The Big Lebowski Page #15

We are moving through the open living area of a large downtown

L.A. loft. A huge unfinished canvas, lit by standing

industrial lights, dominates one wall. The furnishings are

spare given the space. On the floor is the Dude's brilliant

rug.

We hear a rumble like an approaching bowling ball. The Dude,

standing in the middle of the loft, looks into the murky

depths of the cavernous space.

Something huge and white hurtles towards the Dude's head.

As it roars overhead he ducks, and spins to watch it pass.

We see the backside of a naked woman in a sling suspended

from a ceiling track rumbling over a canvas that lies on the

floor. She is holding a paint bucket in one hand and a brush

in the other, with which she flicks paint down at the canvas.

The Dude turns again as he hears running footsteps. Two

young men in paint-spattered shorts, T-shirts and sneakers

reach the sling shortly after it reaches the end of its track

and haul it back for another push.

VOICE:

I'll be with you in a minute, Mr.

Lebowski.

She rumbles by in another pass.

All right, we'll do the blue tomorrow. Elfranco. Pedro.

Help me down.

The two men help Maude out of her sling. She is naked

except for leather harness straps which ring her breasts

and wrap her thighs and give her something of a dominatrix

look.

Does the female form make you uncomfor- table, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE:

Is that what that's a picture of?

MAUDE:

In a sense, yes. Elfranco, my robe.

My art has been commended as being

strongly vaginal. Which bothers

some men. The word itself makes

some men uncomfortable. Vagina.

DUDE:

Oh yeah?

MAUDE:

Yes, they don't like hearing it and

find it difficult to say. Whereas

without batting an eye a man will

refer to his "dick" or his "rod" or

his "Johnson".

DUDE:

"Johnson"?

MAUDE:

Thank you.

This to Elfranco, who has handed her a robe.

All right, Mr. Lebowski, let's get down to cases. My father

told me he's agreed to let you have the rug, but it was a

gift from me to my late mother, and so was not his to give.

Now. As for this. . . "kidnapping"--

DUDE:

Huh?

MAUDE:

Yes, I know about it. And I know

that you acted as courier. And let

me tell you something: the whole

thing stinks to high heaven.

DUDE:

Right, but let me explain something

about that rug--

MAUDE:

Do you like sex, Mr. Lebowski?

DUDE:

Excuse me?

MAUDE:

Sex. The physical act of love.

Coitus. Do you like it?

DUDE:

I was talking about my rug.

MAUDE:

You're not interested in sex?

DUDE:

You mean coitus?

MAUDE:

I like it too. It's a male myth

about feminists that we hate sex.

It can be a natural, zesty enterprise.

But unfortunately there are some

people--it is called satyriasis in

men, nymphomania in women--who engage

in it compulsively and without joy.

DUDE:

Oh, no.

MAUDE:

Yes Mr. Lebowski, these unfortunate

souls cannot love in the true sense

of the word. Our mutual acquaintance

Bunny is one of these.

DUDE:

Listen, Maude, I'm sorry if your

stepmother is a nympho, but I don't

see what it has to do with--do you

have any kalhua?

MAUDE:

Take a look at this, sir.

She is aiming a remote at a projection TV. The screen

flickers to life. A title card:

JACKIE TREEHORN PRESENTS

SECOND CARD:

KARL HUNGUS:

AND:

BUNNY LAJOYA:

IN:

A THIRD CARD:

LOGJAMMIN'

The Dude is at the bar, a bottle of kalhua frozen halfway

to his glass.

From the television set we hear a doorbell ring, and then a

door opening.

On the TV screen the door opens to reveal a sallow-faced

man in blue coyer-alls. It is Dieter, the floater in

Lebowski's pool.

DIETER:

Hello. Nein dizbatcher says zere

iss problem mit deine kable.

DUDE:

Sh*t, I know that guy. He's a

nihilist.

MAUDE:

And you recognize her, of course.

The girl answering the door is Bunny Lebowski.

Bunny The TV is in here.

DIETER:

Za, okay, I bring mein toolz.

Bunny This is my friend Shari. She just came over to use

the shower.

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