Heinz 57-revised 6-11-16 - Patrick Sean Lee (best book club books of all time txt) 📗

heartbeat the warden's voice answers.

 

                    MARSTEN (O.S.)

          Come in.

 

The guard turns the knob, pushes the door open, and motions for the three inmates to go in.

 

INT. WARDEN MARSTEN DICK'S OFFICE-CONTINUOUS

 

Marsten is seated at his desk. Rollo, Myron, and Laverne file in silently and take their places in front of the warden's desk. Several sconce lights and a single unadorned chandelier bathe the interior with a warm glow. The speakers from an unseen stereo emit Mussorgsky's "Night on Bald Mountain". Marsten reaches for the remote lying on his desk and flips the music off. He nods his head to the guard, who stands just inside the open door.

 

                    MARSTEN

          That'll be all.

 

The guard exits, pulling the door closed behind him. Marsten surveys the inmates one by one with a dispassionate look in his eyes.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Have a seat, guys.

 

Two comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs stand in front of the bookcase five feet behind the inmates. Rollo and Myron step back and take their seats. Laverne glances around. The only other seat is a low footstool tucked between two leafy plants beneath the window. He shrugs and then walks across the room to his place between the plants. Marsten reaches down, gathers a new pair of black sneakers and then tosses them at Rollo.

 

                    MARSTEN

          I hope they're not too small, Heinz.

 

Rollo catches them, a grand smile bursting forth on his face.

 

                    ROLLO

          Thank you, Warden! I was gonna' cut the last eight inches or so off these monstrosities I was issued. This evenin', after dinner. These look perfect.

 

Rollo removes the gunboats from his feet. Myron smiles. Laverne busies himself pushing the foliage out of his eyes.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Now. Your request. I've given it considerable thought, and I've come to the conclusion that it's a bad idea.

 

Rollo stops. Myron shows no reaction. Laverne lets a large leaf flip back over his right eye.

 

                    LAVERNE

          Bu Thir...

 

                    MYRON

          Might we ask why, Warden?

 

                    MARSTEN

          Yes you can. My head would roll as soon as the Mayor got wind of it. There are, however, other things you can do...

 

                    ROLLO

          Beggin' your pardon, Warden, your head will roll anyway once the rioting starts again...and you know as well as we that it's only a matter of time until...

 

                    MYRON

          The men need identities and a reason...

 

                    MARSTEN

         I have lock-down for their feelings of self-loathing and identity, and I won't hesitate to use it. I thank you, though, for your unusual plan to make them peaceful. It simply wouldn't work, however.

 

QUICK FLASH-ROLLO'S VISION

 

          The image of God touching Adam's fingertip in the painting. The camera pans downward to the brass plate affixed to the gilded frame.

 

BACK TO SCENE

 

                    ROLLO

         You must allow it, Warden. Not only will you survive, you'll go down in history. Forgive me for sayin'...that is your destiny. I've seen it.

 

                    MARSTEN

          They'd crucify me. My destiny is to keep order here.

 

                    MYRON

          You'd be in good company, then, sir. And...you'd rise again as well. But, I think your superiors will not descend on you.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Ha!

 

                    ROLLO

          We have the preliminary plans drawn up, Warden.

 

                    LAVERNE

          I'm the head arthith, thir.

 

                    ROLLO

          It is in everyone's best interest, Warden. Please reconsider.

 

                    MARSTEN

          That Laverne is the head artist? I somehow can't imagine.

 

                    LAVERNE

          You'll thee! I'm thuperior!

 

                    ROLLO

          Not that, Warden. The inspired project. Let us show you the numbers, the preliminary drawings.

 

Marsten drums his fingers on the desktop, focusing on nothing in particular.

 

                    MARSTEN

          I just don't think it's feasible...it might even be in violation of city and state statutes. But let me think on it more. You can return to your cells, now.

 

                   LAVERNE

           (jumping to his feet)

          When will you know? When will you tell uth?

 

                    MYRON

          Quiet, Laverne!

       (on his feet. To the warden)

          Thank you, sir. We'll wait for your decision.

 

The inmates begin to exit the office.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Mr. Heinz.

 

Rollo stops and turns.

