The Big Lebowski Page #24

He runs over to the Dude's car.

DUDE:

No! No! NO! THAT'S NOT--

CRASH! CRASH!

MAN:

I FUCKEEN KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR!

CRASH!

MAN:

I KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR!

INSIDE THE CAR:

Glass rains in on a terrified, cringing, Donny.

MAN:

I KILL JOR FUCKEEN CAR!

ON A DEAFENING CRASH WE CUT TO:

THE DUDE'S CAR

We are looking into the car through the broken windshield as

it rattles down the freeway. Wind whistles through the caved-

in windows.

The Dude drives, his jaw clenched, staring grimly out at the

road. Walter, beside him, and Donny in the back seat, munch

'on In-and-Out Burgers.

Creedence music plays above the bluster of wind.

DUDE'S BUNGALOW

As the Dude talks on the phone he is hammering a two-by-four

into the floor just inside, and parallel to, the front door.

DUDE:

I accept your apology. . . No I, I

just want to handle it myself from

now on. . . No. That has nothing to

do with it. . . .Yes, it made it

home, I'm calling from home. No,

Walter, it didn't look like Larry

was about to crack.

He finishes hammering, rises and grabs a straightbacked chair

that stands nearby.

DUDE:

Well that's your perception. . .

Well you're right, Walter, and the

unspoken Message is F*** YOU AND

LEAVE ME THE F*** ALONE. . . Yeah,

I'll be at practice.

He hangs up and has just finished sliding the chair into

place with its top under the doorknob and its legs braced

against the two-by-four, thus wedging the door closed, when

the door is opened--outwards. The chair clatters to the

floor.

DUDE:

Huh?

Woo and the blond man who earlier peed on the rug stride in,

kicking the chair away.

WOO:

Pin your diapers on, Lebowski. Jackie

Treehorn wants to see you.

BLOND MAN:

And we know which Lebowski you are,

Lebowski.

WOO:

Yeah. Jackie Treehorn wants to talk

to the deadbeat Lebowski.

BLOND MAN:

You're not dealing with morons here.

BLACKNESS:

Out of the blackness something is falling toward us. It is

a woman, falling in slow motion, her limbs flailing, her

mouth contorted by either fear or ecstasy. She is topless.

She falls past the camera, leaving blackness, then after a

beat reappears, rising into the night sky.

MALIBU BEACH:

A crowd of mostly tanned middle-aged men with blow-dried

hair, wearing jogging outfits and other expensively casual

attire, are blanket-tossing the squealing young woman in

nightmarish slow motion.

WIDER:

It is a party, lit by festive beach lights and standing

kerosene heaters. 1960's mainstream jazz, of the Mancini-

Brubeck school, has been piped down to speakers on the beach'.

In long shot now the woman rises, squealing, disappears

into darkness, descends into light, rises again.

A man walks towards the camera through the pools of beach

light. He is handsome, fiftyish, wearing cotton twill pants

and a Turnbull & Asher shirt with a foulard knotted at the

neck. Behind him, the woman rises and falls, appears and

disappears.

MAN:

Hello Dude, thanks for coming. I'm

Jackie Treehorn.

INSIDE THE BEACH HOUSE

The Dude is looking around at the '60's modern decor.

DUDE:

This is quite a pad you got here,

man. Completely unspoiled.

TREEHORN:

What's your drink, Dude?

DUDE:

White Russian, thanks. How's the

smut business, Jackie?

TREEHORN:

I wouldn't know, Dude. I deal in

publishing, entertainment, political

advocacy, and--

DUDE:

Which one was Logjammin'?

TREEHORN:

Regrettably, it's true, standards

have fallen in adult entertainment.

It's video, Dude. Now that we're

competing with the amateurs, we can't

afford to invest that little extra

in story, production value, feeling.

He taps his forehead with one finger.

TREEHORN:

People forget that the brain is the

biggest erogenous zone--

DUDE:

On you, maybe.

He hands him the drink.

TREEHORN:

Of course, you do get the good with

the bad. The new technology permits

us to do exciting things with

interactive erotic software. Wave

of the future, Dude. 100% electronic.

DUDE:

Uh-huh. Well, I still jerk off

manually.

TREEHORN:

Of course you do. I can see you're

anxious for me to get to the point.

Well Dude, here it is. Where's Bunny?

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