Trainspotting Page #11

EXT. VIDEO STORE - DAY

In the cold light of morning, Tommy and Lizzy wait, not

speaking, outside the still-closed video store.

EXT. RAIL BRIDGE - DAY

A train speeds across.

INT. TRAIN - DAY

Sick Boy, Tommy, Spud and Renton sit drinking from an

extensive carry-out.

SICK BOY:

This had better be good.

TOMMY:

It will be. It'll make a change

for three miserable junkies who

don't know what they want to do

with themselves since they stopped

doing smack.

SICK BOY:

If I'm giving up a whole day and

the price of a ticket, I'm just

saying it had better be good.

There's plenty of other things I

could be doing.

TOMMY:

Such as?

SICK BOY:

Such as sitting in a darkened room,

watching videos, drinking, smoking

dope and wanking. Does that answer

your question?

They sit in silence.

EXT. STATION - DAY

The station is in the middle of a moor. There appears to

be no habitation around. In the distance are some hills.

The train stands at the station.

As it pulls away, Renton, Spud, Tommy and Sick Boy are

left standing on the platform, looking around. SICK BOY

Now what?

TOMMY:

We go for a walk.

SPUD:

What?

TOMMY:

A walk.

SPUD:

But where?

Tommy points vaguely across the moor.

TOMMY:

There.

SICK BOY:

Are you serious?

They step across the tracks toward the vast moorland. They

stop.

All but Tommy sit down on rocks or clumps of heather.

TOMMY:

Well, what are you waiting for?

SPUD:

I don't know, Tommy. I don't know

if it's... normal.

A group of three serious Walkers trudge past from the other

end of the platform, decked out in regulation Berghaus

from head to foot. They tramp off towards the wilderness.

The boys watch them go.

Spud opens a can.

TOMMY:

It's the great outdoors.

SICK BOY:

It's really nice, Tommy. Can we go

home now?

TOMMY:

It's fresh air.

SICK BOY:

Look, Tommy, we know you're getting

a hard time off Lizzy, but there's

no need to take it out on us.

TOMMY:

Doesn't it make you proud to be

Scottish?

RENTON:

I hate being Scottish. We're the

lowest of the f***ing low, the

scum of the earth, the most

wretched, servile, miserable,

pathetic trash that was ever shat

into civilization. Some people

hate the English, but I don't.

They're just wankers. We, on the

other hand, are colonized by

wankers. We can't even pick a decent

culture to be colonized by. We are

ruled by effete arseholes. It's a

shite state of affairs and all the

fresh air in the world will not

make any f***ing difference.

The three serious Walkers are receding into the distance.

The boys troop back towards the platform.

RENTON (V.O.)

At or around this time, we made a

healthy, informed, democratic

decision to get back on drugs as

soon as possible. It took about

twelve hours.

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT - DAY

Renton hands over money to Swanney.

Renton then begins cooking up.

Also present and cooking or shooting up are Spud, Swanney,

Allison and Baby, and Sick Boy.

RENTON (V.O.)

It looks easy, this, but it's not.

It looks like a doss, like a soft

option, but living like this, it's

a full-time business.

He injects.

INT. SHOP - DAY

Renton, Spud, and Sick Boy are stuffing objects into their

shirts and pockets.

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT - DAY

Renton lies back, narcotized.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Renton and Spud are running along the street.

Two uniformed Store Detectives are running after them.

Sick Boy stands in a doorway. As the Detectives run past,

he strolls away in the opposite direction.

INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT - DAY

Renton lies back as before.

SICK BOY:

Ursula Andress was the

quintessential Bond girl. That's

what everyone says. The embodiment

of his superiority to us: beautiful,

exotic, highly sexual and yet

unavailable to everyone but him.

Shite. Let's face it: if she'd

shag one punter from Edinburgh,

she'd shag the f***ing lot of us.

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