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A Serious Man Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

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How many times the word 'sketch' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

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A Serious Man Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

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How many times the word 'true' appears in the text?

A Serious Man Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

bonivard

How many times the word 'bonivard' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

room

How many times the word 'room' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

crusader

How many times the word 'crusader' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

drags

How many times the word 'drags' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

anxiety

How many times the word 'anxiety' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

labour

How many times the word 'labour' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

largest

How many times the word 'largest' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

coen

How many times the word 'coen' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

rifkah

How many times the word 'rifkah' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

kind

How many times the word 'kind' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

soothingly

How many times the word 'soothingly' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

speaking

How many times the word 'speaking' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

against

How many times the word 'against' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

dialogue

How many times the word 'dialogue' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

snow

How many times the word 'snow' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS A SERIOUS MAN Written by Joel Coen & Ethan Coen June 4th, 2007 White letters on a black screen: Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you. -RASHI FADE IN: AGAINST BLACK: SNOWFLAKES The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls not quite dead away to collect on a foreground chimneypot and on the little shtetl street that lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the street is deserted except for one man who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh snow. He carries bundled branches on one shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt. We cut down to street level. The man walks toward us, bearded, and bundled against the cold. Smiling, he mutters in Yiddish-the dialogue subtitled. MAN What a marvel... what a marvel... HOUSE INTERIOR As its door opens and the man enters. MAN Dora! VOICE Yes... The man crosses to the stove with his bundle of wood. The voice continues: 2 . Can you help me with the ice? The man dumps the wood into a box by the stove as his wife enters with an ice pick. . I expected you hours ago. MAN You can't imagine what just happened. I was coming back on the Lublin road when the wheel came off the cart thank heavens it was the way back and I'd already sold the geese! WIFE How much? MAN Fifteen groshen, but that's not the story. I was struggling to set the cart upright when a droshky approaches from the direction of Lvov. How lucky, you think, that someone is out this late. WIFE Yes, very remarkable. MAN But that's the least of it! He stops to help me; we talk of this, we talk of that-it turns out this is someone you know! Traitle Groshkover! His wife stares at him as he beams. He takes the stare as a sign that she can't place the name. . You know, REB GROSHKOVER! Pesel Bunim's uncle! The chacham from Lodz, who studied under the Zohar reb in Krakow! Still she stares. Then, quietly: WIFE God has cursed us. MAN What? WIFE Traitle Groshkover has been dead for three years. Laughter erupts from the man but, as his wife continues to stare at him, he strangles on it. Quiet. Wind whistles under the eaves. The man says quietly: MAN Why do you say such a thing! I saw the man! I talked to him! WIFE You talked to a dybbuk. Traitle Groshkover died of typhus in Pesel Bunim's house. Pesel told me-she sat shiva for him. They stare at each through a silence broken only by the sound of the quickening wind. A rap at the door. Neither immediately responds. Finally, to her husband: Who is it? MAN For some soup, to warm himself. The wind moans. He helped me, Dora! THE DOOR We are looking in from the outside as it unlatches and creaks in, opened by the husband in the foreground, who has arranged his face into a strained look of greeting. In the background the wife stares, hollow-eyed. MAN REB GROSHKOVER! You are welcome here! Reverse on REB GROSHKOVER: a short, merry-looking fellow with a bifurcated beard and a silk hat and spectacles. He gives a little squeal of delight. REB GROSHKOVER You are too kind, Velvel! Too kind! He steps into the house and sees the wife staring at him. And you must be Dora! So much I have heard of you! Yes, your cheeks are pink and your legs are stout! What a wife you have! The husband chuckles nervously. MAN Yes! A ray of sun, a ray of sun! Sit! WIFE My husband said he offered you soup. REB GROSHKOVER Yes, but I couldn't possibly eat this late, or I'd have nightmares. No, no: no soup for me! WIFE I knew it. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I see! You think I'm fat enough already! He settles, chuckling, into his chair, but Dora remains sober: WIFE No. A dybbuk doesn't eat. 5 REB GROSHKOVER stares at her, shocked. The wife returns the stare. The husband looks from wife to REB GROSHKOVER, apprehensive. A heavy silence. REB GROSHKOVER bursts into pealing laughter. REB GROSHKOVER What a wife you have! He wipes away tears of merriment; the husband relaxes, even begins to smile. MAN I assure you, REB GROSHKOVER, it's nothing personal; she heard a story you had died, three years ago, at Pesel Bunim's house. This is why she think you are a dybbuk; I, of course, do not believe in such things. I am a rational man. REB GROSHKOVER is still chuckling. REB GROSHKOVER Oh my. Oh my yes. What nonsense. And even if there were spirits, certainly... He thumps his chest. I am not one of them! WIFE Pesel always worried. Your corpse was left unattended for many minutes when Pesel's father broke shiva and left the room-it must have been then that the Evil One- She breaks off to spit at the mention of the Evil One. -took you! REB GROSHKOVER is terribly amused: 6 REB GROSHKOVER "My corpse!" Honestly! What a wife you have! WIFE Oh yes? Look, husband... She steps forward to the Reb, who looks enquiringly up at her. They were preparing the body. Pesel's father shaved one check... As his eyes roll down to look at her hand, she draws it across his smooth right cheek. Then he left the room. He came back, and shaved the other... She reaches across to the other cheek, REB GROSHKOVER's eyes following her hand- You were already gone! -and drags her hand across. A bristly sound. REB GROSHKOVER laughs. REB GROSHKOVER I shaved hastily this morning and missed a bit-by you this makes me a dybbuk? He appeals to the husband: It's true, I was sick with typhus when I stayed with Peselle, but I recovered, as you can plainly see, and now I-hugh! The wife steps back. REB GROSHKOVER looks slowly down at his own chest in which the wife has just planted an ice pick. REB GROSHKOVER stares at the ice pick. The wife stares. 7 The husband stares. Suddenly, REB GROSHKOVER bursts out laughing: What a wife you have! The husband can manage only a shocked whisper: MAN Woman, what have you done? REB GROSHKOVER again looks down at his chest, which again moves him to laughter. He shakes his head. REB GROSHKOVER Why would she do such a thing? He looks up. I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man: which of us is possessed? WIFE What do you say now about spirits? He is unharmed! REB GROSHKOVER On the contrary! I don't feel at all well. And indeed, blood has begun to soak through his vest. He chuckles with less energy. One does a mitzvah and this is the thanks one gets? MAN Dora! Woe, woe! How can such a thing be! REB GROSHKOVER Perhaps I will have some soup. I am feeling weak... He rises to his feet but totters. Or perhaps I should go... 8 He smiles weakly at Dora.. One knows when one isn't wanted. He walks unsteadily to the door, opens it with some effort, and staggers out into the moaning wind and snow to be swallowed by the night. The wife and husband stare at the door banging in the wind. FINALLY: MAN Dear wife. We are ruined. Tomorrow they will discover the body. All is lost. WIFE Nonsense, Velvel... She walks to the door... Blessed is the Lord. Good riddance to evil and shuts it against the wind. BLACK A drumbeat thumps in the black. Music blares: the Jefferson Airplane. Grace Slick's voice enters: When the truth is found to be lies And all the hope inside you dies Don't you want somebody to love. . . An image fades in slowly, but even up full it is dim: some kind of round, dull white shape with a small black pinhole center. This white half-globe is a plug set in a flesh-toned field. The flesh tone glows translucently, backlit. We are drifting toward the white plug and, as we do so, the music grows louder still. AN EARPIECE 9 A pull back-a reverse on the preceding push in-from the cheap white plastic earpiece of a transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane continues over the cut but becomes extremely compressed. The pull back reveals that the earpiece is lodged in someone's ear and trails a white cord. We drift down the cord to find the radio at its other end. As we do so we hear, live in the room, many voices speaking a foreign language in unison. A classroom, apparently. The radio is on a desktop but hidden from in front by the book held open before it. The book is written in non-Roman characters. We are in Hebrew school. The boy who is listening to the transistor radio-DANNY Gopnik-sits at a hinge-topped desk in a cinderblock classroom whose rows of desks are occupied by other boys and girls of about twelve years of age. It is dusk and the room is flourescent-lit. At the front of the room a gray-haired man in a worn suit and tie addresses the class. DANNY straightens one leg so that he may dig into a pocket. With an eye on the TEACHER to make sure he isn't being watched, he eases something out: A twenty-dollar bill. TEACHER Mee yodayah? Reuven? Rifkah? Mah zeh "anakim"? Efsheh mashooach ba-avodah? A BLINDING LIGHT At the cut to the light the Jefferson Airplane music jumps up full. The light resolves into a multi-flared image of a blinking eye. Reverse: the inside of a human ear. Fleshy whorls finely veined, a cavity receding to dark. Objective on the DOCTOR's office: the DOCTOR is peering through a lightscope into the ear of an early-middle-aged man, LARRY Gopnik. The Jefferson Airplane music continues. 10 DOCTOR Uh-huh. HEBREW SCHOOL Close on Hebrew characters being scribbled onto the blackboard as the TEACHER talks. The TEACHER, talking. A bored child, staring off. His point-of-view: a blacktopped parking lot with a few orange school busses, beyond it a marshy field, and distant suburban bungalows. Close on another child staring at something through drooping eyelids. His point-of-view: very close on the face of a classroom clock. We hear its electrical hum. Its red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. DANNY Gopnik hisses: DANNY Fagle!.. . The TEACHER drones on, writing on the blackboard. DANNY's eyes flit from the TEACHER to the student sitting kitty-corner in front of him-a husky youth with shaggy hair. He hasn't heard the prompt. . Fagle! The TEACHER turns from the blackboard and DANNY leans back, eyes front, folding the twenty up small behind his book. TEACHER Ahnee rotzeh lalechet habait hakisai. Mee yodayah? Misaviv tamid anachnoo tamid... The clock-watching child, eyelids sinking, is beginning to drool out of one side of his mouth. DOCTOR'S OFFICE 11 The light again flaring the lens. Reverse: looking into a pupil. Objective: the DOCTOR looking through his scope into LARRY's eye. DOCTOR Mm-hmm. HEBREW SCHOOL A bored child is excavating a bugger from his nose. The TEACHER turns back to the chalkboard to circle something. DANNY Fagle! TEACHER Hamrah oomoh- He interrupts himself briefly to make a couple of phlegm-hawking sounds. He resumes: . Hamrah oomoh meshiach oomshel zal? DOCTOR'S OFFICE The DOCTOR palpates LARRY's midriff, digging his fingers into the hairy, baggy flesh. DOCTOR's Voice Uh-huh. We'll do some routine X-rays. HEBREW SCHOOL A young girl holds a hank of her bangs in front of her face, separating out individual hairs to examine them for split ends. TEACHER Ahnoo ahnoo mah? Mah? Talmidim? D'vorah? 12 D'VORAH Ahnee to yodayah. The TEACHER begins to pace the desk aisles, looking back and forth among the students. TEACHER Mee yodayah? The bugger-seeker, having succesfully withdrawn a bugger, carefully drapes it over the sharp end of his pencil, to what end we cannot know. DANNY, apprehensively eyeing the TEACHER, slides the twenty into the transistor radio's cover-sleeve. X-RAY CONE A huge white rubberized cone, pointed directly at us. We hear a rush of static and the DOCTOR's voice filtered through a talk-back: DOCTOR's Voice Hold still. Wider: LARRY is in his shorts lying on his back on an examining table covered by a sheet of tissue paper. The X-ray cone is pointed at the middle of his body. There is a brief sci-fi-like machine hum. It clicks off. HEBREW SCHOOL The clock-watching student's head is making descending bobs toward his chest. TEACHER Nefsheh shelach hamilamid-eh?! The TEACHER's circuit of the classroom has taken him around behind DANNY. DANNY's book lies face-down on the desk, covering the radio, but the white cord snakes out from under it up to his ear. The TEACHER yanks at the cord. 13 The cord pops out of its jack and the Jefferson Airplane blares tinnily from beneath the book of torah stories. The TEACHER lifts the book to expose the jangling radio. Outraged, the TEACHER projects above the music: . Mah zeh? ! Mah zeh? ! Some of the students are singing along; a couple beat rhythm on their desks. . Shechet, talmidim! Anachnoo lo cam zeh b'bait sefer! Shechet bivakasha! Three other students join in a chorus: STUDENTS Shechet! Shechet bivakasha! The nodding student's head droops ever lower. Other students join in the chant: SHECHET! SHECHET! SHECHET BIVAKASHA! The nodding student's chin finally reaches, and settles on, his chest, and he gives a long snorfling inhale of sleep. DOCTOR'S OFFICE LARRY, now fully clothed, is seated across from the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR is looking at his file. He absently taps a cigarette out of a pack and lights up. He nods as he smokes, looking at the file. DOCTOR Well, I-sorry. He holds the pack toward LARRY. 