Simon Birch Page #2

- I think Marjorie likes you.

- She likes you.

- She said you were cute.

- She means cute

like a baby turtle is cute.

- Girls don't kiss baby turtles.

- How do you know?

I just know.

If you were me,

you'd know too.

But things

will be different...

once God makes me

a hero.

You know, you shouldn't talk

about this hero stuff, Simon.

- Why not?

- Because it's weird.

- The other kids tease you

enough as it is.

- I don't care. It's the truth.

But you don't have

any proof.

I don't need proof.

I have faith.

Your problem is that

you have no faith.

I got faith.

I just want proof to back it up.

We lived

in my grandmother's house,

a monster of a place.

- It was frequently mistaken

for the Gravestown Inn.

- Shoo! Shoo!

- It's not an inn.

- The fact that never ceased...

to irritate my grandmother.

But then again, most everything

irritated my grandmother.

- Hi, Grandmother.

- Slow down.

Particularly Simon Birch.

- Hi, ladies!

- That creature.

But that's not to say

that she didn't have her kind side.

In fact, when our maid Hildie got cancer

and had to have her leg removed,

Grandmother hired

two more maids,

one just to look

after Hildie.

Hildie never worked

another day in her life.

And as the years went on, she even

began to look like my grandmother...

- and not like a maid at all.

- That child is positively...

- unnatural.

- Most peculiar.

- And his voice like...

- A mouse.

More than one.

Like mice.

- Strangled mice.

- Strangled mice.

Very good, Hildie.

Hello, everyone!

What's wrong with you?

- There's nothing wrong with me.

- Hi, Mom.

- Somethin's goin' on.

- Yes, something's going on.

You look all... shiny.

Well, I met a man

on the train.

- The good 'ol Boston and Maine.

- You're pregnant?

Mother, I just met him.

The last time you met a man

on the Boston and Maine,

- you came home pregnant.

- Mother.

- Am I gonna have a little brother?

- Everyone, please.

I've only spoken with him,

but I like him very much.

So, when do we get to meet

this Mr. Wonderful?

Good Lord.

Yolanda!

Hey, wait up! Wait for me!

I wanna see too.

Simon Birch, get away

from there. You'll scare him off.

I can't see.

I can't see.

- Hello, Ben.

- Hello, Rebecca.

- We were just talking about you.

- Really?

- Come on in.

- Thank you.

You must be Simon...

and that would make

you Joe?

Nice to meet ya. I heard all about you

from your mom on the train.

- What's in the bag?

- Joseph!

Oh, no, no, that's okay. Uh, as

a matter of fact, Joe, this is

something that I bought for you.

My mother's dates

were always bringing me presents...

in their feeble attempts to win me over,

but it never worked.

- So, Joseph, what do you say?

- Nice bag.

I tell you what.

Um, why don't I take this...

and just put it right over here

on this table.

And then you can take a look

at it if you feel like.

It's probably

some stupid Legos or something.

Oh, um, could you guys

do me a favor?

Uh, just keep an eye

on the bag for me.

And, uh, give me a holler

if it moves.

Okay?

Thanks.

You're a drama teacher?

- They teach that?

- Well, what I try and do,

Mrs. Wenteworth,

is-is use the theater to get students

to express themselves...

- in ways they normally couldn't.

- How do you do that?

Well, one way that I found

works well is by introducing props.

- Young people seem to respond to that.

- What kind of props?

Well, kind of like the one

I just left out there in the hall.

Matter of fact, there could be a little

drama unfolding just as we speak.

We'll soon see.

Oh, boy, that's a lot of peas.

Why don't I just put

a few of these back here?

I don't need that

many peas.

- Did you see that?

- What?

- I think it moved.

- You're imagining it.

- Maybe it's a puppy.

- Not unless it's a dead puppy.

Yeah. He wouldn't bring

a dead puppy on the first date.

It's something else.

I bet he's just putting us on.

I bet there's nothing even in there.

He's just playing a joke on us.

Go ahead and open it.

- I'm not opening it.

- Don't you wanna see what's inside?

What I want to do and what I do

are two separate things.

If we all went around doing what we

wanted all the time, there'd be chaos.

You open it.

- The prop.

- What was that?

It's a monster!

- You're okay.

- Help!

Isn't he terrific?

- He's going to eat us.

- You're okay.

It's just an armadillo.

- A what?

- It's a stuffed armadillo. See?

I picked it up on my way

through San Antonio last week.

It's not that bad

once you get used to it.

What do you think, Joe?

- I don't want it.

- Can I have it?

Well, why don't you, uh,

uh, give it a chance!

Maybe it'll grow on you.

So Shirley Temple

says to Senator McCarthy...

- I didn't say, "commie,"

I said, "Moppie."

Uh, Mom?

Can Simon sleep over?

We wanna spend the night out

under the stars.

Sure, honey, as long as it's

all right with Simon's parents.

- They don't care.

- Will you do me a favor anyway

and call them?

- Yeah?

- Can I sleep over at Joe's tonight?

- I don't care.

- I'm ready for my good-night kisses.

- Oh, Mom.

- Me first! Me first!

Oh, don't you "oh, Mom" me.

Get up here. Mm-whaa!

Good night, honey.

Love you.

Simon, isn't it

a little cool outside?

Don't you think

you need a sweater?

It's hard to find sweaters

my size.

They have to make them special

and my dad says they're too expensive.

- How about that?

- Thank you, Miss Wenteworth.

- Mm. Love you.

- Good night, Ben Goodrich!

Bonsoir Monsieur Birch.

Buenas noches,

Senor Wenteworth.

You boys stay in the yard.

I like him.

I don't.

Maybe God sent him

to be your father.

God sent me a screwball

with an armadillo?

God has a plan for everyone,

including Ben Goodrich.

Well, he's not

my father.

My real father

is out there somewhere.

Mr. Hanson has your eyes.

- The shop teacher?

- And he's a lefty, like you.

That's 'cause he chopped off

his right thumb with the table saw.

I didn't say

he was a natural lefty.

Maybe he chopped off his thumb

on purpose to show your mother...

how much he loved her,

like Van Gogh with his ear.

I can't see my mom being attracted

to a metal shop teacher.

Art or English maybe,

but not metal shop.

I don't understand

why she doesn't just tell you.

You're already a bastard.

You might as well be an enlightened one.

- She said she'd tell me

when I'm old enough.

- When's that?

I don't know.

Soon, I hope.

Things were getting

serious between my mother...

and the armadillo-wielding

Ben Goodrich,

enough so that one Sunday

she brought him with us to church.

Hi, Joe! Hi, Miss Wenteworth!

Hi, Ben Goodrich!

Hi, Simon!

I have something

for you.

- You made that for me?

- I did indeed, my little doll.

I think it's gonna be getting cool

pretty soon and you need to have...

a beautiful sweater

just for you.

Hopefully, a good fit.

So, let's see?

Oops!

Oh, my goodness.

Well,

what a very long

piece of yarn.

- He looks like a hobo.

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