Some Like It Hot Page #14

BIENSTOCK:

This is the last straw. In Kansas

City you were smuggling liquor in a

shampoo bottle. Before that I caught

you with a pint in your ukulele --

Jerry has squeezed himself between the girls, and steps

forward.

JERRY:

Pardon me, Mr. Bienstock -- can I

have my flask back?

BIENSTOCK:

(automatically)

Sure.

(hands it to him,

turns back to Sugar)

Pack your things, and the next station

we come to --

(he does a take, turns

to Jerry)

Your flask?

JERRY:

Uh-huh. Just a little bourbon.

He starts to slip it down the neck of his dress.

BIENSTOCK:

Give me that!

He grabs the flask. Sugar is looking at Jerry gratefully.

Joe glares at Jerry, ready to hit him with the saxophone.

SUE:

(to Joe and Jerry;

dryly)

Didn't you girls say you went to a

conservatory?

JERRY:

Yes. For a whole year.

SUE:

I thought you said three years.

JOE:

(lightly)

We got time off for good behavior.

SUE:

There are two things I will not put

up with during working hours. One is

liquor -- and the other one is men.

JERRY:

(a blinking angel)

Men?

JOE:

Oh, you don't have to worry about

that.

JERRY:

We would be caught dead with men.

Those rough, hairy beasts with eight

hands --

(looking at Bienstock)

They all want just one thing from a

girl.

BIENSTOCK:

(drawing himself up)

I beg your pardon.

SUE:

(rapping baton)

All right, girls -- from the top

again.

Once more the Society Syncopators wade into RUNNING WILD.

Sugar, strumming the ukulele, smiles warmly at Daphne, a

true blue pal; Daphne smiles back, his mouth watering a

little, like a kid in a pastry shop.

DISSOLVE:

EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT

The wheels are still pounding away -- but there's no more

music.

INT. PULLMAN CAR - NIGHT

The berths are made up, and the girls are getting ready for

bed. Joe, in pajamas, is standing in the aisle beside Lower

7, draping his dress neatly on a hanger. Jerry, in a

nightgown, is lying in Upper 7 with the curtains open,

watching the broads go by. Girls in negligees, in pajamas,

in nightgowns, are scurrying with their wash-kits in and out

of the ladies' room, climbing into lowers and uppers.

JERRY:

(the young sultan)

Good night, Mary Lou -- Dolores dear,

sleep tight -- Nighty-night, Emily.

EMILY:

(climbing into an

upper)

Toodle-oo.

JERRY:

(to Joe)

How about that toodle-oo?

JOE:

Steady, boy. Just keep telling

yourself you're a girl.

JERRY:

(to himself)

I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm a girl --

Rosella and Olga come bouncing past from the ladies' room.

JERRY:

(to Joe)

Get a load of that rhythm section.

(a glare from Joe)

I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm a girl.

His eyes stray down the aisle. In Upper 2, Sugar is getting

ready for bed. All Jerry can see is her legs dangling out of

the berth, as she removes her stockings. But that's all the

identification Jerry needs.

JERRY:

(calling down the

aisle)

Good night, Sugar.

SUGAR:

(sticking her head

out)

Good night, honey.

JERRY:

(to Joe; enraptured)

Honey -- she called me honey.

Without a word, Joe takes the ladder leaning against Jerry's

berth, slides it under the lower.

JERRY:

What are you doing?

JOE:

I just want to make sure that honey

stays in the hive. There'll be no

buzzing around tonight.

JERRY:

But suppose I got to go -- like for

a drink of water?

JOE:

Fight it.

JERRY:

But suppose I lose? Suppose it's an

emergency?

JOE:

(points to cord running

across the back of

Jerry's berth)

Then pull the emergency brake!

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