The End of the Tour Page #3

DAVID:

I don’t know if “fan” would be the

right word... I think what happened

was, I had forgotten to tell my

parents not to give my number out. So

it was people who tracked my parents

down, and um -

LIPSKY:

(knowing) Ohhh.

DAVID:

I have this terrible problem, I just

really hate to hurt people’s feelings.

So I did something kinda cowardly.

LIPSKY:

Unlisting your number’s not cowardly.

DAVID:

It kinda is. I mean, I changed my

number so these folks couldn’t find me

anymore. There was this computer

operator in Vancouver, lived in a

basement. Who I found really moving.

In terrible terrible pain.

LIPSKY:

What did he want from you?

DAVID:

Wasn’t clear, and when I would sort of

ask him, he’d get angry, and that’s

when it got scary.

Lipsky sees a child’s drawing displayed on the fridge:

“Chickenhead Dave Wallace.”

LIPSKY:

(re:
the drawing) Who’s the artist?

DAVID:

Hm? (Lipsky points.) Oh, my friend’s

daughter. Calls me Chickenhead, and I

call her Chickenhead. Her latest

salvo in the war.

Laughing, Lipsky takes out his tape recorder and starts to

set it up but stops. (Lipsky is a nervous laugher; he laughs

a lot, not only where indicated.)

12.

LIPSKY:

You mind if I...?

DAVID:

Hey. Do what you’ve got to do.

David watches uncomfortably. The ever-present tape recorder

becomes a third character in this conversation.

DAVID:

Listen:
Before we start putting stuff

on tape, I gotta ask you something.

LIPSKY:

Okay...

DAVID:

I need to know that anything that I

ask you five minutes later to not put

in, you won’t put in.

LIPSKY:

Absolutely.

He clicks off the recorder.

DAVID:

Given my level of fatigue and f***-up

quotient lately, it’s the only way I

can see doin’ it and not going crazy.

LIPSKY:

I understand completely.

Lipsky presses play.

DAVID:

Right back on, huh.

LIPSKY:

You agreed to the interview.

29 I/E. CAR/MAIN STREET - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - DAY 29

Lipsky at the wheel. David chewing tobacco. Ad-libs.

DAVID:

...There’ll be signs for the school on

the right.

LIPSKY:

You like teaching there?

13.

DAVID:

Yeah, I do, very much, that’s what’sso f***ed, I feel so bad for these

kids.

LIPSKY:

Why do you feel bad them, they havethe best writing teacher in the world.

DAVID:

If I were there, maybe. The whole

fuss has taken me out of school for

the past two weeks and I’m gonna have

to leave again tomorrow. We’ve got to

get up at the crack of dawn to leavefor the airport, by the way.

LIPSKY:

Oh, sh*t, do we really?

DAVID:

That’s what you signed on for, man.

You’re welcome to stick around, write

an article about my dogs. Might bemore interesting, I promise you.

David spits chewed tobacco into a Savarin can.

31 INT. ISU CAMPUS/CORRIDOR - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - DAY 31

David and Lipsky walk to his classroom.

DAVID:

Do yourself a favor, don’t expect any

fireworks in there...

Oh.

LIPSKY:

Okay.

31A INT. ISU CAMPUS/CLASSROOM - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - LATER 31A

The class in-progress. Lipsky observes as David paces.

“on” and his students are eating it up.

He’s

DAVID:

A campus romance story, I gotta tellya, to the average citizen, is not allthat interesting. The great dread ofcreative writing professors? “Theireyes met... over the keg...”

Laughter.

14.

EARNEST STUDENT:

I just want my narrator to be funny

and smart, y’know?

DAVID:

I know. You want your narrator to be

funny and smart. Here’s a tip, then:

Have him say funny, smart things some

of the time.

Laughter. Lipsky jots down a note.

DAVID:

You did a good job. Who’s next?

Melissa.

32 INT. ISU CAMPUS/LIBRARY CORRIDOR - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - DUSK 32

Lipsky and David walk down the hall after class.

DAVID:

I’m usually a much better teacher than

this. I swear to God.

LIPSKY:

I thought you were great. They

obviously love you.

DAVID:

Yeah?

LIPSKY:

Oh, come on, you know they do.

DAVID:

You hungry?

33 EXT. RESTAURANT - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - NIGHT 33

Lipsky and David park and go inside.

33B INT. RESTAURANT/TABLE - BLOOMINGTON - 1996 - LATER 33B

They give their order to the WAITER.

WAITER:

...And what can I get you to drink?

Beer, or...

DAVID:

Uh, not for me, thanks. A large Diet

Rite.

15.

LIPSKY:

I’ll have the same.

WAITER:

I’ll be right back with your pop.

The waiter goes. Lipsky sets up the tape recorder. Pause.

LIPSKY:

You don’t drink.

David doesn’t answer right away.

DAVID:

Is that a question?

LIPSKY:

It’s an observation.

DAVID:

Ah. I see. No; I do not drink. You

can order whatever you want, go right

ahead.

LIPSKY:

That’s all right. My friends who have

been through the program say they

didn't want people to drink in front

of them, so out of respect...

DAVID:

I'm not any sort of authority on any

sort of “program.” But from my very

limited outside understanding, people

who have been in it for a while: you

could snort cocaine off the back of

your hand and they’re okay.

Lipsky is embarrassed for having been presumptuous.

DAVID:

You know what I would love to do?

LIPSKY:

What?

DAVID:

I would love to do a profile of one of

you guys who’s doin’ a profile of me.

LIPSKY:

That is interesting...

16.

DAVID:

Too po-mo and cute?

LIPSKY:

Maybe, for Rolling Stone.

DAVID:

But it would be interesting.

(A beat.)

I’m sorry.

LIPSKY:

What’s wrong?

DAVID:

It’s just, you’re gonna go back to New

York and sit at your desk and shape

this thing however you want. And that

to me is extremely disturbing.

LIPSKY:

Why is it disturbing?

DAVID:

‘Cause I would like to shape the

impression of me that’s coming across.

I can’t even tell if I like you yet

‘cause I’m too worried whether you

like me.

Before Lipsky can assure him, the waiter brings their sodas.

WAITER:

(handing off the sodas)

Here you go. Your food will be out

soon. Can I get you anything else?

LIPSKY:

We’re fine, thanks.

The waiter goes.

DAVID:

So what’s this piece about? What does

“Jann” want?

LIPSKY:

What’s it like being the most-talked

about writer in the country. That

sort of thing. That sounds so --

Lipsky seems embarrassed as soon as he says the words.

17.

DAVID:

How do you learn to do this stuff?

LIPSKY:

What.

DAVID:

Interviewing. Did you go to

interviewing school?

LIPSKY:

No... I, uh...

A beat. Lipsky feels a tad fraudulent to identify himself as

a writer to the man whose success and talent he envies.

LIPSKY:

I’m a writer.

DAVID:

Oh, yeah?

LIPSKY:

I mean I write fiction. Just published

my first novel, as a matter of fact.

DAVID:

What’s it called?

LIPSKY:

The Art Fair?

David shrugs. He’s never heard of it. Lipsky feels foolish

for having brought it up.

LIPSKY:

And I, uh, had a collection published,

a couple of years ago.

Lipsky’s pumping leg betrays his anxiety. David notices.

DAVID:

You’re a nervous guy, aren’t you?

LIPSKY:

No no I’m okay. How are you?

DAVID:

‘Cause I’m terrified.

LIPSKY:

Are you? I think it’s going to be a

lot of fun.

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes