"O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU"

By

Ethan Coen and Joel Coen

BLACK

In black, we hear a chain-gang chant, many voices together,
spaced around the unison strike of picks against rock. A
title burns in:

O muse!
Sing in me, and through me tell the story
Of that man skilled in all the ways of contending...
A wanderer, harried for years on end...

On the sound of an impact we cut to:

A PICK

splitting a rock.

As the chant continues, wider angles show the chain-gang at
work. They are black men in bleached and faded stripes,
chained together, working under a brutal midday sun.

It is flat delta countryside; the straight-ruled road
stretches to infinity. Mounted guards with shotguns lazily
patrol the line.

The chain-gang chant is regular and, it seems, timeless.

We slowly fade out, returning to

BLACK

The last of the voices fades.

After a long beat we hear the guitar introduction to Harry
McClintock's 'The Big Rock Candy Mountain.'

A WHEAT FIELD

A road cuts across the middle background. Noonday sun beats
down.

We hear the distant picks and shovels of men at work and
see, rising above ground level, the occasional upraised pick
and spade heaving dirt. Men are digging a ditch alongside
the road.

After a long beat, three men pop up in the wheat field in
the middle foreground. They wear faded stripes and grey duck-
billed caps. They scurry abreast toward the camera, throwing
an occasional glance back at the ditch-diggers. A clanking
sound accompanies their run. Oddly, the wheat between them
sweeps down as they run. After a brief sprint they drop back
down into the wheat.

In the background a man enters frame left, strolling along
the road, wearing a khaki uniform and sunglasses, a shotgun
resting against one shoulder. He glances idly down into the
ditch and strolls on out of frame right.

The three men rise back up from the wheat and, clanking,
resume their sprint.

THREE PAIRS OF EYES

They are topped by three cap bills, and peer out from behind
a blind of greenery. We hear distant whistling.

The men are looking at a weathered barn. A young boy,
whistling, is heading down the road that leads away from the
barn, jiggling the traces of the old plough horse that leads
him. He turns a corner and is gone.

BARNYARD

The three clanking men (we can now see their leg irons) are
awkwardly chasing a chicken around the yard. The squawking
yardbird doesn't need to move much to elude the three bunched
men.

COUNTRY LANE

It curves in a gentle S into the background. It is sun-
dappled, pretty.

We hear clanking footsteps approaching at a trot.

The three men enter in the foreground and trot on down the
lane. The leftmost has a flapping chicken tucked under one
arm.

AFTERNOON CAMPFIRE

The three men sit in a side-by-side arc around a dying fire,
one of them contentedly picking his teeth with a small chicken
bone, another wiping grease off his chin with a sleeve, the
third idly poking at the fire with a spit.

Each of them, still bound by chains, clinks as he moves.

One of them abruptly cocks his head, listening.

The others notice his attitude and also freeze, listening.

We hear the distant baying of hounds.

ROLLING HILLS

From high on a ridge we see the three chained men running
toward us.

In addition to their clanks we hear a distant chugging sound.

TRACKING

Laterally with the clanking, running feet.

The chugging sound is very loud.

RUNNING

Next to a freight train. A boxcar door is open.

INSIDE THE BOXCAR

The lead convict hooks an elbow in and starts hauling himself
up, his two clanking friends keeping pace outside.

Six hobos sit in the boxcar, lounging against sacks of
O'Daniel's Flour. They impassively watch the convict clamber
in as his two confederates run to keep up.

The convict hauls himself to his feet. In spite of his stubble
he has carefully tended hair and a pencil mustache. He is
Everett.

As he dusts himself off:

EVERETT
Say, uh, any a you boys smithies?

The hobos stare.

Everett gives an ingratiating smile as, behind him, the second
convict starts to haul himself into the boxcar, the third
convict still keeping pace outside.

EVERETT
Or, if not smithies per se, were you
otherwise trained in the metallurgic
arts before straitened circumstances
forced you into a life of aimless
wanderin'?

The convict running outside the boxcar door stumbles and
disappears and the middle convict is yanked out immediately
after. Everett, just finishing his speech, flips forward in
turn, smashes his chin onto the floor and is sucked out the
open doorway, his clawing fingernails leaving parallel grooves
on the boxcar floorboards.

The hobos impassively watch.

OUTSIDE

The three men tumble, clanking, down the track embankment.

Squush - they come to a rest in swampland at the bottom.

They shake their heads clear, then rise to their feet in the
muck and watch the train recede.

Its fading clatter leaves the baying of hounds.

EVERETT
Jesus - can't I count on you people?

The second con is Delmar.

DELMAR
Sorry, Everett.

Everett looks desperately about.

EVERETT
All right - if we take off through
that bayou-

The third con, Pete, bald but also with beard stubble, angrily
cuts in.

PETE
Wait a minute! Who elected you leader
a this outfit?

EVERETT
Well, Pete, I just figured it should
be the one with capacity for abstract
thought. But if that ain't the
consensus view, hell, let's put her
to a vote!

PETE
Suits me! I'm votin' for yours truly!

EVERETT
Well I'm votin' for yours truly too!

Both men look interrogatively to Delmar.

He looks from Pete to Everett, and nods agreeably.

DELMAR
Okay - I'm with you fellas.

Everett makes a sudden hushing gesture and all listen.

The baying of hounds is louder now, but through it we hear a
distant scrape of metal against metal, like the workings of
a rusty pump. The men turn in unison to look up the track.

A small, distant form is moving slowly up the track toward
them.

As it draws closer it resolves into a human-propelled flatcar.
An ancient black man rhythmically pumps its long seesaw
handle.

The three convicts look out at the swampland which begins to
show movement, the bowing grass trampled by men and dogs.

The flatcar draws even and slows.

EVERETT
Mind if we join you, ol' timer?

OLD MAN
Join me, my sons.

The three men clamber aboard and the old man resumes pumping.

The three men exchange glances; Delmar waves a clanking hand
before the old man's milky eyes. No reaction.

DELMAR
You work for the railroad, grandpa?

OLD MAN
I work for no man.

PETE
Got a name, do ya?

OLD MAN
I have no name.

EVERETT
Well, that right there may be why
you've had difficulty finding gainful
employment. Ya see, in the mart of
competitive commerce, the-

OLD MAN
You seek a great fortune, you three
who are now in chains...

The men fall silent.

OLD MAN
And you will find a fortune - though
it will not be the fortune you seek...

The three convicts, faces upturned, listen raptly to the
blind prophet.

OLD MAN
...But first, first you must travel
a long and difficult road - a road
fraught with peril, uh-huh, and
pregnant with adventure. You shall
see things wonderful to tell. You
shall see a cow on the roof of a
cottonhouse, uh-huh, and oh, so many
startlements...

The cloudy eyes of the old man stare sightlessly down the
track as the seesaw handle rises and falls through frame.

OLD MAN
...I cannot say how long this road
shall be. But fear not the obstacles
in your path, for Fate has vouchsafed
your reward.  And though the road
may wind, and yea, your hearts grow
weary, still shall ye foller the
way, even unto your salvation.

The old man pumps - reek-a reek-a reek-a - as all contemplate
his words.

Loud and sudden:

OLD MAN
IZZAT CLEAR?

The men start, then mumble polite acknowledgement.

The railroad tracks wind to the setting sun. Reek-a reek-a
reek-a - the flatcar rolls, in wide shot, toward the golden
horizon.

FADE OUT

DAY

A hot dusty road leading up to a lone farmhouse.

The three men walk, clanking and abreast.

DELMAR
How'd he know about the treasure?

EVERETT
Don't know, Delmar-though the blind
are reputed to possess sensitivities
compensatin' for their lack of sight,
even to the point of developing para-
normal psychic powers. Now clearly,
seein' the future would fall neatly
into that ka-taggery. It's not so
surprising, then, if an organism
deprived of earthly vision-

PETE
He said we wouldn't get it! He said
we wouldn't get the treasure we seek!

Everett grows testy:

EVERETT
Well what does he know - he's an
ignorant old man! Jesus, Pete, I'm
telling you I buried it myself, and
if your cousin still runs this-here
horse farm and has a forge and some
shoein' impediments to restore our
liberty of movement-

Bang! A rifle shot kicks up dust in front of the men.

CHILD'S VOICE
Hold it rah chair!

The front of the farm house shows only a harshly shaded front
porch and a dark screen door.

The screen door swings open and a child emerges on to the
porch and steps down into the sunlight, holding a gun almost
bigger than he is. The grimy-faced boy, about eight years
old, wears tattered overalls.

CHILD
You men from the bank?

PETE
You Wash's boy?

CHILD
Yassir! And Daddy tolt me I'm to
shoot whosoever from the bank!

He pokes his rifle at the three men, who raise their hands.

DELMAR
Well, we ain't from no bank, young
feller.

CHILD
Yassir! I'm also suppose to shoot
folks servin' papers!

DELMAR
Well we ain't got no papers.

CHILD
Yassir! I nicked the census man!

DELMAR
There's a good boy. Is your daddy
about?

THE BACK OF THE HOUSE

Wash Hogwallop, a sour-looking bald man, sits near a rusted
bathtub in a yard littered with ancient car parts and farm
implements overgrown with weeds. He is whittling artlessly
at a stick.

He glances up as the three convicts clank around the corner,
then returns to his whittling.

WASH
'Lo, Pete. Hooor yer friends?

EVERETT
Pleased to make your acquaintance,
Mister Hogwallop. M'name's Ulysses
Everett McGill.

DELMAR
'N I'm Delmar O'Donnell.

PETE
How ya been, Wash? Been what, twelve,
thirteen year'n?

Still looking sourly at his whittling:

WASH
You've grown chatty.

He tosses the stick aside and sighs.

WASH
I expect you'll want them chains
knocked off.

THE HOGWALLOP KITCHEN

The four men and little boy sit around the kitchen table
eating stew. A Sears Roebuck catalogue on the boy's chair
brings him to table height. The cons are now rid of their
chains and are dressed in ill-fitting farmer's wear.

WASH

They foreclosed on Cousin Vester. He hanged himself a year
come May.

PETE
And Uncle Ratliff?

WASH
The anthrax took most of his cows.
The rest don't milk, and he lost a
boy to mumps.

PETE
Where's Cora, Cousin Wash?

Wash glances at the little boy.

WASH
Couldn't say. Mrs. Hogwallop up and
R-U-N-N-O-F-T.

EVERETT
Mm. Must've been lookin' for answers.

WASH
Possibly. Good riddance, far as I'm
concerned...

The three men slurp their stew.

WASH
I do miss her cookin' though.

DELMAR
This stew's awful good.

WASH
Think so?

He sniffs dubiously at his spoon.

WASH
I slaughtered this horse last Tuesday;
'm afraid she's startin' to turn.

LIVING ROOM

Later. The four men sit about listening to a big box radio.
Wash is whittling once again; Everett dips his comb into a
pomade jar and carefully works on his hair; Pete is digging
around with a toothpick; Delmar dreamily waves one hand in
time to the music.

The music ends.

ANNOUNCER
Well, that's the last number for
tonight's 'Pass the Biscuits Pappy
O'Daniel Flour Hour.' This is Pappy
O'Daniel, hopin' you folks been
enjoyin' that good old-timey music,
and remember, when you're fixin' to
fry up some flapjacks or bake a mess
a biscuits, use cool clear water and
good pure Pappy O'Daniel flour for
that 'Pass the Biscuits, Pappy'
flavor.  So tune in next week folks,
and till then whyncha turn to your
better half and sing along with Pappy:
'You are my sunshine, my only
sunshine...'

Everett clears his throat.

EVERETT
Well, guess I'll be turning in...

He screws the lid back on the pomade.

EVERETT
Say, Cousin Wash, I guess it'd be
the acme of foolishness to inquire
if you had a hairnet.

WASH
Got a bunch in yon byurra.  Mrs.
Hogwallop's, matter of fact.
Hepyaseff; I won't be needin' 'em.

THE THREE MEN

Sleeping in a hayloft. Everett wears a hairnet over his
painstakingly arranged hair.

Pete snores on the inhale. Delmar whistles on the exhale.

A spotlight plays over the hayloft ceiling and a voice booms:

BULLHORN VOICE
All right boys, itsy authorities.

The three men rouse themselves.

BULLHORN VOICE
We gotcha surrounded. Just come on
out grabbin' air!

Everett shrugs his shoulders and peeks down into the barnyard.

EVERETT
Damn! We're in a tight spot!

From high we see a foreshortened lawman holding a bullhorn
surrounded by armed deputies.

Next to the man with the bullhorn, a tin-starred sheriff
watches impassively through mirrored sunglasses, a bloodhound
drooling at his side.

MAN WITH BULLHORN
And don't try nothin' fancy - your
sitchy-ation is purt nigh hopeless.

DELMAR
What inna Sam Hill...?

EVERETT
Pete's cousin turned us in for the
bounty!

PETE
The hell you say! Wash is kin!

An unamplified voice echoes up from the yard:

VOICE
Sorry Pete! I know we're kin! But
they got this Depression on, and I
gotta do fer me and mine!

Pete screams down from the hayport:

PETE
I'M GONNA KILL YOU, JUDAS ISCARIOT
HOGWALLOP! YOU MIS'ABLE HOSS-EATIN'
SONOFABITCH! YOU-

RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT- Everett pulls Pete down as a tommy gun spits
lead into the hayloft.

EVERETT
Damn! We're in a tight spot!

Pete is enraged:

PETE
Damn his eyes! Pa always said never
trust a Hogwallop-COME'N GET US,
COPPERS!

