JOHN FROM CINCINATI
(Episode 2)
Transcription By Groggy (assisted by Coco)
(Imperial
Beach. Morning. Cass, the attractive young blonde woman, is
lurking again. Today, however, Shaun
isn’t the one she‘s spying. Today it’s
Mitch. From the beach, Cass watches him
perform his morning ritual. She watches
him surf. She watches him walk the
board from back to front, then front to back as the surf roils about his feet. This morning though, Mitch is not alone on
the water. Kai is out there too. Mitch comes out of the water.)
Kai: (calling from her board as she rides one in) Hey, old man! (wading
through the backwash of the surf near the beach) I didn’t realize I was this far down. I kept catching those really long rights.
Mitch: Keep doing that, and you’ll end up in Rosarita.
Kai: Hey, I didn’t mean to intrude.
Mitch: It’s a long walk back.
My car is here if you want a ride.
(Mitch and Kai start walking toward his wagon. Cass is waiting to intercept them.) You
should watch your feet. I stepped on a
syringe here yesterday.
Kai: Welcome to the sloughs. Who’s that chick? Is she a fan of yours?
Mitch: All my fans are in retirement homes.
Cass: (approaching) Mitch Yost, you probably don’t
remember me, but I met you once. Pipe
Masters. I was 15. And I got to tell you, I had a big
crush. My name is Cass.
Kai: (to herself) Give me a fucking break.
Mitch: I didn’t notice, huh?
Cass: I was still knock-kneed with braces.
Mitch: Well, everything changes.
Cass: Yeah, I make movies now.
Kai: Uh, thanks anyway, Pop.
I’m gonna walk and get some air.
Mitch: All right, Kai.
Kai: Nice car, chick.
Mitch: (checking out Cass’s Porsche) These
are hard to find.
Cass: I like vintage, what can I say? So, I’m doing this film called “Legends.” (handing Mitch her card) I would love to shoot you for it. I know this really isn’t your kind of
thing. But you know my name…and you’ve
got my number. Just think about it.
Mitch: Okay. (Cass gets in her Porsche and drives away. Mitch goes to the back of his vintage
wagon. He drops his mat on the ground,
then pours his daily gallon of water over his head.)
(Cut to Bill Jacks at home. He’s on the phone.)
Bill: (answering question)
Bill
Jacks. Why’d I hang up? I got tired of being held on hold. Good thing I’m not being robbed here. I’m looking into a nut-job…ascertain if he’s
wanted or missing. I got his prints
here. I want them lifted. Why am I calling ahead? Well, Anderson, that’s to avoid standing
there like a mope with my hat in my hand someplace I worked 16 years while my
request is walked through channels.
What are the prints on? You ask
me that, I think maybe you haven’t tried the water fountain this morning. Because, being the nut-job drank from the
station house fountain yesterday, Anderson, his prints are on the fucking
handle which I am in the fucking possession of. Hey, you know what? Fuck
you, where you gonna drink? Try the
fucking toilet! And while you’re in
there, go fuck yourself! But what you
really ought to be doing is updating the goddamn bulletin board! (Bill Jacks
slams the phone down!) Preparation for the celebration of the millennium
was a goddamn disgrace. (lowering
himself into a chair) 16 fucking
years.
(Cut to
Butchie’s room at the Snug Harbor.
Butchie’s in bed, and John is on a mattress on the floor. Butchie is just waking up, John appears to
already be awake.)
Butchie: How did you sleep?
John: How did you sleep?
Butchie: I slept, you know.
You know, (getting up and
heading for the bathroom) I do know
that I’m not feeling dopesick right now. (John follows Butchie into the
bathroom.) What are you doing? You
gotta take a horrendous dump too?
‘Cause I gotta take a horrendous dump, pal.
John:
I gotta take a horrendous dump.
Butchie: Fuck. Firsties on
the can. I got the face. (Butchie shakes a coin in a cup and
spills it to decide who dumps first.
[NOTE: not entirely clear how Butchie determined who got to dump
first]) Damn! But make it
quick. All right? (helping John) Drop your pants, ass on that seat, baby, and push. I gots to go. (exiting, then pacing outside the bathroom) Come on. (Sitting on the crapper with
the door wide open, John stares cluelessly up at Butchie.) Oh, shit. Are you shy about doing your business, John?
John: I’m shy about doing my business.
Butchie: Shit, I haven’t seen you dump or take a leak since you got
here. Do you want me to step outside?