14 LARRY No thanks. DOCTOR Well, you're in good health. How're Judith and the kids? LARRY Good. Everyone's good. You know. The DOCTOR takes a long suck. DOCTOR Good. Daniel must be-what? About to be bar mitzvah? LARRY Two weeks. DOCTOR Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don't they? TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and a phylactery box is strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the frame identifies the man as Rabbi Minda. Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal's office, a white cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum. Just visible behind the principal's desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man's head-an old man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not. DANNY, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk. We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles with the transistor radio, muttering: PRINCIPAL Hmm... eh... nu? 15 He experiments with different dials on the radio. DANNY nervously watches. DANNY You put the- The old man holds up one hand. PRINCIPAL In ivrit. (In Hebrew) DANNY Um... The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines it as a superstitious native might a Coca-Cola bottle. The source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand crawls around the dial very, very slowly. The Reb continues to squint at the earpiece. DANNY sighs. He encourages: DANNY Yeah, you- The principal's tone is harder: PRINCIPAL In ivrit! This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered. He looks back down at the earpiece. We hear the door open. The principal ignores it. An old woman walks slowly in with a teacup chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal is studying the radio. 16 PRINCIPAL Mneh... The old woman continues to take slow short steps toward him. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece. She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm- hawking rasps and turns to go. She takes slow short steps toward the door. The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear. Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The i f ngers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some more pushing and wobbling and tamping. The principal keeps DANNY fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear, ready to reach back up should the earpiece loosen. .mneh... Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. Faintly and tinnily from the earpiece we hear the compressed jangle of rock music. The rabbi stares blankly, listening. DANNY slumps, looking warily at the rabbi. The rabbi continues to stare down at the radio. The compressed rock music jangles on. The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening. Tableau: anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader. Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm. CLASSROOM We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is 17 LARRY Gopnik. LARRY You following this?... Okay?.. So... Heh-heh... This part is exciting... Students follow along, bored. LARRY continues to write. . So, okay. So. So if that's that, then we can do this, right? Is that right? Isn't that right? And that's Schrodinger's paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat not dead? Okay? BLEGEN HALL LARRY is entering the physics department office. The department's secretary wheels her castored chair away from her typing. SECRETARY Messages, Professor Gopnik. He takes the three phone messages. LARRY Thank you, Natalie. Oh-CLIVE. Come in. A Korean graduate student who was been waiting on a straightbacked chair rises. LARRY'S OFFICE He is flipping through the messages. Absently: LARRY So, uh, what can I do for you? The messages: WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton OF Columbia Record Club 18 CALLED. REGARDING: "Please call." WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman CALLED. REGARDING "Let's talk." WHILE YOU WERE OUT CLIVE Park CALLED. REGARDING: "Unjust test results." He crumples the last one. CLIVE Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of Physics Mid-Term were unjust. LARRY Uh-huh, how so? CLIVE I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing grade. LARRY Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That's accurate. CLIVE Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on the mathematics. LARRY Well-you can't do physics without mathematics, really, can you. CLIVE If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat. LARRY (SURPRISED) You understand the dead cat? 19 CLIVE nods gravely. But... you... you can't really understand the physics without understanding the math. The math tells how it really works. That's the real thing; the stories I give you in class are just illustrative; they're like, fables, say, to help give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean-even I don't understand the dead cat. The math is how it really works. CLIVE shakes his head, dubious. CLIVE Very difficult... very difficult... LARRY Well, I... I'm sorry, but I... what do you propose? CLIVE Passing grade. LARRY No no, I- CLIVE Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it covers mathematics. LARRY Well, the other students wouldn't like that, would they. If one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he likes. CLIVE impassively considers this. CLIVE Secret test. LARRY wraps a hand wearily over his eyes. LARRY . No, I'm afraid- 20 CLIVE Hush-hush. LARRY No, that's just not workable. I'm afraid we'll just have to bite the bullet on this thing, CLIVE, and- CLIVE Very troubling. He rises. . very troubling... He goes to the door, shaking his head, as LARRY looks on in surprise. He leaves. LARRY stares at the open door. The secretary outside, her back to us, types on. LARRY. looks stupidly around his own office, shakes his head. He picks up the phone message from Sy Ableman-"Let's talk"-and dials. As he dials his other hand wanders over the papers on the desktop. There is a plain white envelope on the desk. LARRY picks it up as the phone rings through. A ring is clipped short and a warm basso-baritone rumbles through the line: Phone Voice Sy Ableman. LARRY Hello, Sy, LARRY Gopnik. SY (MOURNFUL) LARRY. How are you, my friend. LARRY picks idly at the envelope. LARRY Good, how've you been, Sy? 21 Inside the envelope: a thick sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. SY Oh fine. Shall we talk LARRY. LARRY reacts to the money. LARRY (into phone) What?! Oh! Sorry! I, uh-call back! He slams down the phone. . CLIVE! He rushes out the door, through the secretarial area, and into the hallway, and looks up toward the elevators. Empty. He looks at the stuffed envelope he still holds. He goes back to the departmental office. The secretary sits typing. She glances at him and, as she goes back to her typing: SECRETARY Sy Ableman just called. Said he got disconnected. BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Man's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH, the sixteen-year-old girl who has just knocked, rolls her eyes. SARAH I gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight! VOICE Out in a minute! 22 SARAH Jesus Christ! She stomps down the hall. KITCHEN Judith, a woman of early middle age, is at the stove. SARAH enters. SARAH W is Uncle Arthur always in the bathroom? JUDITH He has to drain his sebacious cyst. You know that. Will you set the table? SARAH Why can't he do it in the basement? Or go out in the garage! BUS We are raking the exterior of an orange school bus as it rattles along. Hebrew characters on the side identify it-to some, anyway. INSIDE We are locked down on DANNY as the bus rattles like an old crate, squeaking, grinding gears, belching exhaust. DANNY and the children around him vibrate and pitch about but, from their lack of reaction, seem used to it. They raise their voices to be heard over the engine noise and the various stress noises in the chassis and a transistor radio somewhere that plays Jefferson Airplane. DANNY I had twenty bucks in it too. Inside the case. 23 Mark Sallerson Twenty bucks! How come. DANNY I bought a lid from Mike Fagle. Couple weeks ago. I still owed him twenty. Mark Sallerson He already gave you the pot? DANNY Yeah but a couple weeks ago my funding got cut off. Fagle said he'd pound the crap out of me if I didn't pay up. Howard Altar What funding got cut off? Where do you get your money? Another boy, with thick glasses, is Ronnie Nudell. Ronnie Nudell What happened? Mark Sallerson Rabbi Turchik took his radio. Had money in it. Ronnie Nudell That fucker! DANNY Yeah. I think he said he was confiscating it. Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Where do you get your money? Mark Sallerson Mike Fagle's gonna kick his ass. Last week he pounded the crap out of Seth Seddlemeyer. 24 Ronnie Nudell He's a fucker! Mark Sallerson Fagle? Or Seth Seddlemeyer? Ronnie Nudell They're both f ickers! BATHROOM DOOR A hand enters to knock. Uncle Arthur's Voice Out in a minute! SARAH Are you still in there?! Uncle Arthur I, uh.. . Just a minute! SARAH I've gotta wash my hair! I'm going out tonight, to the hole! Uncle Arthur Okay! OUTSIDE LARRY pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car. The purr of a lawn mower. He looks. His point-of-view: Gar Brandt, the next-door neighbor, is mowing his lawn. He has a buzz cut and is wearing a white T-shirt. Another noise competes with the lawn mower: rattling, squeaking, gear-grinding. The orange school bus with Hebrew lettering pulls up across the street. Its door opens with a pneumatic hiss to discharge a passenger. 25 DINNER TABLE LARRY sits in. His wife and two children are already seated. There is one empty place. LARRY projects: LARRY Arthur! A muffled voice: ARTHUR Yeah! LARRY Dinner! ARTHUR Okay! Out in a minute! LARRY We should wait. SARAH Are you kidding! They start eating. LARRY Mr. Brandt keeps mowing part of our lawn. JUDY Does that matter? LARRY What? JUDY Is it important? LARRY shrugs. LARRY It's just odd. 26 JUDY Any news on your tenure? LARRY I think they'll give me tenure. JUDY You think. LARRY (EQUABLY) Well, I don't know. These things aren't, you know.. . JUDY No, I don't know. Which is why I ask. LARRY WELL- SARAH Mom, how long is Uncle Arthur staying with us? JUDY Ask your father. BACK YARD Twilight. LARRY is stepping onto a hose as he unwheels it from the drum of a traveling sprinkler, laying out an are to cover the back yard. Intermittent thwacks from next door: Gar Brandt and his son, who also has a buzz cut and a white T-shirt, throw a baseball back and forth. Gar Brandt throws hard. The ball pops in the boy's mitt. MITCH Ow. LARRY walks over to the boundary defined by the fresh mowing. He sights down it. Gar Brandt looks over his shoulder at LARRY, looking. Gar Brandt is expressionless. He 27 goes back to throwing. MITCH Ow. INSIDE Evening. Lights on. LARRY sits at the kitchen table, a briefcase open on the chair next to him. Blue books-examination booklets-are spread on the table in front of him. He reads, occasionally making marginal scribbles, grading. From off, faint and dulled by intervening walls, rock music: somewhere in the house DANNY is listening to the Jefferson Airplane. The clink of teaspoon against china as LARRY stirs his tea. He looks up at a noise: JUDY enters. JUDY Honey. LARRY (ABSENT) Honey. JUDY Did you talk to Sy? Still absent, without looking up: LARRY Sy?-Sy Ableman!-That's right, he called, but I- JUDY You didn't talk to him. LARRY No, I- JUDY You know the problems you and I have been having. Sympathetic, but still absent: 28 LARRY Mm. JUDY Well, Sy and I have become very close. This brings LARRY's head up. He focuses on JUDY, puzzled. She elaborates: In.short: I think it's time to start talking about a divorce. LARRY stares at her. A long beat. At length, trying to digest: LARRY . Sy Ableman! JUDY This is not about Sy. LARRY You mentioned Sy! JUDY Don't twist my words. We- LARRY A divorce-what have I done! I haven't done anything- What have I done! JUDY LARRY, don't be a child. You haven't "done" anything. I haven't "done" anything. LARRY Yes! Yes! We haven't done anything! And I-I'm probably about to get tenure! JUDY Nevertheless, there have been problems. As you know. LARRY 29 WELL- JUDY And things have changed. And then-Sy Ableman. Sy has come into my life. And now- LARRY Come into your-what does that mean?! You, you, you, you barely know him! JUDY We've known the Ablemans for fifteen years. LARRY Yes, but you you said we hadn't done anything! JUDY suddenly is stony: JUDY I haven't done anything. This is not some flashy fling. This is not about woopsy-doopsy. LARRY stares at her. LARRY Sy Ableman! From down the hall, a knock on a door. A muffled voice: ARTHUR Out in a minute! JUDY Look, I didn't know any other way of breaking it to you. Except to tell you. And treat you like an adult. Is that so wrong? LARRY does not seem to be listening. His eyes roam the room as he thinks. LARRY Where do I sleep? JUDY narrows her eyes. 30 JUDY What? LARRY Arthur's on the couch! JUDY Look. Sy feels that we should- LARRY Esther is barely cold! JUDY Esther died three years ago. And it was a loveless marriage. Sy wants a Gett. This derails the conversation. LARRY stares, trying to pick up the thread. LARRY . A what? JUDY A ritual divorce. He says it's very important. Without a Gett I'm an Aguna. LARRY A what? What are you talking about? She turns to go, shaking her head, peeved: JUDY You always act so surprised. As she leaves: I have begged you to see the Rabbi. FADE IN LARRY has fallen asleep at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of blue books. Cold blue light sweeps across him and he looks up.

