The Big Lebowski Page #16

MAUDE:

(grimly)

The story is ludicrous.

DIETER:

Mein nommen iss Karl. Is hard to

verk in zese clozes--

Maude switches off the set.

MAUDE:

Lord. You can imagine where it goes

from here.

DUDE:

He fixes the cable?

MAUDE:

Don't be fatuous, Jeffrey. Little

matter to me that this woman chose

to pursue a career

in pornography, nor that she has been "banging" Jackie

Treehorn, to use the parlance of our times. However. I am

one of two trustees of the Lebowski Foundation, the other

being my father. The Foundation takes youngsters from Watts

and--

DUDE:

Sh*t yeah, the achievers.

MAUDE:

Little Lebowski Urban Achievers,

yes, and proud we are of all of them.

I asked my father about his withdrawal

of a million dollars from the

Foundation account and he told me

about this "abduction", but I tell

you it is preposterous. This

compulsive

fornicator is taking my father for the proverbial ride.

DUDE:

Yeah, but my-

MAUDE:

I'm getting to your rug. My father

and I don't get along; he doesn't

approve of my lifestyle and, needless

to say, I don't approve of his.

Still, I hardly wish to make my

father's embezzlement a police matter,

so I'm proposing that you try to

recover the money from the people

you delivered it to.

DUDE:

Well--sure, I could do that--

MAUDE:

If you successfully do so, I will

compensate you to the tune of 1% of

the recovered sum.

DUDE:

A hundred.

MAUDE:

Thousand, yes, bones or clams or

whatever you call them.

DUDE:

Yeah, but what about--

MAUDE:

--your rug, yes, well with that money

you can buy any number of rugs that

don't have sentimental value for me.

And I am sorry about that crack on

the jaw.

The Dude fingers his jaw, where the lump from the sap has

all but disappeared.

DUDE:

Oh that's okay, I hardly even--

MAUDE:

Here's the name and number of a doctor

who will look at it for you. You

will receive no bill. He's a good

man, and thorough.

DUDE:

That's really thoughtful but I--

MAUDE:

Please see him, Jeffrey. He's a

good man, and thorough.

LIMO:

The Dude sits in back holding a White Russian, listening to

the chauffeur, a man of about the same age from whose livery

cap a ponytail emerges.

DRIVER:

--So he says, "My son can't hold a

job, my daughter's married to a

f***in' loser, and I got a rash on

my ass so bad I can't hardly siddown.

But you know me. I can't complain."

THROUGH RASPING LAUGHTER:

DUDE:

F***in' A, man. I got a rash.

F***in' A, man. I gotta tell ya

Tony.

He takes a sip of a freshly-mixed White Russian, which leaves

milk on his mustache.

I was feeling really shitty earlier in the day, I'd lost a

little money, I was down in the dumps.

TONY:

Aw, forget about it.

DUDE:

Yeah, man! F*** it! I can't be

worrying about that sh*t. Life goes

on!

The limo has rolled to a stop. The Dude gets out, still

holding his drink.

TONY:

Home sweet home, Mr. L. Who's your

friend in the Volkswagon?

DUDE:

Huh?

His eyes on the rearview mirror, Tony jerks a thumb over his

shoulder.

He followed us here.

The Dude turns to look.

HIS POV:

Halfway up the block a Volkswagon bug has pulled over to the

curb. In the driver's seat we see a fat man's shape.

THE DUDE:

He scowls.

DUDE:

When did he-

The Dude is grabbed from behind and muscled away in a half-

nelson by another uniformed chauffeur.

SECOND CHAUFFEUR

Into the limo, you sonofabitch. No

arguments.

As he is frog-marched towards another limo the Dude holds

his drink away from his chest and cups a hand underneath it.

DUDE:

F***, man! There's a beverage here!

The waiting limo's back door is flung open.

INSIDE:

The Dude is shoved in and awkwardly takes a seat facing the

rear. The door is slammed behind him.

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