PULP EARTHBOUND
Re-written
by
the SofaKing
Original Concept
by
Michael DePalma
Based on stories
by
Quentin Tarantino
&
Roger Roberts Avery
PULP (pulp) n.
1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass or matter.
2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper.
American Heritage Dictionary New College Edition
PROLOGUE
A normal Applebee's, Spires-like coffee shop in Los Angeles.It's about 9:00 in the morning. While the place isn't jammed, there's a healthy number of people drinking coffee, munching on sausage and eating eggs.
Two of these people are a YOUNG MAN and a YOUNG WOMAN. TheYoung Man has a slight resemblance to a pig. And, like a pig,he literally eats his food, literally with his face, and gobblesit down, without even stopping for a breath.It is impossible to tell where the Young Woman is from or how old she is. The boy and girl sit in a booth. Their dialogue is said in a rapid-pace.
YOUNG MAN: No, forget it, it's too risky. I'm through doin' that shit.
YOUNG WOMAN: You always say that, the same thing every time: never again, I'm through, too dangerous.
YOUNG MAN: I know that's what I always say. I'm always right too, but --
YOUNG WOMAN: -- but you forget about it in a day or two . . . or three --
YOUNG MAN: -- yeah, well, the days of me forgittin' are over, and the days of me rememberin' have just started.
YOUNG WOMAN: When you go on like this, you know what you sound like?
YOUNG MAN: I sound like a reasonable fucking man, is what I sound like.
YOUNG WOMAN: You sound like a cow. (imitates a duck) Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack...
The Young Man gives her a strange look
YOUNG WOMAN: (unaware of her great stupidity) What?
YOUNG MAN: Nevah mind. Anyway, take it to heart, 'cause you're never gonna hafta hear it again. Because since I'm never gonna do it again, you're never gonna hafta hear me "quack" about how I'm never gonna do it again.
YOUNG WOMAN: After tonight.
The boy and girl laugh, their laughter putting a pause inthere, back and forth.
YOUNG MAN: (with a smile) Correct. I got all tonight to "quack."
A WAITRESS comes by with a pot of coffee.
WAITRESS: Can I get anybody anymore coffee?
YOUNG WOMAN: Oh yes, thank you.
YOUNG MAN: No thank you, however, you could get me some more bacon, sausage, eggs, gritts, and the rest of the meal I ordered, again.
WAITRESS: (Slight stare of disgust) Right away sir.
The Waitress pours the Young Woman's coffee. The Young Man continues eating.
WAITRESS: I'll be right back
She leaves. The Young Man finishes the last bite of his breakfast, quickly washing it down with some orange juice, which spills all over him. The Young Woman pours a ton of cream and sugar into her coffee. The Young Man goes right back into it.
YOUNG MAN: I mean the way it is now, you're takin' the same risk as when you rob a bank. You take more of a risk. Banks are easier! Federal banks ain't supposed to stop you anyway during a robbery. They're insured, why should they care?
YOUNG WOMAN: You wanna rob banks?
YOUNG MAN: I'm not sayin' I wanna rob banks, I'm just sayin that if we did, it would be easier than what we been doin'.
YOUNG WOMAN: So you don't want to be a bank robber?
YOUNG MAN: Naw, all those guys are goin' down the same road, either dead or servin' life.
YOUNG WOMAN: And no more candy stores?
YOUNG MAN: What have we been talking about? Yeah, no-more-candy-stores. Besides, it ain't the giggle it usta be. Too many foreigners own candy. Arabs, British, they can't fuckin' speak Eaglelandish. You tell 'em: "Gimme da Money!" and they don't know what it fuckin' means. They make it too personal. We keep on, one of those overseas bastards gonna make us kill 'em.
YOUNG WOMAN: I'm not gonna kill anybody.
YOUNG MAN: I don't wanna kill anybody either. But they'll probably put us in a situation where it's us of them. And if it's not the British, it these old Russians who've owned the store for fifteen generations. Ya got Grandma sittin' behind the counter with a fuckin' AK-47. Forget it, we're out of it.
YOUNG WOMAN: Well, what else is there, day jobs?
YOUNG MAN: (laughing) Not this life.
YOUNG WOMAN: Well what then?
He calls to the Waitress.
YOUNG MAN: Lady! Where's my fuckin' food!
Then looks to his girl.
YOUNG MAN: This place.
The Waitress comes by, with his plate.
WAITRESS: (snotty) Here you go, (quietly) asshole.
She splits.
YOUNG WOMAN: Here? It's a coffee shop.
YOUNG MAN: What's wrong with that? People never rob restaurants, why not? Bars, candy stores, gas stations, you get your head blown off stickin' up one of them. Restaurants, on the other hand, you catch with their pants down. They're not expecting to get robbed, or not as expecting as Seven-Eleven.
YOUNG WOMAN: (taking to idea) I bet in places like this you could cut down on the hero factor.
YOUNG MAN: Damn Straight. Just like banks, these places are insured. The managers don't give a fuck, they're just tryin' to get ya out the door before you start pluggin' diners. Waitresses, forget it, they ain't takin' a bullet for the register. Busboys, some guy gettin' paid a dollar fifty a hour gonna really give a fuck you're stealin' from the owner. Customers are sittin' there with food in their mouths, they don't know what's goin' on. One minute they're havin' an Onette omelette, next minute somebody's stickin' a gun in their face.
The Young Woman visibly takes in the idea. The Young Man continues in a low voice.
YOUNG MAN: See, I got the idea last candy store we stuck up. 'Member all those customers kept comin' in?
YOUNG WOMAN: Yeah.
YOUNG MAN: Then you got the idea to take everybody's wallet.
YOUNG WOMAN: Uh-huh.
YOUNG MAN: We made more from the wallets then we did the register.
YOUNG WOMAN: Oh yeah.
YOUNG MAN: A lot of people go to restaurants.
YOUNG WOMAN: A LOT people.
YOUNG MAN: Pretty smart, huh?
The Young Woman scans the restaurant with this new information. She sees all the PATRONS eating, lost in conversations. The tired WAITRESS, flirting with the BUSBOYS, who are going through the motions, collecting dishes. The MANAGER complaining to the COOK about something. A smiles breaks out on the Young Woman's face.
YOUNG WOMAN: Pretty smart. (into it) I'm ready, let's go, right here, right now.
YOUNG MAN: Remember, same as before, you're crowd control, I handle the rest.
YOUNG WOMAN: Got it.
They both take out their 45's and lay them on the table. He looks at her and she back at him.
YOUNG WOMAN: I love you, Pookey.
YOUNG MAN: I love you, Sugar Buns.
And with that, Pookey and Sugar Buns grab their weapons, stand up and rob the restaurant. POOKEY's robbery persona is that of the in-control professional. SUGAR BUNS's is that of the psychopathic, hair-triggered, loose cannon.
POOKEY: (yelling to all) Everybody be cool this is a robbery!
SUGAR BUNS: Any of you fuckin' pricks move and I'll execute every one of you motherfuckers!