American Graffiti (1973)

 RADIO:

 

On a dark screen an immense amber light appears and an electric

 

humming begins. The eerie light glows brighter and illuminates a

 

single huge number--11. We hear static and a large vertical band

 

of red floats mysteriously across the screen.

 

Pulling back slowly, we watch the glowing band traverse back and

 

forth over the amber light and past more numbers appearing--

 

70...90...110...130. And we begin to hear voices--strange songs,

 

fading conversations and snatches of music drifting with static.

 

Pulling back further, we realize it is a car radio filling the

 

screen and radio stations we're hearing, until the indicator

 

stops. There's a pause...and suddenly we are hit by a blasting-

 

out-of-the-past, Rocking and Rolling, turn-up-the-volume,

 

pounding Intro to a Vintage 1962 Golden Week-End Radio Show--back

 

when things were simpler and the music was better.

 

And now a wolf howl shatters through time as the legendary

 

Wolfman Jack hits the airwaves, his gravel voice shrieking and

 

growling while the music pumps and grinds...

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Awwrigght, baay-haay-baay! I got a oldie for ya--gonna knock ya

 

right on de flowa--baay-haay-hee-baay!

 

The Wolfman howls like a soulful banshee as "Rock Around the

 

Clock" blasts forth.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN--DUSK

A neon drive-in casts long shadows across a vast parking lot as

 

the sun drops behind a distant hill. A large neon sign buzzes in

 

the foreground...MEL'S DRIVE-IN, while in the background, "Rock

 

Around The Clock" blares from the radio of a beautiful decked and

 

channeled, white with red trim, tuck-and-rolled '58 Chevy Impala

 

that glides into the drive-in. Main titles appear over action.

 

Steve Bolander stops the elegant machine and gets out. He looks

 

around, then walks to the front of the car and leans against the

 

flame-covered hood. Steve is eighteen, good-looking in a

 

conservative, button-down, short-sleeved shirt. Most likely to

 

succeed, president of his graduating class. He looks around the

 

empty drive-in, then hears a funny little horn.

 

A Vespa scooter bumps into the lot. A young kid waves at him--and

 

suddenly grabs the handlebars again as the scooter nearly

 

topples. Terry Fields ("The Toad") maneuvers the scooter next to

 

Steve's Chevy but misjudges and ricochets off the trash can

 

before stopping. Terry grins sheepishly. He's seventeen, short

 

but plenty loud, both vocally and sartorically in his pink and

 

black shirt, levis, and white bucks. He looks slightly ridiculous

 

but always thinks he's projecting an air of supercool.

 

Steve watches Terry smooth back his shiny ducktail and primp his

 

waterfall to a perfect cascade over his forehead. He unbuttons

 

his shirt one more button and lowers his pants to look tough.

 

Terry walks over and leans against the flamed car, imitating

 

Steve who pays him no mind. In the background, we hear the

 

Wolfman howling with the music. The record ends and a barrage of

 

humor begins from Wolfman Jack. The Wolfman is an unseen

 

companion to all the kids. Witty and knowledgeable about the

 

trivia that counts, he's their best friend, confidant, and

 

guardian angel.

 

Now, a grey, insect-like Citroen deux-chevaux putters into the

 

parking lot and stops on the other side of the lot. Steve and

 

Terry watch Curt Henderson get out.

 

Curt stands by his little car. He's seventeen, a curly

 

bespectacled, scraggly kid with a summer-grown moustache and a

 

paperback stuck in his bermuda shorts. Curt thinks of himself as

 

the town cynic. In reality, he's a hopeless romantic. He starts

 

over to his buddies.

 

TERRY:

 

Hey, whadaya say? Curt? Last night in town, you guys gonna have a

 

little bash before you leave?

 

STEVE:

 

The Moose have been lookin' for you all day, man.

 

Steve reaches into his pocket and hands Curt an envelope without

 

saying anything. Curt opens it slowly and pulls out a check.

 

CURT (sarcastic)

 

Oh great...

 

TERRY:

 

Whadaya got, whadaya got? (snooping over his shoulder) Wow--two

 

thousand dollars. Two thousand doll--!!

Steve looks at Curt suspiciously; Curt seems somehow guilty.

 

STEVE:

 

Mr. Jenning couldn't find you, so he gave it to me to give to

 

you. He said he's sorry it's so late, but it's the first

 

scholarship the Moose Lodge has given out. Oh yeah, he says

 

they're all very proud of you.

 

Curt hands the envelope back to Steve

 

CURT:

 

Well...ah...why don't you hold onto it for a while?

 

STEVE:

 

What's with you? It's yours! Take it! I don't want it.

 

TERRY:

 

I'll take it.

 

CURT:

 

Steve...Ah, I think we'd better have a talk. I've gotten--

 

Suddenly a horn honks and they all turn. Laurie Henderson pulls

 

into the drive-in and waves to them. She is driving the family's

 

'58 Edsel.

 

STEVE:

 

Your sister calls. I'll talk to you later.

 

CURT:

 

Now, Steve! Let her wait.

 

STEVE:

 

Okay, make it short and sweet.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah, well...Listen...(clearing his throat) I...I don't think I'm

 

going tomorrow.

 

STEVE:

 

What! Come on, what are you talking about?

 

CURT:

 

I don't know. I was thinking I might wait for a year...go to

 

city--

 

Laurie honks the horn a couple of times. Steve ignores her. There

 

is a long moment and Curt looks uncomfortable.

 

STEVE:

 

You chicken fink.

 

CURT:

 

Wait, let me explain--

 

STEVE:

 

You can't back out now! After all we went through to get

 

accepted. We're finally getting out of this turkey town and now

 

you want to crawl back into your cell--look, I gotta talk to

 

Laurie. (he hands the check back to Curt). Now take it. We're

 

leaving in the morning. Okay?

Suddenly, there's an ear-splitting roar and they all turn as a

 

yellow '32 Ford deuce coupe--chopped, lowered and sporting a

 

Hemi-V8--bumps into the lot. The low slung classic rumbles and

 

parks at the rear of the drive in.

 

Big John Milner, twenty-two, sits in his Ford, tough and

 

indifferent, puffing on a Camel. He wears a white T-shirt and a

 

butch haircut molded on the sides into a ducktail. A cowboy in a

 

deuce coupe--simple, sentimental and cocksure of himself.

 

STEVE:

 

You wanna end up like John? You can't stay seventeen forever.

 

CURT:

 

I just want some time to think. What's the rush? I'll go next

 

year.

 

STEVE:

 

We'll talk later. Steve walks off toward Laurie's Edsel. Laurie

 

gets out. She's wearing a letterman's sweater with a large "Class

 

of '62" emblazoned on the shoulder. Steve goes to her and they

 

hug.

 

On the radio, the music ends, and the Wolfman's intro tune comes

 

on. RADIO (singing)

 

"Here comes the Wolfman--Wolfman Jack!"

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Oh, We're gonna rock and roll ourselves to death baby. You got

 

the Wolfman Jack Show!

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN--NIGHT

As the radio blares "Sixteen Candles," we see that with the

 

darkness Burger City has come alive. A continual line of hot rods

 

pulls into the parking lot to check out the parked cars, then

 

returns to the maindrag. Carhops glide by on roller skates. Curt

 

and John are fooling around in front of the deuce coupe. A horn

 

honks and they turn as a '60 Ford with three girls in it slows by

 

them. A girl leans out the window and smiles.

 

GIRL:

 

Hi John!

 

The girls in the car all screech and giggle as they zoom off.

 

JOHN:

 

Not too good, huh?

 

CURT:

 

Why is it every girl that comes around here is ugly? Or has a

 

boyfriend? Where is the dazzling beauty I've been searching for

 

all my life?

 

John watches the procession of gleaming cars traveling through

 

the hot night. JOHN

 

I know what you mean. The pickin's are really gettin' slim. The

 

whole strip is shrinking. Ah, you know, I remember about five

 

years ago, take you a couple of hours and a tank full of gas just

 

to make one circuit. It was really somethin.' Suddenly, in the

 

distance, there's a blood-curdling scream from an incredible

 

high-performance engine. The entire drive-in stops and listens.

 

CURT:

 

Hey, John. Someone new in town.

 

JOHN:

 

Ahhh.

 

CURT:

 

You gonna go after him?

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, listen, Professor, if he can't find me, then he ain't worth

 

racin', right?

 

CURT:

 

The big shot!

 

Across the swarming parking lot, Steve sits in the front seat of

 

his chevy with Laurie. Budda Macrae, a car hop, leans down to

 

attach a tray to Steve's window, showing off her tight blouse.

 

BUDDA:

 

A cherry-vanilla coke and a chocolate mountain. Anything else you

 

want, Steve?

 

Steve shakes his head.

 

If there is you let me know now. Just honk and I'm yours.

 

She tucks in her blouse a little tighter, gives him a hot look

 

and goes to get the other tray. Budda takes the other tray around

 

the car, almost shoves it in the window where Laurie is sitting.

 

BUDDA:

 

One fries--grab it before I drop it.

 

She gives Laurie an antagonistic look and goes off. Steve laughs.

 

Laurie smiles. She's seventeen, very pretty, with big doe-eyes,

 

and a short bobbed hairdo. She pushes up the sleeves on Steve's

 

letterman sweater, which is sizes too large for her. His class

 

ring glints on a chain around her neck. Laurie is sweet, the

 

image of vulnerability, but with a practical and self-preserving

 

mind beneath.

 

STEVE:

 

Where was I? LAURIE

 

Um, how you thought high school romances were goofy and we

 

started going together just because you thought I was kinda cute

 

and funny, but then you suddenly realized you were in love with

 

me, it was serious...and ah...oh, you were leadin' up to

 

somethin' kinda big. STEVE

 

You make it sound like I'm giving dictation. Well, seriously,

 

what I meant was, that ah...since we do care for each other so

 

much, and since we should really consider ourselves as adults.

 

Now, I, ah...could I have a couple of those fries? Through the

 

windshield of the Chevy, they see Terry run by in front of them,

 

chasing Budda Macrae who's outdistancing him on her roller

 

skates. TERRY

 

Come on, Budda. Come on...

 

Steve watches them go by, then looks back at Laurie.

 

STEVE:

 

Ah, where was I?

 

LAURIE:

..."consider ourselves adults"...

 

Laurie pretends to be interested in her french fries, but is

 

obviously expecting something big.

 

STEVE:

 

Right...right...anyway, I thought maybe, before I leave, we could

 

ah...agree that...that seeing other people while I'm away can't

 

possibly hurt, you know?

 

Laurie hasn't looked up but her mood has changed like a mask.

 

LAURIE:

 

You mean dating other people?

 

STEVE:

 

I think it would strengthen our relationship. Then we'd know for

 

sure that we're really in love. Not that there's any doubt.

 

Steve smiles and then looks to her. He stops smiling. They listen

 

to the radio for an awkward moment. Laurie struggles to hold back

 

her tears. With obvious difficulty, she turns to him and smiles.

 

He's expected something different and doesn't know what to do, so

 

he smiles back.

 

LAURIE:

 

I think you're right. I mean, we're not kids anymore, and it's

 

silly to think that when we're three thousand miles apart we

 

shouldn't be able to see other people and go out.

 

Laurie takes his ring on the chain from around her neck and puts

 

it in her purse.

 

STEVE:

 

Laurie, now, listen, I didn't ask for that back. I think that...

 

LAURIE:

 

I know. I just sort of think it's juvenile now. I'll keep it at

 

home. It's less consipicuous there.

 

STEVE:

 

You don't want to wear it?

 

LAURIE:

 

I didn't say that. I understand and I'm not upset. I mean, I

 

can't expect you to be a monk or something while you're away.

 

Steve just looks at her and nods. The Wolfman howls an intro to

 

"Gee" by the Crows.

 

Outside, skooting around the drive-in after Budda, Terry is

 

pleading with the sexy car hop as she delivers a tray to a car.

 

TERRY:

 

...and I hace a really sharp record collection. I even have

 

"Pledging My Love" by Johnny Ace. Anyway, how can you love Nelson

 

when he's going out with Marilyn Gator. Since he dumped on you

 

maybe we could--

 

BUDDA:

 

He didn't dump on me, you little dip. Hi, Steve!

 

Her tone changes immediately. Terry looks sour and turns around

 

to Steve who's getting out of the chevy. Budda leaves, wiggling

 

her butt for Steve.

 

TERRY:

 

She's a little conceited--just playing hard to get.

 

STEVE:

 

Listen, I came over here to talk to you about--

 

TERRY:

 

Any time, buddy. I'm your man. Nothing I like better than chewing

 

the rug with a pal. You talk, I'll listen. I'm all ears. Shoot.

 

STEVE:

 

Shut up.

 

TERRY:

 

Sure.

 

STEVE:

 

Terry, I'm going to let you take care of my car while we're away-

 

-at least until Christmas. I'm afraid if I leave it with my--

 

Steve notices Terry isn't with him any more and turns. Terry is

 

standing frozen to a spot.

 

STEVE:

 

What's wrong?

 

Terry tries to talk, much like a shell-shocked war veteran. His

 

mouth moves but only a gurgle comes out.

 

Curt is standing by the Chevy, talking with his sister Laurie.

 

She's still upset by what Steve said to her.

 

CURT:

 

Hey, sis--what's wrong?

 

LAURIE:

 

Nothing.

 

Meanwhile, they watch Terry as Steve explains to him about the

 

car.

 

STEVE:

 

Now listen, only 30 weight Castrol-R. I've written the tire

 

pressure and stuff on a pad in the glove compartment . Are you

 

listening?

 

The others are watching now as Terry shakes his head

 

mechanically.

 

CURT:

 

What's wrong, he's crying!

 

There is indeed a tear rolling down Terry's cheek.

 

TERRY:

 

I can't...believe...it. (He starts toward the car and gently

 

caresses its paint.) I don't know what to say. I'll...love and

 

protect this car until death do us part. (He circles the car.)

 

This is a superfine machine. This may even be better than Daryl

 

Starbird's superfleck moonbird. It is better than Daryl

 

Starbird's.

 

Laurie watches Terry, realizing that like the car, she'll be left

 

behind as a fond memory. She turns and looks at Steve, who's been

 

watching her. There's a moment between them...

 

Budda comes by with an empty tray. Terry sees her and wipes his

 

eyes. He walks up to her, a strange look on his face.

 

TERRY:

 

Budda, how would you like to go to the drive-in movies with me?

 

The idea is so preposterous that even Budda is speechless. She

 

looks around at others.

 

BUDDA:

 

You've got to be kidding!

 

TERRY:

 

Would I kid you about a thing like that? I want you to know that

 

something has happened to me tonight that is going to change

 

everything. I've got a new... TERRY

 

Would I kid you about a thing like that? I want you to know that

 

something has happened to me tonight that is going to change

 

everything. I've got a new...

 

John walks up quietly and casually pulls down hard on the back

 

pockets of Terry's low riding levis. There is general hysteria as

 

Terry quickly pulls up his pants.

 

TERRY:

 

Car!! All right, who's the wise-- (He turns and sees John and

 

changes his tune.) Oh, John--verrry funny. (He tries to laugh

 

with the others.)

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, did she do that to you?

 

STEVE:

 

Let's get going. It seems like we've spent most of our lives in

 

this parking lot.

 

TERRY:

 

Hey, Curt, let's bomb around, I wanna try out my new wheels!

 

CURT:

 

I'd like to, Toad, but I'm going with Steve and Laurie to the

 

hop. I'd just slow you down anyway.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah, tonight things are going to be different.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, wait a minute, you're goin' to the Hop? The Freshman Hop?

 

CURT:

 

Yeah.

 

JOHN:

 

Oh, come on, man. That place is for kids. You two just got your

 

ass out of there. Don't go back now. CURT

 

You ain't got no emotions?

 

Terry

 

We're gonna remember all of the good times, is what we're gonna

 

do.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah, well, go.

 

CURT:

 

Why don't you come with us?

 

JOHN:

 

Bullshit, man!

 

CURT:

 

Come on. For old time's sake.

 

John

 

Yeah, yeah...Well, listen. You go. Go ahead, Curtsy, baby. You go

 

on over there and you remember all the good times you won't be

 

having. I ain't goin' off to some goddamned fancy college. I'm

 

stayin' right here. Havin' fun, as usual.

 

John walks angrily to his coupe, gets in and slams the door.

 

Curt looks at the others and shrugs.

 

TERRY:

 

Jesus, Milner, you're in a great mood tonight.

 

Curt goes over and stands by the window of the yellow coupe.

 

CURT:

 

What's the matter John? Did I say somethin' wrong? I'm sorry.

 

JOHN:

 

Ah, man, it's nothin'.

 

CURT:

 

Well, we'll see you later, okay?

 

JOHN:

 

Right.

 

CURT:

 

We'll all do somethin' together. You know, before Steve leaves.

 

John looks at him suspiciously. JOHN:Okay, wait a minute. Now,

 

you're not going?

CURT:

 

I don't know.

 

John shakes his head. On the radio, Wolfman is taking a call from

 

a listener--

 

MAN (voice over)

 

Wolfman?

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Who is this?

 

MAN:

 

This is Joe...in Little Rock, way down in the Valley.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

You callin' from Little Rock, California?

 

MAN:

 

Long distance.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

My, my, my...listen, man, what kind of entertainment you got in

 

that town?

 

MAN:

 

All we got is you. John roars his engine and pulls the yellow

 

deuce coupe into a screeching take-off out of the drive-in. Terry

 

and Curt watch him go off. MAIN STREET, MODESTO-NIGHT

 

During the day, G street is a line of used car lots, small shops,

 

tacky department stores and greasy spoons. At night, it is

 

transformed into an endless parade of kids in flamed, lowered and

 

customed machines who rumble down the one way street, through the

 

seemingly adultless, heat-drugged little town.

 

Police cars glide ominously with the flow of traffic. In parked

 

cars, couples neck between flashing headlights. Guys looking cool

 

in a '56 Chevy sit in the slouched position of the true Low

 

Rider--and over it all the music and the Wolfman can be heard.

 

Just now, it's "Runaway" by Del Shannon.

 

John travels with the flow of traffic, watching some dopey guys

 

shooting squirt guns from a moving car. John drives the deuce

 

coupe effortlessly. He looks over at a car pacing alongside of

 

his own.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, Zudo.

 

A sweaty looking guy turns and nods from the window.

 

PAZUDO:

 

Hey, Milner.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, man, what happened to your flathead?

 

PAZUDO:

 

Huh?

 

JOHN:

 

What happened to your flathead?

 

PAZUDO:

 

Ah, your mother!

 

JOHN:

 

What?

 

PAZUDO:

 

Your mother. Hey, we been talkin' about you.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah?

 

PAZUDO:

 

Yeah. There's a very wicked '55 Chevy lookin' for you.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah, I know.

 

PAZUDO:

 

Watch out for the cop that's in Jerry's Cherry.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah. All right, thanks.

 

John nods and the two cars pull apart down the street.

 

TRAVELING G STREET-STEVE'S WHITE '58 CHEVY

 

The Rock and Roll blares as Terry the Toad cruises along the main

 

drag, singing along with the music. Sitting low in his seat, he

 

looks around, his face aglow, experiencing a new world from the

 

inside of a really fine car. This is the greatest thing that has

 

happened to Terry in seventeen long years of being a short loser.

 

Terry turns a corner and another car pulls alongside. A guy looks

 

out the window.

 

GUY:

 

Hey, Toad.

 

Terry looks over and smiles coolly, proud of his new wheels.

 

GUY (leaning out the window)

 

Is that you in that beautiful car? (Terry nods modestly) Geez,

 

what a waste of machinery.

 

Terry's smile changes to a scowl as the car pulls away from him..

 

Terry accounts the slight to jealousy. Then he forgets it and

 

enjoys driving the beautiful Chevy again. Another car pulls

 

alongside of him as he cruises along slowly.

 

GIRL:

 

Hey, kid.

 

Terry looks over at the car cruising next to him. In the back

 

seat, a guy has dropped his trousers and is pushing his bare

 

buttocks against the side window--a classic BA complete with

 

pressed ham. Terry looks away, wondering why this is still

 

happening to him, even in his new car.

