The Ladykillers Page #2

MRS. MUNSON

Mm... gizzards...

The cat paces back and forth between her legs, leaning into

them and purring, responding to the snap of tin as the cover

comes off the can.

The can contains cubed processed gizzard in a gelatinous

medium like the stuff that clings to gefilte fish.

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Above the fireplace is an oil portrait of a serious-looking

black man of late middle-age with a neatly groomed mustache

starting to gray. A couple of candles sit on the mantel below

the portrait, giving it the semblance of a shrine.

Mrs. Munson enters and lights the candles.

MRS. MUNSON

Othar, I went'n complained about

WeeMack, I hope it'll do some good.

That boy hangin' by a thread! Over

the pit! Fiery pit! "I Left My Wallet

in El Segundo"!

She shakes out the match and sits in a rocker and takes up

her knitting. As she sits she gives an audible groan.

MRS. MUNSON

...Sixty-seven years of life, forty-

six years of marriage, you mean to

tell me you never one time suffered

from piles? It's the human condition,

most humans anyway. Like that ball

player said:
world's got two kinds

of folks -- them that's got piles

and them that's gonna get 'em. But

you was always healthy as an ox...

There is the distant moan of a riverboat horn.

MRS. MUNSON

...Passed on before you got piles.

Mmmmhmm. Thank the Lord you wasn't

sick. You don't wanna sicken 'n die.

No, you wanna pass nice 'n peaceful...

go to sleep one night, wake up in

the glory land... woof...

A gust of wind hums under the eaves; the candles below the

portrait flicker. As Mrs. Munson looks around the room,

vaguely towards the ceiling, sensing a negative aura, the

cat arches its back and hisses.

At this moment the doorbell rings.

MRS. MUNSON

...Well who's that now, Pickles?

She grunts as she hoists herself out of the chair.

I/E. MUNSON HOUSE - FOYER - NIGHT

She opens the door--

A draft--

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

The candles below the portrait of Othar go out, sending up

thin wisps of smoke.

I/E. MUNSON HOUSE - FOYER - NIGHT

The cat shrieks and bolts out the door, past the man on the

stoop:
GOLDTHWAIT HIGGINSON DORR, III.

He is a middle-aged Southern gentleman wearing a panama hat

and a cape over a cream-colored suit. He has dark circles

under his eyes. The smile he attempts, mournful yet courtly,

is wiped away by:

MRS. MUNSON

PICKLES!

DORR:

Ma'am?

MRS. MUNSON

Go get 'im!

DORR:

I do beg your pardon?

MRS. MUNSON

Go get Pickles, I didn't let 'im

out!

DORR:

(tasting the name)

Pickles...

EXT. MUNSON HOUSE - NIGHT

Dorr walks down the stoop followed by the old lady.

MRS. MUNSON

Oh, he's up the tree again. Your

gonna have to shimmy on up.

DORR:

I am so terribly sorry, madam. But

won't the feline eventually tire of

his lonely perch and, pining for his

master's affection, return on his

own initiative?

MRS. MUNSON

Huh? No, he won't come down less you

fetch him. He'd set there til Gabriel

blows his horn if someone didn't

shimmy up. Up with you now!

DORR:

Well then couldn't we perhaps offer

him kitty treats and enticements, or

if not foodstuffs perhaps squeaky

little toys of the kind formerly

manufactured in Hong Kong but now

produced in the other so-called

"Little Tigers"...

His fingers form the quotes.

DORR:

...of the Pacific Rim? The point

bein', do we have to actually ascend

the tree--

MRS. MUNSON

Look, I don't want no doubletalk. If

you ain't gonna fetch him down I

guess I gotta call the po-lice...

DORR:

Police...

His face darkens.

MRS. MUNSON

They ain't gonna be happy. Every

time they come fetch him down they

swear they won't do it no more...

Dorr casts his hat aside and starts awkwardly climbing the

tree. He gasps as he climbs:

DORR:

No need to call the authorities. I

did this often as a youth -- why, I

was a positive lemur... Here, kitty...

The cat backs away down a branch, arching its back and

hissing.

MRS. MUNSON

Don't upset him, now!

Dorr, on his stomach, inches after the cat, grunting:

DORR:

I wouldn't dream of it... harmless

little felix domesticus... Come to

G.H...

The branch breaks, hinging down to slam Dorr face-first into

the trunk, from where he drops the rest of the way to the

ground.

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Othar's portrait, upside-down, seems to be looking bemusedly

down on us.

An OBJECTIVE ANGLE shows Dorr lying on the couch, a damp

washcloth on his forehead, eyes rolled back to look at the

picture.

Mrs. Munson is entering with a cup of tea. Dorr swings his

feet out to sit up and accept the tea.

DORR:

I thank you, madam, for your act of

kindness.

MRS. MUNSON

Well you let him out.

DORR:

I certainly did and I do apologize

no end. Allow me to present myself,

uh, formally:
Goldthwait Higginson

Dorr, Ph.D.

MRS. MUNSON

What, like Elmer?

DORR:

Beg your pardon, ma'am?

MRS. MUNSON

Fudd?

DORR:

No no, Ph.D. is a mark of academic

attainment. It is a degree of higher

learning bestowed, in my case, in

recognition of my mastery of the

antique languages of Latin and Greek.

I also hold a number of other advanced

degrees including the baccalaureate

from a school in Paris, France, called

the Sorbonne.

Munson chuckles.

MRS. MUNSON

Sore bone, well I guess that's

appropriate. You ever study at Bob

Jones University?

DORR:

I have not had that privilege.

MRS. MUNSON

It's a bible school, only the finest

in the country. I send them five

dollars every month.

DORR:

That's very gener--

MRS. MUNSON

I'm on their mailing list. I'm an

Angel.

DORR:

Indeed.

MRS. MUNSON

They list my name in the newsletter,

every issue. I got the literature

here, you wanna examine it.

DORR:

Perhaps when my head has recovered

from its... buffeting. Mrs. Munson,

are you at all curious as to why I

darkened your door, as the expression

has it, on this lovely camelia-scented

morn?

MRS. MUNSON

I was wondering, til you let Pickles

out. Then in all the excitement--

DORR:

I quite understand. The fact is that

I saw the sign on your window

advertising a room to let, and it is

the only such sign among the houses

of this charming, charming street.

MRS. MUNSON

Yeah, I got a room. I'm lookin' for

a quiet tenant. Fifteen dollars a

week

DORR:

I quite understand. Madam, you are

addressing a man who is quiet -- and

yet not quiet, if I may offer a

riddle...

He sets down the teacup and rises.

DORR:

...Perhaps you can show me the room,

Mrs. Munson, and allow me to explain.

MRS. MUNSON

Well you can see the room, but I

don't like double-talk.

Mrs. Munson precedes him...

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - STAIRCASE - NIGHT

...up the stairs.

DORR:

You see, madam, I am currently on

sabbatical from the institution where

I teach -- the University of

Mississippi at Hattiesburg. I am

taking a year off to indulge my

passion -- I don't believe that is

too strong a word -- for the music

of the Renaissance. I perform in --

and have the honor of directing -- a

period instrument ensemble that

performs at Renaissance fairs and

other cultural fora...

INT. MUNSON HOUSE - DORR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

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