cheek

How many times the word 'cheek' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

houses

How many times the word 'houses' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

indite

How many times the word 'indite' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

lot

How many times the word 'lot' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

forgot

How many times the word 'forgot' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

ate

How many times the word 'ate' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

hardly

How many times the word 'hardly' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

drinks

How many times the word 'drinks' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

suicide

How many times the word 'suicide' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

well

How many times the word 'well' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

mustard

How many times the word 'mustard' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

long

How many times the word 'long' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

luggage

How many times the word 'luggage' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

ranks

How many times the word 'ranks' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

makes

How many times the word 'makes' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

ass

How many times the word 'ass' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

seminar

How many times the word 'seminar' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

pathogens

How many times the word 'pathogens' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

words

How many times the word 'words' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

edna

How many times the word 'edna' appears in the text?

A big bosomed woman sits on the porch with a rabbit in her lap. NORAH How cool to live across from the Ice Cream Hut. Rose distributes the melty goods. ROSE You should rent it. Seriously, you're making money now. Norah assesses the building. The RABBIT LADY sees them staring. She waves. Rose and Norah turn around amused. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 50. 79 CONTINUED: 79 NORAH Yeah well, what about Dad? ROSE Oh please, Dad would survive just fine. You should do it. As Norah thinks about a possible move glistening rivulets of chocolate ice cream drip down Oscar's cone, over his hand and on to Norah's leg. NORAH Ahh! Lick around the base. Secure the perimeter. (To Rose) Don't you teach this kid anything? Norah demonstrates proper technique. She extends her tongue out to the bottom edge of the dripping glob, then twirls the cone to lick away the troublesome chocolate. LYNN (O.S.) It's the gorilla girl. Norah looks up to see Lynn with a milk shake in hand. An involuntary smile breaks across Norah. LYNN You never came to donate. NORAH Yeah. Lynn looks at Rose. An awkward moment passes. NORAH My sister. Rose smiles, nods a hi. Something familiar about the girl nags at Rose. She searches to connect a face out of context. Lynn eyes Norah. Chemistry. LYNN We have snacks you know. Juice boxes. NORAH Had I known about the juice boxes... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51. 79 CONTINUED: (2) 79 Rose makes the connection - her smile drops. Lynn picks up on the tension between the two. LYNN Okay. Well, see you around. Lynn leaves. Rose slaps Norah with an accusing look. 80 EXT. LAWSON'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 80 Joe stands with Sherm and waits for the girls to return. He looks at his watch. SHERM You still selling that luggage? JOE No, no. That was a whole big mess. SHERM Crappy zippers. Wasn't that it? Sherm smiles. Joe's smile disappears. JOE Yeah, that's been a while now. Dropped the luggage around the time your other lot when out of business. Touche. Sherm's smile dissolves. SHERM I could maybe drop it to nineteen even. Joe holds out for more. SHERM And toss in some wiper fluid. Joe smiles. 81 EXT. ICE CREAM HUT - DAY 81 Rose, Norah and Oscar walk back to the van. Everyone's slightly stickier. Rose clenches her jaw. ROSE What the hell? (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 51A. 81 CONTINUED: 81 NORAH I just wanted to give her the pictures. ROSE You took the pictures? Why would you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that. NORAH Relax, I didn't give them to her. 82 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER - 82 EVENING Joe sits in his Lazy Boy as Norah hauls a box from her room. NORAH It's just three blocks away. JOE I know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 52. 82 CONTINUED: 82 NORAH It's not like I'm never gonna see you. JOE Hey, I think you should have done this a long time ago. Joe strains to be cavalier but he can't look at Norah. 83 EXT. HOTEL - NEXT DAY - DAY 83 A marquee welcomes the conference attendees. 84 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM DAY 84 Rose sits on a folding chair and takes notes. The thirty or so people listening to the SPEAKER appear to be mostly hospital staff and EMT workers. A placard near the door reads: SEMINAR FOR BLOOD BORNE PATHOGENS. CARL SWANSON leans forward from his chair and looks down the row to Rose. SPEAKER OK. Let's take a quick break before we move on to potential pathogens suspended in excrement. 85 INT. HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM FOOD TABLE - DAY 85 Rose stands by a display of medical waste pamphlets and munches on a sandwich. As she takes a bite, Carl walks up. CARL Food's better at the bar. (holding out his hand) Carl Swanson, Above and Beyond. Flustered, Rose brushes crumbs off her face and inadvertently deposits a blob of mustard on her cheek. They shake hands. ROSE Rose- (swallow) Rose Lorkowski. Nice to meet you. CARL I hear you're my new competition. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 53. 85 CONTINUED: 85 ROSE We're hardly competition for you. CARL (smiles) I'm glad to see you're doing a little homework. A lot of people, you know, they think they can just jump in to this, make lots of money. But, they don't know what they're doing. No idea. They're not professional and that makes us all look bad. ROSE Well, we're not like that. I just have to complete this seminar and we're certified. CARL You're not certified? ROSE Not yet. Probably by the end of the month. Carl smiles, dips a napkin in his cup of water and wipes the smudge of mustard from Rose's cheek. CARL You had a... Attendees file back to their chairs. ROSE I think it's starting. CARL Sure I can't buy you a drink? 86 INT. HOTEL BAR - DAY 86 Rose and Carl sit at the bar nursing drinks. CARL If you spray the enzyme at that point it'll just turn back to liquid which is a pain in the ass. The key is to bag it when it's kind of Jell-o-ee. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 54. 86 CONTINUED: 86 ROSE That makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that? CARL You just figure all this shit out as you go. Experience. Rose chews on her cocktail straw. ROSE It's not how I thought it'd be. I thought it'd be gross. Rose stops. Reflects. Turns to Carl. ROSE Sometimes it's gross. The maggots are gross. The maggots kind of freak me. CARL Yeah. ROSE The sound. The munching sound. CARL And it's so hard to kill the little fuckers. ROSE Tell me about it. You pour industrial bleach right on `em...nothing. Carl offers a knowing nod. CARL Just roll their eyes and call you a pussy. Rose laughs and takes another sip of her drink. 87 INT. HOTEL ROOM DAY 87 The door to the bathroom is open. Carl hums a happy tune in the shower. Rose shimmies back into her clothes with an expression of self-loathing. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 55. 87 CONTINUED: 87 ROSE I am strong. I am powerful. 88 INT. VAN - THREE DAYS LATER - DAY 88 Rose drives and Norah holds a long list of funeral homes and other establishments. They're all crossed off. Oscar sits bored in the back. OSCAR What's a bastard? Rose looks at Norah with concern. OSCAR Jeremy said I was a bastard. What does that mean? Rose has no idea how to respond. Norah turns to face Oscar. NORAH It just means your mom wasn't married when she had you. It's no big deal. In a couple of years you're gonna find it's a free pass to cool. You'll probably start a band called Bastard Son. Use it to impress the chicks. Trust me, the whole bastard thing... it's working for you. Oscar looks to Rose and then back to Norah. Rose's phone rings. She answers it, relieved for the distraction ROSE Hello, Sunshine Cleaning... Well, I'm glad you liked the Fancy Corn....Okay, yeah, yeah. Rose grabs a pen, hands it to Norah and motions for her to write something down. ROSE Okay... 2327 Grove Avenue. Got it... Sure. Yeah. Thank you. Rose hangs up. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 56. 88 CONTINUED: 88 NORAH What was that? ROSE A suicide! 89 EXT. BRICK RANCHER - DAY 89 Rose pulls the van up to the house and sees the old lady sitting out front. MRS. DAVIS. ROSE Oh, man. Rose and Norah exchange a look and then Rose turns to Oscar. ROSE OK. Stay in the van. You want a soda or anything? Oscar shakes his head. ROSE We won't be long. As Rose and Norah get out and unload supplies the old lady stands to greet them. She's dressed up in the way old ladies are when they expect company. ROSE Mrs. Davis? The woman nods. She is dazed with grief. ROSE We're the cleaning service. MRS. DAVIS Yes, yes. I... I wanted to give you the keys. The old woman holds out a shaky hand. Rose gently takes the keys. Norah hangs back. MRS. DAVIS In the sunroom. That's where my husband... I had bridge and... She blinks twice, slowly, then snaps back. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 57. 89 CONTINUED: 89 MRS. DAVIS Do you need me to show you? ROSE No, no. I think we can find it. MRS. DAVIS Oh. Okay. That's good then. Rose and Norah gather their things and head up the stairs. MRS. DAVIS My son-in-law's coming to take me to lunch at the Howard Johnson's. They have such nice rolls there. Rose hands Norah the key and motions for her to go ahead. ROSE Would you like to sit for a moment, Mrs. Davis? MRS. DAVIS Yes dear, I think I would. Rose sits down on the steps with Mrs. Davis and Norah quietly enters the house. From the van Oscar watches Rose and the old woman sit side by side on the front step. Rose's hand rests lightly on the woman's bony shoulder. Words seem useless. 90 INT. BRICK RANCHER - LIVING ROOM - DAY 90 Norah looks around the room furnished modestly with a mixture of antiques and things that are simply old. Yellow sticky notes cling to doors, walls, light switches, etc. Each note contains a simple instruction such as `turn off light' or `watch news at 6:00'. Norah walks past family photos that line the hall. 91 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - DAY 91 Norah enters the red splattered room. A walker lies on its side next to a blood-soaked rug. Golden sunlight pours through the windows. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 58. 91 CONTINUED: 91 A yellow square sticks to a picture frame on the coffee table. The frame holds the image of a smiling young couple in a different era. The note reads `Edna plays bridge at 4:00'. Norah slips a Tyvec jumper on and looks out the window. A car pull up to the curb. Norah stops and watches her sister walk Mrs. Davis to the car before starting her work. 92 INT. BRICK RANCHER - SUNROOM - MOMENTS LATER 92 Rose enters quietly, in a fog. The stillness of grief is contagious. NORAH She okay? Rose nods and picks up the photo of a younger Mr and Mrs Davis. She then steps into her Tyvec coveralls and zips up. 93 INT. VAN - DUSK 93 Norah drives. Rose holds Oscar in her lap, arms clasped tight around him. OSCAR That lady seemed really sad. ROSE Her husband died. Oscar thinks about this a moment. OSCAR So he's in heaven? Rose nods. OSCAR Maybe we could let her use our CB and she could talk to him. Rose looks confused. Oscar presses on. OSCAR Maybe he would hear her. Rose smiles. Doesn't seem like the moment to correct him. ROSE Maybe. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59. 93 CONTINUED: 93 They ride the rest of the way home in silence. 94 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE - NEXT DAY - DAY 94 Joe's Monte Carlo sits out front. 95 INT. CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 95 Oscar and Joe scratch game cards. OSCAR I won a million dollars! JOE Let me see that. Oscar hands the ticket over. JOE You gotta get two hydrants with a matching amount. See? None of your fire hydrants match. Oscar looks at the Lucky Dog card with defeat. JOE And three zeros is a thousand dollars. You woulda won a thousand dollars but it doesn't match anything. OSCAR What happens if it doesn't match anything? JOE You toss it and try the next one. Oscar moves on to his next ticket. He scratches the coating away and tentatively lifts his game card OSCAR I think I won five hundred dollars. Joe looks at the card. He looks at Oscar and grins. OSCAR I'm gonna buy a trampoline and a karaoke player and some chocolate honey dipped donuts. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 59A. 95 CONTINUED: 95 JOE Whoa now. Hold up there kiddo. That's not your money. That's my money. OSCAR I scratched it. JOE Yes you did. You scratched the ticket that I bought. Oscar follows his grampa over to the pay phone. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60. 95 CONTINUED: (2) 95 JOE And we're not going to spend the money. We're going to invest the money. Joe plunks in some quarters, dials, waits while it rings. JOE See, that's the difference between a regular person and somebody with business acumen. That's a good word for you to know. A-cu-men. Means smarts. Oscar nods and sips his Coke. JOE (into the receiver) Bobby! Joe Lorkowski here. (laughs) I told you I'd call. (pause) Yeah well, I got the money and we're in. But you gotta throw in twenty bags of ice. 96 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 96 Rose pays bills at the kitchen table. Oscar bounces a super ball. OSCAR We're gonna make the money grow because that's the smart way. It's capital and you don't spend that. You invest it. That way you can get the SP250 and have money left over. ROSE What are you talking about? Oscar races out of the kitchen and then races back in with a pamphlet showcasing the amazingly sleek SP250 binoculars. He hands the pamphlet to Rose. OSCAR The binoculars that grampa's gonna get me for my birthday. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 60A. 96 CONTINUED: 96 OSCAR (cont'd) They've got an internal stabilizer thingy that's electronic so if you're in a speed boat or something it won't matter and... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 61. 96 CONTINUED: (2) 96 ROSE Oh honey, come here. Rose pulls out a chair for Oscar. Oscar sits down and crosses his arms in front of himself. ROSE Sometimes your grampa promises things that he really wants to happen. OSCAR No, he's really gonna get `em. He's got a plan. ROSE Okay. If you say so. Rose goes back to the bills. 