John: I don’t know, Butchie, instead.
Butchie: Hey, we all have our quirks and wrinkles, pal. It is all good. (Butchie steps outside.)
(Cut to
the Yost home. Shaun is sitting at a
table looking at his laptop screen.)
Shaun: Jo Jo got through his heat.
Cissy: (sighs) Shaunie.
Shaun: Anyways… (We see Linc lurking outside the kitchen door,
Cissy finally spots him, Cissy moves toward him.)
Linc: (calling through the door)
Shaunie
Yost! I got your demo. Man, it rocks. (to Cissy) It’s
about Shaun and the event at Huntington.
Give me two minutes to tell you what I can do.
Cissy: Well, hurry up. (opening
the door) Mitch will be home any
minute.
(Cut to
the Snug Harbor. Butchie is waiting
anxiously outside Room F. He sees Ramon
crossing the Snug’s parking lot with a couple of bags of groceries.)
Butchie: What’s shaking, Ramon?
Ramon: Dickstein said the new owner’s coming over.
Butchie: Strapped like he was yesterday?
Ramon: Should be relevant to you, since you’re supposed to be gone
now.
(Butchie
goes back inside.)
Butchie: You dumped out yet, John?
John: I’m dumped out.
Butchie: Stand up and pull your pants up. This kid’s turn on the crapper.
(John pulls his pants up as he stands.) There you go. Come on.
(urging John out of the bathroom as John fumbles with his
zipper) Do that outside. I gotta go.
(pulling out a chair for John)
Here. Park it right here, my
man. Good. Well done. (Back in the bathroom, Butchie drops his pants and
takes a seat.) A-plus on the fume control, pal. Radio silence until further notification! (grunting as his fist clenches) This is a dump that a grown man can be
proud of!
(Cut to
the Yost home. Cissy, Linc and Shaun
sit around a table. Mitch enters.)
Mitch: What the hell are you doing here?
Cissy: You need to hear him, Mitch.
Linc: Shaun is back in at Huntington.
Mitch: You muscled him in?
Yeah, that’s the way it goes, Shaunie.
You miss your heat…as long as you can hear the money talk, you got no
problem. You just sign up with the man,
get the sponsor’s push, win yourself a Hummer.
Cissy: Just this once, Mitch, think what Shaun wants.
Linc: (to Shaun) You know, I was a grom just like you
once, always in the water. Totally
stoked 24/7. I felt like I was tapping
into something bigger. And I’ll tell
you, a lot of people can paddle out there and get that rush, but to be able to
give them a taste of it just by watching, no, that’s something different. And I never had that. Not like you…and your dad…and your
grandpa. But I could see that people
would pay to see those who could do it. And I made some money. And I made some mistakes. Your dad, Butchie, was one of them. I was young, and he was changing the
sport. All I could see was that him
being a bad boy was good for business.
I thought the image was the thing.
What I see now, what it’s taken me years to see, is the thing
itself--that’s the thing. And I don’t
have to show them any more than that.
Mitch: To get them to buy the thing that you want to sell them.
Linc: Well, what if I’m selling them the thing for itself?
Cissy: I think you’re a fucking saint.
Linc: Well, I got all the money I need, Cissy.
Mitch: Yeah, well, that makes it a little easier.
Linc: It’s the way some of us need it. Does that rule me off the team?
Shaun: I’d like to compete. I like it.
Linc: If you feel me going off with Shaun, just tell me. I would be grateful to hear it.
Mitch: (mulling, mulling, mulling)
No image.
Linc: Just him…and some really great waves.
Mitch: (To Shaun) So, Huntington’s a crossed-up swell. What do you think? You want to try a new
stick?
Shaun: I might try it. (Cissy comes over and hugs Shaun.)
(Cut to
John and Butchie, walking out on the pier.)
Butchie: A day like this, John, if you can get the dealer’s ass out
of bed, the pier’s a nice place to cop a fix.
John: Let’s get the dealer’s ass out of bed, Butchie.
Butchie: We’re not here to score, my brother, although I can’t say
why I’m not getting dopesick.
(John
and Butchie happen upon Vietnam Joe, who‘s fishing off the pier.)
Vietnam
Joe: Found your man, eh, frat boy?
John:
Comfy-cozy, sweet pea.
Butchie: How didn’t I figure you two know each other?
Vietnam
Joe: We don’t. I
drove him over to your place yesterday.
I never got high overseas like I needed to get after that ride.