 

TRAVELING G STREET-LAURIE'S '58 EDSEL

 

Curt is in the back seat gazing out the window at the dark main

 

street of the small farm community. Steve and Laurie are talking

 

quietly in the front seat. Laurie is sitting near the window and

 

it sounds like Steve is convincing her to move over. Laurie

 

finally does. His arm goes around her and her head rests on his

 

shoulder.

 

Curt is laughing as the Wolfman harasses someone on the radio.

 

The Wolfman is placing a call.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Here we go with another call out of the station. Can you dig it?

 

Answer the phone, dummy.

 

MAN (voice over)

 

Pinkie's Pizza

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Ah, yeah, listen, you got any more of those secret agent spy-

 

scopes?

 

MAN:

 

Hit parade on the stethoscope?

 

WOLFMAN:

 

No. No, the secret agent spy-scope, man. That pulls in the moon,

 

the sky and the planets...and the satellites and the little bitty

 

space men.

 

MAN:

 

You must have the wrong number, partner.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

'Bye.

 

Wolfman cuts into "Why Do Fools Fall in Love." Curt is laughing

 

in the back of the car, as he listens to the ever-present D.J.

 

STeve slows the Edsel to a stop at the next light. Curt glances

 

over at a classic white '56 Thunderbird and sits up. In the T-

 

bird, a girl watches him. Blonde, beautiful, her hair, backlit by

 

a used car lot, seems to glow, making her look almost etereal.

 

Curt doesn't move, as if afraid of scaring her away. She smiles

 

faintly---then says something, so softly it's lost...

 

CURT:

 

What?

 

Curt struggles to lower his window. She repeats it, but he can't

 

hear. The light changes. She smiles once more and is gone.

 

CURT (shouting)

 

What? What?!!!

 

STEVE:

 

We didn't say anything.

 

CURT:

 

Quick! Hang a right!

 

STEVE:

 

What? Why?

 

CURT:

 

Cut over to G Street, I've just seen a vision! She was a goddess.

 

You've got to catch her!

 

STEVE:

 

I didn't see anything.

 

LAURIE:

 

We're not going to spend the night chasing girls for you.

 

CURT:

 

I'm telling you, this was the most perfect, dazzling creature

 

I've ever seen.

 

STEVE:

 

She's gone. Forget it.

 

CURT:

 

She spoke to me. She spoke to me, right through the window. I

 

think she said, "I love you."

 

Curt looks at his sister and Steve in the front seat. They are

 

bored by his romantic visions.

 

CURT:

 

That means nothing to you people? You have no romance, no soul?

 

She--someone wants me. Someone roaming the streets wants me! Will

 

you turn the corner?

 

Laurie looks around at him and seems to pity his flights of

 

poetic fantasy. Curt sits back and shakes his head.

 

PARKING LOT:

 

Big John sits in his deuce coupe, backed into the parking lot of

 

the Acme Fall-out Shelter Co., the prime spot in town for girl

 

watching. A guy in wrap-around dark glasses leans by the car next

 

to John. They watch a group of laughing girls cruise by in a

 

Studebaker.

 

JOHN:

 

Oh, oh. Later.

 

GUY:

 

Alligator.

 

John turns on his lights and swings the deuce coupe out into the

 

flow of traffic, after the Studebaker. John accelerates and pulls

 

alongside the Studebaker. The girl in the front seat rolls down

 

her window. John grins and yells over at the carload of cuties.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, you're new around here. Where're you from?

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

Turlock.

JOHN:

 

Turlock? You know a guy named Frank Bartlett?

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

No. Does he go to Turlock High?

 

JOHN:

 

Well, he used to. He goes to J.C. now.

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

Do you go to J.C.?

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah, sure.

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

Oh, wow! Do you know Guy Phillips?

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah, sure. I got him in a class.

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

He's so boss.

 

JOHN:

 

How would you like to ride around with me for awhile?

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going steady.

 

JOHN:

 

Ah, come on!

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

I just can't.

 

JOHN:

 

You're just ridin' around with a bunch of girls. Hey, how about

 

somebody else in there? Anybody else want to go for a ride?

 

The girls chatter and giggle among themselves. One of the girls

 

dangles a bra out the back window, and they all break into

 

hysterical laughter. The girls try to accelerate ahead, but John

 

stays alongside their car.

 

JOHN:

 

Aw, come on...I got plenty of room. It's dangerous to have that

 

many people in a car. Cops see ya, you're had. You got nothing to

 

fear, I'm as harmless as a baby kitten.

 

A small voice rises above the chatter.

 

CAROL:

 

I'll go. I'll go.

 

FIRST GIRL:

 

Judy's sister wants to ride with you. Is that all right?

 

JOHN (grinning)

 

Yeah, sure, Judy--her sister--her mother--anybody. I'll take 'em

 

all. Listen, we'll go up and stop at that light. It'll turn red

 

by the time we get there. All right?

 

The first girl grins and nods. John winks at her.

 

JOHN:

 

You ever get tired of going steady with somebody that ain't

 

around--I'm up for grabs.

 

The cars stop at the light. A girl rushes out from the Studey and

 

runs around the back of John's coupe. She opens the door and

 

climbs in fast as the light changes.

 

The Studebaker pulls off fast. John pushes through the gears and

 

turns and smiles at his pick-up, as "That'll Be the Day" plays on

 

the Wolfman Jack Show. JOHN

 

So, you're Judy's little sister.

 

Carol Morrison shakes her head. She is thirteen years old, very

 

cute--wearing blue jeans, sneakers and a "Dewey Webber Surf

 

Board" T-shirt which hangs to her knees. John seems slightly

 

panicked.

 

JOHN:

 

Ah, shit,--how old are you?

 

CAROL:

 

Old enough. How old are you?

JOHN:

 

I'm too old for you.

 

CAROL:

 

You can't be that old.

 

JOHN:

 

Listen, listen. I think you better go back and sit with your

 

sister. Hey, ah...where are they, anyway? They comin' back or

 

somethin'? This is a joke, right? This better be a joke, 'cause

 

I'm not drivin' you around.

 

CAROL:

 

But you asked me. What's the matter? Am I too ugly? (on the verge

 

of tears) Judy doesn't want me with her and now you don't want me

 

with you. Nobody wants me...even my mother and father hate me.

 

Everybody hates me.

 

JOHN:

 

No they don't. I mean, I don't know, maybe they do. But I don't.

 

It's just that you're a little young for me.

 

CAROL:

 

I am not! If you throw me out I'll scream.

 

JOHN:

 

OK, OK, just stay cool. There's no need to scream. We'll think of

 

something. (He looks at her as she wipes her eyes.) It shouldn't

 

take too long to find your sister again.

 

Suddenly, a car horn honks next to them. John looks over at the

 

car.

 

VOICE (off)

 

Hey John--you gonna be there tonight?

 

JOHN:

 

Oh, shit! Hey, get down!

 

John grabs Carol by the neck and pushes her head down onto his

 

lap so she can't be seen. John casually waves to the friend in

 

the car cruising alongside.

 

Hey, cool...

 

Carol's head is being held down on his lap. She looks up at him.

 

CAROL:

 

Hey, is this what they call copping a feel?

 

John jumps, and immediately lets go of her as if burned.

 

JOHN:

 

NO! Uh uh. N-O. Don't even say that. Jesus...

 

John is beginning to sweat now.

 

CAROL:

 

What's your name?

 

JOHN:

 

Mud, if anybody sees you.

 

CRUISING G STREET-STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry continues to cruise the main drag, slouched low and looking

 

cool in his newly acquired machine. He adjusts his waterfall curl

 

as the Wolfman dedicates a list of songs. He passes a group of

 

guys bullshitting around the raised hood of a souped-up parked

 

car.

 

Terry cruises alongside two girls in a Ford. He revs the engine

 

to get their attention and once he has it he motions to roll down

 

their window. They flip him the bird instead and he lets them

 

pass.

 

Terry pulls up to a stop light. The car next to him is a '56

 

Ford--a good opponent and besides, the kid driving looks younger

 

than Terry.

 

TERRY:

 

What you got in there, kid?

 

KID:

 

More than you can handle.

 

Terry revs his engine. So does the Ford. The tension mounts. The

 

green arrow for the left turn lane flashes on, the car on Terry's

 

other side moves off, and before he can control his reflexes,

 

Terry, too, has shot into the intersection while the light

 

remains red! Terry quickly shifts and returns to the starting

 

position. The other driver is grinning. Terry is flustered and

 

embarrassed. Terry revs the Chevy a couple more times,

 

concentration intently this time on the right light.

 

Green!...The Ford bolts into the intersection. Terry likewise

 

floors the gas pedal and goes crashing backwards into a large

 

Buick. Terry is stunned for a moment, then realizes he forgot to

 

shift into first. He fumbles to get the car into frist gear.

 

A distinguished looking man comes up to his window after

 

inspecting the damage. Terry tries to escape, but in his panic

 

the engine dies. He struggles to start it.

 

OLDER MAN:

 

Excuse me, but I think we've had an accident.

 

TERRY:

 

Well, goddamnit, I won't report you this time, but next time just

 

watch it, will ya?

 

Terry roars off in a cloud of indignant smoke, leaving the

 

gentleman standing in the street looking dismayed. The cars

 

behind him begin to honk their horns and shout crudities.

 

USED CAR LOT:

 

Terry pulls up in front of a used car lot and jumps out to

 

inspect the damage to Steve's Chevy. He rubs a small scratch on

 

the back fender, but it won't disappear. As he spits on it, a

 

slick, baggy-suited car salesman ambles up.

 

SALESMAN:

 

I'll give you $525 for her on a practically new Corvette...and on

 

top of this, I'm going to know 10% off the low price of this

 

beautiful Vette. I'm talking about only $98 down and $98 a month.

 

Now, how am I able to make you this incredible offer? I'll tell

 

you! I'm forced to move all the sporty cars off the lot as

 

quickly as I can. Boss's orders. He doesn't want 'em. I think

 

it's a mistake, but what can I do?

 

Terry begins to get worried as the salesman begins to fondle his

 

new Chevy. He becomes frightened as the salesman attempts to drag

 

him over to one of the 'Vettes. Finally Terry breaks away and

 

jumps back into his car and the salesman continues to rave on as

 

Terry drives away.

 

HIGH SCHOOL GYM--"AT THE HOP"

 

Herbie and the Heartbeats, wearing their matching red blazers,

 

rock into a raunchy rendition of their masterpiece--

 

HERBIE AND THE HEARTBEATS

 

One, two, three, four-- one, two three, four--

 

BAH...BAH...BAH...BAH...

 

BAH...BAH...BAH...BAH...

 

BAH...BAH...BAH...BAH...

 

BAH...BAH...BAH...BAH...

 

At the hop!!

 

Pulling back from the bandstand, we see the Dewey High School

 

gym--the basketball nets swung back and draped with crepe, the

 

lights half-low, the noise high, and the waxed floor being

 

polished and pounded by stockinged feet as a seething mob of

 

adolescents join in that ancient rite--The Hop.

 

A hundred of them are dancing and swaying while the band gyrates

 

on a raised platform. Kids on wooden bleachers watch the whirling

 

and spinning mass of ponytails and ducktails, button-down shirts

 

and mid calf skirts, cardigan sweaters with little belts in the

 

back.

 

THE GIRLS' LAVATORY

 

Laurie stands in front of a mirror in a line of other girls. She

 

brushes her hair, staring rather despondently at herself in the

 

mirror. The girl next to her is Peg Fuller, a cute cheerleader.

PEG:

 

Hey, why are you so depressed? You'll forget him in a week.

 

Listen, after you're elected senior queen you'll have so many

 

boys after your bod--

 

LAURIE:

 

I don't want to go out with anybody else.

 

PEG:

 

Laurie, I know it's a drag but you can't--remember what happened

 

to Evelyn Chelnick? When Mike went to the Marines? She had a

 

nervous breakdown and was acting so wacky she got run over by a

 

bus.

 

LAURIE:

 

I just wish I could go with him or something.

 

PEG:

 

Laurie, jeez...Come on.

 

BOY'S LAVATORY:

 

We move down a row of sinks at which guys are working as intently

 

on theri coiffures as the girls. Ducktails being smoothed; glassy

 

waterfalls being primped; the fronts of crew cuts being waxed to

 

stand stiff.

 

Steve stands looking at himself, then glances at Eddie Quentin

 

standing next to him, dabbing something on his face.

 

STEVE:

 

What's that?

 

Eddie jerks his hand down and hides something.

 

EDDIE:

 

What's what?

 

Steve turns and pulls Eddie's hand up.

 

STEVE:

 

Hey, zit make-up! (laughing) Wait till I tell--hey, everybody,

 

Eddie--

 

EDDIE:

 

Come on, Steve--don't. Just cool it.

 

He takes his pimple cream back and Steve continues to laugh. He

 

stops slowly and looks at himself again in the mirror. He finds

 

something on his neck, looks around at Eddie.

 

STEVE (quietly)

 

Let me see some of that stuff.

 

Eddie gives him the tube and Steve dabs it on his neck.

 

EDDIE:

 

You leave tomorrow?

 

Steve nods.

 

You and Laurie engaged yet?

 

STEVE:

 

No, but we got it worked out. We're still going together but we

 

can date other people.

 

EDDIE:

 

And screw around--I hear college girls really give out.

 

Suddenly a voice shouts "One-two--" they turn to see a guy at

 

every toilet hit the flusher on "Three," sending a torrent of

 

water down the pipes. Suddenly, there's a rumbling noise as the

 

pipes break and water gushes over the floor. Panic! Everybody

 

crashes for the doors, laughing and shoving each other.

 

HIGH SCHOOL GYM:

 

The guys tumble out the lavatory door and abruptly cool it as a

 

dumb-looking paunchy teacher stops and looks them over, rocking

 

on his heels. They escape quietly. Steve and Eddie meet Laurie

 

coming out of the girls' lavatory with Peg. They're watching the

 

dancers as Hervie and his band moan through a slow number--"She's

 

So Fine."

 

STEVE:

 

Come on.

 

LAURIE:

 

Come on what?

 

STEVE:

 

Let's dance.

 

LAURIE:

 

No thanks.

 

STEVE:

 

Laurie, I want to dance.

 

LAURIE:

 

Who's stopping you? Eddie and Peg are listening and watching.

 

Steve smiles at them like everything's okay. He glares at Laurie.

 

STEVE (under his breath)

 

Laurie, I thought since this was our last night together for 3

 

months, you might want to dance with me.

 

LAURIE:

 

How sentimental. You'll be back at Christmas.

 

STEVE:

 

I want to dance now, not at Christmas.

 

He takes her arm, which she pulls away.

 

LAURIE:

 

Get your cooties off me--

 

Eddie and Peg are watching with great interest. Steve smiles at

 

them again. Then he leans down and whispers something to Laurie.

 

LAURIE:

 

Go ahead, slug me, scar my face. I wouldn't dance with you if you

 

were the last guy left in this gym.

 

EDDIE:

 

Uh, Peg, I think we should dance.

 

PEG:

 

No, this is getting good.

 

LAURIE:

 

I'll dance with you, Eddie. You don't mind, do you, Peggy?

 

She takes Eddie by the hand and leaves Steve fuming with Peg.

 

PEG:

 

Joe College strikes out. Steve gives her a snide look, then

 

watches Laurie and Eddie laughing, as they join in The Stroll.

 

The whole gym is Strolling in unison, like some strange musical

 

military formation.

 

HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY

 

The Stroll music floats from the gym down the empty hall. Curt

 

walks along with his hands in his pockets. One last trip down the

 

grey, locker-lined corridor. He slows and stops by locker 2127.

 

He smiles a little, then flips the dial of the lock. Once to the

 

right--back to the left--then to the right again. Curt hits the

 

handle. It doesn't open. Changed already. He shrugs and goes off

 

down the hallway.

 

HIGH SCHOOL GYM:

 

Curt walks in the background, behind the line of kids clapping as

 

one couple Strolls down between them. Then Curt hears somebody

 

call him.

 

MR. WOLFE (off)

 

Hey--Curtis!

 

Curt wanders over toward a young teacher, Mr. Wolfe, who is

 

surrounded by a group of admiring (and grade-seeking) girls. Mr.

 

Wolfe wears ivy league clothes and is about twenty-five, not much

 

older than his students.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Curtis, come here. Help me, will you? I'm surrounded.

 

GIRL:

 

You won't dance? Come on.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

No, really, I'd like to, but I can't. I mean, if old Mr. Simpson

 

came in here and saw me dancing with one of you sexy little--

 

excuse me...one of you young ladies, he'd have my rear end.

 

GIRLS:

 

Aahhh.

 

The all giggle. Mr. Wolfe shrugs at Curt and heads for a door.

 

Curt follows him and they escape from the girls into the night.

 

OUTSIDE THE GYM:

 

Curt and Mr. Wolfe come out of the gym. Mr. Wolfe sees a couple

 

of guys skulking around in the shadows smoking cigarettes and

 

laughing. The music has changed to "See You in September."

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Hey, Warren. Come on, gentlemen, back inside. Put 'em out. Let's

 

go.

 

CURT (grinning as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes)

 

Kids...Want one?

 

MR. WOLFE (taking one from the pack)

 

All right. Hey, I thought you'd left.

 

CURT:

 

No, not yet. (looking for matches) I have no matches.

 

Mr. Wolfe takes out a pack of matches and lights both their

 

cigarettes. They walk down a chain-link fence, past dark,

 

venetian-blinded classrooms.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Brother, how do I get stuck with dance supervision? Will you tell

 

me that?...You going back East? Boy, I remember the day I went

 

off. Got drunk as hell the night before. Just--

 

CURT:

 

Blotto.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Blotto. Exactly. Barfed on the train all the next day.

 

CURT (grinning)

 

Cute. Very cute. Where'd you go again?

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Middlebury. Vermont. Got a scholarship.

 

CURT:

 

And only stayed a semester.

 

MR. WOLFE (smiling and nodding)

 

One semester. And after all that, I came back here.

 

CURT:

 

Why?

 

MR. WOLFE (shrugging)

 

Decided I wasn't the competitive type. I don't know...maybe I was

 

scared.

 

CURT:

 

Well, you know I might find I'm not the competitive type myself.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

What do you mean?

 

CURT:

 

Well, I'm not really sure that I'm going.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Hey, now--don't be stupid. Go. Experience life. Have some fun,

 

Curtis.

 

Then a voice calls from the shadows.

 

JANE (off)

 

Bill?

 

They turn and see a girl coming out of a doorway. Mr. Wolfe looks

 

at Jane, one of his students, but doesn't say anything.

 

JANE:

 

I mean--Mr. Wolfe. Can I speak with you a minute. (She smiles at

 

Curt.) Hi, Curt.

 

CURT:

 

Jane...

 

He looks at Mr. Wolfe, who seems a little embarassed. Then, Mr.

 

Wolfe sticks out his hand.

 

MR. WOLFE

 

Anyway--good luck, Curtis.

 

Curt shakes his hand. CURT

 

Yeah...I'll see you. Thanks a lot.

 

Curt walks back toward the gym. Looking around, he sees Mr. Wolfe

 

standing in the shadows with the girl, talking intimately. Curt

 

turns away and goes off. Before going back into the gym, Curt

 

stops. He sees a white T-bird parked among a row of cars in the

 

parking lot. He walks--then starts running toward the car.

 

There's a blonde sitting in the front seat making out with some

 

guy.

 

Curt leans down to the window and is about to say something to

 

his dream girl. But she turns and he sees it's not her. Her

 

boyfriend glares at him like he's some kind of peeping Tom. Curt

 

backs away awkwardly, trying to smile. He leaves.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--'32 DEUCE COUPE

 

The yellow Ford coupe is gliding down the street--skimming around

 

corners gracefully as the night lights glide up its lacquered

 

hood.

 

Inside the car, Carol glances at John and smiles. The Wolfman is

 

howling on the radion.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

A Wolfman exclusive for ya now. The Beach Boys, baby, a brand new

 

group. I predict they gonna go a long way. This is called

 

"Surfin' Safari."

 

Carol is continuing to jabber on, relating past adventures with

 

her little friends. John is unimpressed.

 

CAROL:

 

So the next night we found out where they parked and went out

 

with ammunition.