 

                    ROLLO

          Warden?

 

                    MARSTEN

    (pointing toward Rollo's old shoes)

          Take those things with you. Throw them in the trash...I don't care. No one has feet that...

 

He glances at Myron's feet.

 

                     MARSTEN

          ...Give them to the guard.

                                                                                                                                           FADE

 

INT. MARSTEN DICK'S BEDROOM-NIGHT

 

The bedroom is dark, save a silver-edged fall of moonlight through the open, sheered window a few feet beyond the foot board. A woman lies beside Marsten asleep. The red digits of the clock atop the bed table say 3:30. Marsten's eyelids flutter.

 

Outside, a dog barks, and Marsten's eyes open wide. Another bark, and then the night is silent again. He stares at the soft light filling the window opening for a moment or two, and then his eyes close.

 

DREAM-MARSTEN AND GODFATHER ZIPPO BOTTICELLI

 

Marsten parks his SUV at the curb and exits. His wife, ABIGAIL, is beside him, and they walk into a park. A midget-someone familiar, but whose features are vague-motions with great urgency for them to leave. They ignore him, and then the midget disappears.

 

Four men of heavy stature materialize out of thin air and surround them.

 

                    THUG 1

          Mr. Botticelli would like to see you.

 

Marsten and Abigail follow them into a building that suddenly appears close by. Abigail is led to the right; he is ushered to the left. A man enters the smoky room, surrounded by more heavy statured men. They approach him. Marsten senses danger. He recognizes the man, a prisoner. He denied him properly-fitting shoes.

 

                    GODFATHER

                       (smiling)

          You shouldna' parked your car there.

 

                    MARSTEN

          I'll go move it right away.

 

                   GODFATHER

          Nah...ya' can't. One of the tires is flat. That'd be unsafe. And the brakes're bad.

 

                    MARSTEN

          But I'll be careful.

 

                    GODFATHER

          I think you oughta' lie down on your belly.

 

In a blink, Marsten is on his stomach, frightened. Footsteps, and then the unmistakable click of a bullet entering a pistol's chamber. The footsteps stop near his head.

 

                    ABIGAIL DICK (V.O)

          Myron only wants to show you his plans, then we can leave.

 

                    MARSTEN

          But there's no reason for them to kill me. It's just a car.

 

                    GODFATHER

          It's a bad plan, lady.

 

                    ABIGAIL DICK (V.O)

          You shouldn't have parked there, Marsten. Laverne told you not to.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Shit. Where's Rollo? He'll help me out. He'll explain it.

 

                    GODFATHER (V.O.)

          Too late, Mars. We already took the car out back. We'll fix the brakes...but you, well...

 

Marsten is blind. His world has gone black. He feels a gigantic hand grasp his collar, and he is pulled away.

 

                    GODFATHER (V.O.)

          Get him back here, Myron. He's gotta' pay the fine.

 

                    MYRON (V.O.)

          Sorry, Mayor. We have a painting to do.

 

BACK TO SCENE

 

INT. MARSTEN DICK'S BEDROOM-MORNING

 

Marsten awakens with a jolt. Sunlight streams through the window. Abigail is not beside him. He glances over at the clock on the bedstand and notes the time. 7:15.

 

                    MARSTEN (V.0.)

          Shit.

 

He throws the blanket covering him aside, swings his legs out of the bed, rises, and then walks across the room to the door leading into the bath.

 

EXT. AVENUE WITH A CAR IN TRAFFIC-MORNING

 

A black, late model sedan moves with the congested traffic on a street through a commercial area of town. Ahead of it a horn blares. Pedestrians dressed in business attire on the sidewalks move along, almost in perfect step with one another.

 

INY. THE CAR-CONTINOUS

 

Marsten is at the wheel. A talk radio station is on. He reaches forward with a hand and pushes the off dial, braking as the traffic slows. Turning his head absently he notices an art gallery display window. A Picasso-esque painting dominates the window. He begins to turn his head forward once again, but then does a double-take. Laverne Budd, brushes and palette in hand, stands before it inside the gallery. The car ahead of him screeches to a halt, suddenly. Marsten instinctively hits his brakes as he whips his head forward, avoiding impact by inches.