Butchie: (calling to John as he begins to wander down the pier) Did you come in through the sloughs, John? And don’t go over the railing.
John: I came in through the sloughs, and I won’t go over the
railing, Butchie.
Butchie: Is that where you picked him up?
Vietnam
Joe: You think he may be a Mexican?
Butchie: I’m trying to get a line on him, Joe.
Vietnam
Joe: Why do you think I needed to fire up that fatty?
(John,
looking out on the water through an observation telescope, seems to be hearing
Butchie’s whispering voice, as if John can “hear” what Butchie is
thinking:
“My old man levitated. I’m not feeling sick. John, what the hell is going on? John, you can be honest with me, man, tell
me what’s going on. John, tell me what
the fuck’s going on!” [NOTE: subject to interpretation])
Butchie: (from behind) What are you looking at out there,
John? What do you see?
John: What do you want, Butchie?
Butchie: Come on, pal, we’ll figure it all out. (as John and Butchie pass Vietnam Joe on
their way off the pier) Joe, smoke
another fatty, baby.
(Cut to
Ramon and Dickstein in the Snug Harbor office.)
Ramon: So, he said to meet here in the office?
Dickstein: Specifically, inside the office. Seemed in good spirits when he called.
Ramon: Yesterday too until he pulled out his gat. (Barry enters the office, a couple bags
in his hands.)
Barry: Buenos dias, Ramon.
Ramon: Buenos dias.
Barry: And a hearty shalom, Attorney Dickstein. (lifting the bags in his hands to draw
attention to them) Hot from the
Panaderia. Empanadas, churros, coffee.
Dickstein: Oh, thank you.
Barry: (to Ramon) I see you drink tea.
Ramon: Si, "anti-dioxin".
Barry: Also, I bear news that the motel will not be leveled.
Ramon: Is that so?
Barry: It is so, Ramon. I
had a vision, gentlemen.
Ramon: Is that how you got the number for the jackpot?
Barry: In fact, Ramon, yes.
I often get visions after my seizures.
Eventful days like yesterday do tend to bring them on. Teddy and I had quite the siege.
Ramon: The next drawing is on Tuesday. I looked it up.
Barry: No, no numbers in last night’s vision, Ramon. I am called, among other things, to learn to
surf.
Dickstein: I have the perfect board for you to learn on.
Ramon: Ain’t you glad now you didn’t blow your brains out
yesterday?
(Freddy,
Butchie’s dealer, appears in the office doorway.)
Dickstein: Motel is closed.
Change of ownership.
Freddy: Butchie…Yost.
Ramon: He went out, Butchie. He’s in
number F. You could leave it on the
door if you want to leave a message.
Freddy: I’ll give it to him when he shows up.
Barry: (pulling a pastry phallus out of the one of the bags) Oh, pastry while you wait? (Freddy leaves.) Why raise
a building for what its walls have seen?
Why not imagine its shuttered saloon as some homier place of
entertainment? Renovate the guest
rooms, upgrade, liberate them. Why not
Room 24? (Barry goes over to the
pegboard on which room keys hang and liberates a key.) Excuse me. (Barry
leaves the office.)
Ramon: It’s his joint. (looking
out at Freddy, hanging by his car in the parking lot) He looks like the Bowser guy from Sha-Na-Na.
(Inside
Room 24. Complete darkness. The sound of the door unlocking.)
Barry: (whispering outside)
It’s
okay. (with the door slowly
opening) It’s okay. It’s okay.
(With the door wide open, Barry looks in. He gasps!) No, no, no, no. (He flees.)
(Cut to
Bill Jacks at home. He’s in his living
room Birds squawk. There’s a knocking at the door.)
Bill: Yeah.
Shaun: (from outside) It’s Shaun, Bill.
Bill: Hey, Shaun, come on in.
Give me a hand here. I’m just
about to clean up these cages.
Shaun: Guess what?
Bill: You found a dinosaur egg.
Shaun: I’m back in the contest.
Bill: Is that so?
Shaun: That contest at Huntington I missed yesterday. This guy is getting me back in. My heat’s in two hours.
Bill: Jesus, that doesn’t leave us much--
Shaun: My gramma and grampa are taking me.
Bill: Is that so?
Shaun: This guy talked to them.
We left Dad a message. Maybe
he’ll come too.
Bill: Good, fine.
Shaun: You want to go up there with us? My gram and gramps are right outside.
Bill: Right outside?