 

JOHN:

 

Don't you have homework or something to do?

 

CAROL:

 

No sweat--my mother does it. Anyway, he thought he was had. He

 

started the car and couldn't see through the windshield--and

 

zoomed straight into the canal--it was a riot.

 

John smiles sarcastically.

 

I still got some, so don't try anything. She takes a pressurized

 

can of shaving cream and squirts his nose. He swipes the shaving

 

cream on his nose--swerving--A car honks. JOHN

 

Hey, watch it will ya! Jesus Christ, thanks a lot. (looking at

 

her angrily) Hey, drivin' is a serious business. I ain't havin'

 

no accidents because of you.

 

Carol sinks into her corner of the car. She sticks her tongue out

 

for a quick moment.

 

(catching her look) Come on, don't give me any grief. I'm warning

 

ya.

 

CAROL:

 

Spare me, killer.

 

He stares at her and she shuts up. "Surfin' Safari" is blaring on

 

the radio and she starts twisting with the music. John turns the

 

radio off.

 

CAROL:

 

Why'd you do that?

 

JOHN:

 

I don't like that surfing shit. Rock 'n Roll's been going

 

downhill ever since Buddy Holly died.

 

CAROL:

 

Don't you think the Beach Boys are boss!

 

JOHN:

 

You would, you grungy little twerp.

 

CAROL:

 

Grungy? You big weenie, if I had a boyfriend he'd pound you.

 

JOHN (looking in the rear-view mirror)

 

Sure--ah, shit, Holstein!

 

She looks around, and sees a police car following them, bubble

 

lights aglow.

 

CAROL:

 

Good, a cop--I'm going to tell him you tred to rape me.

 

John pulls the car over and stops.

 

JOHN:

 

Oh, no--No. Hey--

 

CAROL:

 

It's past my curfew. I'm going to tell him how old I am, my

 

parents don't know I'm out and you tried to rape me. Boy, are you

 

up a creek.

 

John looks at her.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey--ah, really--don't say anything.

 

She looks at him.

 

CAROL:

 

If you say "I was a dirty bird. Carol's not grungy, she's

 

bitchin'."

 

The cop is tapping at John's window. John wipes his face.

 

CAROL:

 

Say it--I'll tell him.

 

JOHN (quietly)

 

I was a dirty bird, Carol's not grungy, she's bitchin.'

 

CAROL:

 

Okay--I'll think about it.

 

"The Great Imposter" can be heard on the passing car radios.

 

John rolls down his window. He looks at the surly cop.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

Where you going, Milner?

JOHN:

 

I'm going home--sir.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

Where you been, Milner?

 

JOHN:

 

Ah--at the movies--sir.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

Milner, you weren't around the 12th and G streets at about 8:30,

 

were you?

 

JOHN:

 

No, I wa at the movies--like I said--sir.

 

Holstein looks at him, then steps back, looks at the car.

 

Holstein's only a couple years older than John, but the uniform

 

separates them by light years.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

Uh-huh. Milner, the reason I stopped you was because the light on

 

your license plate is ou. (opening his ticket book) I'm gonna

 

have to cite you for that. And Milner, the front end of

 

this...this...this thing you're driving looks a little low.

 

JOHN:

 

Oh, no sir. It's twelve and a half inches. Regulation size. Now,

 

it's been checked several times. You can check it if you like,

 

sir. Holstein just glares at him and then leans in close through

 

the window.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

Look, Milner.

 

JOHN:

 

Yes, sir.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

You can't fool with the law.

 

JOHN:

 

Yes, sir.

 

HOLSTEIN:

 

We know that was you tonight. We have an excellent description of

 

this car. I could run you in right now and I could make it stick.

 

But I'm not gonna do that, Milner, you know why?

 

John shakes his head no.

 

Because I want to catch you in the act. And when I do, I'm gonna

 

nail you, but good. Happy Birthday, Milner.

 

Holstein drops the ticket through the window onto John's lap. He

 

starts back to his patrol car. When he's out of earshot John

 

answers.

 

JOHN:

 

Thank you--asshole.

 

CAROL (looking over at him)

 

You're a regular J.D.

 

JOHN:

 

Here, file taht under C.S. over there.

 

Carol takes the ticket and opens the glove compartment.

 

CAROL:

 

C.S.? What's that stand for?

 

JOHN:

 

Chicken shit--that's what it is.

 

CAROL:

 

Oh...

 

She looks amazed as she adds the new ticket to a mess of similar

 

tickets crammed in the glove compartment. The police car pulls by

 

them. John scrowls, then roars his engine and pulls back into the

 

stream of traffic.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry is looking and feeling like he's got it made. He downshifts

 

and slows for a red light. A very mean-looking black '55 Chevy--

 

blown, scooped and slicked--pulls up next to him. The driver, Bob

 

Falfa, has a gum-chewing girlfriend sitting almost on top of him.

 

Terry challenges the '55 Chevy by revving his engine.

 

Bob Falfa doesn't even look over. He revs his engine--which

 

sounds like a cross between a Boeing 707 and a SuperChief. Terry

 

can't believe it. He quits revving his engine--feeling deflated.

 

Terry looks over at the snotty grin on Falfa's girlfriends' face.

 

GIRLFRIEND:

 

Ain't he neat?

 

Terry doesn't say anything and Bob Falfa glares over at him.

 

FALFA:

 

Hey, you know a guy around here with a piss yellow deuce coupe--

 

supposed to be hot stuff?

 

TERRY:

 

You mean John Milner?

 

Falfa nods slowly.

 

Hey, nobody can beat him, man. He's got the fastest--

 

FALFA:

 

I ain't nobody, dork. Right?

 

TERRY:

 

Right...

 

FALFA:

 

Hey, you see this Milner, you tell him I'm lookin' for him, huh?

 

Tell him I aim to blow his ass right off the road.

 

GIRLFRIEND (giving another snotty smile)

 

Ain't he neat?

 

Terry doesn't say anything. There's another incredible scream as

 

Falfa roars off, leaving Terry to stare through his smoke. Terry

 

accelerates the '58 Chevy--at a prudent speed.

 

As the radio blares "Almost Grown," Terry glides past the lighted

 

stores slowly, taking in everything with wide eyes from his

 

beautiful new car.

 

Terry passes a steaming rear-end collision at an intersection

 

where two guys and two girls are all yelling.

 

Then, suddenly, he spots a girl--walking--alone. His mouth drops

 

open in amazement as he slows to a crawl. Debbie, nineteen, with

 

blonde hair, wearing a blue and white spaghetti-strap dress,

 

strolls along the sidewalk.

 

Terry rolls the powerful engine, but she ignores him. As he

 

passes her, he speeds up.

 

TERRY:

 

What a babe...what a bitchin' babe...And Wolfman Baby, she's all

 

mine.

 

Terry tears around the corner and starts his approach once more.

 

He quickly whips out his comb, touches up his hair and settles

 

down into a comfortable slouch.

 

Okay, honey, here I come--James Dean lives!

 

He hits the clutch, roars the engine a couple more times and

 

then--disaster. Debbie passes behind some rough looking dudes on

 

motorcycles, parked along the curb. One especially vicious biker

 

turns and looks at Terry as he passes.

 

Terry roars off around the block.

 

Stay cool, honey--don't let those creeps bug you. Wolfman, please

 

don't let those creeps bug her...please.

 

As Debbie passes the bikers, they hoot, holler, and make barnyard

 

noises. From the cat calls, and Debbie's manner it seems obcious

 

that Debbie is a girl a lot of boys have "known."

 

She has walked clear of the bikers as Terry screeches around the

 

corner again. He pulls up alongside her and again slows to a

 

crawl. The pass each other for awhile, but she doesn't look over.

 

Hi! (lowering his voice) Hello...buenos noches? Need a lift? Nice

 

night for a walk? Do you know John Milner? Curt Henderson? Sure

 

you wouldn't like a ride somewhere? Did anyone ever tell you that

 

you look just like Connie Stevens?

 

This stops her and she turns--Terry hits the brakes and the car

 

bounces.

 

You do! I mean it! Just like Connie Stevens. I met her once.

 

DEBBIE:

 

For real?

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah. At a Dick Clark road show.

 

Debbie starts slowly toward the car.

 

DEBBIE:

 

You really think I look like her?

 

TERRY:

 

No shit--excuse me, I mean I'm not just feeding you a line. You

 

look like Connie Stevens. What's your name?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Debbie. I always though I looked like Sandra Dee.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh yeah--well, you look a lot like her too.

 

DEBBIE:

 

This your car?

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah. I'm Terry the--they call me Terry the Tiger.

 

DEBBIE:

 

It's really tough looking.

 

TERRY:

 

What school do you go to?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Dewey--can it lay rubber?

 

TERRY:

 

Oh yeah, it's got a 327 Chevy mill with six Strombergs.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Wow--bitchin' tuck and roll. I just love the feel of tuck and

 

roll upholstery.

 

TERRY:

 

You do?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Yeah.

 

TERRY:

 

Wll, come on in--I'll let you feel it. I mean, you can touch it

 

if you want-- (realizing it's coming out wrong he gets nervous) I

 

mean the upholstery, you know.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Okay. Terry is elated. He climbs out of the car and she slides

 

in the driver's side. Terry climbs back in next to her and slams

 

the door. She's sitting right next to him--like a real date

 

should. Terry gets a little nervous. DEBBIE

 

Peel out.

 

TERRY:

 

What?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Peel out. I love it when guys peel out.

 

Terry nods, checks his clutch, revs the engine to a high-pitched

 

whine and they're off--

 

The tires smoke, scream, the car shots off, fish-tailing, nearly

 

hitting a parked car, straightening out...and disappears down

 

Main Street.

 

HIGH SCHOOL GYM--THE HOP

 

On stage, the band is "taking five." They're looking tough for

 

the girls while the Student Body Secretary is making

 

announcements at the mike.

 

GIRL:

 

--a great band and they came all the way from Stockton. Let's

 

hear it.

 

There's applause as the girl continues.

 

And we want to thank Darby Langdon, who did all these neat

 

decorations.

 

There's more applause. Standing among the crowd, Steve and

 

Laurie both look angry.

 

LAURIE:

 

I don't care if you leave this second.

 

GIRL (into the mike)

 

Now the next dance is gonna be a snowball and leading it off is

 

last year's class president Steven Bolander--and this year's head

 

cheerleader, Laurie Henderson.

 

There's applause, whistles and cheers from the crowd. A blue

 

spotlight floats over the dance floor and then lands on Steve and

 

Laurie, who are in the midst of their argument.

 

STEVE:

 

What's wrong with you! You're acting like a snotty--

 

Laurie squints into the spotlight and realizes everybody's

 

watching them.

 

LAURIE:

 

Oh God, come on.

 

STEVE:

 

Come on what?

 

LAURIE (pulling him toward the floor)

 

Oh, Steven--please, everybody's watching. Smile or something.

 

They dance.

 

Steve gives a sick smile as she drags him out onto the floor. A

 

record needle scratches and "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" blares out

 

as Steve and Laurie dance alone in the middle of the floor. The

 

crowd quiets, getting a little misty about this soon-to-be

 

separated teenage couple.

 

For their part, Steve and Laurie are arguing, whispering in each

 

other's ears.

 

LAURIE:

 

You think I care if you go off. You think I'm going to crack up

 

or something. Are you conceited!

 

STEVE:

 

Quit--quit pinching--I don't know why I ever started taking you

 

out in the first place.

 

He takes her hand from the tucked-under-the-chin position and

 

puts it around him, in a bear-hug.

 

LAURIE:

 

You take me out? When we first met you didn't have enough sense

 

to take the garbage out...I asked you out, remember?

 

STEVE:

 

What do you mean, you asked me out!

 

LAURIE:

 

Backwards Day--remember? If I had waited for you to ask me--even

 

after that you didn't call me for two weeks.

 

STEVE:

 

I was busy.

 

LAURIE:

 

You were scared. Dave Oboler told me. Then when you did ask me

 

out you didn't kiss me for three dates.

 

STEVE:

 

Well--I was--

 

LAURIE:

 

Scared--Jim Kaylor told me. I even asked my father why you hadn't

 

kissed me.

 

STEVE:

 

Your father--great!

 

LAURIE:

 

He said he thought you were bright and you'd probably think of

 

kissing me after a while.

 

He moans.

 

You didn't, of course. I had to. Remember that picnic?

 

STEVE:

 

Out at the canyon?

 

LAURIE:

 

Oh boy! You can't remember anything--the first one, up at the

 

lake. That was the first time you kissed me--I practically had to

 

throw myself at you.

 

STEVE (quietly)

 

I remember.

 

They continue to dance slowly. Laurie starts to cry, hating

 

herself for it. Steve loosens a minute and looks at her.

 

STEVE:

 

What's wrong?

 

LAURIE:

 

Go to hell.

 

He holds her tighter and they circle the floor, all alone, the

 

crowd watching quietly, the gym echoing with "Smoke Gets in Your

 

Eyes."

 

THE GYM PARKING LOT

 

Curt is leaning against a car in the parking lot. He's looking up

 

at the stars and listening to the music floating out from the

 

gym.

 

WENDY:

 

What are you doin', stealing hub caps? 

A pretty, dark-haired girl, Wendy, slides up next to him and

 

leans against the car. There's an awkward pause like that which

 

happens often when two people who used to be close meet after

 

things have changed. CURT

 

Well--hey, Wendy.

 

WENDY:

 

How've you been?

 

CURT:

 

Fine. Great. How've you been?

 

A horn honks and Wendy turns to a VW that's idling nearby.

 

WENDY:

 

I'm coming--wait a sec. (turning back to Curt) She's got her car.

 

Hey, I thought you were going away to school.

 

CURT:

 

Ah, maybe...maybe.

 

WENDY:

 

Same old Curt. All the time we were going together you never knew

 

what you were doing...well, anyway, I gotta go.

 

CURT:

 

Hey, Wendy--where are you going?

 

WENDY:

 

Nowhere.

 

CURT (smiling at her)

 

Well, you mind if I come along?

 

WENDY (affectionately):Okay.

 

CURT:

 

Okay.

 

They go off toward the VW and climb in.

 

BACK INSIDE THE GYM

 

The hop is almost over and the lights have been lowered,

 

conservatively. Steve and Laurie hold each other, hardly moving

 

and he kisses her. Still kissing, they continue to circle slowly-

 

-until a short, totally bald teacher comes and pokes Steve in the

 

side. MR. KOOT

 

All right, Bolander, break it up. You know the rules. You and

 

your panting girlfriend want to do that you'll have to go

 

someplace else.

 

He gives them a disgusted look and starts off. STEVE

 

Hey, Kroot!

 

The teacher turns, surprised by the ommision of "Mr."

 

Why don't you go kiss a duck.

 

Kroot's beady eyes widen and he comes back.

 

KROOT:

 

What? What did you say?

 

STEVE:

 

I said go kiss a duck, marblehead.

 

Kroot is stunned and people have stopped dancing to watch

 

MR. KROOT

 

Bolander--you're suspended. You're--don't even come Monday. You

 

are out!

 

STEVE (smiling broadly)

 

I graduated last semester.

 

Suddenly everything has changed. Mr. Kroot is furious, but unable

 

to do anything. He finally storms off in a huff. Steve, Laurie

 

and the people watching all laugh.

 

(to Laurie) Get your shoes. Let's go before we get thrown out.

 

THE GYM PARKING LOT

 

Steve and Laurie walk toward her Edsel. In the background Wolfman

 

Jack is taking a phone call from someone.

 

MAN (voice over)

 

Hello, Wolfman.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Who's this?

 

MAN:

 

THis is Weird Willard.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Hold on a minute, let me get my pants off...you understand?

 

Steve opens the door to the car and then turns Laure and kisses

 

her.

 

STEVE:

 

Why don't we go th the canal?

 

LAURIE (teasing)

 

What for?

 

STEVE:

 

Listine, I can get tough with you too, you know.

 

LAURIE:

 

Yeah, hard tough.

 

She kisses him and they get into the car. As they pull out, the

 

Wolfman continues his conversation on the radio.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

I got 'em down around my knees, man. Wear these tight pants. I

 

can't get 'em...All right, I'm gonna do my little dance now, man.

 

And the Wolfman goes into an insane rain-dance rhythm as we hear

 

"Little Darlin'"

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry not only looks cool now, but is cool, singing with the

 

radio, a girl beside him. Hot stuff.

 

Terry ever so slowly tries to put his arm around her, but by the

 

time he manages it, he has to shift.

 

They drive by some kids having a car-to-car water pistol war.

 

TERRY:

 

I go to Dewey too, ya know.

 

DEBBIE:

 

I never seen ya.

 

TERRY:

 

I bug out a lot. When I graduate, I'm going to join the Marines.

 

DEBBIE:

 

They got the best uniforms. But what if there's a war?

 

TERRY:

 

With the bomb, who's going to start it? We'd all blow up

 

together. Anyway, I'd rather be at the front. I'm like that--

 

rather be where the action is, you know. Once I got in a fight

 

with--

 

DEBBIE:

 

I love Eddie Burns.

 

Terry stops, trying to figure out where their conversation went.

 

TERRY:

 

Eddie Burns--oh, yeah, Eddie Burns. I met him once, too.

 

DEBBIE:

 

You really think I look like Connie Stevens? I like her--Tuesday

 

Weld is too much of a beatnik, don't you think?

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah, beatniks are losers.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Who do you like? I mean, singers and stuff.

 

Terry slowly maneuvers his arm around her.

 

TERRY:

 

Ah hell--I like most of the people you like.

 

DEBBIE (putting her head on his shoulder)

 

That's nice--we got a lot in common.

 

Both of them start singing with the radio. Suddenly she puts her

 

hand on his leg.

 

DEBBIE:

 

You know what I'd like more than anything in the world right now?

 

Terry almost does a comic strip "Gulp!"

 

I'd love a double Chubby Chuck. Isn't that what you'd like more

 

than anything right now?

 

TERRY (quietly)

 

Sure...

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

The endless chrome-flashing parade continues. Among the lines of

 

fine cars, Terry is parked in the '58 Chevy next to an order

 

speaker on a metal pole. Terry leans out the car window and

 

orders into the intercom. TERRY

 

A double Chubby Chuck, a Mexicali Chili Barb, two orders of

 

French fries--

 

DEBBIE:

 

And Cherry cokes.

 

The intercom clicks on and a garbled voice ssquaks back at him.

 

INTERCOM:

 

Ark, wark, dork.

 

TERRY (pushing the button):Now wait a minute. What? Huh?

 

INTERCOM:

 

Ark, wark, dork.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah, right. Cool.

 

As they wait for their order, several guys in various passing

 

cars yell sleezy greetings to Debbie. Suddenly, a rough-looking

 

face, belonging to Vic Lozier, pops in her window.

 

VIC:

 

Hey, Deb. How's my soft baby?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Beat it, Vic. I'm not your baby.

 

Terry nervously pretends not to hear.

 

VIC:

 

Oh, come on, honey. So I never called you back. I've been, you

 

know, busy...

 

DEBBIE:

 

Three weeks...besides, it only took one night for me to realize

 

that if brains were dynamite, you couldn't blow your nose.

 

VIC:

 

Look who's talking. Who's the wimp you're hanging out with now?

 

Einstein?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Tiger happens to be very intelligent. Unlike you. I know every

 

thing your dirty little mind is thinking...(She looks out the

 

window, down at Vic's pants)...it shows...

 

TERRY:

 

Hey, now--(his voice cracks) I mean, hey now, buddy, the lady

 

obviously doesn't--

 

VIC:

 

Look, creep, you want a knuckle sandwich?

TERRY:

 

Ah, no thanks, I'm waiting for a double Chubby --Chuck...

 

VIC:

 

Then shut your smart ass mouth! I'll call ya, Deb, some night

 

when I'm hard up.

 

DEBBIE:

 

I won't be home.

 

Vic makes a kiss-off noise. She lights a match and flicks it at

 

him. He finally leaves.

 

TERRY:

 

You seem to, ah--know a lot of weird guys.

 

DEBBIE:

 

That sex fiend is not a friend of mine; he's just horny. That's

 

why I like you, you're different.

 

TERRY:

 

I am? You really think I'm intelligent?