BULLHORN VOICE
So be it! You boys're leavin' us no
choice but to smoke you out.

EVERETT
Oh no! Lord have mercy!

Men approach the barn with torches.

DELMAR
What do we do now, Everett?

EVERETT
Fire! I hate fire!

PETE
YOU LOUSY TIN-WEARIN' MOTHERLESS
BARNBURNIN' COCKROACHES-

Everett cuts in, his voice breaking:

EVERETT
NOW HOLD ON, BOYS-AINTCHA EVER HEARD
OF A NEGOTIATION? MAYBE WE CAN TALK
THIS THING OUT!

DELMAR
Yeah, let's negotiate 'em, Everett.

The hayloft is filling with smoke. Flames lick downstairs.

PETE
YOU LOUSY YELLA-BELLIED LOW-DOWN
SKUNKS-

EVERETT
Now hold on, Pete, we gotta speak
with one voice here - CAREFUL WITH
THAT FIRE NOW, BOYS!

Pete grabs a flaming faggot and hurls it down at the deputized
congregation.

It lands harmlessly in some scattered straw.

BULLHORN VOICE
You choose it, boys - the prison
farm or the pearly gates!

The straw curls, lights, and the fire scuttles over to a
parked Black Maria.

With a loud airy WHOOOF! the undercarriage of the police van
pops into flame.

The man with the bullhorn sees it.

MAN WITH BULLHORN
Holy Saint Christopher - OUTA THAT
VEHICLE, CHAMP, SHE'S LICKIN' FAR!

Tommy guns are stored in the back of the van. The drum of
one starts spinning.

Flames lick up the outside of the van as - chinka-chinka-
chinka - bullet holes walk across the body.

MAN WITH BULLHORN
Take cover, boys, THAT AIN'T POPCORN!

Yelling men scurry away.

The vehicle rocks and chatters under the force of the many
tommy guns now firing inside. Tires pop, hiss and settle;
doors pop open; glass shatters.

VOICES
Who's that?

An oncoming car is bouncing crazily across the yard, horn
blaring. Deputies leap out of its path.

The car shoots past the chattering van which still bucks and
bounces on its shocks, its interior strobing and flashing as
if filled with trapped lightning.

The speeding car heads directly for the flaming barn door
and crashes through in a shower of sparks.

The car brakes inside the barn and the driver's door flies
open. The little Hogwallop boy yells over the roar of the
flames:

BOY
Come on, boys! I'm gonna R-U-N-N-O-F-
T!

Pete, Everett and Delmar pile in.

DELMAR
You should be in bed, little fella.

The doors slam shut and the boy grinds into gear. He has
wood blocks strapped to his feet so that he can reach
accelerator, brake and clutch. He sits on a Sears Roebuck
catalogue to give him a view over the dash.

BOY
You ain't the boss a me!

The car speeds for the far wall, sheeted in flame, and bursts
through.

COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

The little Hogwallop boy walks away in long shot down the
middle of the empty road. His walk is unsteady, the wood
blocks still strapped to his feet.

He turns to face us and hollers:

BOY
You candy-butted car-thievin' so's
'n so's! I curse yer names!

Pete enters in the foreground and throws a dirt clod at the
boy. It lands shy as Pete yells:

PETE
Go back home'n mind yer pa!

We pan Pete over to the shoulder where the car is stopped,
its hood propped open. Everett and Delmar are looking at the
engine.

PETE
What's the damn problem?

DRYGOODS STORE

The proprietor is a bespectacled middle-aged man wearing
sleeve garters and a visor. Behind him are stacked, among
other necessaries, sacks of O'Daniel Flour. He pushes a small
tin across the counter.

PROPRIETOR
I can get the part from Bristol;
it'll take two weeks. Here's your
pomade.

Everett is stunned.

EVERETT
Two weeks! That don't do me no good!

PROPRIETOR
Nearest Ford auto man's Bristol.

Everett picks up the tin.

EVERETT
Hold on there - I don't want this
pomade, I want Dapper Dan.

PROPRIETOR
I don't carry Dapper Dan. I carry
Fop.

EVERETT
No! I don't want Fop! Goddamnit - I
use Dapper Dan!

PROPRIETOR
Watch your language, young fellow,
this is a public market. Now, if you
want Dapper Dan I can order it for
you, have it in a couple of weeks.

EVERETT
Well, ain't this place a geographical
oddity-two weeks from everywhere!
Forget it! Just the dozen hairnets!

PETE AND DELMAR

On a wooded hillside. They sit at a twig fire, roasting a
small creature on a spit.

EVERETT (O.S.)
It didn't look like a one-horse
town...

