Throw Momma from the Train Page #2

yet it was raining.

The... The... The...

The streets were wet,...

.. but the night... was as bright...

.. as... the...

.. earrings in Margaret Donner's ears!

My God! I'm goin' outta my mind!

F*** it!

The... night... was... humid!

That's it and that's all.

(grunts)

Stop it, dammit!

I got a wax ball in my ear. Get it out.

- Momma!

- You were writing to her, weren't you?

Don't start that again, Momma.

And don't hit me!

- You love her.

- There's no "her", Momma.

- You were writing a letter.

- I'm writin' a story for class, Momma.

- I take a class. I take a nice class.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

- And I'm gonna be a writer some day.

- You know how that typing upsets me.

I'm sorry, Momma. A writer writes.

You're gonna be nothing.

You're gonna be nothing.

You'll never get to first base.

All you do is type, type, type, type, type!

You sit there typing all day

like a fat little pigeon.

You won't ever hear it again, Momma.

I promise.

Aarrghhh!

- Momma...

- I think you got it, sonny.

I don't know what I'd do

without you, Owen baby.

- I know, Momma.

- Owen, my little baby.

- I know.

- Owen, my little baby boy.

(Owen) And even though

he was mortally wounded,...

.. the guy in the hat got up...

.. and pulled himself up and...

.. staggered out into the dark night...

.. like a milkman...

.. going out on his route.

(man) There he is, Owen.

- Professor Donner...

- Not now, Owen. Another time.

- Beth...

- Don't bother.

- I gotta talk to you.

- You're 16 hours late.

And I'm sorry. It's just that...

she was on the television.

Margaret was on TV

and my mind went nuts.

My mind went crazy. I saw

nothing but hate and death.

And I'm sorry, and I did call.

I called you around 10.30.

- Where were you?

- Did you think I'd stay in all night...

.. staring at my tandoori chicken?

I know you're angry

and... you have every right to be angry.

It's just that I...

- It's my class.

- Ah. How do you do?

(all) Hi.

- What's your name?

- Beth Ryan.

She teaches anthropology.

Beth... Ryan?

Don't even think about it.

(man) Hang in there, Pinsky.

Come on. I'm sorry. Do you know that

we are this far away from having a date?

We're just this far.

- (as Beth) Hello, you're late.

- I'm sorry.

- You probably made tandoori chicken.

- (as Beth) Come on in, Larry. Oh...

Come on, gimme a second chance.

What do you say? Come on!

- I can't believe I'm saying this. Yes.

- Yeah? Great!

Professor Donner,

I saw your wife on Oprah!

Ex-wife. Ex!

What's with him?

(sighs) I can't get over this.

- Why?

- Why? Why?!

She steals my book! OK?

- She goes on national television...

- I'm not gonna sit here and be barked at.

Wait. Listen to me, Beth. The problem is...

.. I can't write. I'm dead inside.

I have no passion.

You have passion. When you talk

about Margaret, you have passion.

Slut!

No, my ex-wife is a major slut.

- But you're not a slut.

- Thank you!

I'm talking about passion!

It's selfless, committed, overflowing!

Not hate and murder!

And slut! I hate her! I wish she was dead!

Chill out.

Thank you.

It's so beautiful!

It's very good, Phil. Very, very good.

Forty yards of Naugahyde, a girl

and a dream. What can I say? It's...

Well, I wrote it just like I lived it.

Which is what you've been

teaching us:
to write what we know.

It's very good. It'll blow the lid off

the upholstery business as we know it.

- Thank you.

- OK.

Next is Murder at my Friend Harry's

by Owen... Lift.

"Chapter 1. The night was humid. "

Class dismissed.

I have an enormous headache in my eye.

Yuck.

OWEN:

(sighs)

(car door closes)

(Larry) I'm so sorry about the cafeteria.

It was Norman Bates in concert.

It's just that I see her and I...

- You wanna kill her.

- Metaphorically, yes.

Specifically, without a doubt.

- I'm glad you called.

- Me, too.

I like trains.

Every great romance or mystery

has a train in it.

- Is this gonna be a great romance?

- Could be.

We have a train, we have the moon,

we have compatible body parts.

- Would you like to kiss me?

- I don't know.

You don't know?

Oh, you're so sweet, Beth.

Oh, Larry, would you like to date me?

- This isn't a date?

- Mmm... I was speaking euphemistically.

- So you're... you're saying...?

- Yeah, yeah.

So you're saying...?

Yeah, you are. I can feel that.

- You're saying no?

- Kids are gonna sit here tomorrow.

- I wanna make love to you, Beth.

- Oh, Larry...

Sometime in the very near future.

- Huh?

- I can't.

- What?

- I have writer's block.

- Everywhere?

- Yeah. It's no good. I can't.

- On the train?

- Oh, I wanna ring the bell.

(moans and sighs)

- (Beth) Oh, take me, Casey.

- Who?

- Take me, Casey.

- I'm taking you, I'm taking you.

- Hi.

- Oh, God!

Do you know Owen?

This is Owen. Owen is a dead man.

- Did I come at a bad time?

- Owen... I'm dating.

You read it, right? My story?

- Yes.

- Good.

Owen, you cannot follow me around

asking me questions.

This stuff belongs in the classroom.

Not on my time. Do you understand me?

Oh.

I'm sorry.

Good night, Miss Ryan.

- Did you like it?

- No!

(ringing)

(Owen) Why didn't you like it?

Because in a novel people have to have

more of a reason to commit a murder.

If they just do it because they're crazy,

it's not strong enough for a novel.

You mean, if someone ruined you

permanently, then you could murder 'em?

Yes. Which brings us to the second point.

The motive:
you have to eliminate it.

- Eliminate the motive.

- Correct. I'll give you an example.

My ex-wife. I hate her guts, right?

Yeah. I overheard you in the cafeteria.

She really ruined you.

Yes, she did. And I hate her with

a passion. But I would never murder her.

- You'd get caught.

- Absolutely right.

I would get caught because

I have a motive and people know that.

I got a similar problem with my momma.

Well, look at this, Owen. This is amazing.

You and I have something in common.

- We do?

- Absolutely. Think about what I'm saying.

And then you just draw on

your own personal experiences.

You mean... how do you murder

and not get caught?

So how do you not get caught?

Owen? How do you not get caught?

By eliminating the motive

and establishing an alibi.

- How?

- I can't tell you everything. I don't know.

- Go see a Hitchcock film.

- Wanna go to the movies with me?

No, I don't wanna go to the movies.

It's real late and I...

I'm gonna go now.

You're gonna be fine. OK?

- Thank you, Professor Donner.

- Good night, Owen.

Eliminate the motive.

Eliminate...

Elim...

Eliminate the motive.

Motive.

Hitchcock.

Let's say that you'd like

to get rid ofyour wife.

Let's say that you have

a very good reason.

- No, let's not...

- No, no. Let's say.

You'd be afraid to kill her.

You know why? You'd get caught.

And what would trip you up? The motive.

Ah. Now here's my idea.

It's so simple, too.

Two fellows meet accidentally,

like you and me.

Each one has somebody

that he'd like to get rid of.

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