 

She moves very close to him and whispers in his ear.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Yeah. And I'll bet you're smart enough to get us some brew.

 

TERRY:

 

Brew?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Yeah.

 

TERRY:

 

Brew...oh--yeah...oh, sure...(she kisses him) Yes! Liquor! This

 

place is too crowded anyway.

 

Terry backs out and drives off, leaving the approaching car hop

 

standing in an empty parking space.

 

CAR HOP:

 

What abut your double Chubby Chuck, mexicali-chili-barb and

 

(looking at the tray)--two cherry cokes, sir?

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET-'57 VOLKSWAGEN

 

We see the white T-bird ahead for just a moment, before it

 

accelerates, passes a car and disappears, as we hear "Peppermint

 

Twist" from the radio.

 

In the VW, Curt is in the back, shaking the driver's seat,

 

yelling at Bobbie. Wendy is in front next to Bobbie.

 

CURT:

 

There--don't you see it? Speed up, you're losing her--

 

BOBBIE:

 

Quit shouting in my ear!

 

CURT:

 

Cut around him, cut around him.

 

The little VW swerves and cuts around an old dagoed Dodge, then

 

speeds along the fast lane.

 

Ahead, we catch a glimpse of the T-bird as it turns a corner.

 

CURT:

 

There, hang a right--over there!

 

Bobbie turns, somebody honks, she hits the curb, shifting madly

 

she mis-clutches; the beetle lugs forward; Curt falls back in the

 

seat and Wendy looks at him.

 

CURT:

 

You lost her!

 

WENDY:

 

What's wrong with you? You know Bobbie gets nose bleeds when

 

she's upset.

 

BOBBIE:

 

I do not! You shut up!

 

CURT:

 

Lost her again. Ah, Wendy, my old lover, come back here and

 

console me.

 

WENDY:

 

Eat your heart out. Who was she anyway?

 

CURT:

 

I don't know, but I'm going to find out.

 

BOBBIE:

 

I know her!

 

There are a few moments of silence as Bobbie lets Curt sweat it

 

out. Finally, Curt breaks.

 

CURT:

 

Okay, come on, who is she?

 

BOBBIE:

 

You know Mr. Beeman? He owns Hepcat Jewelers.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah.

 

BOBBIE:

 

Well, she's his wife.

 

CURT:

 

But she was young and beautiful, and cruising 10th Street. You're

 

thinking of someone else.

 

WENDY:

 

Mr. Beeman's not so old.

 

CURT:

 

What cruel fate keeps me from my true love? How am I ever going

 

to meet her?

 

WENDY (to Bobbie)

 

Did you know that my ex is going to become a presidential aide?

 

It's supposed to be a secret, but his big ambition in life is to

 

shake hands with President Kennedy. How are you going to

 

accomplish that at J.C.?

 

CURT:

 

Maybe I've grown up. Maybe I've changed my mind.

 

WENDY:

 

Maybe you don't think you can do it!

 

CURT:

 

Maybe you should shut up!

 

WENDY:

 

Maybe I will...and maybe I won't.

 

CURT:

 

Why don't you move your bod into aft chamber, where we might

 

discuss this in private.

 

BOBBIE (seeing that Wendy is considering it)

 

Thanks a lot.

 

CURT:

 

Come on, Wendy? She doesn't say anything. They pull up to a

 

stoplight. Wendy looks at the red stoplight and then abruptly

 

gets out of the car and jumps in the back.

 

WENDY:

 

Well, slide over, I'm not sitting on your lap.

 

She gets in and the car goes off.

 

In the back seat, Curt and Wendy are talking softly. He puts his

 

arm around her and she makes a face, but doesn't remove it.

 

Bobbie watches in the rear-view mirror, Curt sees her. CURT

 

To the Opera, James.

 

BOBBIE:

 

Drop dead.

 

CURT:

 

Unless you want to go to Gallo Dam and have an orgy.

 

WENDY:

 

You wish.

 

Curt looks at her and turns her head. He kisses her and puts his

 

arm around her. They neck. The radio plays "Barbara Ann."

 

The little VW flashes by in the stream of traffic. Bobbie drives,

 

glancing in here rear-view mirror occasionally and also watching

 

the station wagon ahead, in which two pairs of feet are dancing

 

against the back window.

 

Wendy pulls away from Curt's lips and looks out the window.

 

WENDY:

 

I've been silly. I'm glad you're going to stay. Maybe we'll have

 

some classes together.

 

CURT:

 

Maybe.

 

BOBBIE (from the front seat)

 

Look, there's Kip Pullman! He's so neat.

 

Wendy turns and leans forward, laughing. Curt watches her

 

seriously, studying her.

 

BOBBIE:

 

Do you know Kip?

 

CURT:

 

Huh? Yeah, I know him.

 

BOBBIE:

 

Talk to him when we go by.

 

CURT:

 

What do you want me to say?

 

BOBBIE:

 

Anything...I just want to meet him.

 

They pull up next to Kip's car and Curt leans forward and yells

 

out Bobbie's window. CURT

 

Kip, baby, what's up?

 

KIP:

 

Henderson, long time no see. Whadaya been doing?

 

CURT:

 

Not much, just wanted to let you know that Bobbie here is

 

hopelessly in love with you and trembles at the sight of your

 

rippling biceps... Bobbie swerves the car away and turns a

 

corner. She stops on a dime at the curb.

 

BOBBIE:

 

You creep, fink, son-of-a-bitch--

 

She turns and starts flailing at Curt with her purse.

 

CURT:

 

Help, wait! Joke--Joke--Bobbie, remember your nose bleeds!

 

BOBBIE:

 

Get out--get out of my car--I hate you!

 

CURT:

 

Excuse me--ouch--Wendy--I got to go now.

 

Wendy is laughing and Curt climbs over her out of the small car.

 

He gets out and closes the door. Wendy changes seats and looks at

 

him seriously.

 

WENDY:

 

Curt, I hope I see you at registration. Call me if you want. It

 

was nice seeing you again.

 

CURT:

 

See ya. The car pulls off and Curt watches it. Suddenly, he sees

 

something--the T-bird going the other way down the street.

 

CURT:

 

Oh shit--there!! Wait!

 

The VW's gone and Curt starts after the T-bird on foot. He runs

 

down the middle of the street, oblivious to the horns honking and

 

the cars swerving to miss him.

 

We move with Curt as he moves like a broken field runner through

 

the traffic only to finally lose the girl and the Thunderbird and

 

to slow and finally stop, standing on the white line. Cars slow

 

down and kids rubberneck as they go by him.

 

CRUISING G STREET--'32 YELLOW DEUCE COUPE

 

John is driving and the Wolfman is howling on the radio while

 

Carol is having the time of her life.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Went to a dance lookin' for romance. Found Barbara

 

Ann...baby...Hey, this one is for all you out there watchin' the

 

Submarine Races.

 

And the radio moans into "Who Wrote the Book of Love." Carol sits

 

with her feet up against the dash. John knockss them off and she

 

scowls at him.

 

CAROL:

 

I'm so thirsty, I could die. Just a little 10 cent coke to wet my

 

whistle. It won't take a minute, I can drink it in the--

 

John suddenly hits the brakes and Carol almost hits the floor.

 

John reaches over and opens the door.

 

JOHN:

 

Why don't you just get out and get one then! So long, goodbye,

 

hasta lumbago.

 

She stares at him, shaken, looking sweet and helpless. He turns

 

and looks at her. A tear rolls down her cheek slowly. John can't

 

take it.

 

All right, one coke and then home.

 

Carol is delighted. She slams the door. John takes off.

 

CAROL:

 

Isn't it great, the way I can cry whenever I want. A lot of

 

people can't do that, but Vicki showed me how. I bet you can't

 

cry.

 

JOHN:

 

Don't count on it. I may surprise you any minute now.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

John cruises around the lot until he finds a space among the rows

 

of dazzling cars. He pulls in and leans out to hit the intercom

 

button.

 

JOHN (into intercom)

 

One ten cent coke. Is ice extra? All right, ice.

 

CAROL:

 

Thanks for nothing.

 

She looks around, sitting up so maybe some of her friends will

 

see her in John's neat car.

 

CAROL:

 

Oh rats, I though some of my friends might be here.

 

JOHN:

 

Probably a couple of weeks past their bedtime.

 

CAROL:

 

Wait, there's Dee Dee. I hope she sees me.

 

JOHN:

 

Oh Shit, Dee Dee! A long line of cars coast past. Occasionally,

 

someone yells a greeting to John. The car hop brings the coke.

 

Then a couple, Al and Linda, come over. They lean in the window

 

smiling--John prays they don't see Carol. AL

 

Hiya, John. Say, do you think if I brought my Mopar by the shop

 

Monday you could spot weld the bumper bracket?

 

JOHN:

 

Have to be before noon.

 

AL:

 

Sure. Hey, have you met Linda?

 

JOHN:

 

No. Hi--ahh, this is my, ahh, cousin, Carol. I'm kinda

 

babysitting tonight.

 

CAROL:

 

Babysitting!!

 

She slugs John on the arm. John grabs her arm as she starts to

 

swing again.

 

JOHN:

 

Jesus--watchi it, will yuh? (smiling at Al) Been hittin' me all

 

night. Kids will be kids, you know.

 

She struggles to hit him and spills her coke all over the car. He

 

pushes her rather roughly against the door.

 

Watch out--damn it! Look what--why don't you grow up! (looking at

 

Al again) We don't get along too well. It's been like this--

 

CAROL:

 

You spastic creep!

 

She is about to really cry this time. She jumps out of the car

 

and runs off donw the street. John wipes his car out as Al and

 

Linda watch in amazement.

 

JOHN:

 

We don't get along too well. You know what cousins are like.

 

AL:

 

Yeah...well, I'll see ya on Monday before noon.

 

John mutters profanities to himself, but his anger subsides after

 

a few moments. He looks back in the direction Carol went. All he

 

can see are two Hell's Angels on choppers rolling in the same

 

direction. He looks a little concerned and starts the coupe.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--'32 YELLOW DEUCE COUPE

 

John roars along looking for her until he sees her walking

 

angrily along the sidewalk--being followed by a Ford full of

 

guys.

 

John passes Carol and the Ford and pulls over and stops just

 

ahead of them. Carol stops when she sees John. The Ford also

 

stops and the guys call out to her. She considers the situation a

 

moment, then runs and gets in with John. He pulls off and she

 

grins at him happily.

 

CAROL:

 

Hi cousin, how's your bod?

 

SCENIC LIQUOR STORE--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry pulls into the parking lot and stops. He looks up at the

 

flashing liquor store sign and considers his battle plan. "Maybe

 

Baby" by Buddy Holly is playing on the radio.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Do you have an ID?

 

TERRY:

 

No...hey, but no sweat. What'll it be? Beer, little wine?

 

DEBBIE:

 

If you could get some Old Harper, I'd give you a French kiss.

 

TERRY:

 

Old Harper, rrright! He gives her an OK sign with his fingers and

 

goes over to the store. He starts to enter, then stops and

 

thinks. He sees a man in a business suit approaching, and smiles.

 

TERRY:

 

Excuse me, sir, while you're in there--I mean, since you're going

 

in anyway, I wonder if--

 

MAN:

 

Yes, son?

 

TERRY:

 

Could you--sir--could you give me the time?

 

MAN (looking at his watch):Why sure, it's a quarter to twelve.

 

TERRY:

 

Great. Quarter to twelve. Thanks a lot.

 

The man regards him, Terry pretends to start off until the man

 

goes in. Terry pulls himself together as another man approaches,

 

or rather stumbles up, being older, scruffy and, essentially, a

 

bum.

 

TERRY:

 

Pardon me, sir, but I lost my I.D. in--in a flood and I'd like to

 

get some Old Harper, hard stuff. Would you mind buying a bottle

 

for me?

 

The bum is still trying to focus on Terry and smiles.

 

BUM:

 

Why certainly, I lost my wife, too--her name wasn't Idy, though,

 

and it wasn't in a flood--but I know what ya--

 

TERRY:

 

Thanks, here's enough for a pint.

 

The old man takes the money and falls into the store. Terry

 

watches and then waves to Debbie in the car that everything is

 

cool.

 

As he waits for the bum to come back out, the first man in the

 

suit exits. Terry smiles at him again.

 

TERRY:

 

Hi. Still quarter to twelve.

 

MAN:

 

Right-o. Night.

 

TERRY:

 

Night.

 

The man gets into the car and backs out. Terry goes over to the

 

window of the liquor store and looks to see how the wino's doing

 

with his booze. Terry sees the liquor store owner setting four

 

bottles of cheap wine on the counter.

 

TERRY (gesturing through the window from outside)

 

Hey, no. Not wine. Ssss--hey!

 

The owner turns and sees Terry waving. Terry ducks out of sight.

 

When he looks back again, Terry sees the old bum is gone! Terry

 

can't believe it. He finally enters the store.

 

INSIDE THE LIQUOR STORE

 

Terry tries to look very casual as he sidles up to the counter.

 

Country-Western music hums over the liquor in hi-fi.

 

TERRY (smiling at the owner)

 

Hi there--ah, say--was there an old man in here a minute ago?

 

OWNER:

 

Yeah. He went out the back.

 

Terry is destroyed.

 

You want something?

 

Terry looks at the man and the endless rows of liquor behind him.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah--ah--let me have a Three Musketeers, ah, and a ball point

 

pen ther, a comp, a pint of Old Harper, couple of flashlight

 

batteries and some of this beef jerky.

The owner puts everything into a bag and starts to ring it up.

 

OWNER:

 

Okay, got an I.D. for the liquor?

TERRY:

 

A what? Oh, sure--

 

(feeling his pockets)

 

Oh nuts, I left it--I left it in the car.

 

OWNER:

 

Sorry, you'll have to get it before--

 

TERRY:

 

Well, I can't. I also ah, forgot the car.

 

The owner takes the liquor out of the bag and puts it back on the

 

shelf. Terry stands there. The owner takes the money from him and

 

gives him his change.

 

OUTSIDE THE LIQUOR STORE

 

Terry comes back to the Chevy with the bag full of junk. Debbie

 

smiles at him excitedly and scoots over to the window.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Hey, did ya get it? Ya get it, ya get it?

 

He hands her the bag.

 

You got it. You got it!

 

She goes through the bag and finds a comb and the batteries.

 

You didn't get it. Why didn't you get it?

 

TERRY:

 

Ah, well, I needed some things and I thought as long as I was in

 

there--look, Debbie, can you loan me a dollar?

 

DEBBIE:

 

What? Are you for real? Come on. Girls don't pay. Guys pay.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah, well, see--I've only got a fifty and he doesn't have

 

change.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Well, I can't believe this...I really cannot believe this. Here.

 

She takes the money from a squeeze-open plastic change purse and

 

hands it to him. Terry smiles weakly and goes back to try his

 

luck again at the liquor store.

 

He stops in front of the door as a young guy with numerous

 

tattoos on his bulging arms approaches the liquor store. TERRY

 

Hi--excuse me. I was wondering--could you, ah--

 

GUY:

 

Buy you a bottle of booze. Yeah, I know. You lost your I.D. What

 

kind do you want?

 

TERRY (amazed)

 

Gee, that's terrific. Ah, just some ah--Old Harper. He takes

 

Terry's money and enters the store. The clerk hands the man a

 

bottle of Old Harper. Terry waves excitedly to Debbie, lowering

 

his pants a bit. Suddenly, there's a gunshot! Terry whirls to see

 

the young man stuffing cash from the register into his pockets,

 

backing away with a smoking gun. He rushes out of the store,

 

tossing the bottle to Terry and running off into the night.

 

Suddenly, the owner emerges from behind the counter, shooting

 

wildly. Terry ducks and heads for the car with his pint of Old

 

Harper.

 

AUTO WRECKING YARD

 

John's '32 deuce coupe crunches to a gravelly stop in front of a

 

dark auto-wrecking yard. John and Carol get out and climb over

 

the fence. They walk through a valley of twisted, rusting piles

 

of squashed, mashed and crushed automobiles. John sticks his hand

 

into his pockets moodily and stops and looks at one of the burnt-

 

out cars.

 

JOHN:

 

That's Freddy Benson's Vette...he got his head on with some

 

drunk. Never had a chance. Damn good driver, too. What a waste

 

when somebody gets it and it ain't even their fault.

 

CAROL:

 

Needs a paint job, that's for sure.

 

John doesn't hear her and walks on. JOHN

 

That Vette over there. Walt Hawkins, a real ding-a-ling. Wrapped

 

it around a fig tree out on Mesa Vista with five kids in it.

 

Draggin' with five kids in the car, how dumb can you get? All the

 

ding-a-lings get it sooner or later. Maybe that's why they

 

invented cars. To get rid of the ding-a-lings. Tough when they

 

take someone with them.

 

CAROL:

 

You never had a wreck though--you told me.

 

JOHN:

 

I come pretty close a couple of times. Almost rolled once. So far

 

I've been quick enough to stay out of here. The quick and the

 

dead.

 

CAROL:

 

I bet you're the fastest. JOHN

 

I've never been beaten--lot of punks have tried. See that '41

 

Ford there? Used to be the fastest wheels in the valley. I never

 

got a chance to race old Earl. He got his in '55 in the hairiest

 

crash ever happened around here. He was racing a '54 Chevy, bored

 

and loaded, out on the old Oakdale Highway and every damn kid in

 

twon was out there. The Chevy lost its front wheel doing about

 

85. The idiot had torched the spindles to lower the front end and

 

it snapped right off. He slammed bam into the Ford and then they

 

both of them crashed into a row of cars and all those kids

 

watchin! Jesus, eight kids killed including both drivers, looked

 

like a battlefield. Board of Education was so impressed they

 

filmed it. Show it now in Drivers Education, maybe you'll see it.

 

Anyway, since then street racing's gone underground. No

 

spectators, I mean. Too bad.

CAROL:

 

I'd love to see you race.

 

Carol takes his hand and they walk a bit, until John realizes

 

what he's doing, and drops her hand and pulls away.

 

JOHN:

 

Come on! None of that.

 

CAROL:

 

Whadaya mean? I'm the one who's supposed to say that. Whadaya

 

afraid of? I'll keep it above the waist.

 

JOHN:

 

Funny...(he looks at her for a moment) Who knows, in a few years-

 

-but not now, bunny rabbit.

 

CAROL:

 

Bunny rabbit! Oh brother, you are such a drip.

 

She stomps off and gets back into the coupe, quickly rolling up

 

all the windows. John saunters up and finds the door locked.

 

JOHN:

 

Come on, open the door.

 

CAROL:

 

If you say "Carol's not a bunny, she's a foxy little tail."

 

John grins and starts to pull his keys out of his pocket. He

 

stops grinning

 

Carol grins and dangles his keys inside the car. John leans

 

against the window, closes his eyes, a defeated man.

 

JOHN (quietly)

 

Carol's not a rabbit, she's a foxy little tail.

 

He hears the button click up and slowly opens the door.

 

CAROL:

 

You say the cutest things.

 

John gets into the car.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Sneakin' around with the Wolfman, Baby.

 

The Wolfman's gravelly voice whispers over the airwaves as John

 

and Carol drive out of the shadowy car grave-yard.

 

WILSON'S APPLIANCE STORE

 

Curt is sitting on the hood of a parked De Soto watching a row of

 

televisions in the window of an applaince store. Twelve silent

 

images of Ricky Nelson on "Ozzie and Harriet" glow in the dark

 

showroom.

Music from passing cars rises and fades as they cruise behind

 

Curt. The Wolfman can be heard.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Oh, this is gonna strike a raw nerve, mama. Here's the Platters.

 

The Wolfman howls and the Platters wail into the "Great

 

Pretender." Curt sings along, mouthing the words. Then somebody

 

walks in front of Curt.

 

Curt pays no attention, then sense the presence of another guy.

 

Soon he realizes that he is being surrounded by a group of three

 

hoods. They slink up from all sides wearing car coats with the

 

name "PHAROAHS" embroidered across the back.

 

Curt looks them over--they all watch the silent tv's. One of

 

them, without turning, talks to Curt.

JOE:

 

Whadaya doin', creep?

 

CURT:

 

Me?

 

JOE:

 

No, I'm talking to the other fifty creeps here. You know Gil

 

Gonzales?