He stalks into frame and plops disgustedly down by the fire.

EVERETT
...but try getting a decent hair
jelly.

DELMAR
Gopher, Everett?

EVERETT
And no transmission belt for two
weeks neither.

PETE
Huh?! They dam that river on the
21st.  Today's the 17th!

EVERETT
Don't I know it.

PETE
We got but four days to get to that
treasure! After that, it'll be at
the bottom of a lake!

He grimly shakes his head.

PETE
We ain't gonna make it walkin'.

DELMAR
Gopher, Everett?

Everett has taken out a can of near-empty Dapper Dan. He
scrapes the last of it onto his comb and starts combing his
hair.

We hear distant singing - one lone tenor voice.

EVERETT
Well, you're right there, but the
ol' tactician's already got a plan-

Everett fishes a gold watch from his pocket and tosses it to
Pete.

EVERETT
-for the transportation, that is; I
don't know how I'm gonna keep my
coiffure in order.

Pete looks at the watch, puzzled.

PETE
How's this a plan? How're we gonna
get a car?

EVERETT
Sell that. I figured it could only
have painful associations for Wash.

Pete pops the front and reads the inscription.

PETE
To Washington Bartholomew Hogwallop.
From his loving Cora. Ay-More Fie-
dellis.

EVERETT
It was in his bureau.

He screws the lid back on the pomade.

Delmar whistles appreciatively.

DELMAR
You got light fingers, Everett.
Gopher?

PETE
You mis'able little sneak thief...

He lurches threateningly to his feet.

PETE
You stole from my kin!

Everett scrambles up.

EVERETT
Who was fixing to betray us!

PETE
You didn't know that at the time!

EVERETT
So I borrowed it till I did know!

PETE
That don't make no sense!

EVERETT
Pete, it's a fool looks for logic in
the chambers of the human heart.
What the hell's that singing?

We can make out the words now, sung by the lone tenor.

VOICE
Oh Brothers, let's go down, come on
down, don't you wanna go down...

People in white robes are drifting down the hill, through
the woods behind the campsite. They join in with the lead
voice:

VOICES
Oh Brothers, let's go down, down to
the river to pray...

Delmar gazes wonderingly at the white-robed figures as he
answers Everett:

DELMAR
Appears to be... some kinda... con-
gur-gation. Care for some gopher?

Everett too watches the white-robed people following in the
wake of the tenor. He answers absently:

EVERETT
No, thank you Delmar - a third of a
gopher would only rouse my appetite
without beddin' her back down.

There are more and more white robes drifting through the
woods, all of them strangely oblivious to the three men.

DELMAR
You can have the whole thing - me'n
Pete already had one...

There is an endless stream now, drifting through the
foreground, the background, the campsite itself.

VOICES
Oh, sisters, let's go down, come on
down, don't you want to go down...

DELMAR
We ran acrost a gopher village...

The drifting worshipers wear beatific expressions. One only,
a middle-aged woman, notices the three convicts around whom
the rest of the flock blindly drifts. She calls to them:

WOMAN
Come with us, brothers! Join us and
be saved!

THE RIVER

White robes stream down the hill, out of the woods, and down
the riverbank. The voices swell in a great chorus:

VOICES
We went down to the river one day,
Studying about that good old way,
And who shall wear that robe and
crown, Oh Lord, show us the way...

We are booming down to reveal a minister in the foreground.
He stands belly-deep in the river, easing a white-robed man
back-down into the water. Behind him a line of robed singers
lengthens steadily as people stream out of the woods.

Pete, Delmar and Everett emerge from the woods and gaze down
at the river. White-robed people continue to drift past them.

EVERETT
I guess hard times flush the chumps.
Everybody's lookin' for answers, and
there's always-

Delmar wades out into the stream, cutting in line.

EVERETT
Where the hell's he goin'?

Delmar has reached the minister and holds his nose as the
minister incantates over him and lowers him into the water.

PETE
Well, I'll be a sonofabitch. Delmar's
been saved!

EVERETT
Pete, don't be ignorant-

Delmar is slogging back through the water.

DELMAR
Well that's it boys, I been redeemed!
The preacher warshed away all my
sins and transgressions. It's the
straight-and-narrow from here on out
and heaven everlasting's my reward!

EVERETT
Delmar what the hell are you talking
about? - We got bigger fish to fry-

DELMAR
Preacher said my sins are warshed
away, including that Piggly Wiggly I
knocked over in Yazoo!

EVERETT
I thought you said you were innocent
a those charges.

DELMAR
Well I was lyin' - and I'm proud to
say that that sin's been warshed
away too!  Neither God nor man's got
nothin' on me now! Come on in, boys,
the water's fine!

LATER

The smoldering twig fire. A bloodhound on a leash circles
into frame, its tail fiercely wagging.

We follow it as, nose to the ground and straining against
its leash, it waddles over to an empty tin of Dapper Dan
pomade.

A VOICE
All tight, boys! We got the scent!

A CAR

Everett drives, shaking his head with a forebearing smile.
Pete, sitting next to him, and Delmar, in back, are both
dripping wet.

Pete is sullen:

PETE
The preacher said it absolved us.

EVERETT
For him, not for the law! I'm
surprised at you, Pete. Hell, I gave
you credit for more brains than
Delmar.

DELMAR
But there were witnesses, saw us
redeemed!

EVERETT
That's not the issue, Delmar. Even
if it did put you square with the
Lord, the State of Mississippi is
more hardnosed.

DELMAR
You should a joined us, Everett. It
couldn't a hurt none.

PETE
Hell, at least it woulda washed away
the stink of that pomade.

EVERETT
Join you two ignorant fools in a
ridiculous superstition? Thank you
anyway.  And I like the smell of my
hair treatment - the pleasing odor
is half the point.

He shakes his head and laughs.

EVERETT
Baptism. You two are just dumber'n a
bag of hammers. Well, I guess you're
my cross to bear-

DELMAR
Pull over, Everett - let's give that
colored boy a lift.

A thirtyish black man in worn go-to-meetin' clothes stands
on the shoulder, waggling his thumb at the passing car. He
grabs his battered guitar case as the car pulls over and
trots up to the open window.

HITCHHIKER
You folks goin' through Tishamingo?

Delmar pushes open the back door.

DELMAR
Sure, hop in.

Everett looks at the man in the rearview mirror as he pulls
out.

EVERETT
How ya doin', boy? Name's Everett,
and these two soggy sonsabitches are
Pete and Delmar. Keep your fingers
away from Pete's mouth-he ain't had
nothin' to eat for the last thirteen
years but prison food, gopher, and a
little greasy horse.

HITCHHIKER
Thank you fuh the lif', suh. M'names
Tommy. Tommy Johnson.

Delmar is genuinely friendly:

DELMAR
How ya doin', Tommy. I haven't seen
a house in miles. What're you doin'
out in the middle of nowhere?

Tommy is matter-of-fact:

TOMMY
I had to be at that crossroads las'
midnight to sell mah soul to the
devil.

EVERETT
Well ain't it a small world,
spiritually speakin'! Pete and Delmar
just been baptized and saved! I guess
I'm the only one here who remains
unaffiliated!

DELMAR
This ain't no laughin' matter,
Everett.

EVERETT
What'd the devil give you for your
soul, Tommy?

TOMMY
He taught me to play this guitar
real good.

Delmar is horrified:

DELMAR
Oh, son! For that you traded your
everlastin' soul?!

Tommy shrugs.

TOMMY
I wudden usin' it.

PETE
I always wondered-what's the devil
look like?

EVERETT
Well, of course there's all manner
of lesser imps'n demons, Pete, but
the Great Satan hisself is red and
scaly with a bifurcated tail and
carries a hayfork.

TOMMY
Oh no! No suh! He's white-white as
you folks, with mirrors for eyes an'
a big hollow voice an' allus travels
with a mean old hound.

PETE
And he told you to go to Tishamingo?

TOMMY
No suh, that was mah idea. I heard
they's a man there pays folks money
to sing into a can. They say he pays
extra effen you play real good.

Everett's eyes narrow as he studies the man in the rearview.

EVERETT
How much does he pay?

TISHAMINGO

The car is pulling into the parking lot of a single-story
cement-block building with a hundred-foot antenna and a
handpainted sign:

WEZY
LISTENING AIN'T NEVER BEEN
SO EASY NOR
SO FINE

As the men get out of the car, Everett snaps his suspenders.

EVERETT
All right boys, just follow my lead.

INSIDE

Everett strides up to a portly middle-aged man who wears
dark glasses and holds a white cane.

EVERETT
Who's the honcho around here?

MAN
I am. Hur you?

EVERETT
Well sir, my name is Jordan Rivers
and these here are the Soggy Bottom
Boys outta Cottonelia Mississippi-
Songs of Salvation to Salve the Soul.
We hear you pay good money to sing
into a can.

MAN
Well that all depends. You boys do
Negro songs?

Everett grimaces, thinking.

EVERETT
Sir, we are Negroes. All except our
a-cump- uh, company-accompluh- uh,
the fella that plays the gui-tar.

MAN
Well, I don't record Negro songs.
I'm lookin' for some ol'-timey
material.  Why, people just can't
get enough of it since we started
broadcastin' the 'Pappy O'Daniel
Flour Hour', so thanks for stoppin'
by, but-

EVERETT
Sir, the Soggy Bottom Boys been
steeped in ol'-timey material. Heck,
you're silly with it, aintcha boys?

PETE
That's right!

DELMAR
That's right! We ain't really Negroes!

PETE
All except fer our a-cump-uh-nust!

THE STUDIO

The three singing convicts form a semi-circle behind Tommy,
who plays his guitar into a can microphone. They are
performing a hot and harmonized version of 'Man of Constant
Sorrow'.

When they finish Everett whoops and slaps Tommy on the back.

EVERETT
Hot damn, boy, I almost believe you
did sell your soul to the devil!

MAN
Boys, that was some mighty fine
pickin' and singin'. You just sign
these papers and I'll give you ten
dollars apiece.

EVERETT
Okay sir, but Mert and Aloysius'll
have to scratch Xes - only four of
us can write.

THE LOT

A caravan of two oversize cars is pulling into the lot just
as Tommy and the three convicts burst out of the station
door, whooping it up.

A sixty-year-old man in enormous seersucker pants held up by
suspenders and the outward pressure of a blooming belly is
getting out of the first car. His face is familiar from
countless sacks of Pass the Biscuits Pappy O'Daniel Flour.

Delmar waves a fistful of money at him.

DELMAR
Hey mister! I don't mean to be tellin'
tales out a school, but there's a
man in there hands out ten dollars
to anyone sings into his can!

PAPPY
I'm not here to make a record, ya
dumb cracker, they broadcast me out
on the radio.

A big shambling man of about thirty has followed him out of
the car. He has the sloping shoulders, the pasty skin, and
the aimlessly bobbing head of an intellectual flyweight.

JUNIOR
That's Governor Menelaus 'Pass the
Biscuits, Pappy' O'Daniel, and he'd
sure 'preciate it if you ate his
farina and voted him a second term.

Two other members of the retinue, older men whose girth rivals
the governor's, are Eckard and Spivey.

ECKARD
Finest governor we've ever had in
M'sippi.

SPIVEY
In any state.

ECKARD
Oh Lord yes, any parish'r precinct;
I was makin' the larger point.

As Pappy brushes by them, Junior wheedles:

JUNIOR
Aintcha gonna press the flesh, Pappy,
do a little politickin'?

Pappy slaps at the young man with his hat.

PAPPY
I'll press your flesh, you dimwitted
sonofabitch - you don't tell your
pappy how to cawt the elect 'rate!

Pappy waves his hat at the radio building as singers in faux
hillbilly outfits with various musical instrument cases get
out of the second car.

PAPPY
We ain't one-at-a-timin' here, we
mass communicatin'!

ECKARD
Oh, yes, assa parful new force.

SPIVEY
Mm-mm.

The men head for the station, with Junior lagging.

PAPPY
Shake a leg, Junior! Thank God your
mama died givin' birth-if she'd a
seen ya she'd a died of shame...

A CAMPFIRE

It is night.

Tommy sits in the background, playing and singing a slow
blues. The three convicts, holding coffee cups, gaze into
the fire.

Over the dreamy song:

DELMAR
Why don't we bed down out here
tonight?

PETE
Yeah, it stinks in that ol' barn.

EVERETT
Suits me...

He stretches out.

EVERETT
Pretty soon it'll be nothin' but
feather beds'n silk sheets.

Pete swishes his coffee as he stares into the blaze.

PETE
A million dollars.

EVERETT
Million point two.

DELMAR
Five... hunnert... thousand... each.

EVERETT
Four hundred, Delmar.

DELMAR
Izzat right?

EVERETT
What're you gonna do with your share
of the treasure, Pete?

PETE
Go out west somewhere, open a fine
restaurant. I'm gonna be the maider
dee.  Greet all the swells, go to
work ever' day in a bowtie and tuxedo,
an' all the staff'll all say Yassir
and Nawsir and in a Jiffy Pete...

He gives his coffee a thoughtful swish and murmurs:

PETE
An' all my meals for free...

EVERETT
What about you, Delmar? What're you
gonna do with your share a that dough?

DELMAR
Visit those foreclosin' sonofaguns
down at the Indianola Savings and
Loan and slap that cash down on the
barrelhead and buy back the family
farm. Hell, you ain't no kind of man
if you ain't got land.

PETE
What about you, Everett? What'd you
have in mind when you stoled it in
the first place?

