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The Ladykillers Page #11
All look at Pancake. Quiet, except for the delicate chamber
music.
Gawain's tone softens:
GAWAIN:
...You know what, man?
PANCAKE:
What, brother?
GAWAIN:
I don't vote. So f*** you.
Pancake darkens:
PANCAKE:
Why you f***ing--
GAWAIN:
And the bus you rode in on!
PANCAKE:
That's it!
He peels off his coat.
PANCAKE:
...Let's step outside, MacSam!
There is a knock on the cellar door. The men freeze
momentarily, then scramble for their instruments. The General
flips his cigarette backwards into his mouth.
Dorr turns off the boom box, then calls:
DORR:
Yes, madam?
The door opens and Mrs. Munson comes down the stairs, holding
a large plate covered by a checked napkin.
MRS. MUNSON
My friend Mrs. Funthes is here so
I'm about to go on out. I just wanted
to leave y'all with some cinnamon
cookies...
She takes the napkin off and carries the plate from person
to person; each obediently takes a cookie with a murmured
"Thank you, ma'am."
MRS. MUNSON
...Y'all sound pretty good. It'd be
nice if you'd come by the church
some day, give us a recital.
Dorr takes her by the arm and escorts her back to the stairs.
DORR:
Oh madam, you are too kind. Our music,
however, is -- how shall I put it? --
rather Roman in its outlook; many of
our pieces were commissioned by the
Holy See.
MRS. MUNSON
Oh, I see all right, but we don't
make a big whoop-dee-do about
denominations; everybody welcome at
our church. We've had Methodists
come in. Episcopals. Even had a Jew
come in once with a guitar back in
the sixties.
DORR:
Indeed. Excuse me, one moment, ma'am,
and I shall see you off...
They have reached the top of the stairs and the Professor
ushers her out but stays behind himself. He turns to address
the rest of the men below:
DORR:
...If you gentlemen can labor
harmoniously in the course of my
absence, then perhaps upon my return
we shall be prepared to explode that
vexin' ol' piece a igneous.
GAWAIN:
He's the motherfuckin' piece of
igneous.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The Professor emerges from the cellar. Mrs. Munson awaits
with her friend who is likewise togged out in fancy Sunday
dress and carrying a shiny black purse.
MRS. MUNSON
Professor, this is Rosalie Funthes,
Rosalie, Professor G.H. Dorr, Ph.D.
ROSALIE:
Oh my, that's an awful lot of letters.
DORR:
Well of course in my youth I was
simply known as Goldthwait...
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - NIGHT
Pancake is taking the boom box off the table to clear some
space.
PANCAKE:
All right, safety meeting, let's
listen up. General, could you hand
me the prima cord and the compound
there. Before we set the charge we'll
run through our procedure.
Various paraphernalia are laid out on the table.
The cat sits in a corner of the cellar, watching carefully
and, it seems, listening attentively.
PANCAKE:
...I have earplugs for whoever wants
them. Just wedge them in your ears.
Now here we have -- not yet, Lump.
Lump stops putting in his earplugs.
PANCAKE:
...Now. Prima cord. Gelatinite. C4.
Time comes, we pack the hole in the
rock with the C4 and insert two leads.
A...
He holds up one lead.
PANCAKE:
...and B.
PANCAKE:
...Charge comes from a battery that
is inside this plunger. Ordinary
auto battery, you can pick it up at
Sears, easiest thing in the world...
A black town car idles at the curb. Dorr is just escorting
the two ladies out the front door and down the stoop.
DORR:
I remember my father telling me --
and it is one of the few memories I
retain of the man, from one of his
visits home, and how I do cherish it --
he said, "Goldthwait, you are not
ROSALIE:
Mm-mm.
MRS. MUNSON
He a man of learnin'?
DORR:
G.H. number two was self-educated;
he had no career, as such, though
the state recognized the breadth of
his readin' by making him librarian
at the state nervous hospital in
Meridian, where he was a distinguished
inmate.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - NIGHT
Pancake sets down the two electrical leads and picks up a
hammer.
PANCAKE:
This is the same procedure we will
be using when we collapse the tunnel
after entering the casino vault and
returning to the root cellar.
PANCAKE:
...This is for your own protection,
so pay close attention. Once these
materials are combined only the
professionals may handle them. That
means me, or the General. Separately
they are harmless-completely inert.
Why, you could light this stuff on
fire, hit it with a hammer--
He swings the hammer down onto the plastique--
--and there is the dull thud of an explosion and the house's
windows rattle in their frames.
The Professor, at the open door of the car into which the
two ladies have just sat, looks up at the house, as do the
ladies.
MRS. MUNSON
...What in the name of heaven was
that?
Dorr stares at the house, appalled.
DORR:
I'm... quite sure... that there is...
no cause for alarm...
He struggles for self-possession.
DORR:
...Why, I'm not even absolutely
certain that I heard anything at
all.
MRS. MUNSON
Didn't hear anything?!
DORR:
Well, something, perhaps, but...
Marva Munson starts to get out of the car.
DORR:
...nothing that need discompose us,
convey...
He urges her back into her seat.
DORR:
...Miz Munson, I will not have you
missing your musical recital. Why,
you go ahead now. Miz Funthes, you
as well, I beg of you...
He is backing up the walk.
DORR:
...I shall call the gas company, or
the water company, or whatever
subterranean utility is implicated
in this little... occurrence... I
shall see to the matter... as only a
highly educated classicist could.
At the door now, he gives the two women peering out the car
window a smiling but vigorous wave away, which they do not
heed, and then he enters.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
The room is filled with smoke.
Othar, slightly askew over the mantel, looks a little huffy.
We hear clomping and screaming on the cellar stairs.
Lump bursts out, shrieking:
LUMP:
Blood, Professor! Oh my God! Blood!
The General comes bounding up the stairs like a panther, a
cigarette burning in his lips. He lands catlike in the living
room, glides to the blubbering Lump, grabs one shoulder firmly
with one hand, and with the other slaps him sharply, once
forehand, once backhand.
Lump stares at him, shocked, his blubbering cut short.
More noise is coming from the stairs:
PANCAKE:
...why, it's nothing to make a fuss
about. Perfectly all right... happens
all the time...
GAWAIN:
...You gotta go find it, dipshit!
Pancake emerges from the stairwell, his hair singed, his
face and the front of his jumpsuit darkened by the blast. He
is clutching one hand with the other.
PANCAKE:
...No, no. Really, I'm perfectly all
right.
Gawain has ascended just behind to hector him over his
shoulder:
GAWAIN:
Perfectly all right? You just blew
your f***ing finger off!
PANCAKE:
Sure, but--
GAWAIN:
Well get back down there and find
it, man! I ain't pickin' up your
goddamn finger!
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"The Ladykillers" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_ladykillers_891>.
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