 

CURT:

 

Gil Gonzales...no.

 

JOE:

 

Don't know Gil...you oughta. You really should.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah...why?

 

JOE:

 

No reason...he's a friend of ours...and that's his car you're

 

sitting on.

 

There's silence. Curt looks uneasy and slides quietly off the De

 

Soto. Curt sticks his hands in his pockets and starts slowly down

 

the sidewalk.

 

JOE:

 

Hey, where ya goin?

 

CURT (turning)

 

No place. Not going any place.

 

JOE:

 

Ya must be going someplace--I mean ya left here. Bring him over

 

here, Ants, I want to show him something.

 

Ants (a tall, ghoulish-looking kid who probably got his name

 

fromt he scar across his face which has recently been stitched to

 

look like a party of ants marching across his cheek) brings Curt

 

back gently.

 

Joe is bent over looking across the hood of the De Soto. JOE

 

Here--bend down, look here. See that? Right across there--see?

 

CURT:

 

I guess so--yeah.

 

Joe unbends and lightly punches Curt on the shoulder.

 

JOE:

 

You scratched it, man. Where do you get off sitting on Gil's car,

 

huh, man? Joe gives him another charming punch on the shoulder.

 

The others have left the tv's and are watching Curt now, looking

 

puzzled and pained at the scratch on the car.

 

CURT:

 

I'm sorry. It's not much of a scratch. I don't think he'll even--

 

JOE:

 

It ain't the size that's in question here. It's the principle.

 

Jeez, this is tough...what should we do with ya?

 

ANTS:

 

Tie him to the car and drag him.

 

Curt turns and laughs at Ants' suggestion. He laughs and laughs

 

until he realizes nobody else is; they are pondering the

 

suggestion.

 

CURT:

 

That's funny (clearing his throat) Hey, you guys know Toby

 

Juarez? He's a Pharoah, isn't he?

 

JOE:

 

Toby Juarez. Yeah, sure we know Toby.

 

CURT:

 

He's a friend of mine.

 

They all grin and laugh with Curt who feels better.

 

JOE:

 

Sure, good old Toby. He's a friend of yours. That's cool...we all

 

hate his guts.

 

Curt stops smiling again.

 

CURT:

 

Oh--well, I don't know him that much anyway.

 

JOE:

 

We killed him last night.

 

ANTS:

 

Tied him to a car and dragged him.

 

Curt looks at them both, praying they're kidding. Joe looks at

 

him, shaking his head.

 

JOE:

 

This is going to take some thinking. You better come with us

 

maybe. (putting his arm around Curt) Go riding with the

 

Pharoahs...

 

CURT:

 

Well, I don't think I can--I gotta-

 

JOE:

 

I know just how ya feel.

 

Joe leads Curt gently but forcibly toward an incredible maroon

 

'51 Merc taht's been lowered and chopped so that the windows are

 

like ominous slits and the whole machine has a submarine quality.

 

Joe opens the door and Curt slides into the white fluffy

 

interior. In the small back window, a metal plaque reads

 

"PHAROAHS."

 

The third member of the gang is Carlos, a short little kid about

 

fifteen years old. He appears tougher than the rest with a

 

cigarette dangling from his mouth. Joe heads for the driver's

 

side and Ants and Carlos both go for the front passenger door.

 

CARLOS:

 

Shotgun!

 

ANTS:

 

No, I called it!

 

CARLOS:

 

When?

 

ANTS:

 

Before we picked you up.

 

CARLOS:

 

You can't call it for the whole night, man. I got it now. Get in

 

the back.

 

Carlos gives Ants a hard look and Ants backs down and climbs in

 

the back with Curt. The Pharoah's Mercury roars out from the

 

curb.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--PHAROAHS' '51 MERCURY

 

The radio blares "Ain't that a Shame?" as Curt sits in the back

 

seat of the car looking very nervous. He eyes the three hoods

 

cautiously. They are sitting super low, their eyes just visible

 

over the windows.

 

Then, Curt happens to look around. He does a double take. Through

 

the narrow window he sees the Thunderbird passing in the opposite

 

direction. Curt swivels and watches through the back window as

 

the T-bird disappears around a corner. Then, he shakes his head.

 

Of all the times to be trapped with the Pharoahs.

 

On the radio the Wolfman is giving a phone operator a bad time

 

and the Pharoahs are chuckling.

 

As the Wolfman continues on the radio, the cars pass though the

 

night like a metallic ballet. The Pharoahs' Mercury (with Curt

 

aboard) passes Laurie's Edsel...

 

Inside the Edsel, Steve is driving. He puts his arm around Laure

 

and she leans her head on his shoulder.

 

As the Edsel cruises by in one direction, John Milner's '32 Ford

 

coupe rumbles by on the other side of the street.

 

INSIDE THE DEUCE COUPE

 

Carol is laughing like mad as the Wolfman continues. Even John

 

has to chuckle at the mad D.J.'s raspy patter.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Who is this on the Wolfman telephone?

 

OPERATOR (voice over)

 

Hello, Collect...

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Pardon me. Your name is Colette?

 

OPERATOR:

 

Yes. Collect Call.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Your name is Colette Call?

 

OPERATOR:

 

Sir, this is the Operator.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Are you French, Operator?

 

OPERATOR:

 

This is a collect call for Wolfman Jack.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

I...I love you, Operator.

 

OPERATOR:

 

Is this Wolfman Jack?

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Is Floyd there?

 

OPERATOR:

 

It's for a Wolfman...Jack...

 

Carol looks over at John and shakes her head.

 

CAROL:

 

I just love listening to the Wolfman. My Mom won't let me at

 

home. Because he's a Negro, I think...anyway, he's terrific. Do

 

you know that he just broadcasts from a plane that flies around

 

in circles all the time? Do you think that's true?

 

INSIDE STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry drives on through the wonderful night--a blonde sitting

 

next to him, he's feeling very bitchin'. He and Debbie are also

 

mesmerized by the Wolfman.

 

WOLFMAN(voice over)

 

Floyd, I love you, Floyd. Is this you, Floyd? I cannot look on

 

thee, love took my hand...and smiling did reply, who made the

 

eyes but I. Floyd, reach out and touch my soul.

 

INSIDE THE PHAROAHS' '51 MERCURY

 

Even Curt has to laugh at the Wolfman--despite his situation.

 

Little Carlos sits in the front seat and looks over at Joe who's

 

driving.

 

OPERATOR (voice over)

 

Your party's ready, sir.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

You mean Floyd? Hello, is this Floyd?

 

VOICE (over)

 

Hello, is this Matilda?

 

WOLFMAN:

 

No, it ain't honey--bye!

 

CARLOS:

 

You tell her, Wolfman. He's my man. When I graduate, I'm gonna be

 

a Wolfman. Hey, you know he broadcasts out of Mexico someplace?

 

JOE:

 

No, he don't. I seen the station right outside of town.

 

CARLOS:

 

That's just a clearing station, man. So he can fool the cops. He

 

blasts that thing all the way around the world. It's against the

 

law, man.

 

In the back seat, Ants nods in agreement.

 

ANTS:

 

Ah, man--they'll never catch the Wolfman.

 

Then Ants' nose starts twitching and he looks over at Curt

 

suspiciously.

 

ANTS:

 

Hey, man, who cut the cheese?

 

Curt tries to smile but looks pretty guilty. Then Joe looks

 

around from the front seat.

 

JOE:

 

He who smelt it, dealt it. (looking at Curt in the back) Hey,

 

creep, scoot down. Sitting up like that, it wrecks the lines of

 

the car, you know what I mean?

 

Curt scoots down to a level even with Ants. Ants is staring at

 

him and grinning evilly. Then they hear an incredible roar, and

 

they all turn to see Bob Falfa's black '55 Chevy pass by. Falfa

 

has a new girl with him this time, a lovely redhead.

 

JOE:

 

There's that badass Chevy again. Look at he snatch he's got with

 

him.

 

ANTS:

 

Hey, man, he looks like a whimp.

 

Curt nods and tries to join in.

 

CURT:

 

Probably is. Whimps get all the snatch.

 

Carlos and Ants look at him. Like nobody asked him to open his

 

mouth.

 

CARLOS:

 

Milner ain't gonna beat that. His time has come. He's getting

 

old. He ain't as fast as he used to be.

 

INSIDE THE DEUCE COUPE

 

Milner may not be as fast a he used to be--and having a little

 

teeny-bopper with him isnt' helping matters. He looks over at

 

Carol. She's moved closer to him.

 

JOHN:

 

You got two seconds to get your ass over in the corner.

 

CAROL:

 

Don't worry, I won't rape you.

 

Carol slides back to her side. BUt as they glide along, Carol

 

watches John. Sh'es moon-eyed and flipped over him. John deftly

 

down-shifts as he approaches a light and then accelerates through

 

the gears with a "race" expertise.

 

There's a honk and John and Carol look over to see a '60 Cadillac

 

full of girls laughing at them.

 

GIRL:

 

You got a bitchin' car.

 

John nods modestly.

 

In fact, we're gonna give you our special prize for having the

 

neatest car around. You want me to give it to you?

 

JOHN:

 

If the prize is you, honey, I'm a ready Teddy.

 

GRIL:

 

Yeah, well get bent turkey.

 

The girl suddenly launches a water ballon, which John ducks

 

deftly, the tumescent missile catching Carol full in the face.

 

The girls roar off. John cracks up as Carol blinks away the

 

water, not believing what's happenened. She wipes her face.

 

CAROL:

 

All right, very funny. What a chop. Ha ha. Quit laughing!!

 

John tries to control himself, but can't.

 

Let's catch 'em at the light. Then you jump out and flatten their

 

tires.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, wait a--

 

CAROL:

 

Just do what I say!

 

JOHN:

 

Yezz, bozz....

 

MAIN STREET INTERSECTION

 

Carol jumps out of the car as John stops the car in the right

 

hand lane next to the Cadillac. As Chuck Berry wails "Johnny B.

 

Goode," they go into action.

 

The girls in the Cadillac recognize John as one of their victims

 

and quickly roll up all windows and lock their doors. John starts

 

pulling the stems from the front tires, sinking the car. Carol

 

starts around the car with the shaving cream, spraying all their

 

windows with the foamy lather.

 

Carol is having a great time and John is laughing as they

 

continue their guerilla attack. They finish and jump back in the

 

coupe. The light turns green and John takes off, leaving the

 

Cadillac stranded at the intersection, covered with shaving

 

cream. Traffic begins to back up...horns begin to honk.

 

CANAL BANK--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

The crickets chirp under the full moon. We hear "I Only Have Eyes

 

for You" playing as the Chevy slowly comes to a stop in an

 

isolated spot along the irrigation canal.

 

Terry gets out of the car, pops the top off two cokes and pours

 

half of them into the canal. He hums, refilling them with

 

bourbon. He goes back to the car.

 

TERRY:

 

Tootie fruiti all ruti...It's Super Cola!

 

He hands her one of the bottles and takes a long drink out of the

 

other. He grabs the steering wheel for support and his eyes begin

 

to water. TERRY

 

It's a... a little... strong, I think.

 

DEBBIE (drinking)

 

It's the living end.

 

Terry takes a smaller sip this time...

 

TERRY:

 

Yeaah, I guess it wasn't mixed.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Wow, it's pretty tonight. It's a perfect night to go horseback

 

riding--I was going with a guy once who had a horse.

 

Terry chokes.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh yeah? I used to have a couple of horses myself.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Really?

 

TERRY:

 

I used them for hunting. I do a lot of hunting. Deer mostly,

 

although I got a couple of bear last year. Yep, they were good

 

ponies--hunting ponies. I had to train 'em special, you know.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Do you still have 'em? We could go for a ride.

 

TERRY:

 

No, I had to sell 'em. To get these wheels...and a jeep. I also

 

have a jeep pick-up, with four-wheel drive. It's got a gun rack.

 

And I use that for hunting mostly.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Why do you kill little animals? I think that's terrible.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh, well, yeah, I figure with bears, though, it's either me or

 

them...You know, I think you're really neat.

 

He suddenly grabs at her, putting his arms around her. She's

 

caught off-guard and tries to move away.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Wait a second.

 

Terry immediately lets go of her.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me--I didn't mean

 

to--maybe it's the booze or something.

 

She puts her coke on the floor. She unfastens the chain holding

 

her sweater together and takes it off.

 

DEBBIE:

 

There--now.

 

Suddenly, she grabs him and pulls him down on top of herself. She

 

kisses him madly. At first he's surprised, but then gets the hang

 

of it. They begin to neck passionately, encountering many

 

obstacles in the cramped front seat.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Ow--you pinched me.

 

TERRY:

 

I'm sorry.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Let me get my head over here--okay, now you get up--

 

TERRY:

 

Ow--my leg, my leg. Ow, watch it!

 

DEBBIE:

 

Ummm, I just love tuck 'n roll upholstery.

 

As they roll around, a couple of guys walk by the car laughing.

 

Terry manages to sit up and watches them go off into the night.

 

TERRY:

 

Geez, it's like Grand Central Station around here. Why don't we

 

go someplace else.

 

Debbie pulls him back down on top of her.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Nah, come on. They won't come back.

 

TERRY:

 

Wait a minute. I got a blanket in the back. Why don't we go over

 

into the field?

 

DEBBIE:

 

All right. Okay. They both get out of the car. Terry gets the

 

blanket out of the turnk. They walk along a path next to the

 

moolit canal. Debbie carries their drinks for them. They left the

 

radio on and Wolfman's voice can be heard as he takes another

 

call. WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Hello.

 

GIRL (voice over)

 

Yeah!

 

WOLFMAN:

 

How old ar you?

 

GIRL:

 

I'm thirteen, how old are you?

 

WOLFMAN:

 

I'm only fourteen.

 

GIRL:

 

Oh, boy, I love you, Wolfman.

 

SINGERS (singing over)

 

"Wolfman Jack."

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Oh, now we gonna do the weather for all the valleys and the

 

mountain tops. Gonna be hot...about 200 degrees in Merced, 400

 

degrees out in Fresno, and I know we're gonna have about 500

 

degrees up around the valley somewhere. You got the Wolfman Jack

 

Show.

 

MINIATURE GOLF COURSE AND ARCADE

 

As the Silhouettes yip-yip-yip-yip into "Get a Job," we see the

 

mysterious white Thunderbirds cruise by and disappear. The

 

Pharoahs' Mercury turns into the parking lot of a aminiature golf

 

coures.

 

The doors open and the Pharoahs exit. There's a pause, then Ants

 

reaches into the car and pulls Curt out also. The Pharoahs

 

saunter into the miniature golf compound.

 

CURT:

 

Hey, terrific, I love miniature golf.

 

JOE:

 

I hate it.

 

CURT:

 

Well, I don't play that often really. Ah--what're we doing here

 

then?

 

JOE:

 

We're outta gas.

 

CURT:

 

They don't sell gas here.

 

JOE:

 

No... but we're outta money, too. Come on, Carl.

 

CURT:

 

Curt.

 

Joe gives Curt a gentle push and they go inside. The golf course

 

is empty, except for a couple of ugly girls putting around inthe

 

far corner. Under a trellis, Curt and Joe enter as the Pharoahs

 

fool around with the candy machine, pinball games, "Check Your

 

Weight," and "Air Corps Gunner" games, pretending to play with

 

them.

 

Joe looks around, whistling again.

 

JOE:

 

All right, men.

 

Quickly the Pharoahs go into action, jimmying locks, pounding

 

coin returns, pulling out plugs, prying open change boxes and

 

stuffing looses coins into theri pockets.

 

Joe smiles at Curt, who looks sick again, involved now in a

 

robbery.

 

Ants is sitting in a "Rocket to the Moon" ride, pounding on it

 

unsuccessfully when suddenly it starts. Ants starts bouncing up

 

and down looking dumber than usual. He swears at Rocket to the

 

Moon under his breath--suddenly a screen door slams. The Pharoahs

 

turn. A man in an undershirt stands by the "Get Your Balls Here"

 

booth, regarding them warily.

 

MR. GORDON

 

What're you punks doing?

 

The Pharoahs can't think of anything right away. Ants bounces

 

noisily in the "Rocket to the Moon." The Pharoahs are all looking

 

to Joe for guidance. Joe for his part is mumbling.

 

CURT:

 

Hey, hi. Mr. Gordon, what's up?

 

The man looks at Curt, surprised.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Henderson--Curt Henderson? You with these punks?

 

The Pharoahs don't know what's happening yet. Curt walks over to

 

Mr. Gordon.

 

CURT:

 

These are my friends. We were just...

 

Mr. Gordon looks skeptical, then Curt smiles at him. Then Mr.

 

Gordon smiles.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Jeez, you guys had me scared.

 

He laughs nervously. The Pharoahs laugh. Everybody's happy.

 

Hey, you haven't left yet?

 

CURT:

 

Oh ah--no--no, I'm not--

 

Mr. Gordon looks puzzled.

 

I mean, I'm not leaving until tomorrow.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Tomorrow. Well, listen, Hank Anderson's inside. Come in and say

 

goodbye. You know, Hank's the one that brought your name up on

 

the floor of the Moose Hall. You got the check, didn't you?

 

He leads Curt toward the screen door. Curt looks around at the

 

Pharoahs, who are slowly starting to work again pilfering the

 

machines.

 

Inside the small office, Curt shakes hands with Hank Anderson,

 

who pats him on the shoulder.

 

HANK:

 

We are all proud of you, Curt. The Moose Scholarship couldn't

 

have gone to a better boy. And if there's anything we can do, let

 

us know.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Yeah, you'll stay in touch by letter, won't you?

 

There's a knock at the screen and they turn to see Joe at the

 

screen door.

 

JOE:

 

Hey, we're all done out here.

 

MR. GORDON

 

All done? What--what's he mean?

 

CURT:

 

Ah, he means, we're all done having loads of fun out here.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Oh, well...

 

HANK:

 

Wonderful. You can have all the fun you want. This place is for

 

fun.

 

CURT:

 

Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you. Thank you both.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Good luck now.

 

HANK:

 

Before I say goodbye, Curt, I want to tell you I hope you'll be

 

taking along with you a little piece of this place.

 

CURT:

 

I think I have.

 

HANK:

 

Good. Don't forget us.

 

CURT:

 

No, I won't forget you and you won't forget me.

 

MR. GORDON

 

Okay. 'Bye.

 

HANK:

 

Good-bye and good luck.

 

CURT:

 

'Bye.

 

JOE:

 

It was nice to meet yuh.

 

CURT:

 

Right. What he said goes for me, too.

 

Curt and Joe go out through the arcade toward the Mercury. They

 

start walking faster, anxious to get away. Joe grins at Curt as

 

they climb into the car.

 

JOE:

 

Yeah, you just might make it as a Pharoah yet, boy. Back in the

 

office, Hank and Mr. Gordon watch the car pull out.

 

HANK:

 

Some day he'll make a fine Moose. THE CANAL BANK

 

Steve's Chevy sits near the canal. The door is open and the radio

 

blares, while Terry and Debbie are off somewhere in the weeds

 

making out.

 

Suddenly, a beam from a flashlight plays across the trunk. Feet

 

approach the car as the light beam moves across the interior and

 

stops on the vacated shoes on the front seat.

 

The light beam continues past the empty bourbon bottle and starts

 

int he direction of the field where Terry and Debbie are lost in

 

the throes of passionate love. As we follow the light into the

 

field we hear footsteps.

 

As the darkened figure approaches the couple, we see the light go

 

out and catch a gleam of silver in the moonlight as a switchblade

 

springs open!

 

Terry reacts to the sound.

 

DEBBIE:

 

What's wrong?

 

TERRY:

 

I thought I heard something.

 

She kisses him and he forgets about the noise. The figure

 

retreats back to the Chevy, where another indistinct figure

 

waits.

 

VOICE (off)

 

They're porking in the weeds. No sweat.

 

Terry and Debbie are restingin the field, listening to the radio

 

in the distance. A car engine is heard starting up and

 

disappearing down the canal bank.

 

The countryside is very quiet. Only crickets and frogs are heard

 

as Terry begins to drop off asleep. He suddenly jumps with a

 

start.

 

TERRY:

 

Wait a minute!

