The Onion Field Page #8

on the grounds it may incriminate me.

- I have no further questions.

- You may step down, Mr. Powell.

- How's my landscape designer?

- Your gardener is fine.

Couldn't be better.

The beer's nice and cold.

I was wondering...

if you'd mind if I took a real job.

What job?

I got an offer to go to work...

at a big, commercial nursery.

You did?

I'd have to supervise 30 men, so...

Karl. It's terrific!

You could supervise 30 men or 300,

for that matter.

- Why didn't you tell me?

- It's in Bakersfield.

Way...

Near the onion field?

Near the onion field, yeah.

It's real work.

It's a good job.

I think you should take it.

What do you think?

I think I should take it, too.

Mr. Powell, congratulations.

I hear they gave you a parole date.

- 1983, I hear.

- Yes.

Could you turn that down, please?

Mr. Powell, could you talk to me

about my appeal?

They say you got one of

the best legal minds in the yard.

I'd be glad to.

I could teach you some law,

if you were a willing student.

- You could?

- It would be my pleasure.

First, I gotta put the finishing touches

on this letter to my family.

Seems like everyone wants me

to run their affairs.

You got a family, son?

Very important, family.

It's the foundation

and wellspring of all that's...

productive and wholesome

in our social system.

Do you ever play that game?

At my age? No way.

I hear you

and your old friend Powell are...

going to be getting out in a few years.

Are you going to stay out this time?

My man...

I was born for a prison yard.

- How do you like your bacon, Mom?

- Served to me.

This is my idea of Mother's Day.

No kids...

and a cook who's gonna

double as a dishwasher.

This can go too far, you know.

Guess what?

The other day,

I went driving by the onion field...

and you'll never guess what happened.

As I was driving by, this ad came

on the radio for the Black Watch Pipers.

Can you imagine?

As I was driving by,

bagpipe music came over the radio.

And?

And it's...

pretty nice music.

If you give it a chance, lassie.

Enough of this drudgery.

I'll drudge later.

Come on.

- Where are we going?

- Come on.

- We're going to go swimming.

- No.

- No! Karl! Karl, it's too cold.

- It's warm in the sleeping bag.

No!

No! Karl, no!

Karl, look.

The little fish...

They're kissing us.

Those are bluegills.

They're just hungry.

They nibble at everything

that comes into the water.

- Damn it, Karl, I say they're kissing us.

- Okay, Helen.

Okay, they're kissing us.

- Hello.

- Hello.

- You're a good piper.

- Thanks.

I'm not that good.

I don't think I'll win a medal or nothing.

You may.

My son won a silver medal here once,

a long time ago.

You must know about the bagpipes then.

My people were from Scotland,

and so were my husband's.

But I always wanted my boy

to play piano.

- The pipes are so boisterous.

- No. That's the kind of brave music it is.

I hope your son stayed

with the bagpipes.

Forever.

I think I'll play the bagpipes

as long as I live.

I think that's a lovely idea.

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