Jesus, Shaun, no. I can’t. (escorting Shaun to and out the
door) This is a family outing. This is…this is a family thing. I can’t go.
Now, you go ahead.
Cissy: (in the wagon) Bill’s not coming.
Mitch: Well, there’s that.
Bill: (calling out from the doorway to Mitch and Cissy) Thanks, anyway. I’ll
cheer him on from down here.
Cissy: That’s all right, Bill, we understand.
Bill: I’ve gotta get after the accumulation. They’re crap machines. My birds, they’re crap machines.
Mitch: Ahh…
Bill: You do good, Shaunie.
Drive safe. (Shaun gets in the wagon, Mitch starts it up, and the
wagon pulls away. Bill goes back in the
house. He stands in the middle of the
living room.)
Good for
them. Maybe Shaun’s ne’er-do-well
father and his jerkoff sidekick will go up there too. Wouldn’t that would be nice.
(Cut to
Cass in her parked Porsche. She’s
talking on the phone to Linc, who‘s parked on the opposite side of the street
in his SUV.)
Linc: She’s like the kid’s second mother. I can’t believe she saw you hit on Mitch
this morning.
Cass: You know, Linc, I actually do make films.
Linc: That’s the trick.
That’s what you’re supposed to make her think you’re here for.
Cass: Arguably, it is what I’m doing here.
Linc: Is it…arguably?
Cass: I’ll see you at Huntington.
Linc: Yeah, you’ll see me, but you won’t fucking talk to me.
Cass: Yeah, and for Christmas I was thinking I could either run
you over in the street or enroll you in a Tony Robbins seminar.
(Cut to
the surf shop. Kai is leaving Butchie a
message on his voice mail.)
Kai: Butchie, hey. I
guess you and young Einstein are out.
Anyway, so Cissy called and she must have spiked Mitch’s wheat
germ. He’s letting Shaun surf in the
contest at Huntington. I bet Shaun
would like it if you went up there. (The bell on the surf shop door
rings. Cass enters the otherwise
customer-bereft shop.) I’m not going.
I’m hip deep in customers here. (harshly
whispering into the phone) Huntington,
shit-for-brains. (turning her
attention to Cass) Did you get
Mitch in your Porsche? You show him how
the gear box worked?
Cass: I make movies. I
want to make one about Mitch. It’s
obvious that he respects you a lot, although it’s not as obvious as you and I
getting off on the wrong foot this morning.
Kai: No sale, chick.
Mitch’s wife just called--Cissy.
Shaun’s in an event at Huntington.
First time Mitch ever let him enter.
Cass: Well, maybe I’ll go.
Kai: Yeah, maybe I’ll go too. (As Cass is leaving) You know, that family’s got enough of their
own problems, but can’t we all still do our little parts to make them worse?
(Cut to
Mitch, Cissy and Shaun on the road in the wagon. Silence. They all though
seem somehow reflective and positive about the trip. Subtle smiles of one sort or another inform each of their faces.)
(Cut to
Bill Jacks at home.)
Bill: I’ll tell you something, and I’m not a frightened person by
nature--but I’m afraid here suddenly.
I’m feeling a real…genuine frightened feeling . Something’s behind me or whatever the hell
might be going on. I’m afraid here to
even turn around and look. Isn’t that
something, Zip? Brother, is that you,
Lois? Is that you, Honey? I wish she’d come to me. She used to come to me in dreams.
(Cut to
the office at the Snug Harbor.)
Barry: The motel is haunted.
At least Room 24 is haunted.
Dickstein: You had mentioned you had an unpleasant experience there.
Barry: It was all one in my mind.
Time flies when you’re having fun.
Mega-millions are not the broom to sweep Room 24 clean. Must I say for me? Isn’t “for me” understood?
Ramon:
You’re getting a little hard to follow.
Barry: Not for Gilbert Rollins.
He can do it dead.
Dickstein: Well, you’re with us now.
Ramon: You don’t have to go in that room no more.
Dickstein: Fuck Room 24. (Barry rises from his chair, comes over and
hugs Ramon)
Barry: Thank you. Thank
you.
Ramon: (Carefully pushing Barry back) No, it’s okay. It’s okay.
Barry: I woke up this morning happy. I mistook that freedom for power.
Ramon: Ghost showed you what
was what.