97 INT. ALBUQUERQUE BLOOD SERVICES DAY 97 Lynn wears a white coat. Norah sits in one of the reclining chairs scattered about the room. NORAH You made it seem so fun. LYNN Oh it is fun. Would you like a refreshment? Norah smiles and shakes her head. LYNN No? Norah watches Lynn's hands push up her sleeve. Lynn rubs iodine in expanding circles on the inside of Norah's arm. Lynn puts plastic gloves on and ties a tourniquet around Norah's arm. She puts a rubber ball in Norah's hand. LYNN Can you squeeze that for me? Norah squeezes the ball and Lynn touches the plump vein. LYNN That's good. One more time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 62. 97 CONTINUED: 97 Lynn takes the needle and draws it close to Norah's arm. NORAH Oh my God, is that the needle? It's a fucking cocktail straw. Norah looks nervous. Lynn smiles reassuringly. LYNN Trust me, I'm very good at this. Squeeze again. Norah squeezes, Lynn touches the soft blue stripe of blood beneath Norah's skin and slides the needle into the vein. LYNN Wasn't that fun? NORAH You might have oversold it. Lynn smiles. LYNN Kind of twirl the ball around in your hand. Good. It doesn't hurt, does it? NORAH (shakes her head) Feels hot. LYNN That's a good sign. Norah self-consciously nods and smiles. Lynn turns and jostles the bag of blood. NORAH My friend's having a thing tonight. Lynn switches her attention from the blood back to Norah. NORAH Never mind. LYNN What? NORAH Nothing it's... (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 63. 97 CONTINUED: (2) 97 LYNN What? NORAH You wouldn't like it. LYNN I might like it. 98 EXT. PARTY HOUSE - NIGHT 98 Music and party-goers spill from the student ghetto house. 99 INT. PARTY HOUSE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 99 Norah and Lynn sit on a ratty couch in a crowded smoke filled room. Next to them, a flannel wearing burn-out rocks to headphones. Norah wears a candy necklace. Debauchery plays out around them. NORAH I knew you wouldn't have any fun here. LYNN I am having fun. Norah takes a tug on the joint and passes it to Lynn. LYNN No thanks. NORAH Lambs breath. LYNN Yeah, no thanks. NORAH Straight edge? LYNN (Shakes head) Just kind of superstitious. Norah nods and passes the joint across Lynn to the burn-out. The burn-out tugs and passes it back to Lynn. Lynn waves it off a second time. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 64. 99 CONTINUED: 99 NORAH She's Mormon. LYNN I'm not Mormon. I just... You're gonna think it's weird. NORAH What? LYNN Sometimes I think that when you get high or drink or alter your consciousness like that-- NORAH You don't drink? Lynn shakes her head. LYNN I think it weakens you psychically... like it creates these cracks and then bad things can seep in and maybe never go away. Norah stares at Lynn with great blood-shot concentration. NORAH All right, you're kind of freakin me out. LYNN Sorry. NORAH You should just tell people you're Mormon. LYNN I think your boyfriend is winning. Two women gnaw at Randy's neck. His necklace is almost empty. NORAH Yes. Yes, he is. Lynn lightly tugs on Norah's candy necklace. She leans in close and takes a bite of the candy. Norah catches her breath. Paralyzed. Lynn smiles, pleased by Norah's reaction. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 65. 99 CONTINUED: (2) 99 LYNN (whisper) Breathe. Norah snaps back. NORAH I need more beer. Norah pulls herself off the couch and starts for the keg. She stops. Turns. NORAH Um. Can I get you anything? LYNN I'm good. Norah offers a nervous smile. 100 INT. NORAH'S APARTMENT LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 100 Norah and Randy lie on a thread bare couch. Their bodies rock to the motion of sex. Norah's thoughts are elsewhere. A small TV sits next to Norah's growing collection of found trinkets. It spills blue light into the smoke tinged air. On the TV, a REPORTER stands outside Quicky Lube. Norah turns her attention to the TV while Randy pumps and grinds. She grabs the remote. REPORTER (on TV) Tragedy today when an out of control driver crashed his car into a south side Quicky Lube killing one employee. RANDY What are you doing? NORAH Shh. Norah turns up the volume. Randy grinds to a halt. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 66. 100 CONTINUED: 100 REPORTER The driver of the automobile, apparently suffered a heart attack at the wheel and is currently in critical condition. The phone rings. Randy glares at Norah. Norah answers. NORAH Hello. RANDY Unbelievable. NORAH (into phone) Yeah, I'm watching it now. 101 EXT. ROAD NIGHT 101 A van zooms past with a SUNSHINE CLEANING MAGNET on the door. 102 EXT. NORAH'S APARTMENT NIGHT 102 Randy steps out onto the porch where the big bosomed RABBIT LADY strokes her rabbit. He closes the door behind him. RANDY Hey. RABBIT LADY Hey. Randy starts down the steps feeling dejected. RABBIT LADY You like rabbits? Randy stops and turns. 103 EXT. QUICKY LUBE NIGHT 103 The large glass panel that made up the front of the store is shattered. Shards dangle from red tipped edges. Blood and glass mingle on the linoleum floor and plastic chairs. Outside, Mac motions a stunned crowd to disperse. Rose and Norah walk confidently past Mac into the lobby where a man wearing a Quick Lube shirt stands off to the side and cries. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 67. 103 CONTINUED: 103 Mac watches as Rose goes back inside and greets the officer. 104 INT. QUICKY LUBE - NIGHT 104 The OFFICER points to the shattered glass. OFFICER Nut job goes through the window there. (he stops, turns) You guys are BBP Certified, right? ROSE Legally, it's not really necessary. NORAH We are. ROSE We're in the process. NORAH You went to that thing. ROSE We adhere to all the proper procedures when dealing with a potentially hazardous situation. We are very professional. NORAH Wait. I thought you went to that thing. Rose scans the area. ROSE Are you guys all finished? OFFICER It's all yours. Rose and Norah slip into their Tyvecs. ROSE Why don't you grab the wet-vac and I'll start bagging the loose stuff. The officer walks past Mac who continues to stare at Rose. She looks beautiful and strong. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 68. 105 EXT. QUICKY LUBE PARKING LOT - NIGHT 105 Rose and Norah pull supplies from the van and ready themselves for the Quicky Lube job. NORAH I thought you went to the thing. ROSE I did. I mean, I went to part of it. Most of it. NORAH What do you mean you went to part of it? It was a one day thing. ROSE I got side tracked. NORAH Side tracked? ROSE That Above and Beyond guy was there. Carl. We got talking shop and-- NORAH Oh my God, you humped Carl! Rose can't deny it. Norah shakes her head. ROSE I'm already registered for the next one. NORAH That's disgusting. 106 EXT. DESERT ROAD - TWO DAYS LATER - DAY 106 Joe and Oscar sit in the car pulled off to the side of a lonely highway intersection. JOE You got twenty bucks and you want three pizza's. They cost five dollars each and you have a coupon for two dollars off. (MORE) (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69. 106 CONTINUED: 106 JOE (cont'd) You figure you'll tip the delivery guy a couple bucks but the delivery guy turns out to be a lady. Real sizzler. So you give her a crisp five. How much do you have left? Oscar thinks. Joe assumes there's no way the kid's getting this and turns his attention outside. A truck appear on the horizon. OSCAR Two dollars? JOE Hey, how'd you come up with that? OSCAR Math. The truck slows down as it reaches the intersection, pulls off the road, and stops. Joe gets out and walks over. Oscar watches the trucker hop down from the cab and shake Joe's hand like they're old friends. CUT TO The trunk of the Monte Carlo brims with shrimp and ice. Joe slams it closed, climbs in the car and gives Oscar a wink. 107 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 107 The Monte Carlo slices through a vast empty landscape. 108 INT. JOE'S CAR - DAY 108 Joe beams with excitement. JOE The thing is Oscar...and this is important to learn early...life is sales. Buying and selling. It's the core of social interaction. And human beings are social beings. Smoke starts to seep out from under the hood. Joe eyes the temperature gauge. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 69A. 108 CONTINUED: 108 JOE No, no, no, no, no. 109 EXT. ADOBE HOUSE - DAY 109 Norah loads equipment into the van, gets in and waits for Rose to finish the transaction. A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN opens the door. She's angry. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 70. 109 CONTINUED: 109 ROSE I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that we're all finished up and-- The woman glares at Rose. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Oh, you want to get paid. ROSE We can come back later if that's better. The woman shakes her head and holds out a check. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN I can't believe I have to deal with this now. My son just died for Christ's sake. The woman looks away. ROSE I'm so sorry for your loss. Rose starts to leave. MIDDLE AGED WOMAN Thank you. Rose stops. Turns MIDDLE AGED WOMAN For what you did. Thank you. Rose nods and continues on to the van. 110 INT. VAN - DAY 110 They ride down an Albuquerque street in silence. ROSE You want a Coke? NORAH Sure. GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 71. 111 INT. GAS STATION FOODMART - DAY 111 Rose fills a cup at the soda fountain. Through the window she sees Mac and family pull up on the other side of the store. Mac gets out and pumps gas. The woman, HEATHER, laughs with the little girl in the back seat. They look happy. Rose's fountain drink overflows. ROSE Dammit. Rose grabs for a napkin which clumps and tears. The door BEEPS. Rose jumps behind the candy rack and peeks around. All clear. She turns and smacks into Heather. Heather glares at Rose. HEATHER You think I don't know? Heather trembles with anger. Rose stands frozen. HEATHER You may have been hot shit in high school but what are you now? Nothing. A waste of space. Heather reaches out and gives Rose a little push. Ten years of anger culminating in this one anti climactic gesture. Rose watches Heather walk away and knows every word is true. 112 EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY 112 A stream of water leaks from the trunk. Joe gets out cursing under his breath. He kicks the car and a hub cap falls off. It's an unbearable insult. JOE Stupid shit heap! Fifty years of failures result in an explosion of frustration. Joe stomps on the hub cap, picks it up and throws it as far as he can. Joe gathers himself and leans in the window. He forces a smile at Oscar. Oscar looks nervous. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 72. 112 CONTINUED: 112 JOE It's alright. Everything's okay. Joe opens the trunk and checks on the shrimp. A car zooms by. Joe tries to wave it down. No good. Another zooms by. JOE Come on, come on, come on, come on. Joe struggles to wave down a car. No luck. Joe has an idea. JOE Make like you're crying. Oscar turns on the tears. A car stops. 113 INT. LORKOWSKI HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EVENING 113 Rose walks in. Oscar and Joe feign casualness. Joe looks at the bathroom door which stands open. Inside the tub brims with shrimp and ice. ROSE What did you guys do today? OSCAR Nothing. Rose turns to Joe who shrugs. ROSE How's it without Norah here? JOE Weird. Joe walks over and casually shuts the bathroom door. 114 EXT. DOGHOUSE WEINER HUT NIGHT 114 Randy stuffs his face with a hotdog while Norah glares, annoyed. RANDY I'm sorry. I know it was stupid. NORAH On so many levels. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 73. 114 CONTINUED: 114 RANDY I'm really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. It's just... you weren't around and... Norah shakes her head. Randy doesn't know what to say. NORAH Listen, Randy I think we should stop hanging out. RANDY You're breaking up with me over the rabbit lady? Norah doesn't respond. RANDY I don't know, the way you act, I didn't even think that you'd care that much. NORAH Yeah, I don't. I should, but I don't. And you're a really great guy. But...I don't care if you have sex with the rabbit lady... and I mean, it seems like I should care about that. 115 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 115 Rose opens a stack of neglected mail. She is interrupted by a light knock on the door. Rose peeks out the peep hole. ROSE Shit. Rose hesitates, then opens the door just a crack. MAC Rose. ROSE What are you doing here? MAC Can we talk a minute? ROSE Oscar's asleep. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 74. 115 CONTINUED: 115 Rose stands her ground for a moment before stepping outside. MAC It was great seeing you last night. You looked so professional and confident. Your own business... Mac touches her lightly on the arm. ROSE How's the baby? Mac looks away. MAC I just wanted to congratulate you on the business. Seems like things are really going great for you. Rose and Mac's eyes meet. Rose smiles. ROSE They are. If we keep going at this rate I can hire a couple of employees soon, put a little more in marketing, give those Clean Sweep guys a run for their money. Rose glows. ROSE I'm a business woman. MAC (nodding) You're a business woman. 116 EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 116 Norah stands disheveled, six pack in hand. Lynn opens the door wearing slippers. NORAH Ever been trestling? 117 EXT NOB HILL RESTAURANT ROW - NIGHT 117 Shrimp jiggles in Joe's hand cart as he makes his way toward the row of upscale restaurants. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75. 117 CONTINUED: 117 A couple of upscale hipsters stare curiously at the hand cart as they pass Joe. 118 INT. ROSE'S HOUSE - OSCAR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118 Sounds of sex seep through thin walls. Oscar sits up in bed. After a moment he crawls out of bed, he grabs a flashlight from his shelf and exits his room. 118A INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT 118A The mattress squeaks slightly as Mac and Rose have sex. 119 EXT. ROSE'S HOUSE - NIGHT 119 In pajamas and bare feet, Oscar steps into the night. He flicks on the flashlight. 120 EXT. WOODS - NIGHT 120 Norah leads Lynn through a wooded area toward a train trestle. Norah carries the two remaining beers of a six pack. LYNN Are the bodies there? NORAH No. The person is gone. It's weird `cuz we're connected to them in this strangely intimate way... but we never actually meet them. It's just kind of weird. Norah steps over a discarded tire. NORAH I have seen a dead body once though. LYNN Yeah? NORAH My mom. Lynn follows Norah, not knowing how to respond. It's awkward. Norah tries to lighten things. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 75A. 120 CONTINUED: 120 NORAH She was in a movie of the week once, ya know. (CONTINUED) GREEN REVISION 3/5/07 76. 120 CONTINUED: (2) 120 LYNN Your mom? Norah nods. NORAH A bunch

