True Romance Page #14

DREXL:

(eating with chopsticks, to Clarence)

Grab a seat there, boy. Want some dinner? Grab yourself an egg roll. We got

everything here from a diddle-eyed-Joe to a damned-if-I-know.

CLARENCE:

No thanks.

DREXL:

No thanks? What does that mean? Means you ate before you came down here?

All full. Is that it? Naw, I don't think so. I think you're too scared to

be eatin'. Now, see we're sittin' down here, ready to negotiate, and you've

already given up your sh*t. I'm still a mystery to you. But I know exactly

where your ass is comin' from. See, if I asked you if you wanted some

dinner and you grabbed an egg roll and started to chow down, I'd say to

myself, "This motherf***er's carryin' on like he ain't got a care in the

world. Who know? Maybe he don't. Maybe this fool's such a bad motherf***er,

he don't got to worry about nothin', he just sit down, eat my Chinese,

watch my TV." See? You ain't even sat down yet. On that TV there, since you

been in the room, is a woman with her titties hangin' out, and you ain't

even bothered to look. You just been starin' at me. Now, I know I'm pretty,

but I ain't as pretty as a couple of titties.

Clarence takes out an envelope and throws it on the table.

CLARENCE:

I'm not eatin' 'cause I'm not hungry. I'm not sittin' 'cause I'm not

stayin'. I'm not lookin' at the movie 'cause I saw it seven years ago. It's

"The Mack" with Max Julian, Carol Speed, and Richard Pryor, written by

Bobby Poole, directed by Michael Campus, and released by Cinerama Releasing

Company in 1984. I'm not scared of you. I just don't like you. In that

envelope is some payoff money. Alabama's moving on to some greener

pastures. We're not negotiatin'. I don't like to barter. I don't like to

dicker. I never have fun in Tijuana. That price is non-negotiable. What's

in that envelope is for my peace of mind. My peace of mind is worth that

much. Not one penny more, not one penny more.

You could hear a pin drop. Once Clarence starts talking Marty goes on full alert. Drexl stops eating and the Whores stop breathing. All eyes are on Drexl. Drexl drops his chopsticks and opens the envelope. It's empty.

DREXL:

It's empty.

Clarence flashes a wide Cheshire cat grin that says, "That's right, a**hole."

Silence.

DREXL:

Oooooooooh weeeeeeee! This child is terrible. Marty, you know what we got

here? Motherfuckin' Charles Bronson. Is that who you supposed to be? Mr.

Majestyk? Looky here, Charlie, none of this sh*t is necessary. I ain't got

no hold on Alabama. I just tryin' to lend the girl a helpin' hand -

Before Drexl finishes his sentence he picks up the card table and throws it at Clarence, catching him of guard.

Marty comes up behind Clarence and throws his arm around his neck, putting him in a tight choke hold.

Clarence, with his free arm, hits Marty hard with his elbow in the solar plexus. We'll never know if that blow had any effect because at just that moment Drexl takes a flying leap and tackles the two guys.

All of them go crashing into the stereo unit and a couple of shelves that hold records, all of which collapse to the floor in a shower of LPs.

Marty, who's on the bottom of the pile, hasn't let go of Clarence.

Since Drexl's on top, he starts slamming fists into Clarence's face.

Clarence, who's sandwiched between these two guys, can't do a whole lot about it.

DREXL:

Ya wanna f*** with me?

(hits Clarence)

Ya wanna f*** with me?

(hits Clarence)

I'll show ya who you're f***in' wit!

He hits Clarence hard in the face with both fists.

Clarence, who has no leverage whatsoever, grabs hold of Drexl's face and digs his nails in. He sticks his thumb in Drexl's mouth, grabs a piece of cheek, and starts twisting.

Marty, who's in an even worse position, can do nothing but tighten his grip aroud Clarence's neck, until Clarence feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his head.

Drexl's face is getting torn up, but he's also biting down hard on Clarence's thumb.

Clarence raises his head and brings it down fast, crunching Marty's face, and busting his nose.

Marty loosens his grip around Clarence's neck. Clarence wiggles free and gets up on his knees.

Drexl and Clarence are now on an even but awkward footing. The two are going at each other like a pair of alley cats, not aiming their punches, keeping them coming fast and furious. They're not doing much damage to each other because of their positions, it's almost like a hockey fight.

Marty sneaks up behind Clarence and smashes him in the head with a stack of LPs. This disorients Clarence. Marty grabs him from behind and pulls him to his feet.

Drexl socks him in the face: one, two three! Then he kicks him hard in the balls.

Marty lets go and Clarence hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. He curls up into a fetal position and holds his balls, tears coming out of his eyes.

Drexl's face is torn up from Clarence's nails.

Marty has blood streaming down his face frim his nose and on to his shirt.

DREXL:

(to Marty)

You OK? That stupid dumb-ass didn't break your nose, did he?

MARTY:

Naw. It don't feel too good but it's alright.

Drexl kicks Clarence, who's still on the ground hurting.

DREXL:

(to Clarence)

You see what you get when you f*** wit me, white boy? You're gonna walk in

my goddamn house, my house! Gonna come in here and tell me! Talkin' smack,

in my house, in front of my employees. Sh*t! Your ass must be crazy.

(to Marty)

I don't think that white boy's got good sense. Hey, Marty.

(laughing)

He must of thought it was white boy day. It ain't white boy day, is it?

MARTY:

(laughing)

Naw, man, it ain't white boy day.

DREXL:

(to Clarence)

Sh*t, man, you done f***ed up again. Next time you bogart your way into a

n*gger's crib, an' get all his face, make sure you do it on white boy day.

CLARENCE:

(hurting)

Wannabee n*gger...

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