The Big Lebowski Page #13

OUTSIDE:

The car clunks and screams around in a skid.

INSIDE:

The Dude is thrown forward as the car hits something.

OUTSIDE:

As the Dude struggles out holding the satchel of money. The

front of his car is crumpled into a tree. The car body saps

back to the left, where the rear wheel has been shot out.

WALTER is just rising from the ground massaging an

injured knee.

The Dude runs up the road toward the bridge,

frantically waving the satchel in the air.

DUDE:

WE HAVE IT! WE HAVE IT!!

There is a distant engine roar. A motorcycle bumps up onto

the road from the ravine under the bridge and, tires

squealing, skids around to speed away in the opposite

direction. It is closely followed by two more roaring

motorcycles.

DUDE:

WE HAVE IT!!. . . We have it!

The Dude and Walter stand in the middle of the road, watching

the three red tail lights fishtail away.

AFTER A LONG STARING SILENCE:

WALTER:

Ahh f*** it, let's go bowling.

BOWLING LANE:

A ball rumbles in to scatter ten pins.

WALTER.

He turns from the lane to where the Dude sits in the nook of

molded plastic chairs. The Dude listlessly holds the portable

phone in his lap. It is ringing.

WALTER:

Aitz chaim he, Dude. As the ex used

to say.

DUDE:

What the f*** is that supposed to

mean? What the f***'re we gonna

tell Lebowski?

WALTER:

Huh? Oh, him, yeah. Well I don't

see, um-- what exactly is the problem?

The portable phone stops ringing.

DUDE:

Huh? The problem is--what do you

mean what's the--there's no--we didn't--

they're gonna kill that poor woman--

WALTER:

What the f***'re you talking about?

That poor woman--that poor slut--

kidnapped herself, Dude. You said

so yourself--

DUDE:

No, Walter! I said I thought she

kidnapped herself! You're the one

who's so f***ing certain--

WALTER:

That's right, Dude, 1 % certain--

Donny is trotting excitedly up.

DONNY:

They posted the next round of the

tournament--

WALTER:

Donny, shut the f--when do we play?

DONNY:

This Saturday. Quintana and--

WALTER:

Saturday! Well they'll have to

reschedule.

DUDE:

Walter, what'm I gonna tell Lebowski?

WALTER:

I told that f*** down at the league

office-- who's in charge of

scheduling?

DUDE:

Walter--

DONNY:

Burkhalter.

WALTER:

I told that kraut a f***ing thousand

times I don't roll on shabbas.

DONNY:

It's already posted.

WALTER:

WELL THEY CAN F***ING UN-POST IT!

DUDE:

Who gives a sh*t, Walter? What about

that poor woman? What do we tell--

WALTER:

C'mon Dude, eventually she'll get

sick of her little game and, you

know, wander back--

DONNY:

How come you don't roll on Saturday,

Walter?

WALTER:

I'm shomer shabbas.

DONNY:

What's that, Walter?

DUDE:

Yeah, and in the meantime what do I

tell Lebowski?

WALTER:

Saturday is shabbas. Jewish day of

rest. Means I don't work, I don't

drive a car, I don't f***ing ride in

a car, I don't handle money, I don't

turn on the oven, and I sure as sh*t

don't f***ing roll!

DONNY:

Sheesh.

DUDE:

Walter, how--

WALTER:

Shomer shabbas.

The Dude gets to his feet with the portable phone.

DUDE:

That's it. I'm out of here.

WALTER:

For Christ's sake, Dude.

Walter and Donny join the Dude as he walks out of the bowling

alley.

Hell, you just tell him--well, you tell him, uh, we made the

hand-off, everything went, uh, you know--

DONNY:

Oh yeah, how'd it go?

WALTER:

Went alright. Dude's car got a little

dinged up--

DUDE:

But Walter, we didn't make the f***ing

hand- off! They didn't get, the

f***ing money and they're gonna--

they're gonna--

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