The Limey Page #16

After this spineless whining weak-willed sob story, Larry

just turns to him and says:

LARRY:

... I'd really like to eat your p*ssy.

CUT.

EXT. ELAINE'S NEIGHBORHOOD. DAY.

Stacy and Uncle John sitting on a bench in a beach setting

(though we still don't see the ocean). Or on some grass,

maybe, in a little park -- opposite Elaine's building.

People-watching. In their own unique way. Stacy commenting

on fellow humanity all around them. TIME CUTS between each

comment:

STACY:

(after laughing loudly at a

handicapped person)

I believe in mocking the afflicted. Good

for 'em. Makes 'em stronger.

Uncle John picks at the grass or sand. As they kill the day.

STACY:

(spotting a woman with a dog)

Ever take a look at the women who work in

pet stores? Wow.

STACY:

(as a fat jogger passes)

Good luck.

STACY:

(watching someone else go by)

Jesus, are you gay enough or what.

STACY:

(barely out of earshot of a

black woman with dyed blonde

hair)

Very attractive. Good idea. Now I

really want to f*** you.

STACY:

(after a long time in silence,

just staring at someone)

... you can always tell the ones who'll do

anal.

STACY:

(regarding some other

beachgoers)

Kinda makes you wonder why more people

don't put a bullet through their f***in'

skulls, doesn't it.

STACY:

(reading a newspaper)

Looks like they just airbrushed the dick

out of his mouth.

STACY:

(leaning back on his elbows)

Why don't they have TV shows about people

whose daily lives you'd be interested in

watching. Y'know. Like SKINNY LITTLE

WEAKLING. Or BIG FAT GUY. SICK OLD MAN.

FAMILY OF LOSERS. Wouldn't that be good?

STACY:

(sitting up)

Two blacks and a Mexican in a car. Who's

driving?

UNCLE JOHN:

I don't know.

STACY:

The L.A.P.D.

STACY:

(observing a "fast-walker")

Oh yeah, keep doing that. That's really

healthy.

STACY:

(his gaze following another

unfortunate)

Can't you do something about your ass?

STACY:

(his head turning after someone

else)

Other people's lives scare the sh*t out

of me.

STACY:

(watching some guy rooting in a

trash bin)

"Homeless" people. F*** them. Remember

when they were just bums? Everyone with

an axe to grind. Like to grind in their

face. Pretty soon there'll be sh*t-in-

your-pants rights groups. Stupidity

activists.

STACY:

(glad he's who he is and not

who he's looking at)

Wonder what it's like being a dumb guy in

a dumb suit trying to cross the street.

STACY:

(staring at another sad couple)

Life sure is a minefield.

STACY:

(clocking another female)

Look at that one. She's really been

used.

STACY:

(in a contemplative mode)

I'd love to be famous so I could snub

ordinary people. Imagine, you're famous,

you're sitting in a restaurant, some fool

comes up to you, wants you to sign your

name on his napkin, his wife is there, it

would be something these poor saps would

cherish the rest of their lives, talk

about to their cretin friends. Bam! You

tell 'em to F*** OFF! God, I'd love

that.

Suddenly Uncle John speaks.

UNCLE JOHN:

Is that her? I bet that's her.

Stacy turns.

POV:

Across the street, Elaine comes out of her building. (We're

supposing this is an apartment building somewhat worth living

in that has outdoor parking of some kind, visible from the

street, or only street parking.)

CUT.

EXT. SOME STREET. DAY.

Elaine's car on the move. Stacy and Uncle John in a car

following.

INT. ELAINE'S CAR.

Going somewhere. Unaware of the creeps in her wake.

INT. STACY/UNCLE JOHN'S CAR.

An "8x10" of Elaine on their back seat. Another picture of

her on a page torn from a "Player's Directory."

UNCLE JOHN:

Maybe she doesn't even know the English

guy.

STACY:

(driving)

Avery said she was tight with his

daughter.

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