Heinz 57-revised 6-11-16 by Patrick Sean Lee (reading in the dark .txt) 📖
- Author: Patrick Sean Lee
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LAVERNE "BUDDY" BUDD
Ith good ta' thee ya' 'gain, Rollo! Wha'd ya' do thith time?
Rollo answers without looking down at Laverne, extending his hand cautiously to Myron.
ROLLO
Hi...Buddy. Same old...
(to Myron)
Jesus Christ. You're the biggest son-of-a bitch I've ever laid eyes on!
LAVERNE
Heeth a tall one, huh?
(Laverne turns his head to Myron)
Watuthi, right Myron?
MYRON
Close, my little friend. Tutsi, from the larger tribe of Watusi somewhere in my ancestral past.
LAVERNE
(to Myron)
You coulda' thopped that lath fight...
(to Rollo)
Thereth no one metheth with Myron, Rollo. Heeth juth too big. But he coulda' thopped it 'cuth Thippo is thared to death of him...
Rollo accepts Myron's hand, which wraps around his like a beach towel around a golf ball as Laverne continues to chatter. Myron smiles broadly as he grips Rollo's hand. Rollo winces as though he has slipped his hand into a vise.
LAVERNE
...I with you wath gonna' be here longer, Myron. Thippo ith gonna' thove a thiv in me the minute you leave. He thaid he wath.
MYRON
(motioning for Rollo to be seated at the end of the lower bunk)
I shall speak to him, Laverne. Remain strong.
(to Rollo as Myron takes a seat again beside him)
No doubt word has reached your ears, Mr. Heinz...
ROLLO
Rollo, please. No ancestral relation to the catsup manufacturer, either.
MYRON
Yes, of course...Rollo. You've heard of the troubles our fair institution has been suffering through of late, I was going to say.
Laverne hustles to the battered desk chair across from the bed. He glances furtively outside the cell as he straddles it with difficulty, preparing to converse.
INT. ZIPPO GONZALEZ' CELL-NIGHT
ZIPPO is seated on the lower bunk, surrounded by several inmates who by their actions and demeanor seem to regard him highly. All of the men have shaved heads, and tattoos adorning their exposed arms and necks.
ZIPPO
I'll crack the little fucker's head wide open if he says 'please thippo, contwol ya' anger' one more goddam' time!
INMATE 1
(jokingly)
You angry, Zip?
ZIPPO
You angry, Zip? Hell no! I ain't angry. Why would I be? I just don't like midgets, queers, and niggers...don't like bein' locked up with 'em. Guards, and the rotten fuckin' food, no women...
(he pauses)
An' I don't like you!
Zippo jumps to his feet suddenly. Pushes the inmate backward into the lap of another prisoner sitting on the desk chair behind him. He grins maliciously as he steps quickly forward, placing his hands on the inmate's chest. Another inmate eases his head outside, scans the tier for guards. Silence reigns for a long moment as Zippo surveys the stunned man, and then Zippo smiles and slaps him playfully on the cheek.
ZIPPO
Just kiddin'.
He steps backward, halting for a fraction of a second to leer threateningly at another inmate standing at the end of the bunk. He taps the inmates cheek and laughs. Relieved laughter breaks out.
ZIPPO
(addressing the inmate he tapped)
Who's that new guy bunkin' with the queer nigger, West?
WEST
I dunno'. Never saw 'im before.
ZIPPO
Find out.
INMATE 1
Name's Rollo. He's a fag, too. Saw 'im in here 'bout a year ago.
ZIPPO
That right?
The initial sense of "all's well" pervades the cell once again as the congregated prisoners parry and thrust with one another.
INT. CELL 57-CONTINUOUS
Laverne sits facing Rollo and Myron, his arms crossed on the backrest of the chair; chin on his hands. His feet do not touch the floor. Rollo rests comfortably against the metal end post, half-facing Myron. One leg dangles off the mattress. Myron sits at the other end, but with his endless leg stretched out along the concrete floor. He has his hands clasped together around the knee of the leg on the mattress.
MYRON
It doesn't take much to get them all riled up and ready for war in here.
ROLLO
What would you suggest we do then? Petition the warden to move Gonzalez and his gang?
MYRON
That will never happen. The jail is overcrowded as it is. Where would they move him? Further, there is no proof beyond rumor that he is the instigator of all the trouble. Those who know will not talk. He has them gagged with threats and fear.
LAVERNE
The thnake.
ROLLO
Well then, we've gotta' confront him ourselves. Threaten him with a more powerful force.
LAVERNE
Thath what I thay, Myron.
MYRON
And then the monthly riots become daily wars. More bloodshed. I will suffer the indignities of their insults, but I will not sink to their level.
LAVERNE
He neeth a pill ta' make him peethful.
Rollo is struck by Laverne's remark. He shoots him an 'aha!' look.
LAVERNE
What?
Rollo is quiet for a moment. He closes his eyes.
VISION-ROLLO'S SOLUTION
Rollo stands in the center of Cellblock 1 with Myron and Laverne. Behind them are several hundred inmates holding brushes and palettes. To Rollo's left is an easel with a half-finished painting-the Creator reaching out to a blank, white nothingness. Zippo stands thirty feet away in the company of his gang, all of whom are holding knives, chains, and clubs. Rollo smiles and lifts his right hand that is holding a fine artist's brush toward Zippo.
BACK TO SCENE
ROLLO
He needs a pill.
Myron and Laverne stare at Rollo, question marks on their faces.
ROLLO
We begin with the dregs...those who lean toward peace and can be instructed.
MYRON
...In?
ROLLO
In fine art. No. Grand art!
Rollo stands abruptly and gazes around the cell.
ROLLO
We paint the walls!
LAVERNE
Thath grand art?
ROLLO
Not white or yellow or green, but vistas of color. Art!
MYRON
You cannot be serious.
ROLLO
(with great excitement)
Oh but I am. Think of it fellas...inmates pouring themselves into copying masterpieces...or creating their own. I saw the glorious end of it tonight in the intake room.
MYRON
The warden would laugh at it.
ROLLO
Maybe. But what do we have to lose? What does he have to lose? I tell you, I saw it...and Zippo's name was on it!
LAVERNE
You wath drunk.
MYRON
So then, what do you propose exactly?
ROLLO
We call a meeting...tomorrow after breakfast, out in the yard.
LAVERNE
Ath-er breakfath ith a bad time. They'll be in a thour mood. Thath no good.
ROLLO
What do you say, Myron.
MYRON
(dreamily)
Interior decor is my profession...painting jails? I don't know...
ROLLO
You can talk to them. You speak well and have a commanding presence. Tell them what we plan!
MYRON
We?
ROLLO
Yes, we. Michelangelo, Picasso, and what's that little artist's name? Talouse-Lautrec! Are you guys with me?
LAVERNE
Yeth! Do I get to be Picatho?
MYRON
I don't know...I...
ROLLO
This is what you'll tell them...
FADE
EXT. EXERCISE YARD-MORNING
The sun is shining brightly, casting long shadows across the long, narrow space between the three story jail wall and the tall, razor wire topped fence twenty feet away. Two basketball hoops are visible at
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