Barry: Yes. Yes,
Ramon. Our visions are powerless
against our pasts. Happiness is
helpless in passing. (Barry looks
heavenward, then clasps his hands together and bows his head in prayer. A little uncomfortably, Ramon and Dickstein
bow their heads as well.) Please, God, help me live. I forgive Gilbert Rollins. I forgive Butchie Yost. Thank you for my friends.
Dickstein: Amen.
Ramon: (making the sign of the cross) Amen.
Barry: Amen.
(Cut to
Butchie and John in a liquor store.
Marco, the stone-faced man behind the counter, stands there with his
arms folded across his chest. John
eyeballs three nearly life-sized cardboard cut-outs of Budweiser Bikini
Babes. Imitating their phony similes,
John smiles back at them with a smile every bit as fake as theirs.)
Butchie: You don’t think that’s going through, Marco, because he’s
hanging with Butchie. And if he’s hanging with Butchie, he ain’t
juiced. He’s juiced. I’m hanging with a man of means. This is my brother from another mother--from
the side of the family with some cheese!
And if that doesn’t go through, (slapping his pocket) this will. And that ain’t my cock.
You’re in for a big surprise, Marco.
(The credit card machine hums, then starts sputtering its
approval. Butchie’s arms shoot up in
the air. He spins around and points at
the cardboard cuties.) That’s right, that’s right, ladies! The line forms to the left to blow me!
John: The line forms to Butchie’s left.
Butchie: (focusing his attention back on Marco) Okay, just to see how much fuel we have in this rocket, I will take half the--no, I will take the whole row of “Chival Regis.”
(Cut to
Mitch, Cissy and Shaun in the wagon.)
Shaun: Could we try my dad again?
Cissy: Sure we can.
Shaun: Can I call him?
Mitch:
Then why don’t we get out of the car and bang our heads on
that lamppost until the light changes?
(Cut to
John and Butchie walking on the sidewalk.
John’s carrying a bag containing, presumably, the Chivas in one arm, and one of the cardboard cuties under the
other. Butchie has one of the cut-outs
under each arm.)
Butchie: Do not fall in love with these cardboard models, John. Papercuts to the penis--very painful. (blocking John’s way as he starts to step
into the busy street) Wait ’til
the--no, no, no, no. Jesus, John! What the fuck! Okay, follow my lead. (crossing
the street) I say this from the
bottom of my heart, brother, and with all the love, but I’m picking up you
don’t do too well with traffic, do you?
John: I don’t do too well with traffic.
Butchie: Which leads me to believe…(crossing again) come on, come on, come on…quick, follow
me…leads me to believe that you’re not from around here.
John: I’m not from around here, Butchie.
Butchie: Oh, yeah, no? Or any
other metropolis for that matter. I’m
feeling kind of, you know, small town, not a farm town, but a small town, a
small town like, you know, I’m feeling a little Cincinnati.
John: I am from Cincinnati.
Butchie: Get the fuck out!
John: You get the fuck out!
Butchie: Get the fuck out!
The housing brain unit’s open 24 hours, baby.
(Cut to
Linc on the beach at Huntington. He’s
talking to Dolan, the father of one of the other surfers that he sponsors.)
Dolan: This is bullshit. My
kid earned his spot in this round. What
is this?
Linc: What this is, Mr. Dolan, is your son’s main sponsor, who is
about to send him and you on a mag trip to Sumatra, is saying Tommy had to take
one for the team.
Dolan: Yeah, okay, team is one thing. But Butchie Yost’s kid is something else.
Linc: You’re not gonna let me be polite? You do not get a vote about Shaunie Yost. You get to vote on whether or not you pass
on Sumatra.
(Cut to
the surfer’s tent. Surfers are
preparing for the competition: waxing their boards, doing stretching exercises,
donning their jerseys, relaxing or getting pumped with their iPods and
earbuds. There’s a lot of subtle and
not-so-subtle posing and posturing going on.
Giggling groupies peek in. As
inconspicuously as possible, Shaun drinks it all in. Surfing prodigy on not, he’s new to all this. A surfer leaving the tent trips or is
tripped. Groaning, he rolls over in the
sand. He holds his foot. There’s about a three inch gash running
along the inner side of his instep. He glares.)
(Cut to
the beach. A horn sounds. The surfers race for the water. “That’s the
horn for the Junior Finals,” the P.A. announcer says. “Remember, it’s 30 minutes for each surfer. The three highest scoring waves count.” The surfers hit the water and paddle out.
