Script
INT.	THE VIDEO ALCOVE, WITH VIDEO CUSTOMER

Heís playing one of three or four video games in the middle of the
room. The others are showing their "come-on" phases. There are a
couple of pinball machines along the back wall. Along the left wall
are vending machires plus two pay telephones. Vending machines:
cigarettes, snacks, coffee. The VlDEO CUSTOMER is intent on his game.
He's really into it.

Suddenly, the games normal pattern explodes in colors and swirls.
All the games come alive.

                            VlDEO CUSTOMER
                   What the fuck!

Heís stunned. All the machines are going crazy. The pinball machines
spit out dozens of balls.

The cigarette machine spews pack of cigarettes and change; the
coffee machine jets coffee onto the floor; the snacks came pouring
out, along with more change; money falls out of the coin returns of
the phones. Tne VIOEO PATTRON stares at all of this, stunned.


		
EXT.	AN ISLAND OF DIESEL PUMPS IN FRONT OF THE DIXlE-8OY	

DUNCAN is filling HANDY'S truck. Suddenly there is a METALLIC
SCREECHING SOUND. DUNCAN looks at his pump. The numbers have frozen.
He taps the glass. Nothing. He hammers on top of the pump. Nothing. He
pulls the nozzle from the fill-pipe and looks into it. Diesel fuel
sprays promptly into his face. DUNCAN falls to the gravel, shrieking.

                            DUNCAN
                   My eyes!  My eyes! MY EYES!!

INT.	HENDERSHOTíS DESK, CU	

The buff-colored time-card comes down. WILLIAM ROBERTSON is
written across tne top, and below are the usual timee-clock punches. At
the top right of the time-card is a small red stick-on star.

                             HENDERSHOT
                    You punched in at 6:58 this morning,
                    mah friend.


INT.	HENDERSHOT'S OFFICE, WITH HENDERSHOT AND BILLY	

                             BILL
                    What's wrong with that?

                             HENDERSHOT
                    Ain't nothin' wrong with it. 'Cept
                    that's also the time you came In

                             BILL
                    What are you talking about?

                             HENDERSHOT
                    You bein' ob-tuse, Billy-boy. Ain't
                    no need for you t'be ob-tuse. smart
                    ole college boy like you.

He leans back and folds his hand on his paunch, he stares at BILLY.

                             HENDERSHOT
	            I'm gonna tell you this just once more
                    boy. You git in here at 5:45 and you have
                    your cuppa coffee and then you dice up them
                    taters for home fries and you squeeze the
                    awange juice and you dump them last two
                    dish-trucks from the night before and
                    then maybe have you another cuppa coffee
                    and a little smoke. Then it's gonna be
                    seven oíclock an you can punch in aní
                    go to work. You--

A BUZZER sounds on HENDERSHOT'S intercom, he leans over and thumbs
it.

                            HENDERSHOT
	            Yeah?

INT.	THE FUEL AREA OFFICE	

STEVE GAYTON is bent over the desk, speaking into the intercom, He
looks freaked out. Behind him, JOE Is bending over DUNCAN, who lies on 
a cot with his hands to his face.


                            STEVE
                    It's Steve Gayton, Mr. Hendershot,
                    Duncan Kellerís had an accident.

INT.	HENDERSHOT	

                            HENDERSHOT
                    Oh,	shitsky! What happened to him?


INT.	THE FUEL OFFICE, WITH STEVE	

                             STEVE
                   Got diesel in his eyes. I'll be 
                   damned if I know how.

INT.	HENDERSHOT'S OFFICE
	
	                     HENDERSHOT
                   Is that all? Flush his eyes
                   and leave me alone! I got me
                   some talkin' to do in here!


He flicks off the intercom and looks back at BILL

                             HENDERSHOT
                   I got to wipe everyone's ass around
                   here. Its a shitty job, but I reckon
                   somebody's got to do it, ainít that a
                   fact, bubba?

                             BILL
                   You want me to work nine hours a day
                   and clock for eight.


                             HENDERSHOT (admiring)
                   Now I know you been to college!

                             BILL
                   I donít think so, Mr. Hendershot.
                   Not this kid.

He stands up, HENDERSHOT taps the red star in the corner of BILL'S
time card. He's still smiling, but there is an ugly cast to it now.

                             HENDERSHOT
                   You know what this star means, donít you?
                   You ainít that ob-tuse, are you? On parole,
                   boy! Your ass either b'longs to me or it b'longs
                   to the state of North Carolina! You either spend
                   forty-five hours hours a week dippin' dishes and 
                   fryin' aigs and get pald for forty, or YOU
                   spend sixty a week cuttin' brush along the
                   highways aní byways in the hot sun and you
                   don't get paid a cent! Now what you think?

BILL looks like he's going to walk out just the same.

                             HENDERSHOT
                   Go on. You walk out that door and I pick
                   up this phone and call your parole officer

                             BILL
                   This is one helluva racket, isn't it?


                          HENDERSHOT
                You think we've reached an
                understandin' here, college boy?

                          BILL
                I guess maybe we have.

                          HENDERSHOT
                Well that's fahn! Put this back
                for me on your way by, would you?

He slides BILL'S time-card across the desk. After a moment BILL
takes it and leaves, slamming the door. HENDERSHOT doesn't mind; he
looks well-pleased.
 

 

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