Six Feet Under Page #6

Claire drives, chewing gum furiously. Ruth sits in the

passenger seat, staring listlessly out the window.

RUTH:

Did you-know that before you were born,

funeral homes ran the ambulance business?

CLAIRE:

Uh... no.

RUTH:

Hearses were the only vehicles that could

transport people lying down. There was

no medical assistance inside, either,

they were just like taxis.

CLAIRE:

(at a loss)

Wow.

RUTH:

Your father used to joke about that.

"Just drive him around the block a few

more times and we won't need to stop at

the hospital."

CLAIRE:

Uh... you're kind of freaking me out.

RUTH:

Claire, are you having sex?

CLAIRE:

What?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16.

RUTH:

Or doing drugs?.

CLAIRE:

(freaking)

Why are you asking me this now?

RUTH:

Your father is dead. I can't even remember

the last time you and I talked about

anything important. I need to know you're

okay.

CLAIRE:

(chewing gum really hard)

Oh yeah. Yeah. Believe me, I'm okay. You

know, considering.

34 INT. SLUMBER ROOM - CONTINUOUS (NIGHT ONE) 34

We HEAR LIGHT CLASSICAL MUSIC. Mourners converse, comfort

each other. David stands to the side, trying to contain

himself. A perky JUNIOR-LEAGUER approaches him.

JUNIOR-LEAGUER

Do you work here?

DAVID:

Yes.

JUNIOR-LEAGUER

I wanted to complement you on the music.

David smiles at her benevolently. She smiles back.

JUNIOR-LEAGUER (CONT'D)

(flirting)

I've been to three other funerals this

year--cancer, stroke, pediatric leukemia--

and the music is always that same sad

organ music, it reminds me of the soap

operas my mom used to watch before I

started kindergarten, God, you're probably

too young to remember that--

DAVID'S POV, AS SHE SPEAKS TO US DIRECTLY:

JUNIOR-LEAGUER (CONT'D)

--anyway, I so prefer this light

classical, you know, chamber orchestra

stuff, it's still spiritual, but doesn't

seem so dated, or depressing...

What we HEAR her say is suddenly OUT OF SYNCH with her mouth

moving; it's as if she's been badly dubbed:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

17.

JUNIOR-LEAGUER (CONT'D)

Your father is dead. Checked out. Toast.

Six feet under. You know what that means,

don't you?

ON DAVID, confused.

BACK ON HIS POV of the Junior-Leaguer.

JUNIOR-LEAGUER (CONT'D)

(still OUT OF SYNCH)

You're in charge. This is no longer just

a job. This is your life.

This time, David actually does SCREAM. The Junior-Leaguer

steps back from him, unnerved.

35 INT. MORGUE CORRIDOR - A SHORT TIME LATER (NIGHT ONE) 35

Nate rounds a corner, carrying his luggage; Brenda is right

behind him. Nate spots:

Ruth and Claire seated against a wall. Ruth looks dazed; Claire

is chewing gum furiously and fidgeting.

NATE:

Mom!

Ruth and Claire stare up at him blankly. Nate drops his bags

and kneels beside his mother, hugging her.

NATE (CONT'D)

Mom, I'm so sorry.

RUTH:

(staring at Brenda))

Who's she?

NATE:

(stands)

Oh! This is... uh...

He stares at her, realizing he still doesn't know her name.

BRENDA (QUICKLY)

Brenda Chenoweth.

NATE:

Brenda. Chenoweth.

(then))

Brenda, this is my mom, Ruth Fisher, and

my sister Claire.

CLAIRE:

Nate, can I talk to you?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

18.

NATE:

Yeah, yeah, just a second--

(to Ruth, delicate)

Mom, have you already done the...

RUTH:

I can't. I've seen too many dead people

in my life. They're work. I won't see

your father that way. I need you to do

it.

NATE:

Oh.

CLAIRE:

Nate, I have to talk to you, please.

Now. It's urgent.

Rate this script:4.0 / 2 votes