The Big Lebowski Page #7

The Pomeranian is excitedly yapping at Walter's elbow, making

high body-twisting tail-wagging leaps.

DUDE:

Walter, they're calling the cops,

put the piece away.

WALTER:

MARK IT ZERO!

SMOKEY:

Walter--

WALTER:

YOU THINK I'M F***ING AROUND HERE?

MARK IT ZERO!!

SMOKEY:

All right! There it is! It's f***ing

zero!

He points frantically at the score projected above the lane.

SMOKEY:

You happy, you crazy f***?

WALTER:

This is a league game, Smokey!

PARKING LOT:

Walter and the Dude walk to the Dude's car. The Pomeranian

trots happily behind Walter who totes the empty carrier.

DUDE:

Walter, you can't do that. These

guys're like me, they're pacificists.

Smokey was a conscientious objector.

WALTER:

You know Dude, I myself dabbled with

pacifism at one point. Not in Nam,

of course--

DUDE:

And you know Smokey has emotional

problems!

WALTER:

You mean--beyond pacifism?

DUDE:

He's fragile, man! He's very fragile!

As the two men get into the car:

WALTER:

Huh. I did not know that. Well,

it's water under the bridge. And we

do enter the next round-robin, am I

wrong?

DUDE:

No, you're not wrong--

WALTER:

Am I wrong!

DUDE:

You're not wrong, Walter, you're

just an a**hole.

They watch a squad car take a squealing turn into the lot.

WALTER:

Okay then. We play Quintana and

O'Brien next week. They'll be

pushovers.

DUDE:

Just, just take it easy, Walter.

WALTER:

That's your answer to everything,

Dude. And let me point out--pacifism

is not--look at our current situation

with that camelfucker in Iraq--

pacifism is not something to hide

behind.

DUDE:

Well, just take 't easy, man.

WALTER:

I'm perfectly calm, Dude.

DUDE:

Yeah? Wavin' a gun around?!

WALTER:

(smugly)

Calmer than you are.

-his irritates the Dude further.

DUDE:

Just take it easy, man!

Walter is still smug.

WALTER:

Calmer than you are.

DUDE'S HOUSE

A large, brilliant Persian rug lies beneath the Dude's beat-

up old furniture.

At the table next to the answering machine the Dude is mixing

kalhua, rum and milk.

VOICE:

Dude, this is Smokey. Look, I don't

wanna be a hard-on about this, and I

know it wasn't your fault, but I

just thought it was fair to tell you

that Gene and I will be submitting

this to the League and asking them

to set aside the round. Or maybe

forfeit it to us--

DUDE:

Sh*t!

VOICE:

--so, like I say, just thought, you

know, fair warning. Tell Walter.

A beep.

ANOTHER VOICE:

Mr. Lebowski, this is Brandt at, uh,

well--at Mr. Lebowski's office.

Please call us as soon as is

convenient.

Beep.

ANOTHER VOICE:

Mr. Lebowski, this is Fred Dynarski

with the Southern Cal Bowling League.

I just got a, an informal report,

uh, that a uh, a member of your team,

uh, Walter Sobchak, drew a loaded

weapon during league play--

We hear the doorbell.

THE DOOR:

It swings open to reveal a short, hairy, muscular but balding

middle-aged man in a black T-shirt and black cut-off jeans.

DUDE:

Hiya Allan.

ALLAN:

Dude, I finally got the venue I

wanted. I'm Performing my dance

quintet--you know, my cycle--at Crane

Jackson's Fountain Street Theatre on

Tuesday night, and I'd love it if

you came and gave me notes.

The Dude takes a swig of his kalhua.

DUDE:

Sure Allan, I'll be there.

ALLAN:

Dude, uh, tomorrow is already the

tenth.

DUDE:

Yeah, yeah I know. Okay.

ALLAN:

Just, uh, just slip the rent under

my door.

Rate this script:4.3 / 3 votes