first

How many times the word 'first' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

stooping

How many times the word 'stooping' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

tone

How many times the word 'tone' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

man

How many times the word 'man' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

why

How many times the word 'why' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

go

How many times the word 'go' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

consideration

How many times the word 'consideration' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

well

How many times the word 'well' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

depends,--in

How many times the word 'depends,--in' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

upper

How many times the word 'upper' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

indiscretion

How many times the word 'indiscretion' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

own

How many times the word 'own' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

fellow

How many times the word 'fellow' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

lie

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A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

expletive

How many times the word 'expletive' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

repute

How many times the word 'repute' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

great

How many times the word 'great' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

reason

How many times the word 'reason' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

weak

How many times the word 'weak' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

documents

How many times the word 'documents' appears in the text?

A foreign boat, my friend, an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise! Who said? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there? If you didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back?' 'I came back,' said Jonas, 'to avoid disturbance.' 'You were wise,' rejoined his friend. Jonas stood quite silent; still looking down into the street, and resting his head upon his arms. 'Now, Chuzzlewit,' said Montague, 'notwithstanding what has passed I will be plain with you. Are you attending to me there? I only see your back.' 'I hear you. Go on!' 'I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain with you.' 'You said that before. And I have told you once I heard you say it. Go on.' 'You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for that, and am, fortunately, myself in the very best of tempers. Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had discovered--' 'Will you hold your tongue?' said Jonas, looking fiercely round, and glancing at the door. 'Well, well!' said Montague. 'Judicious! Quite correct! My discoveries being published, would be like many other men's discoveries in this honest world; of no further use to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in showing you the weakness of my own position! To return. I make, or think I make, a certain discovery which I take an early opportunity of mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it; perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion on the subject. You have yours. We will not discuss the question. But, my good fellow, you have been weak; what I wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do--I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or using it against you.' 'What do you call using it against me?' asked Jonas, who had not yet changed his attitude. 'Oh!' said Montague, with a laugh. 'We'll not enter into that.' 'Using it to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you mean?' 'No.' 'Ecod,' muttered Jonas, bitterly. 'That's the use in which your account DOES lie. You speak the truth there.' 'I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet,' said Montague. 'You promised me you would; and you must. I say it plainly, Chuzzlewit, you MUST. Reason the matter. If you don't, my secret is worthless to me: and being so, it may as well become the public property as mine; better, for I shall gain some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care nothing for any man; you are too sharp; so am I, I hope); and could bear any loss of his with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, ha! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not the least in the world affected by anything you may have done; by any little indiscretion you may have committed; but I wish to profit by it if I can; and to a man of your intelligence I make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that infirmity. Everybody profits by the indiscretion of his neighbour; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do you give me this trouble? It must come to a friendly agreement, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you are very little hurt. If the latter--well! you know best what is likely to happen then.' Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He did not look him in the face; it was not his habit to do that; but he kept his eyes towards him--on his breast, or thereabouts--and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness might be. 'Lying is of no use now,' he said. 'I DID think of getting away this morning, and making better terms with you from a distance.' 'To be sure! to be sure!' replied Montague. 'Nothing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. But I am afraid I am interrupting you.' 'How the devil,' pursued Jonas, with a still greater effort, 'you made choice of your messenger, and where you found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn before to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what becomes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to settle my account with him in my own manner.' If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would have seen that Montague was evidently unable to comprehend his meaning. But continuing to stand before him, with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this fixed and steady glance of Jonas's was a part of the alteration which had taken place in his demeanour. He kept it riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly nothing to do; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between him and his friend on THAT point. Not the least. 'Your great discovery,' Jonas proceeded, with a savage sneer that got the better of him for the moment, 'may be true, and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse than other men.' 'Not a bit,' said Tigg. 'Not a bit. We're all alike--or nearly so.' 'I want to know this,' Jonas went on to say; 'is it your own? You'll not wonder at my asking the question.' 'My own!' repeated Montague. 'Aye!' returned the other, gruffly. 'Is it known to anybody else? Come! Don't waver about that.' 'No!' said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 'What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the keeping of it?' Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a pause, he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh: 'Come! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay now. Take your oath!' He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely and said in a lighter tone: 'Shall I go to Pecksniff? When? Say when!' 'Immediately!' cried Montague. 'He cannot be enticed too soon.' 'Ecod!' cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. 'There's some fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go to-night?' 'Aye! This,' said Montague, ecstatically, 'is like business! We understand each other now! To-night, my good fellow, by all means.' 'Come with me,' cried Jonas. 'We must make a dash; go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to-night?' His friend appeared to hesitate; and neither to have anticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 'We can concert our plans upon the road,' said Jonas. 'We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I know the man, I tell you.' 'But what if the man knows me?' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders. 'He know!' cried Jonas. 'Don't you run that risk with fifty men a day! Would your father know you? Did I know you? Ecod! You were another figure when I saw you first. Ha, ha, ha! I see the rents and patches now! No false hair then, no black dye! You were another sort of joker in those days, you were! You even spoke different then. You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it matter? Such a change is a proof of your success. You know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. Will you come?' 'My good fellow,' said Montague, still hesitating, 'I can trust you alone.' 'Trust me! Ecod, you may trust me now, far enough. I'll try to go away no more--no more!' He stopped, and added in a more sober tone, 'I can't get on without you. Will you come?' 'I will,' said Montague, 'if that's your opinion.' And they shook hands upon it. The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken, from the time when he looked his honourable friend in the face until now, did not now subside, but, remaining at its height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period; most inconsistent with his temper and constitution; especially unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced; it abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made him proof against the usual influence of such means of excitement; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observable degree. Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling chariot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not go home; observing, that his being obliged to leave town on business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for having turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this request he sent for answer, 'she had better;' and one such threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. Mr Montague being much engaged in the course of the day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his way thither, encountering Mr Nadgett in the outer room, he bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr Nadgett slyly answered, 'No, but he believed it must be his way as he had been charged with much the same kind of thing before.' Mr Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was gone he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, and whispered in his ear. 'Who gave him my letter this morning?' 'My lodger, sir,' said Nadgett, behind the palm of his hand. 'How came that about?' 'I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon immediately.' 'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back. 'What's your lodger's name?' 'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.' Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked: 'From the country, do you know?' 'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.' They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other confidentially in all their lives. In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly as being the better preparation for dinner. 'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must be in admirable condition, sir; perfect chronometer-work. Otherwise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr Chuzzlewit, as what's-his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which did anything like common justice to our profession, by the bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a low thing; vulgar, sir; out of nature altogether.' Mr Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen, as though he would have said, 'This is what I call nature in a medical man, sir;' and looked at Jonas for an observation. Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, took up a case of lancets that was lying on the table, and opened it. 'Ah!' said the doctor, leaning back in his chair, 'I always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha!' Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments; and was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own bright edge. 'Good steel, doctor. Good steel! Eh!' 'Ye-es,' replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of ownership. 'One might open a vein pretty dexterously with that, Mr Chuzzlewit.' 'It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose?' said Jonas looking at it with a growing interest. 'Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged in a--in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say,' replied the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so very dry and literal that he couldn't help it. 'In a pretty good practice,' repeated the doctor, putting another glass of wine to his lips. 'Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as this?' demanded Jonas. 'Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place,' returned the doctor. 'It all depends upon that.' 'Where you have your hand now, hey?' cried Jonas, bending forward to look at it. 'Yes,' said the doctor; 'that's the jugular.' Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so close behind the doctor's jugular that he turned quite red. Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into a loud discordant laugh. 'No, no,' said the doctor, shaking his head; 'edge tools, edge tools; never play with 'em. A very remarkable instance of the skillful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession; it was so artistically done.' 'Aye!' said Jonas. 'How was that?' 'Why, sir,' returned Jobling, 'the thing lies in a nutshell. A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure street, lying in an angle of a doorway--I should rather say, leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead and cold; and had been murdered, sir.' 'Only one drop of blood!' said Jonas. 'Sir, that man,' replied the doctor, 'had been stabbed to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dexterity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom suspicion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some pretence; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a conversational manner; had examined his ground at leisure with his other hand; had marked the exact spot; drawn out the instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared; and--' 'And done the trick,' suggested Jonas. 'Exactly so,' replied the doctor. 'It was quite an operation in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never turned up; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. Whether he did it or not I can't say. But, having had the honour to be called in with two or three of my professional brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man; and that in an unprofessional person it could not but be considered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favourable conjunction of circumstances.' His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own finger and thumb and waistcoat; and at Jonas's request, he took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, and alternately representing the murdered man and the murderer; which he did with great effect. The bottle being emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he must have been a very ostrich. At dinner it was just the same; and after dinner too; though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of cards, and a bottle of wine; and with these things under his cloak, went down to the door. 'Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed!' This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr Bailey, who, booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage door to help him in. 'To bed, sir! I'm a-going, too,' said Bailey. He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where Montague was lighting a cigar; conducting Mr Bailey with him, by the collar. 'You are not a-going to take this monkey of a boy, are you?' 'Yes,' said Montague. He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in anything he had done that day; but he broke out laughing immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His companion followed immediately. Mr Bailey climbed into the rumble. 'It will be a stormy night!' exclaimed the doctor, as they started. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND The doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion on the case, the quick fulfilment of his prophecy may be taken as an instance of his professional tact; for, unless the threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and unmistakable, Mr Jobling would never have compromised his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. He used this principle in Medicine with too much success to be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed and quivered on the black horizon even now; and hollow murmurings were in the wind, as though it had been blowing where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its exhausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, had not yet come up; and the prevailing stillness was the more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. It was very dark; but in the murky sky there were masses of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every one a knot of persons who had come there--many from their houses close at hand, without hats--to look up at that quarter of the sky. And now a very few large drops of rain began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Jonas sat in a corner of the carriage with his bottle resting on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand as if he would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinctively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of cards upon the cushion; and with the same involuntary impulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the lamp. The front glasses were down; and they sat looking silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers can be whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage of that enormous city. Occasionally they encountered a foot-passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter; or some unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every wayside tavern; while their drivers watched the weather from the doors and open windows, or made merry within. Everywhere the people were disposed to bear each other company rather than sit alone; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be looking out upon the night AND THEM, from almost every house they passed. It may appear strange that this should have disturbed Jonas, or rendered him uneasy; but it did. After muttering to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a word to him. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed; the rain poured down like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not; but ordered horses out immediately. Nor had this any reference to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward they must go. Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky; fiercer and brighter became the lightning, more and more heavily the rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them; but there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were led on by an invisible attraction. The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them; ragged nests of birds in cornices and nooks; faces full of consternation in the tilted waggons that came tearing past; their frightened teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned; harrows and ploughs left out in fields; miles upon miles of hedge-divided country, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as the scarecrow in the bean-field close at hand; in a trembling, vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain; then came a flush of red into the yellow light; a change to blue; a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light; and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling may have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At the same time he observed (or so believed) an expression in his face--a combination of the unnatural excitement he had shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear--which might have rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. It could hardly have been as he supposed, for although he had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 'What's the matter?' said Jonas. 'Is that your general way of waking out of your sleep?' 'I could swear,' returned the other, 'that I have not closed my eyes!' 'When you have sworn it,' said Jonas, composedly, 'we had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that.' He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth; and putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 'I wish we had never started on this journey. This is not,' said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a voice that betrayed his agitation; 'this is not a night to travel in.' 'Ecod! you're right there,' returned Jonas, 'and we shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time; snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for?' His companion put his head out of window for a moment, and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 'Serve him right,' said Jonas. 'I'm glad of it. What the devil are we stopping for? Are you going to spread him out to dry?' 'I have half a mind to take him inside,' observed the other with some hesitation. 'Oh! thankee!' said Jonas. 'We don't want any damp boys here; especially a young imp like him. Let him be where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, I dare say; whoever else is. Go on, driver. We had better have HIM inside perhaps,' he muttered with a laugh; 'and the horses!' 'Don't go too fast,' cried Montague to the postillion; 'and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch when I called to you.' This was not true; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of what he said, but repeated that it was not a night for travelling, and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually anxious. From this time Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such a term may be employed to express the state in which he had left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth; roared out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune or voice, or anything but loud discordance; and urged his silent friend to be merry with him. 'You're the best company in the world, my good fellow,' said Montague with an effort, 'and in general irresistible; but to-night--do you hear it?' 'Ecod! I hear and see it too,' cried Jonas, shading his eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, not in any one direction, but all around them. 'What of that? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, chorus, It

here

How many times the word 'here' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

listened

How many times the word 'listened' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

kitchen

How many times the word 'kitchen' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

service

How many times the word 'service' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

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After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

sinner

How many times the word 'sinner' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

soon

How many times the word 'soon' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

remembrance

How many times the word 'remembrance' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

light

How many times the word 'light' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

sheep

How many times the word 'sheep' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

mound

How many times the word 'mound' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

robbed

How many times the word 'robbed' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

nonconformist

How many times the word 'nonconformist' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

window

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After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

who

How many times the word 'who' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

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After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

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After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

makes

How many times the word 'makes' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

necks

How many times the word 'necks' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

cotton

How many times the word 'cotton' appears in the text?