 

                    MARSTEN

                (panicked voice)

          Godammit!

 

He jerks his head to the left again to view the gallery window. A Picasso-esque painting is all that is visible.

 

                                                                                                                                               CUT

 

INT. MARSTEN'S OFFICE-MORNING

 

Marsten sits at his desk reviewing paperwork. He tosses the sheaf of papers aside and then taps the intercom on the desk.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Rosa, have a guard bring inmates Budd, Fleur, and Heinz in here. Cellblock 1.

 

He releases the button.

 

                    Rosa (V.O.)

          Yes, sir.

 

Marsten drums his fingers on the desk, picks up the paperwork again. He fidgets with it for a moment, and then tosses it back down.

 

                                                                                                                                         CUT

INT. ZIPPO'S CELL-MORNING (CONTINUOUS)

 

Zippo stands in front of his battered desk. His gang is gathered around him.

 

                    ZIPPO

          ...and so what did Dick say?

 

                    MERCURIO

          Nuthin' I guess. The whole fuckin' idear is nuts. I hear he threw 'em out.

 

                    ZIPPO

          Ya' heard? I thought you was in Fleur's cell. What'd he say?

 

                    MERCURIO

          Somethin' about Dick considerin' it, but that's crazy as hell. Fleur admitted that.

 

Zippo crinkles his mouth and looks down. He stares intently at the floor for a moment, and then speaks without looking up.

 

                    ZIPPO

          Here's what yer' gonna' do, Merc. Keep yer eyes peeled on all of 'em. Tonight when the little shithead goes...

 

                                                                                                                                         FADE

 

INT. MARSTEN'S OFFICE-(CONTINOUS)

 

The three inmates are standing once again in front of Marsten's desk. Laverne wears an expectant, positive look. He is fidgeting with his fingers.

 

                    MARSTEN

          I've decided.

 

Laverne jerks his hands upward to his face and folds them as if in prayer. His eyes widen to the size of saucers.

 

                    MARSTEN

          Bring me the plans you've drawn. Once I look them over I might...and I say might...allow you to begin with one or two cells...

 

                    LAVERNE

          I knew it!

 

                    MYRON

          Very good, sir. We shall have them on your desk within the hour.

 

                    ROLLO

          We'll need paint...a good variety of color...

 

                    MYRON

          I have many contacts on the outside, Warden. Acquiring the necessary material will not be a problem. Perhaps I might use the phone here in your office?

 

                    LAVERNE

          (bouncing up and down)

          I want to do my thell as the Bottithelli painting...

 

                    MARSTEN

          Bring me back the plans. And no, Fleur, you may not. You can go, now.

 

Rollo, Myron, and a jubilant Laverne rush to the door and exit. Myron flops back in his seat.

 

VISION-MARSTEN'S FATE

 

Marsten approaches a tall, wooden structure with steps leading up to the platform. His hands are bound behind him. Atop the platform stands a guillotine.

 

INT. ANTERIOR ROOM IN THE JAIL-AFTERNOON

 

Myron, pass in hand signed by the warden, approaches a guard who takes the slip of paper from him and surveys the script. The guard looks up at the inmate's face and then motions for him to go into the room. Myron walks with his shoulders drawn nobly back to a bank of telephones on one of the walls. He deposits a coin, dials a number, and then waits.

 

INTERCUT-TELEPHONE CONVERSATION

 

                    MYRON

         David?

 

                    DAVID

          Yes. Who is...Sweetie! How are you doing?

 

                    MYRON

          Very well, David. Thank you. Look. I haven't much time, but I need you to do something for me. Will you?

 

                    DAVID

          Of course, Luv. How are they treating you...

 

                    MYRON

          Splendidly. Now listen. I want you to jot this down, and when you've gathered all the things I tell you, deliver them here to Warden Dick's office. He knows you are coming...simply tell them at the front admittance desk that he has asked for the items. Do you understand?

 

                    DAVID

          Oh-my-god, no...but I have a pencil, Sweetie. Go ahead.

 

                                                                                                                                             FADE

 

INT. MARSTEN'S OFFICE-AFTERNOON

 

Rollo and