St. Vincent Page #2

VINCENT:

What do you know what I mean,

Linda? You a psychic now?

GUS:

Ay, ease up there, Vinny. We’re

just talking.

VINCENT:

You should get a talk show. You’re

so damn good at it. The “Linda and

Gus Just F***ing Talking Talk

Show.”

Vin flags the bartender, ROGER.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Rog. Another Maker’s.

Roger steps over.

ROGER:

We got three hours till the ball

drops there, Vin. Why don’t we

give it a break for a minute.

VINCENT:

Give what a break?

ROGER:

The liquor.

VINCENT:

You’re not gonna serve me?

8.

ROGER:

For a minute.

VINCENT:

You know how much money I’ve spent

in this dump over the years?

Roger tries to keep it smooth.

ROGER:

Don’t be like that, Vin. I’m

watching out for you here.

VINCENT:

Watching out for me?

Vin stands, wobbles. He’s drunker than even he realized.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

You serve poison to people

everyday. So they can die while

they’re alive. Now you’re watching

out...is that right?

Gus stands, tries to help Vin.

GUS:

Let me give you a ride home.

VINCENT:

Don’t touch me, Gus. Don’t touch

me. I’ll drive home drunk like

I’ve done every night while Roger

here’s been watching out for me.

Vin pushes free, walks to the door.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Happy New Year.

8 He’s out. 8

EXT. VIN’S HOUSE - LATER

The Dodge Duster whips into the driveway. Hits the

picket fence on the neighbor’s border. Crash. It

topples. Hits his own mailbox on the other side. Crash.

It flies onto the lawn.

Vin shuts the car off. Sits for a minute. Then steps

out and swerves to the toppled mailbox. Gets on all

fours, opens the door, gets the mail...pounds of it.

INT. ENTRANCE HALLWAY - LATER

Vin stares at a mountain of unopened mail, overflowing a

basket. He empties the basket onto the floor, then

tosses the new mail into the empty basket. All sorted.

9.

INT. VIN’S LIVING ROOM - LATER

Vin puts his feet up on a weathered coffee table,

watching TV from his paisley pattered couch. The decor

is feminine inspired, twenty years ago. Coverage of the

Times Square New Year’s Eve Celebration plays.

Vin’s cat, FELIX THE CAT, jumps onto his lap. Starts to

pur.

VINCENT:

There you are. Where’d you go

tonight, ha? Screwing that little

Tabby on the corner...

He rubs the cat all over. His only love.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?

He takes Felix in his arms, shuffles to the kitchen.

THE KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

The kitchen is trashed: dishes to China, mold, stacks of

newspapers a decade old. Vin opens a can of gourmet cat

food. Dumps it in a bowl. Felix waits patiently on the

counter...the food arrives. He eats like there’s no

tomorrow.

Vin needs another drink. He holds his tumbler to the ice

maker in the fridge door. It grinds. No ice. He opens

the freezer door and grabs a glob of ice cubes stuck

together, puts them on the counter.

Grabs a hammer from the junk drawer.

BANG. BANG. He smashes the ice into pieces, chips fly.

BANG! He hits his finger.

VINCENT:

UGHHHH. Sh*t. AHHHH.

Vin stumbles with the pain. His foot gets ever so close

to an ice chip on the tile floor...

Slip. Flip. Smack.

Vin flies up in the air, lands on the floor. Crack! His

head hits the tile hard. He’s out. Or dead.

Felix looks at his owner. Goes back to eating. He’s

seen it all before.

10.

INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

TV insert. The ball is dropping in Times Square. 5, 4,

3, 2, 1. Happy New Year. PEOPLE hug, kiss, celebrate.

FADE TO BLACK.

EXT. VIN’S HOUSE - THE NEXT MORNING

MEN screaming in Spanish. We pan away from Vin’s house,

over towards the source of the racket.

In the neighbor’s driveway, a moving truck is backing

into the drive and ripping tree limbs along the way.

Vin’s tree limbs. A LATIN MOVER is screaming

instructions to the LATIN DRIVER.

LATIN MOVER:

Alto! Alto! You hit the tree,

man. Come on!

LATIN DRIVER:

Meda, I can’t see it!

He notices the roof: pealed like a sardine can.

LATIN MOVER:

You broke the roof! Ay Dios mio!

They fight on.

INT. KITCHEN - VIN’S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS

Vin’s where we left him: face down on the kitchen floor.

A small pool of blood sits stagnant under his face.

The yelling outside irks him to consciousness.

VINCENT:

Shut up out there. People are

sleeping.

He groans. Holds himself up. Felix the Cat stares from

a safe distance.

Vin sees the blood.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Ah, piss.

He feels his face, and for the first time we see it...he

looks like a prize fighter after the twelfth round. A

gash above his eye is the origin of the blood. It

probably needs stitches. He’ll never get them.

Vin sits there for a second, collects himself.

11.

EXT. VIN’S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

Vin walks outside, searching for the commotion. He

shields the sun from his eyes. The fighting Movers are

still at it.

VINCENT:

Hey! Hey! What’s the problem?

This is a neighborhood. People are

sleeping.

The Movers stop. Stare.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

You comprende?!

Nothing.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Habla English?

LATIN MOVER:

We speak English, senor.

VINCENT:

What the hell are you doing here?

Vin looks up, notices the tree ripped.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

What the?!? That’s my tree you

a**holes hit?!

There’s a large tree limb sitting on Vin’s car and across

the fence (which he knocked down last night.)

VINCENT (CONT’D)

And my fence! My damn car!?!

Silence.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Do you speak English!?!

Just then a car pulls up, parks in front of the house. A

WOMAN in her late thirties steps out. This is MAGGIE,

Vin’s new neighbor. She’d be prettier if she weren’t

always so worried.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

I’m calling the cops.

Vin heads inside.

MAGGIE:

Excuse me...

He turns.

12.

VINCENT:

What do you want?

MAGGIE:

I’m Maggie. I guess I’m your new

neighbor.

Really.

VINCENT:

So.

MAGGIE:

Yes. We’re moving in today.

VINCENT:

I noticed that. These dipshits

with you?

MAGGIE:

They’re with the moving company.

Maggie walks to the fence, stands on her side. Looks

around.

MAGGIE (CONT’D)

Oh, boy.

VINCENT:

Oh, sh*t...more like it. That

fence is twenty years old. The

car’s forty. And the tree’s older

than me.

MAGGIE:

I’m really sorry. I don’t know

what to...this is not the way to

meet.

She turns to the Movers.

MAGGIE (CONT’D)

Did you guys do this?

VINCENT:

Of course, they did it. What are

you stupid? Look at the scene.

Maggie doesn’t take kindly to being called stupid.

MAGGIE:

Excuse me. There’s no need to be

rude. Okay. I’m just moving in

here. I hired this company. Okay.

Accidents happen.

A LITTLE BOY comes up to Maggie’s side. This is OLIVER.

Twelve. Frail. Four eyes. Painfully awkward and very

sensitive. He’s one of those invisible types.

13.

VINCENT:

Accidents happen. What’re you a

f***ing adjuster?

Maggie puts her arm around Oliver.

MAGGIE:

Do you mind, mister?

Vin looks at Oliver. Absorbs him.

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