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest to him. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ba--a--ah!" said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous interjection. And corked herself, as before. Really--really--as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked; speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked. But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another absence, he again returned. "Well?" said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again. "Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are--we are progressing slowly, ma'am." "Ya--a--ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip absolutely could not bear it. It was really calculated to break his spirit, he said afterwards. He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for. Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circumstance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That, marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his hair, made light of his linen, stopped _his_ ears as if she confounded them with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock, soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as I was. The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and said to my aunt in his meekest manner: "Well, ma'am, I am happy to congratulate you." "What upon?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip was fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's manner; so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify her. "Mercy on the man, what's he doing!" cried my aunt, impatiently. "Can't he speak?" "Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents. "There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm." It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn't shake him, and shake what he had to say, out of him. She only shook her own head at him, but in a way that made him quail. "Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage, "I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over." During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly. "How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on one of them. "Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable, I hope," returned Mr. Chillip. "Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any objection to your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good." "And _she_. How is _she_?" said my aunt, sharply. Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird. "The baby," said my aunt. "How is she?" "Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "I apprehended you had known. It's a boy." My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fairy; or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it was popularly supposed I was entitled to see; and never came back any more. No. I lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows, the tremendous region whence I had so lately travelled; and the light upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once was he, without whom I had never been. CHAPTER II. I OBSERVE. The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn't peck her in preference to apples. I believe I can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and I going unsteadily from the one to the other. I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater. This may be fancy, though I think the memory of most of us can go farther back into such times than many of us suppose; just as I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater propriety be said not to have lost the faculty, than to have acquired it; the rather, as I generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance they have preserved from their childhood. I might have a misgiving that I am "meandering" in stopping to say this, but that it brings me to remark that I build these conclusions, in part upon my own experience of myself; and if it should appear from anything I may set down in this narrative that I was a child of close observation, or that as a man I have a strong memory of my childhood, I undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics. Looking back, as I was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first objects I can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of things, are my mother and Peggotty. What else do I remember? Let me see. There comes out of the cloud, our house--not new to me, but quite familiar, in its earliest remembrance. On the ground-floor is Peggotty's kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the centre, without any pigeons in it; a great dog-kennel in a corner, without any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly tall to me, walking about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who gets upon a post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as I look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me with their long necks stretched out when I go that way, I dream at night: as a man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions. Here is a long passage--what an enormous perspective I make of it!--leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door. A dark store-room opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night; for I don't know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors: the parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and Peggotty--for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are alone--and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday; grandly, but not so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to me, for Peggotty has told me--I don't know when, but apparently ages ago--about my father's funeral, and the company having their black cloaks put on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there, how Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And I am so frightened that they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their graves at rest, below the solemn moon. There is nothing half so green that I know anywhere, as the grass of that churchyard; nothing half so shady as its trees; nothing half so quiet as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when I kneel up, early in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to look out at it; and I see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think within myself, "Is the sun-dial glad, I wonder, that it can tell the time again?" [Illustration: Our Pew at Church.] Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make herself as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does, and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always look at him--I know him without that white thing on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare so, and perhaps stopping the service to enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the open door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but mutton--half making up his mind to come into the church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer, I might be tempted to say something out loud; and what would become of me then! I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physicians were in vain. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week. I look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit; and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head. In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat, I hear nothing, until I fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by Peggotty. And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are--a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty. That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most things to her direction, were among the first opinions--if they may be so called--that I ever derived from what I saw. Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable. I was tired of reading, and dead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening at a neighbour's, I would rather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and grow immensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread--how old it looked, being so wrinkled in all directions!--at the little house with a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom I thought lovely. I felt so sleepy, that I knew if I lost sight of anything, for a moment, I was gone. "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?" "Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in your head!" She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread's length. "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a very handsome woman, an't you?" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion, appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference. "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?" "I don't know!--You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?" "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision. "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?" "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion." "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I. I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me. "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about the subject." "You an't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sitting quiet for a minute. I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quite mistaken: for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it a good squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And I recollect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was hugging me. "Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, "for I an't heard half enough." I couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them, as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet. _I_ did at least; but I had my doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various parts of her face and arms, all the time. We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my mother, looking unusually pretty, I thought, and with her a gentleman with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from church last Sunday. As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms and kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged little fellow than a monarch--or something like that; for my later understanding comes, I am sensible, to my aid here. "What does that mean?" I asked him, over her shoulder. He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me--which it did. I put it away, as well as I could. "Oh Davy!" remonstrated my mother. "Dear boy!" said the gentleman. "I cannot wonder at his devotion!" I never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She gently chid me for being rude; and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home. She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own, she glanced, I thought, at me. "Let us say 'good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he had bent his head--_I_ saw him!--over my mother's little glove. "Good night!" said I. "Come! Let us be the best friends in the world!" said the gentleman, laughing. "Shake hands!" My right hand was in my mother's left, so I gave him the other. "Why that's the wrong hand, Davy!" laughed the gentleman. My mother drew my right hand forward, but I was resolved, for my former reason, not to give it him, and I did not. I gave him the other, and he shook it heartily, and said I was a brave fellow, and went away. At this minute I see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut. Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, contrary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire, remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself. "--Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty, standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick in her hand. "Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother, in a cheerful voice, "I have had a _very_ pleasant evening." "A stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty. "A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother. Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room, and my mother resuming her singing, I fell asleep, though I was not so sound asleep but that I could hear voices, without hearing what they said. When I half awoke from this uncomfortable doze, I found Peggotty and my mother both in tears, and both talking. "Not such a one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said Peggotty. "That I say, and that I swear!" "Good Heavens!" cried my mother. "You'll drive me mad! Was ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as I am! Why do I do myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have I never been married, Peggotty?" "God knows you have, ma'am," returned Peggotty. "Then how can you dare," said my mother--"you know I don't mean how can you dare, Peggotty, but how can you have the heart--to make me so uncomfortable and say such bitter things to me, when you are well aware that I haven't, out of this place, a single friend to turn to!" "The more's the reason," returned Peggotty, "for saying that it won't do. No! That it won't do. No! No price could make it do. No!"--I thought Peggotty would have thrown the candlestick away, she was so emphatic with it. "How can you be so aggravating," said my mother, shedding more tears than before, "as to talk in such an unjust manner! How can you go on as if it was all settled and arranged, Peggotty, when I tell you over and over again, you cruel thing, that beyond the commonest civilities nothing has passed! You talk of admiration. What am I to do? If people are so silly as to indulge the sentiment, is it my fault? What am I to do, I ask you? Would you wish me to shave my head and black my face, or disfigure myself with a burn, or a scald, or something of that sort? I dare say you would, Peggotty. I dare say you'd quite enjoy it." Peggotty seemed to take this aspersion very much to heart, I thought. "And my dear boy," cried my mother, coming to the elbow-chair in which I was, and caressing me, "my own little Davy! Is it to be hinted to me that I am wanting in affection for my precious treasure, the dearest little fellow that ever was!" "Nobody never went and hinted no such a thing," said Peggotty. "You did, Peggotty!" returned my mother. "You know you did. What else was it possible to infer from what you said, you unkind creature, when you know as well as I do, that on his account only last quarter I wouldn't buy myself a new parasol, though that old green one is frayed the whole way up, and the fringe is perfectly mangy. You know it is, Peggotty. You can't deny it." Then, turning affectionately to me, with her cheek against mine, "Am I a naughty mama to you, Davy? Am I a nasty, cruel, selfish, bad mama? Say I am, my child; say 'yes;' dear boy, and Peggotty will love you, and Peggotty's love is a great deal better than mine, Davy. _I_ don't love you at all, do I?" At this, we all fell a-crying together. I think I was the loudest of the party, but I am sure we were all sincere about it. I was quite heartbroken myself, and am afraid that in the first transports of wounded tenderness I called Peggotty a "Beast." That honest creature was in deep affliction, I remember, and must have become quite buttonless on the occasion; for a little volley of those explosives went off, when, after having made it up with my mother, she kneeled down by the elbow-chair, and made it up with me. We went to bed greatly dejected. My sobs kept waking me, for a long time; and when one very strong sob quite hoisted me up in bed, I found my mother sitting on the coverlet, and leaning over me. I fell asleep in her arms, after that, and slept soundly. Whether it was the following Sunday when I saw the gentleman again, or whether there was any greater lapse of time before he reappeared, I cannot recal. I don't profess to be clear about dates. But there he was, in church, and he walked home with us afterwards. He came in, too, to look at a famous geranium we had, in the parlor-window. It did not appear to me that he took much notice of it, but before he went he asked my mother to give him a bit of the blossom. She begged him to choose it for himself, but he refused to do that--I could not understand why--so she plucked it for him, and gave it into his hand. He said he would never, never, part with it any more; and I thought he must be quite a fool not to know that it would fall to pieces in a day or two. Peggotty began to be less with us, of an evening, than she had always been. My mother deferred to her very much--more than usual, it occurred to me--and we were all three excellent friends; still we were different from what we used to be, and were not so comfortable among ourselves. Sometimes I fancied that Peggotty perhaps objected to my mother's wearing all the pretty dresses she had in her drawers, or to her going so often to visit at that neighbour's; but I couldn't, to my satisfaction, make out how it was. Gradually, I became used to seeing the gentleman with the black whiskers. I liked him no better than at first, and had the same uneasy jealousy of him; but if I had any reason for it beyond a child's instinctive dislike, and a general idea that Peggotty and I could make much of my mother without any help, it certainly was not _the_ reason that I might have found if I had been older. No such thing came into my mind, or near it. I could observe, in little pieces, as it were; but as to making a net of a number of these pieces, and catching anybody in it, that was, as yet, beyond me. One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone--I knew him by that name now--came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride. The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent up-stairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse's bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they appeared to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard. Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don't think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye--I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into--which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

comanche

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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How many times the word 'home' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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How many times the word 'windows' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

boy

How many times the word 'boy' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

convince

How many times the word 'convince' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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How many times the word 'language' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

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How many times the word 'film' appears in the text?

Alien Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "Alien", early draft, by Dan O'Bannon ALIEN (project formerly titled STARBEAST) Story by Dan O'Bannon & Ronald Shusett Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon 1976 SYNOPSIS En route back to Earth from a far part of the galaxy, the crew of the starship SNARK intercepts a transmission in an alien language, originating from a nearby storm-shrouded planet. Mankind has waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe -- they decide to land and investigate. Their search takes them to a wrecked alien spacecraft whose doors gape open -- it is dead and abandoned. Inside they find, among other strange things, the skeleton of one of the unearthly space travellers. Certain clues in the wrecked ship lead them across the hostile surface of the planet to a primitive stone pyramid, the only remnant of a vanished civilization. Beneath this pyramid they find an ancient tomb full of fantastic artifacts. Lying dormant in the tomb are centuries- old spores, which are triggered into life by the men's presence. A parasite emerges and fastens itself to one of the men's faces -- and cannot be removed. An examination by the ship's medical computer reveals that the creature has inserted a tube down his throat, which is depositing something inside him. Then it is discovered that the parasite's blood is a horribly corrosive acid which eats through metal -- they dare not kill it on the ship. Ultimately it is dislodged from its victim and ejected from the ship, and they blast off from the Hell-planet. However, before they can seal themselves into suspended animation for the long voyage home, a horrible little monster emerges from the victim's body -- it has been growing in him, deposited there by the parasite... and now it is loose on the ship. A series of ghastly adventures follow. They trap it in an air shaft and a man has to crawl down the shaft with a flamethrower -- it tears a man's head off and runs away with his body -- a man is crushed in the air lock door and the ship loses most of its air in a terrific windstorm -- another man is burned to death and then eaten by the creature -- and another is woven into a cocoon as part of the alien's bizarre life cycle. Finally there is only one man left alive, alone on the ship with the creature, and only six hours till his air runs out; which leads to a climax of horrifying, explosive jeopardy, the outcome of which determines who will reach Earth alive -- man or alien. CAST OF CHARACTERS CHAZ STANDARD, Captain.................A leader and a politician. Believes that any action is better than no action. MARTIN ROBY, Executive Officer.......Cautious but intelligent -- a survivor. DELL BROUSSARD, Navigator...............Adventurer; brash glory-hound. SANDY MELKONIS, Communications..........Tech Intellectual; a romantic. CLEAVE HUNTER, Mining Engineer.........High-strung; came along to make his fortune. JAY FAUST, Engine Tech.............A worker. Unimaginative. The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF FLICKERING INSTRUMENT PANELS. Readouts and digital displays pulse eerily with the technology of the distant future. Wherever we are, it seems to be chill, dark, and sterile. Electronic machinery chuckles softly to itself. Abruptly we hear a BEEPING SIGNAL, and the machinery begins to awaken. Circuits close, lights blink on. CAMERA ANGLES GRADUALLY WIDEN, revealing more and more of the machinery, banks of panels, fluttering gauges, until we reveal: INTERIOR - HYPERSLEEP VAULT A stainless steel room with no windows, the walls packed with instrumentation. The lights are dim and the air is frigid. Occupying most of the floor space are rows of horizontal FREEZER COMPARTMENTS, looking for all the world like meat lockers. FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! With explosions of escaping gas, the lids on the freezers pop open. Slowly, groggily, six nude men sit up. ROBY Oh... God... am I cold... BROUSSARD Is that you, Roby? ROBY I feel like shit... BROUSSARD Yeah, it's you all right. Now they are yawning, stretching, and shivering. FAUST (groans) Ohh... I must be alive, I feel dead. BROUSSARD You look dead. MELKONIS The vampires rise from their graves. This draws a few woozy chuckles. BROUSSARD (shakes his fist in the air triumphantly) We made it! HUNTER (not fully awake) Is it over? STANDARD It's over, Hunter. HUNTER (yawning) Boy, that's terrific. STANDARD (looking around with a grin) Well, how does it feel to be rich men? FAUST Cold! This draws a LAUGH. STANDARD Okay! Everybody topside! Let's get our pants on and get to our posts! The men begin to swing out of the freezers. MELKONIS Somebody get the cat. Roby picks a limp cat out of a freezer. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM This is a fantastic circular room, jammed with instrumentation. There are no windows, but above head level the room is ringed by viewscreens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for four men. Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology. STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, and MELKONIS are entering and finding their seats. BROUSSARD I'm going to buy a cattle ranch. ROBY (putting down the cat) Cattle ranch! BROUSSARD I'm not kidding. You can get one if you have the credit. Look just like real cows, too. STANDARD All right, tycoons, let's stop spending our credit and start worrying about the job at hand. ROBY Right. Fire up all systems. They begin to throw switches, lighting up their consoles. The control room starts to come to life. All around the room, colored lights flicker and chase each other across glowing screens. The room fills with the hum and chatter of machinery. STANDARD Sandy, you want to give us some vision? MELKONIS Feast your eyes. Melkonis reaches to his console and presses a bank of switches. The strip of viewscreens flickers into life. On each screen, we see BLACKNESS SPECKLED WITH STARS. BROUSSARD (after a pause) Where's Irth? STANDARD Sandy, scan the whole sky. Melkonis hits buttons. On the screens the images all begin to pan. CAMERA MOVES IN ON ONE OF THE SCREENS, with its moving image of a starfield. EXTERIOR - OUTER SPACE CLOSE SHOT OF A PANNING TV CAMERA. This camera is remote controlled, turning silently on its base. CAMERA BEGINS TO PULL BACK, revealing that the TV camera is mounted on the HULL OF SOME KIND OF CRAFT. When the pullback is finished, WE SEE THE FULL LENGTH OF THE STARSHIP "SNARK," hanging in the depths of interstellar space, against a background of glimmering stars. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Where are we? STANDARD Sandy, contact traffic control. Melkonis switches on his radio unit. MELKONIS This is deep space commercial vessel SNARK, registration number E180246, calling Antarctica air traffic control. Do you read me? Over. There is only the HISS OF STATIC. BROUSSARD (staring at a screen) I don't recognize that constellation. STANDARD Dell, plot our location. Broussard goes into action, punching buttons, lighting up all his instruments. BROUSSARD I got it. Oh boy. STANDARD Where the hell are we? BROUSSARD Just short of Zeta II Reticuli. We haven't even reached the outer rim yet. ROBY What the hell? Standard picks up a microphone. STANDARD This is Chaz speaking. Sorry, but we are not home. Our present location seems to be only halfway to Irth. Remain at your posts and stand by. That is all. ROBY Chaz, I've got something here on my security alert. A high priority from the computer... STANDARD Let's hear it. ROBY (punches buttons) Computer, you have signalled a priority three message. What is the message? COMPUTER (a mechanical voice) I have interrupted the course of the voyage. ROBY What? Why? COMPUTER I am programmed to do so if certain conditions arise. STANDARD Computer, this is Captain Standard. What conditions are you talking about? COMPUTER I have intercepted a transmission of unknown origin. STANDARD A transmission? COMPUTER A voice transmission. MELKONIS Out here? The men exchange glances. COMPUTER I have recorded the transmission. STANDARD Play it for us, please. Over the speakers, we hear a hum, a crackle, static... THEN A STRANGE, UNEARTHLY VOICE FILLS THE ROOM, SPEAKING AN ALIEN LANGUAGE. The bizarre voice speaks a long sentence, then falls silent. The men all stare at each other in amazement. STANDARD Computer, what language was that? COMPUTER Unknown. ROBY Unknown! What do you mean? COMPUTER It is none of the 678 dialects spoken by technological man. There is a pause, then EVERYBODY STARTS TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. STANDARD (silencing them) Just hold it, hold it! (glares around the room) Computer: have you attempted to analyze the transmission? COMPUTER Yes. There are two points of salient interest. Number one: it is highly systematized, indicating intelligent origin. Number two: certain sounds are inconsistent with the human palate. ROBY Oh my God. STANDARD Well, it's finally happened. MELKONIS First contact... STANDARD Sandy, can you home in on that beam? MELKONIS What's the frequency? STANDARD Computer, what's the frequency of the transmission? COMPUTER 65330 dash 99. Melkonis punches buttons. MELKONIS I've got it. It's coming from ascension 6 minutes 32 seconds, declination -39 degrees 2 seconds. STANDARD Dell -- show me that on a screen. BROUSSARD I'll give it to you on number four. Broussard punches buttons. One of the viewscreens flickers, and a small dot of light becomes visible in the corner of the screen. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) That's it. Let me straighten it out. He twists a knob, moving the image on the screen till the dot is in the center. STANDARD Can you get it a little closer? BROUSSARD That's what I'm going to do. He hits a button. The screen flashes and a PLANET APPEARS. BROUSSARD (CONT'D) Planetoid. Diameter, 120 kilometers. MELKONIS It's tiny! STANDARD Any rotation? BROUSSARD Yeah. Two hours. STANDARD Gravity? BROUSSARD Point eight six. We can walk on it. Standard rises. STANDARD Martin, get the others up to the lounge. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew -- STANDARD, ROBY, BROUSSARD, MELKONIS, HUNTER, and FAUST -- are all seated around a table, with Standard at the head. MELKONIS If it's an S.O.S., we're morally obligated to investigate. BROUSSARD Right. HUNTER I don't know. Seems to me we came on this trip to make some credit, not to go off on some kind of side trip. BROUSSARD (excited) Forget the credit; what we have here is a chance to be the first men to contact a nonhuman intelligence. ROBY If there is some kind of alien intelligence down on that planetoid, it'd be a serious mistake for us to blunder in unequipped. BROUSSARD Hell, we're equipped -- ROBY Hell, no! We don't know what's down there on that piece of rock! It might be dangerous! What we should do is get on the radio to the exploration authorities... and let them deal with it. STANDARD Except it will take 75 years to get a reply back. Don't forget how far we are from the Colonies, Martin. BROUSSARD There are no commercial lanes out here. Face it, we're out of range. MELKONIS Men have waited centuries to contact another form of intelligent life in the universe. This is an opportunity which may never come again. ROBY Look -- STANDARD You're overruled, Martin. Gentlemen -- let's go. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The men are strapping in, but this time it is with grim determination. STANDARD Dell, I want greater magnification. More surface detail. I want to see what this place looks like. BROUSSARD I'll see what I can do. He jabs his controls. The image on the screen ZOOMS DOWN TOWARD THE PLANET; but all detail quickly vanishes into a featureless grey haze. STANDARD It's out of focus. ROBY No -- that's atmosphere. Cloud layer. MELKONIS My God, it's stormy for a piece of rock that size! ROBY Just a second. (punches buttons) Those aren't water vapor clouds; they have no moisture content. STANDARD Put ship in atmospheric mode. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - OUTER SPACE The great dish antenna on the SNARK folds down against the main body of the ship, and other parts flatten out, until the ship has assumed an aerodynamic form. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Dell, set a course and bring us in on that beam. EXTERIOR - SPACE The SNARK's engines cough into life, and send it drifting toward the distant dot that is the planetoid. CAMERA APPROACHES THE PLANETOID, until it looms large on screen. It is turbulent, completely enveloped in dun-colored clouds. The SNARK drops down toward the surface. INTERIOR - BRIDGE STANDARD Activate lifter quads. BROUSSARD Activated. Vertical drop checked. Correcting course. On tangential course now, orbiting. (brief pause as he studies his instruments) Crossing the terminator. Entering night side. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" - IN ORBIT Beneath the orbiting SNARK, night's curtain rolls across the planet. Descending at an angle, the SNARK drops down into the thick atmosphere of the planetoid. INTERIOR - BRIDGE ROBY Atmospheric turbulence. Dust storm. STANDARD Turn on navigation lights. EXTERIOR - "SNARK" Hydroplaning down through the pea-soup atmosphere, a set of brilliant lights switches on, cutting through the dust, but hardly improving visibility. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD Approaching point of origin. Closing at 20 kilometers, 15 and slowing. Ten. Five. Gentlemen, we are directly above the source of the transmission. STANDARD What's the terrain down there? BROUSSARD Well, line of sight is impossible due to dust. Radar gives me noise. Sonar gives me noise. Infrared -- noise. Let's try ultraviolet. There. Flat. It's totally flat. A plain. STANDARD Is it solid? BROUSSARD It's... basalt. Rock. STANDARD Then take her down. BROUSSARD Drop begins... now! Fifteen kilometers and dropping... twelve... ten... eight and slowing. Five. Three. Two. One kilometer and slowing. Lock tractor beams. There is a LOUD ELECTRICAL HUM and the ship shudders. ROBY Locked. BROUSSARD Kill drive engines. The engines fall silent. ROBY Engines off. BROUSSARD Nine hundred meters and dropping. 800. 700. Hang on gentlemen. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The night-shrouded surface is a hell of blowing dust. The SNARK hovers above it on glowing beams of light, dropping down slowly. Landing struts unfold like insect legs. INTERIOR - BRIDGE BROUSSARD And we're... down. EXTERIOR - SURFACE OF PLANET - NIGHT The ship touches down, heavily; it rocks on huge shock absorbers. INTERIOR - BRIDGE The whole ship VIBRATES VIOLENTLY FOR AN INSTANT -- then all the panels in the room flash simultaneously and the LIGHT'S GO OUT. BROUSSARD Jesus Christ! The lights come back on again. STANDARD What the hell happened? ROBY (hits a switch) Engine room, what happened? FAUST (over, filtered) Just a minute, hold it, I'm checking. ROBY Has the hull been breached? BROUSSARD Uh... (scans his gauges) No, I don't see anything. We've still got pressure. There is a BEEP from the communicator. Then: FAUST (over, filtered) Martin, this is Jay. The intakes are clogged with dust. We overheated and burned out a whole cell. STANDARD (strikes his panel) Damn it! How long to fix? ROBY (into microphone) How long to fix? FAUST (over, filtered) Hard to say. ROBY Well, get started. FAUST (over, filtered) Right. Talk to you. STANDARD Let's take a look outside. Turn the screens back on. Melkonis hits buttons. The screens flicker, but remain black. BROUSSARD Can't see a blessed thing. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT Only a few glittering lights distinguish the ship from the absolute darkness around it. THE WIND MOANS AND SCREAMS. DUST BLOWS IN FRONT OF THE TINY GLIMMERING LIGHTS. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT STANDARD Kick on the floods. EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT A ring of FLOODLIGHTS on the ship come to life, pouring blinding light out into the night. They illuminate nothing but a patch of featureless grey ground and clouds of blowing dust. The wind shrieks. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - NIGHT ROBY Not much help. Standard stares at the dark screens. STANDARD Well, we can't go anywhere in this darkness. How long till dawn? MELKONIS (consults his instruments) Well... this rock rotates every two hours. The sun should be coming up in about 20 minutes. BROUSSARD Good! Maybe we'll be able to see something then. ROBY Or something will be able to see us. They all look at him. DISSOLVE TO: EXTERIOR - SHIP - NIGHT (MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE) The floodlights on the SNARK fight a losing battle against the darkness and the storm. MAIN THEME MUSIC BEGINS, EXTREMELY OMINOUS. THE TITLE APPEARS: ALIEN RUN TITLES. Gradually, the screen begins to lighten as the SUN RISES. The silhouette of the SNARK becomes visible, like some strange insect crouching motionless on the barren plain. The floods shut off. Dense clouds of impenetrable dust shriek and moan, obscuring everything and reducing the sunlight to a dull orange. END MAIN TITLES. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY CLOSE ON A SCREEN - it shows nothing but swirling clouds of orange dust. PULL BACK FROM SCREEN. The men (Standard, Roby, Broussard, and Melkonis) are sitting and standing around the room, drinking coffee and staring at the screens, which reveal only the billowing dust. ROBY There could be a whole city out there and we'd never see it. BROUSSARD Not sitting on our butts in here, that's for sure. STANDARD Just settle down. Sandy, you get any response yet? MELKONIS (pulls off his earphones) Sorry. Nothing but that same damn transmission, every 32 seconds. I've tried every frequency on the spectrum. BROUSSARD Are we just going to sit around and wait for an invitation? Roby gives Broussard a black look, then stabs a button on his console and speaks into the mike. ROBY (into mike) Hello, Faust! FAUST (over, filtered) Yeah! ROBY How's it coming on the engines? INTERIOR - ENGINE ROOM Faust is seated at an electronic workbench, brightly lit, speaking into a wall intercom. FAUST I never saw anything as fine as this dust... these cells are all pitted on a microscopic level. I have to polish these things smooth again, so it's going to take a while. Okay? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Yeah, okay. (puts down the mike) STANDARD Sandy... how far are we from the source of the transmission? MELKONIS Source of transmission is to the northeast... about 300 meters. ROBY Close... BROUSSARD Close enough to walk to! STANDARD Martin, would you run me an atmospheric? ROBY (punches buttons and consults his panels) 10% argon, 85% nitrogen, 5% neon... and some trace elements. STANDARD Nontoxic... but unbreathable. Pressure? ROBY Ten to the fourth dynes per square centimeter. STANDARD Good! Moisture content? ROBY Zero. Dry as a bone. STANDARD Any microorganisms? ROBY Not a one. It's dead. STANDARD Anything else? ROBY Yeah, rock particles. Dust. STANDARD Well, we won't need pressure suits, but breathing masks are called for. Sandy -- can you rig up some kind of portable unit that we can use to follow that transmission to its source? MELKONIS No problem. BROUSSARD I volunteer for the exploration party. STANDARD I heard you. You want to break out the side arms? INTERIOR - MAIN ARM LOCK - DAY Standard, Broussard and Melkonis enter the lock. They all wear gloves, boots, jackets, and pistols. Broussard touches a button and the inner door slides silently shut, sealing them into the lock. They all pull on rubber full-head oxygen masks. STANDARD (adjusting the radio on his mask) I'm sending. Do you hear me? BROUSSARD Receiving. MELKONIS Receiving. STANDARD All right. Now just remember: keep away from those weapons unless I say otherwise. Martin, do you read me? INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY ROBY Read you, Chaz. INTERIOR - MAIN AIR LOCK - DAY STANDARD Open the outer door. Ponderously, the outer lock door slides open. ORANGE SUNLIGHT streams into the lock, and clouds of dust swirl in. We hear the MOANING OF THE WIND OUTSIDE. A mobile stairway slides out of the open hatchway, and clunks as it hits the ground. Standard walks out into the storm, followed by the others. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men trot down the gangplank to the surface of the planet. Their feet sink into a thick layer of dust and loose rock. The men huddle together, looking around. The wind screams and tugs at their clothes. Nothing can be seen. STANDARD Which way, Sandy? Melkonis is fiddling with a portable direction-finder. MELKONIS (pointing) That way. STANDARD You lead. Melkonis walks into the blinding dust clouds, followed closely by the others. STANDARD Okay, Martin. We're on our way. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is the sole occupant of the bridge. He is huddled over his console, smoking a cigarette and watching three moving blips on a screen. ROBY Okay, Chaz, I hear you. I've got you on my board. STANDARD (over, filtered) Good. I'm getting you clear too. Let's just keep the line open. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men plough their way through a limbo of yellow dust and shrieking wind. With their rubbery masks and deliberate movements, they look like deep-sea divers at the bottom of a murky ocean. Melkonis leads the column, following the compass on the direction finder. STANDARD (CONT'D) Can't see more than three meters in any direction out here. We're walking blind, on instruments. They wade on, following Melkonis. Abruptly he halts. STANDARD (CONT'D) What's wrong? MELKONIS My signal's fading. He studies the direction finder. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY Roby is listening intently to the dialogue from the helmet radios. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) It's the dust, it's interfering... His concentration is so great that he does NOT NOTICE HUNTER COMING UP BEHIND HIM. MELKONIS (CONT'D) (over, filtered) ... Hold it, I've got it again. It's over that way. Standing DIRECTLY BEHIND ROBY, Hunter speaks. HUNTER What's happening? Startled out of his wits, Roby GASPS and whirls around to face Hunter. ROBY (startled silly) Hell! Hunter stares at Roby, whose momentary terror dissolves into embarrassed anger. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - DAY The three men push their way through the storm. Melkonis stops again, studies the direction finder. MELKONIS It's close, real close. STANDARD How far? MELKONIS We should be almost on top of it. I just can't quite... Suddenly, Broussard grabs Standard's arm and points. The others stare in the direction he is pointing. REVERSE ANGLE - THEIR POINT-OF-VIEW Through the dense clouds of swirling dust we can just barely make out some kind of HUGE SHAPE. As we watch, the dust clears slightly, REVEALING A GROTESQUE SHIP RISING FROM THE SHIP LIKE SOME GIGANTIC TOADSTOOL. It is clearly of non-human manufacture. ANGLE ON THE MEN They are struck dumb by the sight of the craft. Finally, Standard finds his voice. STANDARD Martin, uh, we've found it. ROBY (sharply -- over, filtered) Found what? STANDARD It appears to be some sort of spacecraft. We're going to approach it. They start toward the alien ship. INTERIOR - BRIDGE - DAY STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) There are no signs of life. No lights... no movement... Roby and Hunter are listening with hypnotic concentration. STANDARD (CONT'D) (over, filtered) We're, uh, approaching the base. EXTERIOR - BASE OF TOADSTOOL SHIP - DAY A strangely shaped DOOR yawns open at the base of the ship. Dust and sand have blown in, filling the lower part of the entrance. With great caution, the men approach the entrance and group around it. STANDARD (CONT'D) Appears to be a door hanging open, the entrance is clogged with debris. BROUSSARD Looks like a derelict. STANDARD Martin, we're going in. I'm going to hold the conversation to a minimum from here on. INTERIOR - ALIEN SHIP - DAY The doorway is a glowing geometric blur of light against blackness, spewing dust. In the darkness of the chamber are huge, formless shapes. Standard, Broussard and Melkonis appear silhouetted against the doorway. They switch on flashlight-like devices called "DATASTICKS", and step in. Carefully, peering around, they pick their way past the indistinct machinery. MELKONIS Air lock? STANDARD Who knows? BROUSSARD Let's try and find the control room. As they move their lights around, they can see that the walls, ceiling, and machinery are FULL OF HUGE, IRREGULAR HOLES. MELKONIS Look at these holes. This place looks like Swiss cheese. Broussard shines his light up into a huge hole in the ceiling. BROUSSARD This hole goes up several decks -- looks like somebody was firing a military disintegrator in here. They all peer up the hole into darkness. STANDARD Climbing gear. Standard draws out a stubby spear gun with a graplon attached to it. He aims it up into the hole and fires. The graplon is launched up into darkness, trailing a thin wire. There is a dull CLUNK, and the wire dangles. BROUSSARD I'll go first. STANDARD No, you'll follow me. Standard attaches the wire to a powered gear box on his chest, and presses a button. With a mechanical whine, he is pulled up into the hole, using his feet for leverage where he can. Broussard attaches the wire to his own chest unit. INTERIOR - CONTROL ROOM OF ALIEN SHIP This chamber is totally dark as Broussard arrives at the top of the hole. Standard stands with his flashlight/camera ("datastick") tracing a beam through the hanging dust. Broussard unclips himself from the climbing wire, then raises his own light. At that moment, Melkonis arrives at the top of the hole. THEIR LIGHTS SCAN THE ROOM. The beams are clearly visible as columns of light in the floating dust. They reveal heavy, odd shapes. Broussard stumbles over something. He shines his light down on it. It is a large, glossy urn, brown in color, with peculiar markings. Broussard stands it upright. It has a round opening in the top, and is empty. Suddenly, Melkonis lets out a grunt of shock. Their lights have illuminated something unspeakably grotesque: A HUGE ALIEN SKELETON, SEATED IN THE CONTROL CHAIR. They approach the skeleton, their lights trained on it. IT IS A GROTESQUE THING, BEARING NO RESEMBLANCE TO THE HUMAN FORM. MELKONIS Holy Christ... Standard shines his light on the console at which the hideous skeleton is seated. He moves his light closer and peers at the panel. STANDARD Look at this... They approach. STANDARD (CONT'D) Something has been scratched here... into the veneer. See? Traced raggedly onto the surface of the panel, as by the point of a sharp instrument, is a small triangle: Hearing something, Broussard flashes his light across the room. As the beam scans the walls, it briefly touches on SOMETHING THAT MOVES. Melkonis convulsively yanks out his pistol. MELKONIS LOOK OUT, IT MOVED! Standard knocks his hand down. STANDARD Keep away from that gun! Standard shoulders himself in front of the others. Then, slowly, he begins to move toward the far side of the room. They approach a console on the wall, training their lights on it. There is a machine. On the machine, a small bar moves steadily back and forth, sliding noiselessly in its grooves. STANDARD (CONT'D) Just machinery. BROUSSARD But functioning. Melkonis looks down at his direction finder. MELKONIS That's where the transmission is coming from. He throws a switch on the direction finder -- with a crackle and a hum, the UNEARTHLY VOICE fills their earphones. BROUSSARD A recording. A damned automatic recording. EXTERIOR - PLANETOID - SUNSET SINISTER ANGLE ON THE SNARK. As we watch, the sunlight turns the color of blood, and then the sun is down, leaving murky blackness in its wake. The ring of floodlights on the ship flares into life, feebly combatting the darkness and the storm. INTERIOR - MULTI-PURPOSE ROOM The entire crew is seated around the conference table, watching holographic pictures projected onto a screen. These are photos taken by their "datasticks" (flashlight/cameras). Standard is commenting on the changing slides. STANDARD ... This is the control room... Two or three pictures click onto the screen in succession, showing the suited men standing against banks of machinery. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... Some details of the control room... The SKELETON appears on the screen. The men react with mutters. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is the skeleton... another view of the skeleton... the transmitting device... The triangle that was cut into the alien's console appears. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... This is a closeup of the triangle we found scrawled on the console in front of the skeleton... Standard changes the slide. The screen goes white. STANDARD (CONT'D) ... And that's it. He turns off the projector and brings the lights up. HUNTER Phenomenal. Staggering. BROUSSARD We've got to go back and take a lot more pictures, holograph everything. MELKONIS And bring back as much physical evidence as possible, too. The rest of the skeleton. Some of the machinery. Written records, if there are any. Roby is slumped in his chair. He has said nothing. STANDARD Martin? ROBY I agree. This is the single most important discovery in history. STANDARD But? ROBY What killed it? BROUSSARD Hell, that thing's been dead for years. Maybe hundreds of years. The whole planet's dead. FAUST The way I figure it, they landed here for repairs or something, then they couldn't take off again. Maybe the dust ruined their engines. They set

irth

How many times the word 'irth' appears in the text?