 

DEBBIE:

 

What?

 

TERRY:

 

The radio is gone...That means--the car is gone!

 

He scrambles to the spot where the Chevy once stood.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh no!!! OH NO!!!

 

Debbie comes up and watches Terry look heavenward.

 

Oh God--I'm sorry. But, why the car? You could have struck us

 

with lightning or something--anything---but not the car!

 

THE CANAL BANK--LAURIE'S '58 EDSEL

 

Cars are seen here and there in the moonlight along the

 

irrigation canal outside of town. In the cars radios are playing

 

"To the Aisle," laughter can be heard in some, whispering in

 

others.

 

Laurie's Edsel is parked by the slow-moving water. In the front

 

seat of the car, Steve and Laurie are making out. Laurie leans

 

back against Steve, his arms around her, and they look out the

 

window at the stars...

 

LAURIE:

 

You know, it doesn't make sense to leave home to look for a home,

 

to give up a life to find a new life, to say goodbye to friends

 

you love just to find new friends.

 

STEVE:

 

What? Say that again, I didn't--

 

LAURIE:

 

That's what Curt said.

 

STEVE:

 

Oh, figures. (smiling) You must've talked his ear off trying to

 

get him to stay.

 

LAURIE:

 

That's not true. I didn't say anything. Curt just said at dinner

 

tonight he realized there was no big hurry. He thought he should

 

take it easy for a while, go to J.C. and try to figure out what

 

he wants to do with his life.

 

STEVE:

 

That sounds logical.

 

Laurie's expression changes.

 

LAURIE:

 

You think so?

 

STEVE:

 

Sure. I think Curt's probably right for Curt. Not for me though.

 

Laurie, look at me. Now you know what I want out of life. And

 

it's just not in this town.

 

LAURIE:

 

I'm not going to the airport tomorrow.

 

She looks sullen and he smiles a little. He turns her around and

 

gently kisses here. They begin to make out, Laurie seeming a

 

little desperate. Steve pushes her slowly down on the seat. He

 

moves on top of here and his hand begins to wander.

 

LAURIE:

 

Steve! Don't.

 

STEVE (quietly)

 

It's our last night together for three months...come on.

 

LAURIE:

 

We've been through this before.

 

STEVE:

 

I'm going to miss you so much. I need something to remember you

 

by. You don't want me to forget you.

 

She closes her eyes, trying not to cry.

 

LAURIE (softly)

 

No...

 

He starts to move on top of her, kissing her neck. She struggles

 

for a few moments, then goes limp, not responding. He pulls away

 

angrily.

 

STEVE:

 

What's wrong? You're just lying there.

 

LAURIE:

 

Well go ahead, you want to.

 

STEVE:

 

Not like that.

 

LAURIE:

 

If you're not going to remember me for anything else, why don't

 

you go ahead?

 

STEVE:

 

You want it and you know it. Don't be so damn self-righteous with

 

me. After those things you told me about watching your brother--

 

LAURIE:

 

You're disgusting! Get out of my car! I told you never--

 

STEVE:

 

I'm sorry.

 

LAURIE:

 

Get out! It's not worth it. I don't care if you're leaving--now

 

get out!

 

She reaches past him and pulls the door handle. The door swings

 

open and she shoves Steve out. Then she starts the engine and

 

drives away, leaving Steve standing there in the darkness. In the

 

distance, he hears the laughter of other couples and the drifting

 

music from their radios.

 

THE CANAL ROAD:

 

Terry and Debbie walk slowly along the dark canal. Terry takes a

 

large slug of his bourbon and coke.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Anyway, the Goat Killer--

 

TERRY:

 

Let's talk about something else.

 

DEBBIE:

 

--Whenever he strikes, he leaves a bloody goat's head near the

 

victim. Isn't that creepy?

 

Terry thinks about it and indeed it is. He looks around into the

 

darkness and then takes Debbie's hand.

 

They thought he went up to Stockton, but two nights ago they

 

found Carlie Johnson and Don White right here by the canal all

 

hacked to pieces and--

 

TERRY:

 

Who do you think'll take the regionals this—

 

DEBBIE:

 

--not only were there bloody goats' heads, but he had switched

 

all the parts of their bodies around. You know putting her arms

 

on him and his legs on--

 

Terry is slowing and he stops her. He motions for her to shut up

 

and they listen. The wind whines across the flat valley. Ahead

 

there is only darkness, then footsteps!

 

TERRY:

 

Wait a second. Did you hear...?

 

DEBBIE:

 

You think it's the Goat Killer?

 

TERRY (whispering)

 

No! I mean, no. Listen, I'll go for help, you stay here.

 

Terry has turned and is starting off when she grabs him by his

 

shirt-tail.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Come on, we'll hide in the field.

 

She takes Terry's hand and they go off behind some bushes, away

 

from the black water.

 

Debbie looks through the bushes, squinting.

 

Maybe if it's the Goat Killer he'll get somebody and we'll see

 

the whole thing.

 

Terry stands with his eyes closed.

 

TERRY:

 

I don't want to see the whole thing. Especially if it's us he--

 

oh, why me? I'm going to look lousy with your legs and a goat's

 

head and--

 

DEBBIE:

 

Shhh--he's stopped. I can't see him very--I think he's coming

 

this way.

 

She edges off to get a better view.

 

TERRY:

 

Well, as long as he's not--Debbie! Debbie!

 

She's gone. Terry starts off, taking one step, turns, takes

 

another, turns, takes another. Suddenly Terry hears something

 

behind him. He turns very slowly and looks...

 

A figure is standing right behind him, silhouetted by the moon,

 

its face obscured. Terry jumps about three feet and yells.

 

STEVE (off)

 

Terry!

 

TERRY:

 

Who, me? Why me?

 

Terry stops yelling, seeing that it's Steve.

 

STEVE:

 

Terry.

 

TERRY:

 

Steve!

 

Debbie comes back through the bushes and Terry looks ather

 

nervously.

 

TERRY:

 

Where'd you go, anyway?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Over there.

 

TERRY:

 

Well, don't go off again. Come on, let's get out of here.

 

Terry and Debbie start to walk with Steve back toward town. Terry

 

keeps taking pulls fromthe bottle of bourbon.

 

STEVE:

 

What're you doing out here? Hey, where's my rod?

 

TERRY (choking):

Um, oh, did I introduce you? This is debbie.

 

Debbie, this is Steve.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Hello.

 

STEVE:

 

Hi.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Hi.

 

They continue to walk along the dark canal bank.

 

STEVE:

 

Well, what about my car?

 

TERRY:

 

Um...I'ts in the garage. I put it in the garage for safe keeping.

 

I mean...I don't want to take any chances with it.

 

STEVE:

 

Oh, great.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Yeah. Yeah. It's a good thing too. 'Cause somebody stole our car.

 

STEVE:

 

Really? That's terrible. What kind was it?

 

TERRY:

 

Gee, ah, where's Laurie, anyway?

 

STEVE:

 

I guess we broke up.

 

TERRY:

 

You broke up? Bull!

 

Steve just shrugs. The three of them go off into the darkness.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET-'32 YELLOW DEUCE COUPE

 

The coupe makes an eccentric swerve as it cruises along the main

 

drag. Inside, Carol is looking at the gear-shift know that she's

 

taken off the shift arm as they listen to "Do You Want to Dance?"

 

CAROL:

 

It doesn't look like a gear shift knob.

 

JOHN:

 

Come on, will ya? Give it back to me.

 

CAROL:

 

Well, go ahead, cream me. What's wrong, you're a tough guy. Break

 

my arm, see if I care.

 

JOHN:

 

Forget it.

 

He ignores her, and finally his silence makes her take a small

 

round knob out of her pocket and put it back on the shifter where

 

it belongs.

 

CAROL:

 

I was just going to keep it for a little while. You're an ogre,

 

just like my father. He won't let me play records, or stay out

 

late, or anything.

 

JOHN (worried)

 

He ah--doesn't like you to stay out late?

 

CAROL:

 

No--he's terrible. Once I was at a party that didn't end till

 

late and he called the cops. Can you imagine? It was only a

 

little after midnight and he had the whole police force—

 

JOHN:

 

Say, where do you live anyway?

 

CAROL:

 

Over on Ramona, why? (She suddenly smiles) Oh no. Uh uh. You

 

thought I'd tell you where--not me, not old Carol. The night is

 

young and I'm not hitting the rack until I get a little action.

 

John sighs, wondering if he'll ever get rid of her. He looks back

 

at something in the rear view mirror. He speeds up and checks the

 

mirror again.

 

CAROL:

 

What do you keep lookin' at? (she looks around behind them) Who's

 

that? You know him? He's following awful close.

 

JOHN:

 

Grab onto something.

 

Carol looks scared and graps onto the dash. John suddenly hits

 

the brakes. The deuce coupe noses down and Bob Falfa's Chevy has

 

to swerve abruptly to avoid a crash.

 

Falfa pulls the Chevy around and alongside the coupe. He has

 

another new girl with him.

 

FALFA (shouting over)

 

Sorry if I scared ya, man.

JOHN (looking ahead)

 

Takes more than that to scare me.

 

FALFA:

 

Where ya been hinding? Didn't anyone tell ya I been looking for

 

ya?

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, I can't keep tracka all the punks lookin' for me.

 

FALFA:

 

They say you're the fastest thing in the Valley. But that can't

 

be your car, man. That must be your mama's car. Hell, I feel

 

embarrassed just getting near ya.

 

JOHN:

 

Ya should, man--you're driving a field car.

 

FALFA:

 

Field car? What's a Field Car?

 

JOHN:

 

Field Cars drive through the fields, dropping cow shit all over

 

the place to make the lettuce grow.

 

FALFA (laughing)

 

That's pretty good. Hey, I like that paint job you got. What they

 

call that--sorta a cross between Piss Yellow and Puke Green,

 

ain't it?

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah, well, you're car's so ugly you must have to sneak up on the

 

pumps to get a tank of gas.

 

FALFA:

 

Well, at least I don't have to move over to let a funeral go by,

 

man.

 

Through all the insults, Carol has been cracking up.

 

CAROL (shouting)

 

Your car's uglier than I am.

 

John and Falfa both look at her and she sits back.

 

That didnt' come out right...

 

They both stop at a light now. Falfa roars his engine.

 

FALFA:

 

Come on, boy, prove it. Let's go.

 

JOHN:

 

Look kid, why don't you go out and win a few races, then come

 

back and see me.

 

CAROL:

 

Oh, race him, you can beat him.

 

John gives Carol a very fierce look and she sinks back into her

 

corner.

 

FALFA:

 

Hey, that's a tough lookin' girl you got with you, man. What're

 

you doin'? Trying to pick up a few extra bucks babysitting?

 

(grinning at Carol) Hey, Doll. Why don't you come on and ride

 

with me--in about ten years?

 

JOHN:

 

Leave her out of this. This is just between you and me.

 

Falfa revs his engine again. John thinks a moment, then shifts

 

down into first.

 

The light changes, and John and Falfa take off, tires screaming.

 

The two cars perfectly in sync, rocket down the block toward the

 

next red light. John starts to slow for the light. Falfa looks

 

over, laughs, and runs the red light. John stops.

 

CAROL:

 

Wow! He's really fast, isn't he?

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah. But he's stupid.

 

CRUISING 10TH STREET-PHAROAH'S '51 MERCURY

 

Curt is still out riding with the Pharoahs. He seems a little

 

easier with them now, after their successful heist at the

 

miniature golf course. The radio is playing "Party Doll."

 

CURT:

 

Hey--any of you guys know a blonde in a white T-Bird?

 

JOE:

 

Yeah, I seen her, what about it?

 

CURT:

 

I was just wondering who she is.

 

JOE:

 

She's outta your price range, man. My brother's been with her and

 

he clued me in.

 

CURT:

 

Price range? You mean she's a--

 

JOE:

 

Yeah, Thirty Dollar Sheri. Can you believe that? Thirty dollars.

 

CURT:

 

We must be thinking of different blondes.

 

CARLOS:

 

Hey man, don't tell Joe what he thinks.

 

ANTS:

 

Thirty dollars ain't much. I saw ten thousand once. My old man

 

had it in a suitcase. They caught him the next morning though.

 

CARLOS:

 

Fuzz ahead, watch it.

 

JOE:

 

Where?

 

CARLOS:

 

Fuzz ahead, watch it.

 

JOE:

 

Where?

 

CARLOS:

 

At Jerrie's Cherries. You can just barely see the fender.

 

ANTS:

 

That's rotten, man. Hiding like that.

 

CARLOS:

 

That's shitty.

 

CARLOS:

 

It's dishonest.

 

Ants gives him the evil eye. Joe watches the cop car in the used

 

car lot as they pass it.

 

JOE:

 

We oughta do something. I got an idea. I got a good idea. MAIN

 

STREET:

 

Steve, Terry and Debbie have made it back into town from the

 

canal. They walk past the closed stores and stop on a busy

 

corner.

 

STEVE:

 

I think I'm gonna go over to Burger City.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah. Yeah. Laurie's probably over there.

 

STEVE:

 

You really think she's got me worried about where she is, don't

 

you?

 

TERRY:

 

Well...

 

STEVE:

 

Let me tell you something. I couldn't care less. Want to come

 

along?

 

DEBBIE:

 

Yeah, I do. I do.

 

TERRY:

 

No.

 

STEVE:

 

Make up your minds.

 

TERRY:

 

No, thanks. U'mm. You know we got to report the car missing.

 

STEVE:

 

All right. See yuh.

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah. See yuh.

 

Steve goes off and Debbie looks at Terry.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Why can't we go to Burger City?

 

TERRY:

 

Burger City? Burger City!!? How can you think of hamburgers when

 

somebody stole my car.

 

She looks hurt and starts off.

 

ALLEY BEHIND JERRY'S CHERRIES USED-CAR LOT

 

Curt is getting out of the low-slung Merc and Joe saunters around

 

from the driver's side. He smiles, friendly like--

 

JOE:

 

Listen, ah--Carl, I--

 

CURT:

 

Curt.

 

JOE:

 

Curt.

 

He nods at Curt, looking cautiously around the dark lot.

 

Despite you scratching Gil's car, I like you. And I know what

 

you'd like more than anything right now. Like every guy in town,

 

you got the same secret dream, right?

 

Curt nods.

 

Ya want to join the Pharoahs. Huh? You can admit it--you'd like

 

to--but you never dreamed it could be possible, did you?

 

Curt shakes his head slowly.

 

Well, tonight, I'm goin' to give you your chance.

 

Curt hasn't the slightest idea what Joe is talking about. Joe

 

puts his arm around Curt's shoulders and leads him away,

 

explaining what he has to do, while Ants and Carlos grin.

 

In the middle of the used car lot, a patrol car hides among the

 

autos for sale. Inside the car, Holstein sits with another

 

officer who's dozing. Across Holstein's dark glasses, reflections

 

of the kids' cars cruising by can be seen, as Holstein waits to

 

nab somebody.

 

Joe approaches the patrol car through the lot. He ducks, carrying

 

a length of metal cable in his hand. Curt wanders behind him. Joe

 

sees him and motions for him to get down.

 

Get down!

 

Curt ducks down near Joe.

 

Okay. Now you got it? I'm stayin' here. You're on your own.

 

CURT:

 

Wait a minute, wait a minute, Joe. What if he hears me?

 

JOE:

 

Shhh. Listen. Look at it this way

 

Now you got three choices. One, you chicken out. In that case, I

 

let Ants tie you to the car and drag you around a little bit. And

 

you don't want that, right?

 

CURT:

 

No.

 

JOE:

 

Two, you foul up and Holstein hears you and well, ah...you don't

 

want that, right?

 

CURT:

 

No, I don't.

 

JOE:

 

Three, you are successful and you join the Pharoahs with a

 

carcoat, and the blood initiation and all that, huh?

 

CURT (seeing Joe walk away)

 

Wait--wait a minute. Wait a minute! What blood initiation?

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Oh, here we go baby! Here's "Come Go With Me." The policeman

 

waits for a victim. In the background, we see Curt dodging from

 

behind one car to another. Taking cover, Curt makes another break

 

toward a car--and trips and falls.

 

In the cop car, Holstein thinks he hears something. He opens the

 

door and gets out. Adjusting his billy club, he paces around the

 

used car lot officiously, while Curt hides behind a Falcon and

 

peeks out from behind a fender. He sees Holstein walking back

 

toward the squad car. The cop opens the door again and climbs in.

 

The echoing sound of the calls coming over the police radio blend

 

with the Wolfman's howling as cars pass with their radios

 

blaring.

 

Curt is inching forward with the cable, toward the squad car. In

 

the background, a slow freight train can be heard starting to

 

move across the valley. Curt ties the cable to a post and then,

 

looking scared, crawls under the police car with the cable.

 

Underneath the car, Curt inches on his back and then reaches up

 

and attatches the cable to the rear axle of the car.

 

MAIN STREET:

 

Terry and Debbie are walking across the street, Terry looks

 

miserable and disconsolate about the loss of the Chevy he

 

possessed for three short hours. Debbie tries to be more positive

 

about the situation.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Hey, why don't we go get your jeep?

 

TERRY:

 

What? What are you talking about?

 

DEBBIE:

 

You know, your jeep. The one you sold the hunting ponies for. The

 

one with the four-wheel drive.

 

Terry just stares at her morosely. He stops by a parking meter

 

and sinks down on top of it.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Come on, Terry--Terry?

 

ALLEY BEHIND JERRY'S CHERRIES USED CAR LOT

 

Curt and Joe are on the run toward the Merc. Ants and Carlos jump

 

in as they start their getaway.

 

JOE:

 

Hey, you sure you got enough slack?

 

CURT:

 

Yeah, yeah. No sweat. Let's get out of here.

 

MAIN STREET:

 

Joe shifts into high gear and is flying down the main drag. Terry

 

and Debbie look startled as they see the Pharoah's Mercury

 

roaring by--and Curt leaning out the door, shouting insanely.

 

CURT:

 

Stand by for Justice!

 

Terry and Debbie watch the Merc speed suicidally past Jerry's

 

Cherries Used-Car Lot.

 

Holstein spots them and the driver starts up the engine of the

 

squad car. THe red lights start flashing and the siren wails. The

 

patrol car shifts into gear and leaps forward. Suddenly, there's

 

a horrendous metallic screech, the patrol car hurtles up and out,

 

airborne for a moment--then noses down and bounces along the

 

pavement, sending out sparks as it slides to a stop.

 

The driver is stunned and frozen to the wheel. Holstein manages

 

to remove his dark glasses and looks back. There, sitting quietly

 

in the middle of the parking lot, is their trans-axle and two

 

rear wheels.

 

The patrol car sits on the ground at a twenty degree angle, while

 

its engine whines impotently at top speed.

 

On the radio, the all-seeing Wolfman gives an evil laugh--

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Oh, I can't believe it. Feels so good 'cause you're sweet

 

sixteen.

 

And Johnny Burnette takes his cue and croons into "You're

 

Sixteen."

 

A DARK ROAD OUTSIDE TOWN--DEUCE COUPE

 

John has glided off the main drag and into a residential area.

 

Everything is dark and quiet as the adult population sleeps

 

through the night. John pulls the coupe to the curb and turns off

 

the engine. He turns out the lights.

 

Inside the car, there's silence. Only the clock ticking. Carol

 

looks over at John a little nervously.

 

CAROL:

 

Why are we stopping here?

 

John looks at her and his arm slides along the back of the seat

 

above her. She notices his arm and the fact that he's moving

 

slowly toward her.

 

JOHN (in a husky voice)

 

Carol...

 

CAROL:

 

What?

 

JOHN:

 

I--I don't think that I can control myself any longer.

 

CAROL:

 

You can't?

 

JOHN:

 

No...Carol, I've got to have you.

 

CAROL:

 

Me?

 

He touches her hair and she slouches back into her corner

 

fearfully.

JOHN:

 

All night you've been sitting there and you've been so sexy and

 

it's been so hot--and I can't wait any more...

 

CAROL:

 

Well--well, a lot of that's an act, you know. Like...like my

 

crying. It was just an act.

 

JOHN:

 

Well, it's been building up inside of me like a volcano, all

 

night. Maybe if I knew where you lived I could fight it--I could

 

take you home--but since you won't tell me, and since here we

 

are--I've got to have you. It's too late--

 

CAROL:

 

It's not too late! It's never too late! 231 Ramona--two three

 

one--

 

JOHN (smiling)

 

Two three one--

 

CAROL:

 

I'll show you! It's easy to find.

 

John starts the car engine. Carol looks very relieved. The yellow

 

deuce coupe roars off down the dark street.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

Steve sits in the almost empty cafe section of Burger City. He

 

stirs a coffee and mulls over the night's events in his mind. A

 

door opens and Budda Macrae comes in. She watches him a moment,

 

then takes off her little Bell Boy Cap and gets a cup of coffee

 

for herself.

 

Steve looks up as she comes over on her roller skates. BUDDA

 

Hi. You mind if I sit down?

STEVE:

 

Hi Budda. No, have a seat.

 

BUDDA:

 

I got five minutes outa the rat race, and I saw you all alone.

 

For a change.

 

She drinks her coffe and he looks out the window thinking about

 

something else.

 

BUDDA:

 

Where's Laurie?

 

STEVE:

 

I don't know.

 

BUDDA:

 

I thought the two of you'd be going strong, this being your last

 

night and everything--

 

STEVE:

 

We broke up.

 

Budda looks surprised.

 

No big deal.

 

BUDDA:

 

Wow...what happened?

 

STEVE:

 

Nothing. We were out at the canal and...we had a fight.

 

Budda smiles and he looks ather strangely.

 

What's so funny?

 

BUDDA:

 

Nothing. Just thinking. A girl like Laurie--I mean, she goes to

 

school and is cute and popular and all, but we're not so

 

different. We know what we want. I've seen her after you for two

 

years now.

 

STEVE:

 

She's not like that.

 

BUDDA:

 

Maybe not. She does have a different approach. Hers is "Never

 

surrender," me I lay down my arms at the drop of a hat--

 

VOICE (off)

 

Budda, you got an hour left, let's get on it.

 

BUDDA (yelling back)

 

All right, relax...old fart. Listen, I'm off in an hour. If you

 

wanta come over, my girlfriend's away for the weekend.

 

STEVE:

 

I don't know...

 

Laurie walks up the drive-in and is about to enter when she

 

stops and watches Steve and Budda. She thinks about going in,

 

then hesitates, watching them.

 

BUDDA:

 

Why don't you? I never got a chance to talk to you. You're

 

leaving tomorrow. Listen, I gave up a long time ago, so it'd be

 

just for fun. No problems.

 

She smiles at him and he smiles back a little. At the door,

 

Laurie turns and leaves before Steven sees her.

 

BUDDA:

 

I'll see ya later then.

 

She gets up and goes back to the counter on her skates. Steve

 

thinks a moment and gets up also.

 

STEVE:

 

Budda, Budda wait.

 

She turns and he comes over to her as she puts back on her little

 

cap.

 

I gotta get up early and--I just don't think it'd work out.

 

BUDDA:

 

She's got you so brainwashed--well, hell. Some day I'm gonna win.

 

Don't ya think?

 

STEVE:

 

Sure.

 

She smiles briefly, then turns and leaves. Steve watches her go.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

The drive-in remains a raucous roar

 

Cars coming in from the hop, from the movies, other cars going

 

out to the canal or back out to cruise. Only the car hops, who

 

have developed a late-hour, harried look, suggest it's nearly

 

closing time.

 

The Pharoahs arrive. The Mercury swings imperiously into the lot.

 

THe radio can be heard as the rumbling engine dies. The Clovers

 

are singing "Love Potion #9."

 

Curt jumps out of the Mercury elated. The Pharoahs all climb out

 

and circle him, punching him playfully. Joe holds him while

 

Carlos tickles him and they all laugh.

 

JOE:

 

Oh mother, it's been a glorious night.

 

CARLOS:

 

That was the bitchinest thing I ever seen in my whole life.

 

ANTS:

 

I seen a little kid attacked by pigs once, but this was even

 

better.

 

JOE:

 

Oh boy, I'll tell you something, that car must've jumped five

 

feet in the air!

 

Curt nods, feeling pretty good.

 

You sure you got to go? The night's young.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah, there's some things I got to do. I still want to find that

 

blonde.

 

JOE:

 

I think she was an optical delusion, man. Psychology-wise it

 

ain't good to dwell on it. You'll alter your ego or something.

 

Anyway, catch ya tomorrow night.

 

CURT:

 

yeah, I guess so.

 

JOE:

 

Guess so? Man, we don't admit a lot of guys to the Pharoahs. You

 

understand we're going to have to swipe your jacket and all--you

 

gotta make up your mind.

 

Curt nods, thinking about it. Then he shrugs. He looks at the

 

three Pharoahs as they climb back into their maroon chariot.

 

CURT:

 

Hey--I'll see you guys.

 

JOE:

 

Sure--listen, remember, Rome wasn't buried in a night.

 

Joe laughs and Curt nods. He watches the Mercury pull out and

 

then he wanders back across the drive-in toward his little

 

Citroen.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

My, my, my. You only got five minutes left, if you want to talk

 

to the Wolfman. Gonna make all your dreams come true, baby.

 

Curt gets intothe little car and sits listening to the radio. The

 

neon MEL'S DRIVE-IN is reflected across the windshield.

 

VOICE(over)

 

Wolfman...

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Yeah.

 

VOICE:

 

Would you dedicate a record to keep me and my girlfriend

 

together?

 

WOLFMAN:

 

Are you separated?

 

VOICE:

 

Well,see, we're havin' a little problem.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

I'll bring you right together. Hold on a minute, man. Hi ya, hi

 

ya, hi, hi, hi. Everything's gonna be allright now, man, you

 

understand? Now, let me play the record for you.

 

As the Wolfman talks on, Curt glances toward the street. He sees

 

the white Thunderbird gliding by. He sits up quickly and tries to

 

start the Citroen--but the machine barely turns over. He keeps

 

trying deperately, but the engine won't catch.

 

CRUISING G STREET--'58 EDSEL

 

Laurie drives slowly, alone in the Edsel. On the radio, the

 

Skyliners are lamenting the sad state of things--"Since I Don't

 

Have You." Laurie wipes her eyes, crying with the music. A horn

 

honks. She looks over to see Bob Falfa's car pacing her. He's

 

alone now and grinning at her. Laurie ignores him. They drive

 

along further. Falfa roars his engine, but she still doesn't give

 

him any attention. He gives up and pulls off.

 

Laurie thinks a while, pouting. She pulls alongside Falfa at the

 

next light. He isn't looking at her. She toots her horn and he

 

turns. Laurie motions him to pull over.

 

Falfa looks surprised. The light changes, and he follows her to

 

the curb. Laurie takes a deep breath, and with a determined look,

 

gets out and walks back to his car. She gets in and closes the

 

door. They start off. He looks over and smiles.

 

FALFA:

 

Hey Hey Hey, baby, what do you say?

 

LAURIE:

 

Just don't say anything and we'll get along fine.

 

Falfa is puzzled by the frigidity in the air. He glances at her

 

then back at the road, wondering about this strange chick.

 

RESIDENTIAL STREET--DEUCE COUPE

 

The coupe slows in front of a modest California ranch-style home.

 

John stops the car and turns off the engine. He looks over at

 

Carol, who seems lost in thought.

 

JOHN:

 

This the first time you've been quiet all night.

 

CAROL:

 

I had fun. Goodbye.

 

She sits for a moment, about to say something.

 

Do you like me?

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah. I like you. You're all right.

 

CAROL:

 

But I mean, do you like me?

 

JOHN:

 

I, ah...I like you. Okay?

 

CAROL:

 

Couldn't I have something to remember you by?

 

John gives in to her sweet gaze. He takes off the gearshift

 

knob, gives it to her, and leans over and gives her a kiss.

 

JOHN:

 

'Bye, kid.

 

CAROL:

 

Gee, thanks. It's just like a ring or something.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah.

 

CAROL:

 

It's like we were going steady. Wait'll I tell Marcia.

 

JOHN:

 

Wait a minute, now.

 

CAROL:

 

Wait'll I tell everybody.

 

JOHN:

 

Don't go overboard with this thing.

 

CAROL:

 

Well, I'll see you around.

 

She jumps out of the car and runs up the walk to the house. He

 

watches her stop at the screen door and turn. She gives him a

 

little wave, then goes inside.

 

John looks over at the empty seat next to him and seems a little

 

sad. He starts the engine and drives off slowly.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

I haven't cried so much. And the tears and everything, man...I

 

leaned down towards the microphone and I almost shorted myself

 

out.

 

OUTSIDE MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

Curt has the font hood up on the beetle-like Citroen and is

 

fooling with the recalcitrant engine. Steve is standing beside

 

him.

 

CURT:

 

Hold that up.

 

STEVE (taking the hood from him)

 

I've been thinking--maybe you're right. Why should I leave home

 

to find a new home. Why should I leave friends that I love to

 

find new friends?

 

CURT:

 

Wait a minute, wait a minute. I've heard this alreay. Aren't you

 

the one who for eight weeks has been telling me you have to leave

 

the nest sometime?

 

STEVE:

 

I realize that. I realize--

 

CURT:

 

No--no realizing. You've been telling me all summer that it's

 

time to pull your head out of the sand and take a look at the

 

big, beautiful world out there. Gimme this thing.

 

STEVE (letting him close the hood)

 

I don't know--I—

 

CURT (banging the Citroen hood shut) I feel like a mid-wife.

 

STEVE:

 

I guess I was wrong. I may have been wrong.

 

CURT:

 

Wrong nothing. You've been talking about getting out of this town

 

for eight weeks. And now--goddamnit!--you're just--you're just

 

mentally playing with yourself. If you can just relax, we'll talk

 

about it at the airport.

 

Curt walks around the side of the car and opens the door.

 

STEVE:

 

Where are you going? It's awfully early in the morning.

 

CURT:

 

I have a dental appointment.

 

STEVE:

 

Come on, Curt...

 

CURT:

 

Just relax, wil ya? I'll see you at the airport.

 

Curt gets intothe car and starts the engine. Steve watches him

 

pull out of the drive-in, then walks off.

 

ALLEY BEHIND THE "COME ON INN" BAR

 

A half dozen people are standing around in the parking lot behind

 

the bar. Debbie is sitting on the hood of a car, swinging her

 

legs and chewing gum. THe people all seem to be watching

 

something on the ground behind the car. Coughing is heard, then

 

gagging, and the unmistakable sounds of someone being sick.

 

At the back door of the bar even the cooks are looking and

 

pointing. We hear more coughing and vomiting. A guy slides up on

 

the hood next to Debbie.

 

GUY:

 

I never seen a guy lose so much. He mustn't have been used to

 

drinking.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Oh no, he really likes to drink. He told me.

 

An old man looks at his watch and then up at the stars.

 

OLD MAN:

 

Gettin' late...I knew a man once who got this sick. Billy Webber.

 

That was ten years ago. What do you think that was there, that he

 

had for dinner?

 

More groaning and gaggin is heard. An old woman moves close to

 

the old man and he puts an arm around her sentimentally.

 

OLD WOMAN:

 

Staying on his hands and knees like that...(she grins) He looks

 

like a dog, doesn't he? Looks like old Ginger.

 

OLD MAN:

 

Sicker than a dog, that's for sure.

 

The people drift off, leaving Debbie sitting alone on the car.

 

Now, Terry slowly emerges, pulling himself up the hood of the

 

car. His face is white. He lies across the hood trying to catch

 

his breath.

 

TERRY:

 

Ohh rats, I feel like--(he notices a car nearby and pushes

 

himself up) Wait a second...hey!

 

He staggers across the lot toward Steve's Chevy! Debbie slides

 

off the car and follows him.

 

It's--oh my god--it looks like Steve's car. Look, right here

 

under our--it's my car. My car. We found it. Look!

 

Terry staggers around and looks for the keys. He searches under

 

the front seat and over the visor.

 

Must've taken the keys with them.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Maybe we oughta call the police.

 

TERRY:

 

Never get here in time. I got a better idea. We'll just steal it

 

back. See if you can find some wire around. We only need a foot

 

to hot-wire it...okay?

 

A GAS STATION--DEUCE COUPE

 

John pulls the coupe out fo the garage and wheels up to the pumps

 

of the gas station. An attendant nods, looking at the roaring

 

engine.

 

ATTENDANT:

 

Took the header plugs off. Expectin' some action?

 

John looks at him from inside the coupe and nods slowly.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah. Think so. There's some punk lookin' for me.

 

ATTENDANT:

 

Why the hell do they bother? You've been number one as long as I

 

can remember.

 

JOHN:

 

Yeah...it's been a long time, ain't it? I'll see ya. Thanks.

 

John drives the car out of the station and screeches down the

 

street.

 

ALLEY BEHIND THE "COME ON INN" BAR--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Terry is fiddling around under the dashboard, trying to hot-wire

 

the Chevy. As the wires connect, the radio comes to life and the

 

Wolfman growls.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Who is this on the Wolfman telephone?

 

There's the sound of a phone ringing, then the unmistakable voice

 

of the Big Bopper answering.

 

BIG BOPPER (voice over)

 

Hellooo, baaaby-- Just then, Terry looks up and sees one large

 

badass looking at him. Terry gets up slowly and sees another big

 

guy standing nearby. The first badass reaches in and grabs Terry

 

by the shirt. He pulls him from the car. Terry is smiling weakly.

 

TERRY:

 

Ah, hi--this is my car. What I mean is, somebody stole my car--I

 

mean I lost my car and I want to thank you two guys for--

 

The first badass shoves Terry toward the other badass.

 

--for returning--I mean finding it. I mean, listen now, listen

 

guys--I've been sick recently, and this kind of activity can

 

really be hard on a guy. Now, easy will you? Easy!

 

They throw him back and forth and start to rough him up

 

seriously. Debbie is running around helplessly while they pummel

 

Terry. Then, she sees the yellow deuce coupe passing.

 

John glances out his window and notices the fight behind the Come

 

On Inn. He punches it and wheels into a fast U-turn.

 

The hoods have quit playing with Terry and are punching him.

 

Terry's still on his feet, mostly because he's drunk and

 

staggering away from a lot of the blows; also, Debbie is

 

screaming and pelting the assailants with her purse.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Help! Police! You creeps!

 

John jumps out of the coupe and runs into the parking lot. He

 

grabs one of the punks and turns him--smashing him in the face.

 

The punk lands on his ass. John starts circling the other.

 

TERRY:

 

Go, John!

 

DEBBIE:

 

Hit him!

 

A good fighter, John lands a couple of blows to the gut and lands

 

him on his can. Both of them crawl off. Terry is lying nearby,

 

drunk, sick and bloodied. Debbie holds his head in her lap. John

 

goes over and kneels by them.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey, man, you all right?

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah. I'll die soon and it'll all be over.

 

DEBBIE (looking at John)

 

Wow--you're just like the Lone Ranger.

 

JOHN (eyeing Debbie)

 

Yeah. Listen, are you with the Toad, or were you with them?

 

Terry manages to raise his head.

 

TERRY:

 

You're talking to the woman I love...

 

His head falls back again.

 

JOHN:

 

What happened, man?

 

Terry opens his mouth to start to explain, but it's too hard. He

 

can only moan.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

The drive-in is emptying out finally as the midnight hour

 

approaches and passes. The die-hards and the hard-ups are still

 

wheeling through Mel's looking for remains of any action.

 

Steve sits inside in a booth. Two gossipy looking girls come in

 

smiling and slide into the booth across from him.

 

STEVE:

 

Hi, Karen, Judy.

 

JUDY:

 

Hi, Steve. Have you seen Laurie lately?

 

Steve shakes his head no.

 

Well, we have.

 

STEVE (already annoyed)

 

Oh yeah. So what?

 

JUDY:

 

So nothing. She was just with a really cute guy in a boss car. We

 

wondered who he was.

 

STEVE:

 

I wouldn't know.

 

JUDY:

 

We do. His name's Bob Falfa.

 

The name registers with Steve.

 

Terry and Debbie pull into the drive-in and park. Terry, his face

 

swelling, groans as he leans toward the intercom.

 

TERRY:

 

Help...I mean, I want two cherry cokes with lots of ice. Never

 

mind, forget the cokes, just bring the ice, pronto.

 

The intercom repeats his order in a foreign language and suddenly

 

Steve arrives and opens the door.

 

STEVE:

 

Out! OUT!

 

TERRY:

 

What??

 

STEVE:

 

I need the car--now.

 

Terry gets out and Debbie gets out her side. Steve gets in.

 

TERRY:

 

What's going on?

 

STEVE:

 

I'm about to find out.

 

Steve roars out of the drive-in, leaving Terry and Debbie

 

standing in an empty space.

 

DEBBIE:

 

I don't believe it! You practically get killed trying to get your

 

car back, then you let him have it.

 

Terry looks at her, his eye swollen, his lip ballooning, his

 

glasses broken. Finally, he gives up--it's not worth the trouble

 

any longer.

 

TERRY:

 

It's not my car.

 

DEBBIE:

 

What?

 

TERRY:

 

What?

 

TERRY:

 

IT IS NOT MY CAR!

 

DEBBIE:

 

Well, where is your car?

 

Terry is upset now.

 

TERRY:

 

I DON'T HAVE A CAR!

 

DEBBIE:

 

You don't--no car at all. What about your jeep?

 

Terry shakes his head.

 

No car...well, how am I going to get home?

 

Just then the car hop approaches with the two cokes on two trays.

 

CAR HOP:

 

Where's your car? I gotta hook 'em to your car.

 

Terry shrugs, standing in the empty stall, the carhop witht he

 

trays and Debbie watching. There's a low rumbling sound and the

 

girls turn as John's deuce coupe glides into the stall next to

 

them. Terry shuffles toward John's car, a defeated man.

 

Terry leans against John's car and John looks out the window at

 

him.

 

JOHN:

 

What's wrong, Toad? You lose the car again?

 

TERRY (softly)

 

No...Steve took it.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

It's a shame, Baby. I'll tell yuh...Got to take it easy when

 

you're drivin' that car of yours. You got to cruise easy, baby.

 

Don't be doin' any accidents or anything on me.

 

And the radio plays "Cryin' in the Chapel."

 

John smiles and gets out of the car. He goes and opens his hood,

 

making a last-minute check on something. Terry sits down gently

 

on a curb by John. Debbie has been talking with some other boys.

 

Eventually she wanders up slowly and looks at Terry. He looks up

 

at her, then away, disgraced and embarrassed. She sits down by

 

him and they're silent.

 

DEBBIE:

 

You know, I had a pretty good time tonight.

 

TERRY:

 

Oh come on, you're just--

 

DEBBIE:

 

No, no, really. I really had a good time. I mean, you picked me

 

up and we got some hard stuff and saw a hold-up, and then we went

 

to the Canal, you got your car stolen, and then I got to watch

 

you gettin' sick, and then you got in this really bitchin'

 

fight...I really had a good time.

 

Terry looks at her, starting to regain a little cool.

 

TERRY:

 

You think so? Yeah--well I guess I have pretty much fun every

 

night.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Anyway if you're not doing anything tomorrow night, why don't you

 

come over?

 

TERRY:

 

Yeah--well, I might be busy, you know. But we could--well, I got

 

a little Vespa I just play around with.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Really? Why that's almost a motorcycle. And I just love

 

motorcycles.

 

He feels his swollen lip and she touches it. THen she leans over

 

and kisses him.

 

DEBBIE:

 

I got to go.

 

TERRY:

 

Ow.

 

DEBBIE:

 

Goodnight.

 

TERRY:

 

See ya.

 

She smiles, walks off, swinging her purse. She looks over her

 

shoulder and smiles. He smiles back.

 

OUTSIDE RADIO STATION--CITROEN

 

The little Citroen bumps along a lonely dirt road, winding its

 

way through dark peach orchards and wizened grape vineyards. Curt

 

watches the deserted landscape when suddenly, the radio increases

 

in volume and he turns it down. Then it begins to roar and

 

distort eerily as the signal becomes more powerful. Then Curt

 

sees it.

 

He stops the car and gets out. He stands looking at an isolated

 

white frame house hitting in the moonlight. Curt looks up at a

 

spidery radio antenna that rises toward the stars, its black

 

wires humming in the stillness.

 

Curt starts up the gravel walk to the door. Under the glare of a

 

naked spotlight, he sees a small intercom which plays soft Rock

 

and Roll. He hesitates, then pushes a buzzer. He pushes it again

 

and finally a voice comes over the intercom.

 

VOICE (over)

 

Yeah, who is it?

 

CURT:

 

It's--I want to talk to the Wolfman.

 

VOICE:

 

The Wolfman ain't here.

 

CURT:

 

I know, but I got to get in touch with him. I got something to

 

give him before—

 

VOICE:

 

We don't take no deliveries after eight. Come back tomorrow.

 

CURT:

 

No, I can't. I want to ask him something that--

 

VOICE:

 

Dedications by phone is Diamond 75044. Wolfman Top 40 is Box 13,

 

Chula Vista. Wolfman Sweatshirts is Wolf Enterprises,

 

Bakersfield. 'Bye.

 

CURT:

 

Listen, I got a right to talk to him. I listened to him every

 

night for as long--for twelve years almost. I know him and it's

 

personal and it'll only take a minute and I bet Wolfman would be

 

upset if he knew a friend couldn't get in touch with--

 

A buzzer interrupts him and the door opens an inch. Curt pushes

 

it open slowly--no one is there. A little scared, he goes inside

 

and closes the door.

 

INSIDE RADIO STATION

 

Curt walks slowly down a dark eerie corridor, passing strangely

 

lit rooms with electronic generators, humming dynamos and

 

glassed-off booths filled with flashing electronic apparatus.

 

Curt goes through this other-worldly maze until he comes to a

 

small, dimly lit control booth. A figure inside is barely visible

 

through the reflections in the double glass windows. The figure

 

turns and walks up to the window. Curt backs off a bit. A face

 

stares at him--long hair greased in a ducktail, a short

 

chinbeard. Then he speaks, his voice filtering strangely through

 

a hidden speaker.

 

MANAGER:

 

What do you want?

 

Through the window, Curt can be seen but no sound is heard.

 

MANAGER:

 

Pull the red switch.

 

CURT:

 

I'm looking for a girl.

 

MANAGER:

 

Aren't we all. She ain't here. Come on back to the booth.

 

Curt walks around through a few more glass doors and ends up in

 

the booth with the manager.

 

The manager sits down and leans back, turning a fan to blow on

 

his large chest. He's a large, friendly looking man; he wears a

 

Hawaiian shirt. He sucks on a popsicle. Curt stands awkwardly.

 

MANAGER:

 

Hey, have a popsicle. The ice box just broke down and they're

 

meltin' all over the place. You want one?

 

CURT:

 

No. Thanks. Listen, ah...

 

MANAGER:

 

Have a popsicle.

 

CURT:

 

Are you the Wolfman?

 

MANAGER:

 

No, man. I'm not the Wolfman.

 

The manager leans forward and picks up a spool of tape. He holds

 

it up as a magician would for audience inspection, then puts it

 

on a machine. A record is about to end. As it does the manager

 

punches some buttons and the record segues into a Wolfman howl

 

and then the distinctive Wolfman voice takes over. The manager

 

adjusts the monitor volume down and sucks his popsicle.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Who is this on the Wolfman's telephone?

 

DIANE (voice over)

 

Diane.

 

WOLFMAN:

 

How're you doin', Diane?

 

DIANE:

 

All right.

 

The station manager smiles at Curt, who is watching the tape and

 

blinking lights of the large console.

 

MANAGER:

 

That's the Wolfman.

 

CURT:

 

He's on tape. The man is on tape.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Do you love me? Say you love me, Diane.

 

CURT:

 

Well, ah--where does he work? I mean, where is the Wolfman now?

 

MANAGER:

 

The Wolfman is everywhere.

 

CURT:

 

But I got to give him this note.

 

MANAGER (taking it from Curt)

 

Here, let me see the note. (he reads it) Hell, that's just a

 

dedication. All I gotta do is relay it. And it'll be on the air

 

tomorrow, or Tuesday at the latest.

 

CURT:

 

No, no. See, this is very important. I may be leaving town

 

tomorrow, and it's very important that I--damn it, that I reach

 

this girl right now.

 

MANAGER:

 

You don't know whether you're gonna leave town or not?

 

CURT:

 

Well, I'm supposed to go to college back East tomorrow. And I

 

don't know if I'm gonna go.

 

MANAGER:

 

Wait a minute. Have a popsicle.

 

CURT:

 

No, thank you.

 

MANAGER:

 

Sit down a minute.

 

Curt sits down, undecided about leaving and upset about not being

 

able to get in touch with the lovely creature he saw earlier that

 

night.

 

MANAGER:

 

Listen, it's early in the morning. Now, I can't really talk for

 

the Wolfman. But I think if he was here he'd tell you to get your

 

ass in gear. Now, no offense to your home town here, but this

 

place ain't exactly the hub of the universe, if you know what I

 

mean. And well--I'll tell you this much--the Wolfman does come in

 

here now and then, with tapes, to check up on me, you know, and

 

when I hear the stories he got about the places he goes. Hell,

 

here I sit while there's a big beautiful world out there, don't

 

ya know. Wolfman comes in last time talking about some exotic

 

jungle country, handing me cigars he says was rolled on the naked

 

thighs of brown beauties. The Wolfman been everywhere and he seen

 

everything. He got so many stories, so many memories. And here I

 

sit sucking on popsicles.

 

Curt looks at him a moment.

 

CURT:

 

Why don't you leave?

 

MANAGER:

 

Well, I'm no kid anymore. I been here a long time. And the

 

Wolfman--well, the Wolfman gave me my start and he's sorta become

 

my life. I can't leave him now. Gotta be loyal to the Wolfman,

 

you understand.

 

Curt nods and stands. The manager swivels around and punches some

 

buttons, putting on a commercial.

 

He turns back.

 

MANAGER:

 

I tell you what. If I can possibly do it tonight, I'll try to

 

relay this dedication and get it on the air for you later on.

 

CURT:

 

That'd be great. Thanks. Really.

 

He shakes the manager's hand, then wipes it on his pants.

 

MANAGER:

 

Sorry, sticky little mothers ain't they? Bye.

 

CURT:

 

'Bye.

 

Curt goes out the door. He starts back out through the maze of

 

windows and electronic machines. Echoing throughout the rooms,

 

the Wolfman's raucous voice follows Curt. The Wolfman howls and

 

Curt turns.

 

Through the maze of glass, shifting like prisms, he sees the

 

station manager sitting by the mike--howling! Then, he laughs and

 

howls again, starting to sing a song called "Bluebirds on My

 

Dingaling," pounding out the rhythm on the console.

 

CURT:

 

Wolfman...

 

He backs away, leaving the Wolfman, who's on his feet now,

 

screaming out the end of the song, dancing by himself in the

 

little glass room, from which his voice radiates out through the

 

night and around the world...

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN

 

John is working under the hood of the deuce coupe when Falfa's

 

Chevy drives into the parking lot. The radio is now blasting

 

"Heart and Soul." Terry moves over toward John's car. John

 

doesn't look up, although he is quite aware of Falfa's entrance.

 

Falfa slows down in front of John's car and revs his engine

 

again. John looks up--Laurie is in the car with Falfa. She looks

 

determined not to seem as scared as she really is.

 

TERRY:

 

Hey, John, let me go with you. Come on.

 

JOHN:

 

Naw, man. I can't take you when I'm racin' somebody.

 

TERRY:

 

Ah, come on. Just let me go. So I can watch. Or, I'll flag you,

 

okay?

 

JOHN:

 

All right. Go ahead.

 

Terry starts to climb into the car. John looks over at Falfa in

 

the rumbling Chevy.

 

JOHN:

 

Paradise Road.

 

Falfa grins and gooses the Chevy, peeling out of Mel's Drive-in.

 

CRUISING MAIN STREET--FALFA'S '55 CHEVY

 

Falfa looks over at Laurie, who is watching the road nervously.

 

FALFA:

 

All right now, where's this Paradise Road?

 

LAURIE:

 

You just follow this street straight out of town. ...Listen, if

 

you're gonna race John Milner, you can let me out right when we

 

get there.

 

FALFA:

 

Why don't you shut up, baby? You ain't said one word all night

 

long. What a weird broad. But you're gonna appreciate me soon.

 

You're gonna be hangin' on for mercy, when I get this sucker

 

rollin'.

 

He accelerates the Chevy, shifting up deftly. Laurie looks scared

 

now.

 

CRUISING 10TH STREET--STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

 

Steve is cruising along the almost deserted streets looking for

 

Laurie. A T-Roadster pulls up alongside and a guy shouts at

 

Steve.

 

DALE:

 

You heading out to Paradise Road?

 

STEVE:

 

Paradise Road, I'm not--

 

DALE:

 

Some guy named Falfa going up against Milner.

 

STEVE:

 

John's racing Falfa?

 

DALE:

 

Yeah. Figured something was up, saw them going out of town real

 

cautious and then--

 

But Steve is gone. Dale looks surprised as the Chevy roars off

 

toward Paradise Road.

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN--PRE-DAWN

 

Curt pulls into the parking lot just as the neon sign goes out.

 

The last cars are leaving as the drive-in shutters up for the

 

night. Curt stops next to the lighted phone booth and sits in his

 

car, listening to the Wolfman.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

I got a dedication here that's for a friend of the Wolfman--a

 

special friend of the Wolfman who's leaving town tomorrow and

 

wants me to play the next song for a blonde young lady in a

 

Thunderbird. A white T-Bird, you understand? Now my friend's

 

named Curt and he wants to talk to you out there, baby. So you

 

meet him at Burger City, or phone Diamond 3132. Now he's a frind

 

of mine, you hear, and, little girl, you better call him, or the

 

Wolfman gonna get you.

 

The Wolfman howls and Curt smiles, leaning his chin on his hand,

 

looking around the dark drive-in, wondering about tomorrow.

 

PARADISE ROAD--DAWN

 

John's '32 yellow deuce coupe and Falfa's black '55 Chevy are

 

waiting side by side on a long, straight country road, their fron

 

wheels resting on a weather-beaten starting line. The sky is

 

getting lighter as the radio plays "Green Onions."

 

There are about six to eight other cars parked off the road to

 

watch the race. Everything is quiet now, only the crickets

 

ingnoring the solemnity of the scene, and still singing. Terry

 

jumps out of John's car, John hands him the flashlight and he

 

takes up a position in front of the two cars.

 

John looks over at Falfa, who's arguing with Laurie.

 

JOHN:

 

Hey--Laurie, what in the hell are you doing in there? Is she

 

gonna ride with you?

 

LAURIE:

 

Mind your own business, John.

 

FALFA:

 

Yeah, she's with me. You worry about yourself, man.

 

TERRY:

 

Everybody ready?

 

John settles back in the driver's seat and postions his hand on

 

the gear-shift, which we see is wrapped with rags because of the

 

missing knob.

 

Both drivers start revvin their engines; the tension builds.

 

Terry looks nervous, the engines start to scream and Terry, his

 

hands shaking on the flashlight, manages to flash it on.

Both cars roar off the starting line, tires smoking and

 

screaming. Terry has his hands over his head and is coughing in a

 

cloud of smoke as they pass. John beats Falfa off the line.

 

Out on the road, as they hit third gear, the cars are almost neck

 

and neck. Inside Falfa's car, Laurie looks scared to death. Falfa

 

looks insane as he tromps it.

 

John hits fourth at about eighty-five. Falfa does likewise--but

 

starts to fish-tail. Laurie closes her eyes, almost crying--Falfa

 

regains control nervously.

 

Falfa's engine is winding out incredibly and he begins to get the

 

edge on John. The cars rocket thorugh the dawn light along the

 

flashing white line until suddenly Falfa's car blows a tire, his

 

front wheel slips off and the car shoots off into a tomato field,

 

hits an irrigation ditch and begins flipping over wildly in a

 

horrifying cloud of dust and smoke--

 

John sees the Chevy leaving the road and screams to a halt,

 

swimming through an unbelievable U-turn and high tailing it back

 

to the crash site. He is out of the car like a bullet, running

 

across the dirty cloddy field. The crash car is beginning to burn

 

in the engine compartment and John is panicked.

 

Meanwhile, the spectators have arrived, including Steve, who

 

jumps from his car and is running across the field.

 

Steve and John arrive at the fire at approximately the same time.

 

They stop, the flames are getting higher, burning up into the

 

trees now. Steve looks around wildly--he sees John and goes at

 

him.

 

STEVE:

 

You stupid sonofabitch, she was in that car! why did you have--

 

He takes a couple of swings at John, who finally manages to

 

tackle him around the waist. They both get up looking at the

 

flaming wreckage. THen John moves around the side, crouching,

 

trying to see past the flames--suddenly, he stands and motions to

 

Steve to come over. They both circle the wreck.

 

Around behind the flaming car Falfa is standing in a state of

 

shock watching the car go up in smoke, while Laurie is circling

 

him, screaming and beating him with her purse.

 

LAURIE:

 

I said I didn't--you lousy greasy jerk! You coulda killed me--

 

what's wrong with you. You clubfoot...

 

She beats at him, crying hysterically. Steve runs over and grabs

 

her, pulling her away. She fights at Steve, too, not knowing

 

what's going on.

 

LAURIE:

 

No, no, no. Please, don't come near me. No, please. I think I'm

 

gonna be sick. Oh, Steven.

 

STEVE:

 

Laurie, please.

 

Standing in the early light, Steve holds her. She throws her

 

arms around him as the crowd develops along the irrigation ditch

 

to watch the flaming car.

 

LAURIE:

 

Oh, Steven! Oh, Steven, please, don't leave me. Don't leave me,

 

Steven.

 

STEVE:

 

I won't.

 

LAURIE:

 

I couldn't bear it.

 

STEVE:

 

I won't.

 

LAURIE:

 

Please.

 

STEVE:

 

Believe me.

 

John looks at Falfa who's shaking his head, watching the car

 

dissolve.

 

JOHN:

 

Come on, before she blows.

 

He pulls him off by the neck of the shirt and when they're a few

 

yards off, Falfa's '55 Chevy does blow--exploding like a small A-

 

bomb, blowing it into Modesto history.

 

Back on the road, John is heading toward his car, its engine

 

still running, its door open. Terry runs up, trotting alongside

 

John like a puppy.

 

TERRY:

 

Jeez, did you show him! He'll probably never even get in a car

 

again.

 

JOHN:

 

He was faster.

 

TERRY:

 

It was beautiful, John. Just beauti--what?

 

John stops by the open door of the duece coupe. Terry stares at

 

him and squints against the rising sun.

 

JOHN:

 

I was losin', man.

 

TERRY:

 

What?

 

JOHN:

 

He had me, man. He was pullin' away from me just before he

 

crashed.

 

TERRY:

 

You're crazy.

 

JOHN:

 

You saw it.

 

TERRY:

 

No, you creamed him, from right off the line. The guy never had a

 

chance.

 

JOHN:

 

Shit, Toad. The man had me. He was beating me.

 

TERRY:

 

John, I don't know what you're talking about. It was the most

 

beautiful thing I've ever seen. That guy, he might as well get a

 

wheelchair and roll himself home. Man, you got...you got the

 

bitchinist car in the Valley. You'll always be number one, John.

 

You're the greatest.

 

John nods, then looks up at Terry. His face is glowing, his

 

glasses are smashed and his lip is swollen. John smiles.

 

JOHN:

 

Look at your glasses, man. (shaking his head) Okay, Toad. We'll

 

take 'em all.

 

TERRY (grinning)

 

Right.

 

JOHN:

 

We'll take em...let's get out of here.

 

John climbs in the car. Terry yawns and shakes his head.

 

TERRY:

 

Jesus, what a night.

 

He climbs in too, and the deuce coupe drives off slowly as the

 

sun rises over the ploughed fields and on the radio we hear "Only

 

You."

 

MEL'S DRIVE-IN-DAWN-CITROEN

 

Curt sleeps in the little car as the sky grows lighter over the

 

empty parking lot. The phone is ringing in the booth. It

 

continues to ring. Finally Curt becomes aware of it and opens his

 

eyes. It takes him a moment to remember. Then, panicked, he jumps

 

from the car and rushes to the booth. CURT

 

Hello, hello, hello!

 

A soft sexy female voice is on the other end of the line.

 

VOICE (over)

 

Curt?

 

CURT:

 

Yeah...this is Curt, who is this?

 

VOICE:

 

Who were you expecting?

 

CURT:

 

Do you drive a white T-Bird?

 

VOICE:

 

A white '56. I saw you on Third Street.

 

CURT:

 

You know me.

 

VOICE:

 

Of course!

 

CURT:

 

Who are you? How do you know me?

 

VOICE:

 

It's not important.

 

CURT (excitedly)

 

It's important to me. You're the most perfect, beautiful creature

 

I've ever seen and I don't know anything about you. Could we meet

 

someplace?

 

VOICE:

 

I cruise Third Street every night. Maybe I'll see you again

 

tonight.

 

CURT:

 

No...I don't think so.

 

VOICE:

 

Why?

 

CURT:

 

I'm leaving...in a couple of hours. Where are you from?

 

VOICE:

 

Curt...

 

CURT:

 

What's your name? At least tell me your name?

 

VOICE:

 

Goodbye, Curt.

 

CURT:

 

Wait a second! Wait a second!

 

But there's a click as she hangs up. Curt looks at the phone a

 

moment, then also hangs up. From the car radio, he hears the

 

Wolfman making kissing noises.

 

WOLFMAN (voice over)

 

Little kiss on your ear. Good night, sweetheart. I'll see you

 

later.

 

And then the Spaniels duh-duh-duh-duh-duh into "Goodnight

 

Sweetheart."

 

AIRPORT DAY:

 

A DC-3 prop airliner is warming up its engines as it waits to

 

take off from a small country airport. There aren't too many

 

people around. Just Curt and his friends and family seeing him

 

off. Curt stands with a kindly-looking couple in their fifties.

 

He hugs his mother and shakes hands with his dad.

 

Then, Curt moves to his friends. He shakes Steve's hand.

 

STEVE:

 

Good luck.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah, same to you. And I better see you there next year.

 

STEVE:

 

Oh yeah, I'll be there.

 

CURT:

 

Sure.

 

Curt hugs his sister. Laurie holds on to him for a moment. CURT

 

See ya later.

 

LAURIE:

 

'Bye 'bye, Curt.

 

Curt goes to Terry and John.

 

CURT:

 

So long, guys.

 

TERRY:

 

Well, stay cool, man.

 

CURT:

 

Yeah.

 

TERRY:

 

Ah--don't do anything I wouldn't do.

 

Curt smiles at Terry, who has a bandage on his forehead. Curt

 

looks at John and they don't seem to know what to say. Finally,

 

John gives Curt a little slap on the cheek.

 

CURT:

 

I'll see ya, buddy.

 

JOHN:

 

I know, you probably think you're a big shot, goin' off like

 

this--but you're still a punk.

 

CURT:

 

Okay, John. So long.

 

He walks toward the plane and they all wave. He looks around as

 

he goes up the steps carrying a small bag and a portable radio.

 

The stewardess smiles as he passes her. Above the door of the

 

plane it reads RADAR EQUIPPED. Curt looks back again, then goes

 

inside

 

The plane takes off down the runway and then climbs up into the

 

sky.

 

INSIDE THE PLANE

 

Curt listens to the radio as the plane takes off. It's playing

 

"Goodnight Sweetheart." As the plane climbs and banks over the

 

valley, the music fades and the station drifts between static and

 

other stations...and then it's gone. Curt turns off the radio and

 

looks out the window.

 

As the plane banks, through the window Curt sees the white

 

Thunderbird crossing beneath on the small grey ribbon of highway.

 

Curt watches it. Then the plane's shadow ripples over the car and

 

it, too, is gone.

 

THE BLUE SKY:

 

As the plane flies off against the blue sky we see cameos of Curt

 

and his friends -

 

John Milner was killed by a drunk driver in December 1964

 

Terry Fields was reported missing in action near An Loc in

 

December 1965

 

Steve Bolander is an insurance agent in Modesto, California

 

Curt Henderson is a writer living in Canada