True Romance Page #7

CLIFF:

Now, wait a minute and listen. I haven't seen Clarence in three years.

Yesterday he shows up here with a girl, sayin' he got married. He told me

he needed some quick cash for a honeymoon, so he asked if he could borrow

five hundred dollars. I wanted to help him out so I wrote out a check. We

went to breakfast and that's the last I saw of him. So help me God. They

never thought to tell me where they were goin'. And I never thought to ask.

Coccotti looks at him for a long moment. He then gives Virgil a look. Virgil, quick as greased lightning, grabs Cliff's hand and turns it palm up. He then whips out a butterfly knife and slices Cliff's palm open and pours Chivas Regal on the wound. Cliff screams.

Coccotti puffs on a Chesterfield.

Tooth-pic Vic returns to the trailer, and reports in Italian that there's nothing in the car.

Virgil walks into the kitchen and gets a dishtowel. Cliff holds his bleeding palm in agony. Virgil hands him the dishtowel. Cliff uses it to wrap up his hand.

COCCOTTI:

Sicilians are great liars. The best in the world. I'm a Sicilian. And my

old man was the world heavyweight champion of Sicilian liars. And from

growin' up with him I learned the pantomime. Now there are seventeen

different things a guy can do when he lies to give him away. A guy has

seventeen pantomimes. A woman's got twenty, but a guy's got seventeen. And

if you know 'em like ya know your own face, they beat lie detectors to

hell. What we got here is a little game of show and tell. You don't wanna

show me nothin'. But you're tellin' me everything. Now I know you know

where they are. So tell me, before I do some damage you won't walk away

from.

The awful pain in Cliff's hand is being replaced by the awful pain in his heart. He looks deep into Coccotti's eyes.

CLIFF:

Could I have one of those Chesterfields now?

COCCOTTI:

Sure.

Coccotti leans over and hands him a smoke.

CLIFF:

Got a match?

Cliff reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter.

CLIFF:

Oh, don't bother. I got one.

(he lights the cigarette)

So you're a Sicilian, huh?

COCCOTTI:

(intensly)

Uh-huh.

CLIFF:

You know I read a lot. Especially things that have to do with history. I

find that sh*t fascinating. In fact, I don't know if you know this or not,

Sicilians were spawned by n*ggers.

All the men stop what they were doing and look at Cliff, except for Tooth-pic Vic who doesn't speak English and so isn't insulted. Coccotti can't believe what he's hearing.

COCCOTTI:

Come again?

CLIFF:

It's a fact. Sicilians have n*gger blood pumpin' through their hearts. If

you don't believe me, look it up. You see, hundreds and hundreds of years

ago the Moors conquered Sicily. And Moors are n*ggers. Way back then,

Sicilians were like the wops in northern Italy. Blond hair, blue eyes. But,

once the Moors moved in there, they changed the whole country. They did so

much f***in' with the Sicilian women, they changed the blood-line for ever,

from blond hair and blue eyes to black hair and dark skin. I find it

absolutely amazing to think that to this day, hundreds of years later,

Sicilians still carry that n*gger gene. I'm just quotin' history. It's a

fact. It's written. Your ancestors were n*ggers. Your great, great, great,

great, great-grandmother was f***ed by a n*gger, and had a half-n*gger kid.

That is a fact. Now tell me, am I lyin'?

Coccotti looks at him for a moment then jumps up, whips out an automatic, grabs hold of Cliff's hair, puts the barrel to his temple, and pumps three bullets through Cliff's head.

He pushes the body violently aside. Coccotti pauses. Unable to express his feelings and frustrated by the blood in his hands, he simply drops his weapon, and turns to his men.

COCCOTTI:

I haven't killed anybody since 1974. Goddamn his soul to burn for eternity

in f***in' hell for makin' me spill blood on my hands! Go to this

comedian's son's apartment and come back with somethin' that tells me where

that a**hole went so I can wipe this egg off of my face and fix this

f***ed-up family for good.

Tooth-pick Vic taps Frankie's shoulder and, in Italianm asks him what that was all about.

Lenny, who has been going through Cliff's refridgerator, has found a beer. When he closes the refridgerator door he finds a note held on by a ceramic banana magnet that says: "Clarence in L.A.: Dick Ritchie (number and address)".

LENNY:

Boss, get ready to get happy.

TITLE CARD:
"CLARENCE AND ALABAMA HIT L.A."

INT. DICK'S APARTMENT - MORNING

Dick's asleep in a recliner. He's wearing his clothes from the night before. His room-mate FLOYD is lying on the sofa watching TV.

The sound of our hands knocking on his door wakes Dick up. He shakes the bats out of his belfry, opens the door, and finds the cutest couple in Los Angeles standing in his doorway.

Clarence and Alabama immediately start singing "Hello My Baby" like the frog in the old Chuck Jones cartoon.

CLARENCE/ALABAMA

Hello my baby,

Hello my honey,

Hello my ragtime gal -

DICK:

Hi guys.

Alabama throws her arms around Dick, and gives him a quick kiss. After she breaks, Clarence does the same. Clarence and Alabama walk right past Dick and into his apartment.

CLARENCE:

Wow. Neat place.

INT. PINK'S HOT-DOG STAND - DAY

The Pink's employees work like skilled Benihana chefs as they assemble the ultimate masterpiece hot-dog.

EXT. PINK'S HOT-DOG STAND - PATIO - DAY

Clarence, Alabama, and Dick are sitting at an outdoor table chowing down on chili dogs. Alabama is in the middle of a story.

ALABAMA:

... when my mom went into labor, my dad panicked. He never had a kid

before, and crashed the car. Now, picture this: their car's demolished,

crowd is starting to gather, my mom is yelling, going into contractions,

and my dad, who was losing it before, is now completely screaming yellow

zonkers. Then, out of nowhere, as if from thin air, this big giant bus

appears, and the bus-driver says, "Get her in here.". He forgot all about

his route and just drove straight to the hospital. So, because he was such

a nice guy, they wanted to name the baby after him, as a sign of gratitude.

Well, his name was Waldo, and no matter how grateful they were, even if

I'da been a boy, they would't call me Waldo. So they asked Waldo where he

was from. And, so there you go.

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