Silver Bullet Page #12

CONGREGATION (snarling it out)

It's not bitter, not sweet, it's a real

frosty treat...

INT. LOWE

He looks toward:

INT. THE MRS. BOWIE WEREWOLF, AT THE ORGAN

She grins ferociously up at him, playing the Rheingold

jingle on the pipe organ with her claws. Now blood begins to

bubble up between the keys.

MRS. STURMFULLER AND ALL

Won't you try, won't you buy...

INT. THE ENTIRE CONGREGATION

The church is a wild shambles of lurching, fighting, singing

werewolves. It's like a New Year's Eve party in hell.

CONGREGATION (big finish)

...Rheiinngold beer!

Suddenly a clawed hand burts up through one of the coffins.

And ANDY FAIRTON, who now looks as wolflike as any of them,

bites the hand's claw off.

INT. REV. LOWE, ON THE PODIUM

He's seen all he can stand. He whirls for the back, where

there is a small door. He pulls it open... and a BRADY

KINCAID werewolf, half torn apart but still somehow alive (a

zombie werewolf, if you can dig it- George Romero would like

it, I think) leaps out and seizes LOWE.

BRADY buries his muzzle in LOWE'S NECK.

INT. LESTER LOWE, ECU

He sits up into THE CAMERA and SCREAMS. Sweat is running

down his face. He stares at us for a moment, his eyes buggy

and crazed... and then he closes them. There is an

expression of huge relief on his face as he does so.

LOWE (praying)

Let it end, dear Lord. Let it end. Please

let it end.

EXT. MAIN STREET DAY

An old sedan cruises slowly down the street. ANNE and TAMMY

STURMFULLER are in the front seat. It's piled high with

possessions and is towing a jackleg trailer with more stuff

in it.

EXT. HALLER AND PETE

HALLER (indifferently)

Anne Sturmfuller and her little girl.

PETE:

Yeah... but what are they doing?

HALLER:

Putting on my Sherlock Holmes deerstalker

cap, I deduce that they are leaving.

EXT. THE STURMFULLER CAR, THE COPS' POV DAY

They are headed out of town all right, but the thing which

perhaps strikes us the most forcibly is how empty this place

is now. Main Street looks like a ghost town.

EXT. JOE HALLER AND PETE SYLVESTER, ON THE SIDEWALK

HALLER:

She's not the only one. Lot of people

leaving town. And I guess if we want a

beer, we'll have to drink it at home.

He nods toward:

EXT. OWEN'S PUB, LONG (PETE AND HALLER'S POV)

A CLOSED sign hangs in the door; above it is a big black

wreath.

EXT. HALLER AND PETE

PETE:

Joe, what's wrong with you? I ain't

never seen you like this.

HALLER (thoughtful)

I lost my guts.

PETE (startled)

Bullshit.

HALLER:

It was the Kincaid boy. I looked at him...

and I felt it happen. It was no big deal.

No worse than pissing down your own leg.

You ever do that? Maybe when you were

real scared?

PETE, distressed, does not respond.

HALLER:

One minute I had me some guts- as much as

the next man, anyhow- and then, poof. Gone.

PETE'S looking at him in a kind of terror.

PETE:

Joe... you are going to feel better than

this. This... this feeling of yours...

it's gonna pass...

JOE:

Is it?

He walks away, back toward the Municipal Building (the sign

out front reminds folks to SUPPORT THE MEDCU VAN!) while

PETE looks after him, very deeply troubled.

EXT. A FAIRGROUND DAY

It's deserted. Rides stand still. The midway is deserted.

THE CAMERA PANS slowly to a sign which reads TARKER'S MILLS

FAIRGROUNDS GALA FAIR OCTOBER 1 FIREWORKS AT DUSK 10c ON

EVERY DOLLAR GOES TO THE MEDCU VAN FUND!

A cheerful enough sign, except for the strip of paper glued

diagonally across it: FIREWORKS CANCELED.

MARTY (voice)

It's not fair.

INT. THE COSLAW FAMILY STATION WAGON DAY

It's parked across the road from the sign.

JANE (voice)

Look out, world! Marty the Great didn't

get something he wanted!

They are distributed just as they were when they arrived at

this same fairgrounds earlier. All of them have ice cream

cones; they are coming home from a family outing.

NAN COSLAW:

Stop it, Jane.

JANE:

Well, I don't see why everybody just about

breaks down and cries whenever he-

BOB:

Stop it, your mother said.

They've just paused for a quick look at the sign; now BOB

pulls out onto the road again and heads toward home.

INT. MARTY AND JANE IN THE BACKSEAT

JANE sticks her tongue out at him. MARTY looks away.

EXT. ANGLE ON THE COSLAW GARAGE DAY

UNCLE AL'S sports car is parked in the driveway. We hear the

CLANG of a wrench on the cement inside.

INT. THE GARAGE DAY

UNCLE AL and MARTY are working on the engine of the Silver

Bullet. UNCLE AL has a six-pack of beer that he's working

through. He and MARTY sit on the floor. As they talk, UNCLE

AL unscrews the last bolt holding the Bullet's carburetor

and pulls it off.

MARTY:

It isn't enough that the monster killed all

those people- that he killed Brady. Now he's

got them to cancel the fair.

UNCLE AL:

And the fireworks. Hand me that box, Marty.

MARTY hands him a medium-sized carton with the words "Speed

Shop" printed on it.

MARTY:

Yeah, okay, the fireworks. Jane thinks that's

all I'm mad about, but it's not. Them doing

that is just a... a...

UNCLE AL:

It's just an outward symbol of everything

that's inwardly wrong in this town. Not

bad, huh? I read Sherwood Anderson in

college. I can jive that sh*t all day.

MARTY:

Well... I like it that you always know how

to say things, Uncle Al.

UNCLE AL:

I'll give you the telephone numbers of my

ex-wives, dear boy- they'll be interested

to hear that.

MARTY:

Don't call me dear boy.

UNCLE AL:

But you are, you know- you are my dear boy.

He gives MARTY a kiss and smiles at him. MARTY smiles back.

UNCLE AL:

Look at this.

He pulls out a brand-new carburetor- it's a chrome-plated

four-barrel.

UNCLE AL (gleeful)

This is gonna turn your wheelchair into

a f***ing F-14, Marty-

He looks around quickly, guiltily.

UNCLE AL:

Your mom's not around, is she?

MARTY:

She and dad are out back lighting the

barbecue. Jane's walking around like she's

King Sh*t of Turd Mountain. Like always.

UNCLE AL:

Uh-huh. Only in her case I guess it would be

Queen Sh*t of Turd Mountain. Hand me that

adjustable.

MARTY does. UNCLE AL slides the carb onto the gasket and

starts attaching bolts.

UNCLE AL:

The guy killed your best friend, drove your

girl out of town, and stole the second-best

holiday in the year. Have I got it right?

MARTY (glum)

You got it right, Uncle Al.

UNCLE AL:

Yeah, Winesburg, Ohio, was never like that...

but I got something that just might cheer

you up.

MARTY:

What?

UNCLE AL:

Wait, dear boy. Just wait. Hand me those pliars.

EXT. UNCLE AL, AT THE SIDE OF THE COSLAW HOUSE DAY

He peeks into the backyard.

EXT. THE BACK YARD, UNCLE AL'S POV

BOB and NAN are fussing over the barbecue. JANE is hitting a

badminton birdie.

EXT. THE ROAD IN FRONT OF COSLAWS', WITH MARTY

MARTY is sitting in the Silver Bullet.

UNCLE AL comes hurrying back from his look-see.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes