week... I said the f-word a couple

times, but mostly "shits" and

"bastards."

(beat)

Is "Douche bag" a curse?

Graham glances at the girl as she sits sideways to him at

the counter.

GRAHAM:

I suppose it's in its usage.

PHARMACIST:

How about "John you're a douche bag

for kissing Barbara?"

GRAHAM:

That's a curse.

PHARMACIST:

Then it's not thirty-seven. It's

seventy-one.

Graham's eyes widen.

PHARMACIST:

I stole a bottle of Ruby red lip

stick from K-mart... I punched my

brother in the back three times...

Graham looks around the empty store for help.

CUT TO:

INT. NATHAN'S BOOKSTORE - AFTERNOON

Bo sits at a tiny reading table and drinks a glass of water.

There is another glass, half-full, on her table. Mrs. Nathan

watches as the little girl takes careful sips.

Beat. Bo looks up with a grimace.

BO:

It's contaminated.

MRS. NATHAN YELLS TO MR. NATHAN AT THE FRONT OF THE STORE.

MRS. NATHAN

Carl, there's something wrong with

our water!

Morgan doesn't look up from the extraterrestrial book.

MORGAN:

Your water is fine. Bo has a thing

about her drinking water. She's had

it her whole life. Like a tick people

have. Except it's not a tick.

MRS. NATHAN

(fascinated)

Is that right?

Bo shrugs. She places the glass she sipped on the table with

the other glass.

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