The competition‘s on! “First to surf is
yellow. Nice turn over the top.” Shaun gets in the game. “That’s Shaun Yost picking one up on the
outside.” Several riders go for the
same wave. “Looks like a party wave out
there.” Two surfers almost
collide. “Oh, yeah, that could be
interference on red.” Shaun picks
another wave. It’s a good one with a
curling peak. Shaun crouches low and
eases back into the pipe. He virtually
disappears from sight as, riding the wave out spectacularly, he sends the wave
to the ICU.)
(On to
the beach.)
Kai: Whoooo! Yeah,
Shaunie!
(Further
down the beach.)
Linc: (to Dolan) Your kid sticks one like that, you
come back and piss in my ear. (Dolan slinks away.)
(Up on
the pier.)
Cissy: He’s got it won.
Right? Hands down.
Mitch: Unless they’re completely fucking blind.
(Cut to
the Snug Harbor office. John and
Butchie approach the motel, their Chivas and cardboard cuties in tow.)
Ramon: (looking out on the parking lot at Butchie and the waiting
Freddy) Here we go.
Butchie: (singing) “I wake up I could throw one down tonight. Get off your girl, John Monad.”
Freddy: (approaching Butchie)
What the
fuck!
Butchie: Whoa, whoa. Wait
here, John. Wait here. Hey, Freddy, did I get teleported to fucking
Hawaii or-- (Freddy punches Butchie
in the mouth, sending Butchie to the ground.)
(sputtering) Motherfucker.
Freddy: What’s that you say, Butchie? Huh? You’re gonna drown me in a cop tsunami? Or whatever faggot threat you left on my machine.
Butchie: That call was a mistake.
Freddy: No that call was a fucking favor to me. It reminded me of what a fuckup you turned
into, instead of who I watched surf Rocky Point.
Butchie: I was pissed off you beat me on the fucking buy.
Freddy: You got no business buying a lid of smack.
Butchie: I got a fucking injury settlement.
I was looking to make a move.
It’s not like I got many left.
Freddy: Fuck your sad story, Butchie. You’d have OD-ed and died before you sold your third bag. (noticing John) What are you looking at, big eyes?
You want some of that?
John: I want some.
Freddy: Yeah? (Freddy comes forward and slaps John hard. John’s head turns with the blow, but there
otherwise seems to be little effect.
Freddy takes a couple steps back and looks curiously at John.)
Butchie: Freddy, he ain’t all there.
Freddy: Yeah, well, now he’s there even less.
Butchie: (getting off the ground) Don’t fucking hit him anymore. (The ground starts rumbling. A car alarm goes off.) An earthquake, John. It happens all the time.
John: What do you want, Butchie Yost?
Dickstein:
(bracing himself
in the office doorway where he’s been watching the show outside) You’ll remember that to expedite the closing you had me
waive all inspections.
Barry: I absolve you if the walls tumble down.
(Cut to
Bill Jacks at home.)
Bill: (whispering) Oh, boy. Oh, what the hell is going on now? (He goes to the phone and
dials.) Anderson, hey, Bill Jacks.
Hey, did you guys feel a temblor over there just now? No, because I felt like I just felt a
temblor. Alright, Anderson.
(Cut to
the beach at Huntington. The earth is
flexing here as well. Linc, looking at
Cass who is stationed behind her camera, mockingly assumes a surfer’s stance in
response to what seems to be but a minor seismic shift. Shaun, still out on the water, grabs a
wave.)
Kai: (calling out) Big fucking earthquaker, Shaunie!
Cissy: Wave of the day, and the judges are doing the boogaloo,
’cause of a little fucking earthquake.
(The
wave Shaun is riding surges up and knocks him from his board.)
Kai: You had it won already, bro.
Cissy: I think they missed it.
Mitch: Well, if they didn’t miss the entire heat, he’s fine.
(An emergency vehicle is racing down the beach. Kai is scanning the water for a sign of Shaun, but he’s nowhere to be seen.)
Kai: He’s not up! (moving
toward the water) He’s not up! He never came up!
Mitch: Shit. (Mitch and Cissy begin sprinting down the
pier. Shaun still isn’t up. Finally we see that he’s floating face down
in the water.)
(Cut to
Bill Jacks at home, we see the bird swinging on his perch.)
Bill: Look at you swinging, Zip. It was a temblor. (chuckling) Seems minor. Minor temblor.
And the old man’s still got his marbles. (Bill sits down on the floor
and turns the television on.).
(Cut to
the Snug Harbor office. The phone rings.
