Taxi Driver Page #10

Travis does not respond.

YOUNG PASSENGER:

Huh?

(a beat)

What do you think of that, huh?

Travis shrugs, gesturing toward meter.

50.

YOUNG PASSENGER:

I'm gonna kill her with a .44

Magnum pistol.

CAMERA returns to SEVENTH FLOOR WINDOW. Woman is standing in

the light.

YOUNG PASSENGER (O.S.)

Did you ever see what a .44 can do

to a woman's face, cabbie?

(pause)

Did you ever see what it can do to

a woman's p*ssy, cabbie?

Travis says nothing.

YOUNG PASSENGER (O.S.)

I'm going to put it right up to

her, cabbie. Right in her, cabbie.

You must think I'm real sick, huh?

A real pervert. Sitting here and

talking about a woman's p*ssy and a

.44, huh?

CAMERA CLOSES IN on Travis' face: He is watching the woman

in the seventh floor window with complete and total

absorption. It's the same glazed-over stare we saw in his

eyes as he watched the porno movie.

FADE TO:

BROOKLYN STREET CORNER - DAY

Travis stands near the corner wearing his boots, jeans,

western shirt and army jacket.

He pulls his aspiring bottle out of his pocket, shakes three

or four into his palm, pops them into his mouth and chews.

An "Off Duty" taxi pulls up to the curb. Travis gets in.

INSIDE TAXI:

Dough-Boy leans back from the wheel and greets Travis as he

enters.

DOUGH-BOY

Hey Travis. This here's Easy Andy.

He's a travelling salesman.

In the back seat, beside Travis, sits ANDY, an attractive

young man about 29. He wears a pin-striped suit, white shirt

and floral tie. His hair is modishly long.

51.

ANDY:

Hello Travis.

Travis nods as the taxi speeds off.

Dough-Boy slows down near an economy hotel. Not a flop

house, but not do fancy they care what the guests do in the

privacy of their rooms.

ANDY:

This is fine, Dough-Boy

(to Travis)

Pay Dough-Boy here.

Travis pulls a twenty out of his pocket and gives it to

Dough-Boy.

TRAVIS:

20 bucks?

DOUGH-BOY

(takes bill)

Yeah. Hey thanks. That's real nice,

Travis.

Travis and Andy get out of the cab and walk toward the hotel.

Dough-Boy pulls away.

As they enter the hotel, they pass a JUNKIE, stoned out and

spread-eagled across the hood of a derelict old blue dodge.

INT. HOTEL

Travis follows Andy up the worn carpeted stairs and down the

hallway. Andy unlocks the door to one of the rooms.

The HOTEL ROOM is barren and clean; there's no sign anyone

is staying in it. The fire escape is appropriately near.

Andy locks the door behind them, steps over to the closet,

unlocks it and pulls out two grey Samsonite suitcases - the

kind you can drive a truck over.

ANDY:

Dough-Boy probably told you I don't

carry any Saturday Night Specials

or crap like that. It's all out of

State, clean, brand new, top-ofthe-

line stuff.

Andy places the suitcases on the white bedspread. The

suitcases are equipped with special locks, which he quickly

opens.

52.

Andy opens the suitcases: Stacked in grey packing foam are

rows and rows of brand new hand guns.

TRAVIS:

You got a .44 Magnum?

ANDY:

That's an expensive gun.

TRAVIS:

I got money.

Andy unzips a cowhide leather pouch to reveal a .44 Magnum

pistol. He holds it gingerly, as if it were a precious

treasure. Andy opens the chambers and cradles the long

eight-inch barrel in his palm. The .44 is a huge, oversize

inhuman gun.

ANDY:

(admiringly)

It's a monster. Can stop a car --

put a bullet right into the block.

A premium high resale gun. $350 --

that's only a hundred over list.

Easy Andy is a later version of the fast-talking, goodlooking

kid in college who was always making money on one

scheme or another. In high school he sold lottery tickets,

in college he scored dope, and now he's hustling hand guns.

Andy holds the Magnum out for Travis' inspection. There's a

worshipful CLOSEUP of the .44 Magnum. It is a monster.

Travis hefts the huge gun. It seems out of place in his hand.

It is built on Michelangelo's scale. The Magnum belongs in

the hand of a marble god, not a slight taxi driver. Travis

hands the gun back to Andy.

ANDY:

I could sell this gun in Harlem for

$500 today - but I just deal high

quality goods to high quality

people.

(pause)

Now this may be a little big for

practical use, in which case I'd

recommend the .38 Smith and Wesson

Special. Fine solid gun - nickel

plated. Snub-nosed, otherwise the

same as the service revolver. Now

that'll stop anything that moves

and it's handy, flexible.

(MORE)

53.

ANDY (CONT'D)

The Magnum, you know, that's only

if you want to splatter it against

the wall. The movies have driven up

the price of the Magnum anyway.

Everybody wants them now. But the

Wesson .38 - only $250 - and worth

every dime of it.

(he hefts the .38)

Throw in a holster for $10.

Travis hefts the nickel-plated .38, points it out the window.

ANDY (CONT'D)

Some of these guns are like toys,

but a Smith and Wesson, man, you

can hit somebody over the head with

it and it will still come back dead

on. Nothing beats quality.

(pause)

You interested in an automatic?

TRAVIS:

I want a .32. Revolver. And a

palm gun. That .22 there.

ANDY:

That's the Colt .25 - a fine little

gun. Don't do a lot of damage, but

it's as fast as the Devil. Handy

little gun, you can carry it almost

anywhere. I'll throw it in for

another $125.

Travis holds the .32 Revolver, hefts it, slips it under his

belt and pulls his shirt over it. He turns from side to

side, to see how it rides in his waist.

TRAVIS:

How much for everything.

ANDY:

The .32's $150 - and you're really

getting a good deal now - and all

together it comes to, ah, seven

eighty-five for four pieces and a

holster. He'll, I'll give you the

holster, we'll make it seventy-five

and you've got a deal - a good one.

TRAVIS:

How much to get a permit to carry?

54.

ANDY:

Well, you're talking big money now.

I'd say at least five grand, maybe

more, and it would take a while to

check it out. The way things are

going now $5.000 is probably low.

You see, I try not to fool with the

small-time crap. Too risky, too

little bread. Say 6 G's, but if I

get the permit it'll be as solid as

the Empire State Building.

TRAVIS:

Nah, this'll be fine.

ANDY:

You can't carry in a cab even with

a permit - so why bother?

TRAVIS:

Is there a firing range around?

ANDY:

Sure, here, take this card, go to

this place and give 'em the card.

They'll charge you, but there won't

be any hassle.

Travis pulls out a roll of crisp one hundred dollar bills

and counts off eight.

ANDY:

You in Nam? Can't help but notice

your jacket?

TRAVIS:

(looking up)

Huh?

ANDY:

Vietnam? I saw it on your jacket.

Where were you? Bet you got to

handle a lot of weapons out there.

Travis hands Andy the bills. Andy counts them and gives

Travis a twenty and five.

TRAVIS:

Yeah. I was all around. One

hospital, then the next.

55.

ANDY:

(through counting)

It's he'll out there all right. A

real sh*t-eatin' war. I'll say

this, though:
It's bringing a lot

of fantastic guns. The market's

flooded. Colt automatics are all

over.

(pockets the money)

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