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The Ladykillers Page #16
GENERAL:
So sorry.
The Professor, nodding, smiling, and dry-washing his hands,
continues to look at Mrs. Munson, though his story,
apparently, has ended.
She returns his ingratiating look with a stare.
MRS. MUNSON
...What about all that money?
Dorr's smile fades.
DORR:
...Ah. The money. The money is...
Mr. Pancake's.
PANCAKE:
That's right.
DORR:
He only just re-mortgaged his house
in order to pay for the procedure
that will correct the wandering eye
of his common-law wife, Mountain
Water, who suffers from astygmia and
strabismus and a general curdling of
the vitreous jelly. Mr. Pancake
however is an ardent foe of the
federal reserve and is in fact one
of those eccentrics about whom one
occasionally reads, hoarding his
entire life savings either under the
proverbial mattress or, as in Mr.
Pancake's case, in a Hefty bag that
is his constant companion.
Under her stare, he elaborates:
DORR:
...Steel Sack.
PANCAKE:
Don't trust the banks. Never have.
She thinks, decides.
MRS. MUNSON
This don't smell right. I'm callin'
Sheriff Wyner.
A chorus of gasps.
DORR:
Madam -- if you please. Yes! Yes! It
was a lie! A fantastic tale! You
have us! Dead to rights! But please
allow me to tell you the truth -- in
private.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING
He escorts her to sit beneath the portrait of Othar, sits
across from her, and leans confidentially in.
DORR:
Madam...
He agonizes. The words do not come easy.
DORR:
...What I am about to reveal to you,
you may find... shocking. Mrs. Munson,
I must tell you that we are not...
what we appear.
MRS. MUNSON
Mm-hm.
DORR:
We are not in fact musicians of the
late Renaissance. Nor of the early
or mid period. We are, in fact...
criminals! Desperate men, madam! We
have tunneled into the nearby offices
of the Lady Luck gambling emporium
and have relieved it of its treasure!
MRS. MUNSON
Lord have mercy!
DORR:
It is true that the Lady Luck is a
den of iniquity, a painted harlot
luring people into sin and exciting
the vice of greed with her false
promise of easy winnings. Oh, her
gains are ill-gotten, yes, but I
offer no excuses -- save one! We men
have each pledged half of our share
of the booty to a charitable
institution -- the General, to a
placement service for Southeast Asian
refugees; Mr. Pancake to the Blue
Ridge Parkway Conservancy; and Lump
to the United Jewish Appeal. As
compensation for use of your house
we had planned to donate a full share
to Bob Jones University, without
burdening you with guilty knowledge
by informing you of same. But you
have wrested the information from
me! Now it is all on the table. Now
you have it, the whole story, the
awful truth.
MRS. MUNSON
Stolen money!
DORR:
Yes, yes, shamefully I admit it,
yes! But find the victim, Mrs. Munson,
I challenge you! Even the casino
itself, that riparian Gomorra, shall
suffer no harm! It has an insurance
company, a financial behemoth that
will cheerfully replenish its depleted
vaults! That is its function! And
the insurance company itself is made
up of tens and tens of thousands of
policy-holders so that -- we have
done the calculations, Mrs. Munson! --
so that at the end of the day, at
the final reckoning, each policy-
holder shall have contributed only
one penny -- one single solitary
cent -- to the satisfaction of this
claim.
MRS. MUNSON
...Just one penny?
DORR:
Think of it, Mrs. Munson! One cent
from thousands upon thousands of
people so that Bob Jones University
can continue on its mission! Why, I
have no doubt that, were the policy-
holders aware of the existence of
that august institution, why, each
and every one of them would have
volunteered some token amount to the
furtherance of its aims!
MRS. MUNSON
Well that's prob'ly true...
The Professor, warming, has resumed dry-washing his hands:
DORR:
Yes madam, sadly, the criminal stain
is upon my soul, but the benefit
shall accrue to any number of worthy
causes. As long, that is, as the
secret stays with us. And I, surely,
shall not be the one to divulge it.
Mrs. Munson nods, musing.
MRS. MUNSON
Well... it's hard to see the harm in
it... One penny...
Her gaze drifts around the room, a smile beginning to warm
her face. The smile freezes, though, as her look catches on
something.
Her POV:
Othar, above the mantle, looks down with adisapproving scowl.
MRS. MUNSON
...I'm sorry, Professor.
Dorr is taken aback:
DORR:
Excuse me, ma'am?
MRS. MUNSON
No. It's wrong. Don't you be leadin'
me into temptation.
DORR:
Madam, I must strenuously protest--
MRS. MUNSON
No, it's just plain wrong. Stealin'.
I know your intentions were good,
and I won't call the police if you
give the money back. But I gotta see
that you do it.
DORR:
Madam--
MRS. MUNSON
And all a you gotta go to church
with me next Sunday.
The Professor is incredulous:
DORR:
And... engage in divine worship?
MRS. MUNSON
I made up my mind. You can double-
talk all you want, but its church or
the county jail.
DORR:
But--
She rises.
MRS. MUNSON
You think it over. I gotta feed the
cat.
INT. MUNSON HOUSE - CELLAR - NIGHT
The men all sit around the card table, lit from below by an
oil lamp. The General is neatly packing the stacks of
banknotes into the sackbutt case.
GAWAIN:
Motherfuck!
DORR:
Yes. Unfortunately, Mrs. Munson has
rather complicated the situation--
GAWAIN:
I know how to discomplicate it! Put
a cap in the old lady's head! Then
everything simple again!
The group lapses into silence, considering. Even Gawain needs
a moment to digest the horror that he himself has proposed.
The Professor is solemn:
DORR:
...Not easy to do. Many reasons.
Practical ones:
a quiet neighborhood,a sleepy town. Reasons of moral
repugnance:
a harmless woman, a deedconceived and executed in cold blood.
No, Gawain; would that it were simple!
GAWAIN:
Well -- f***, man! What we gonna do,
give the money back and go to church?!
DORR:
I shudder. I quake.
He turns to the General.
DORR:
...You sir, are a Buddhist. Is there
not a middle way?
The General grunts as he closes the clasps on the sackbutt
case full of money:
GENERAL:
Must float like a leaf on the river
of life. And kill old lady.
The men murmur.
DORR:
Well... I suppose you are right. It
is the active nature of the crime,
though, that so horrifies -- the
squeezing of the trigger, the plunging
of the knife. But, think a moment --
look at the other tools we have at
hand.
He looks around.
DORR:
...We have the cellar. We have masonry
and trowel. Perhaps we could simply...
immure her.
PANCAKE:
Sure, easiest thing in the world. I
could whip up a little mortar in one
of those snow saucers, lay the bricks,
anchor in some chains, Mountain has
a source for the manacles...
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"The Ladykillers" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_ladykillers_891>.
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