Ramon answers it.)
Ramon: We’re closed!
(In the
parking lot.)
Freddy:
Instead of what you want to see, see
what the fuck is in front of you. It’s how you get 17 safe deposits. Fuck you
surfing Rocky Point! Fuck watching you from my fucking porch!
Ramon: (Walking over from the office with a
phone in his hand) Excuse
me, sorry to interrupt. Phone call, for Butchie. (Butchie takes the phone
from Ramon and puts it to his ear.)
Butchie:
Yeah?
Mitch: You piece of shit! What’s with
you’re fucking phone?
Butchie:
The battery died.
Mitch: Yeah, what a shock.
Ramon: (to John and Freddy) Uh, no hurry. Whenever he’s done-- (pointing toward the
office) Phone, just--
Butchie:
Is that what you
called to talk to me about, my fucking phone?
Mitch: Shaunie broke his neck at
Huntington.
Butchie:
Is he gonna be all
right?
Mitch: He broke his neck! They’re
airlifting him to Mercy Hospital. Of course if you gave any kind of shit, I
wouldn’t have to be telling you this, cause you would’ve been here.
Butchie:
What the fuck you
talking about, he’s at Huntington. Nobody fucking told me dick.
Mitch: Your battery’s dead, Butchie.
Butchie:
What, you couldn’t
drive four fucking blocks out of your way to come down here and tell me?
Mitch: Why, Butchie, because you’ve never
been anywhere for anybody? Why waste the gas?
Butchie:
So what are you
saying Dad? Is he gonna die?
Mitch: Go ahead out for pizza. I can leave
word with the manager. <click>
(Butchie throws the phone violently to the ground. It smashes to pieces.)
Freddy: What’s going on?
Butchie: Come on, John, we’re gonna to take
a ride. Garage door Tijuana, Freddy, to cop. And you better not try to stop me
unless you’re ready to fucking kill me. Look, my kid got hurt. He broke his
neck. I can’t handle this straight.
Freddy: I’m holding. Get in the car.
Butchie:
Go get the dope and
bring it back to me.
Freddy: Get in the car or I’ll shoot you,
him and the three guys in the fucking office.
John: What do you want, Butchie?
Butchie:
I didn’t drop a
dime on you, Freddy, if you’re thinking about killing me in that car.
Freddy: Go ahead, go.
(In the
office, Ramon and Dickstein are watching the drama)
Dickstein:
Well they seem to
have worked it out
Ramon: His father said his son had an
accident. Butchie.
(Cut to
Freddy‘s car. Butchie‘s in the front
seat with Freddy, and John is in the back seat. He‘s mimicking Freddy‘s driving, working an imaginary steering
wheel.)
Freddy: They make these fucking cars for
midgets. I hate coming to this fucking country. Sunset Beach, the kid you used to put on your back and paddling
out, uh, for him to watch from the channel--that’s the one broke his neck, now?
Butchie:
It’s the only one I
know I got, Freddy.
Freddy: Some fucked up shit. I thought of
that on the way to the airport this morning.
Butchie:
That is some fucked-up
shit.
Freddy: Then ‘til now I hadn’t thought of it
fucking once. (looking in the rearview mirror) That mope in the backseat keeps changing fucking shapes. (spotting a horde of reporters outside the hospital) Who the fuck are they? I want you going in here, Butchie, and I
want you to act like a fucking man. The business between us, we’ll deal with
later.
Butchie:
Well, you didn’t
get me high, but you didn’t kill me either.
Freddy: Just shut the fuck up and get
out. And take this shape changing mope
with you. (looking in the review mirror again) I ain’t afraid of you, pal.
John:
(pointing
his finger) I ain’t afraid of you
Freddy: I don’t give a fuck what you are.
John: I ain’t afraid of you, pal.
Freddy: I took more acid (stuttering) than
you ate cheerios for fucking breakfast…in a volcano! The fucking Hallaka-halama-vaka
fucking thing.
Butchie:
Haleakala, Freddy!
If you moved your seat back you wouldn’t look like such a fucking monkey.
Freddy: Get out before I blow both your
fucking heads off.
Butchie:
Thanks for not
killing me. (opening the back door
for John) Come on. (dodging
intrusive cameras) Motherfucking
press. Come here.
Freddy: (muttering) Leave the fucking door open. Fucking
seatbelt.
(Cut to
Bill Jacks at home. He’s trying to snooze
on the floor. A woman’s voice on the
television rouses him however. “I’d
doubt the connection with the minor area temblors we’ve been reporting, Bob,
have had much to do with this,” the female field reporter says. “All we know at this point is that the young
surfer broke his neck while competing at Huntington Beach and has been listed
in grave condition at Mercy Hospital.”
Bill is wide awake and sitting up now
His mouth is agape.)
Bill: That could be Shaun. Who are they
discussing?
(“And this
is the famous surfing Yost family?” Bob, the anchorman asks the female reporter
in the field.)
Bill: Where is he? What’s
his condition for Christ’s sake? Oh my
god! (dialing the phone) Don’t yell at me! Don’t yell at me! Don’t yell at me! Don’t
yell at me! Don’t yell at me! Don’t yell at me! Don’t yell at me!
Anderson! Anderson for god’s sake don’t hang up on me! Please help me
find an injured friend!
(Cut to
Mercy Hospital. A hallway. Kai is there. Cass is talking to a nurse.
Linc arrives by way of the stairs.)
Cass: (writing on a small pad of paper) I
won’t intrude on them, but if there’s anything they need--the family, errands
or whatever the hospital doesn’t provide, I’m available to do that day or
night. (The nurse nods. She takes
the pad and leaves. Linc peruses some
pictures on the wall, doing his best ignore Cass, to pretend he doesn‘t know
her.)
(Cut to
a waiting room. Mitch and Cissy are
sitting in the room. Shaun’s doctor,
Dr. Michael Smith, is seated facing them.)
Dr.
Smith: Well. Okay, I have some terrible news to share with you. Shaun has suffered devastating injuries. (Cissy
gasps.) The vertebrae at the base
of his skull was crushed when he fell, and that left him paralyzed and unable
to breathe. A machine is breathing for
him now, but the time he was without oxygen, underwater and later, did
catastrophic damage. Our tests show
that there is no electrical activity in Shaun’s brain.
Mitch: So, you’re saying he’s brain-dead. You’re saying there’s nothing you can do.
Dr.
Smith: I’m sorry, but I think that’s the
case. We’ll run our test again in the
morning, but I don’t expect to see a change.
Mitch: Why put him through the tests then?
Dr.
Smith: We have to be absolutely certain of
Shaun’s condition and prognosis before later decisions can be made.
Mitch: Yeah, but you’re absolutely certain now.
Dr.
Smith: A protocol is developed in these
situations.
Mitch: Your protocol’s more important than his suffering?
Dr.
Smith: To take a patient off life support,
possibly making his organs available for transplant, those aren’t cliffs you
can re-climb. (Cissy gets up and, turning her back on the men, moves away.)
Mitch: Why don’t you leave the cliffs out of it?
Dr.
Smith: I understand that you’re suffering
terribly. If it’s any consolation, I
assure you your grandson is not.
Mitch: When it suits your protocols, we take you at your word. When it suits your protocols before we can
take you at your word, you get to crucify him with another 12 hours of tests.
Dr.
Smith: Mrs. Yost, do you have anything you
want to ask me?
Cissy: (struggling to speak)
No, Doctor,
go away.
Dr.
Smith: (rising) I’ll
be with Shaun. (Dr. Smith leaves.)
Cissy: You take Shaunie off that machine, Mitch, you better never
get in our bed again.
Mitch: Did you hear anything that asshole said?
Cissy: He needs it to breathe.
He stays on the machine. I will
murder you in your sleep.
Mitch: Shaunie is brain-dead, Cissy.
Cissy: He’s breathing and I can hold him.
Mitch: Well, get a dog. He’s dead.
I want him off the machines.
Cissy: You want to get back to your clubhouse, go ahead. Get out you coward! Get out and leave me alone with my
grandson. You’re afraid of the
hospital, not me. I got used to it, all
the months I spent listening to the asshole I married whine about killing
himself ‘cause his knee was gone. He
couldn’t be king of the waves. Mitch
Yost, the big realist. “Let’s face it,
Cissy, he’s gone. Let’s just put him in
the ground.”
Mitch: Well, when the time comes, why don’t you just sign whatever
papers it is that they need you to sign. (Mitch leaves the room. Kai’s still in the hallway.)
Kai: Should I go in?
Mitch: I don’t know. (The elevator door opens. John and Butchie step out.)
Butchie: Did he die?
Mitch: (brushing past Butchie as he leaves) Your mother will explain it.
Butchie: (to Kai)