EVERETT
Me? Oh, I didn't have no plan. Still
don't, really.

PETE
Well that hardly sounds like you...

A distant Voice:

VOICE
All right, boys, itsy authorities!

The three men tense up. Tommy stops singing.

VOICE
Your sitchy-ation is purt nigh
hopeless!

Pete shovels dirt onto the fire as Delmar and Everett scramble
to peek over a low ridge.

Their point-of-view shows a lone barn with their car parked
to one side. Various police vehicles have pulled up facing
the barn, and armed men, their backs to us, train guns on
it, some taking cover on the near side of their parked cars.

EVERETT
Damn! They found our car!

The man with the bullhorn continues, directing his comments
at the distant barn:

MAN
We ain't got the time-and nary
inclination-to gentle you boys no
further!

The three convicts notice the sheriff who once again stands
impassively next to the man with the bullhorn, holding a
leash against which a bloodhound strains.

MAN
It's either the penal farm or the
fires of damnation-makes no nevermind
to me!

The sheriff makes a signal to a man holding a torch, who
skitters up to the barn and lights it.

DELMAR
Damn! We gotta skedaddle!

EVERETT
I left my pomade in that car! Maybe
I can creep up!

DELMAR
Don't be a fool, Everett, we gotta R-
U-N-O-F-F-T, but pronto!

EVERETT
Where's Tommy?

PETE
Already lit out, scared out of his
wits. Let's go!

DAYTIME ROAD

The three men shuffle down the dusty road.

PETE
The hell it ain't square one! Ain't
no one gonna pick up three filthy
unshaved hitchhikers, and one of 'em
a know-it-all that can't keep his
trap shut!

EVERETT
Pete, the personal rancor reflected
in that remark I don't intend to
dignify with comment, but I would
like to address your general attitude
of hopeless negativism. Consider the
lilies a the goddamn field, or-hell!-
take a look at Delmar here as your
paradigm a hope.

DELMAR
Yeah, look at me.

EVERETT
Now you may call it an unreasoning
optimism. You may call it obtuse.
But the plain fact is we still have...
close to... close to...

He loses his drift as all three men turn, reacting to the
sound of an approaching speeding car.

EVERETT
...close to... three days... before
they dam that river...

The car comes into view cornering on two wheels. It crashes
back onto all four and, as it speeds along, dollar bills
snap and flutter out its windows. The car roars up to the
three men as Delmar waggles a hopeful thumb. It screeches to
a halt.

The driver, a young man in a sharp suit with a round, babylike
face, leans over to call through the passenger window.

DRIVER
Is this the road to Itta Bena?

PETE
Uh... Itta Bena...

Delmar plucks a fluttering dollar bill out of the air and
looks at it wonderingly. He holds it stretched between two
hands, brings the two sides together, then gives it an
appraising pop.

EVERETT
Itta Bena, now, uh, that would be...

PETE
Isn't it, uh...

Like a child gazing at soap bubbles, Delmar looks around at
the wafting currency, and yanks another fluttering bill out
of the air.

EVERETT
I'm thinkin' it's uh, you could take
this road to, uh...

There is the sound of a distant siren.

The driver, still patiently leaning over to hear out the two
brainwrackers, shoots a quick look in his rearview mirror.

PETE
...Nah, that ain't right... I'm
thinkin' of...

EVERETT
...I believe, unless I'm very much
mistaken - see, we've been away for
several years, uh...

The driver pushes open the passenger door.

DRIVER
Hop on in while you give it a think.

The three men climb in and the car squeals out.

INT. CAR

The driver shoots a glance up to the rearview mirror as the
sirens grow louder, then gropes inside his coat.

DRIVER
Any a you boys know your way around
a Walther PPK?

DELMAR
Well now, that's where we cain't
help ya. I don't believe it's in
Mississippi.

The man stops withdrawing the gun and appraises his
passengers. Delmar reacts to the paper currency fluttering
inside the car:

DELMAR
Friend, some of your folding money
has come unstowed.

DRIVER
Just stuff it down that sack there.
You boys aren't badmen, I take it?

DELMAR
Well, funny you should ask-I was
bad, till yesterday, but me'n Pete
here been saved. My name's Delmar,
and that there's Everett.

DRIVER
George Nelson. It's a pleasure.

He opens his door and steps onto the running board, giving
Everett a casual:

NELSON
Grab the tiller, will ya buddy?

Everett slides over, startled. George Nelson, now fully
outside and facing the pursuit vehicles, has one hand clamped
on the car roof and waves to Delmar with the other.

NELSON
Hand up that Thompson, Jack.

Delmar gropes in the footwell.

DELMAR
Say, what line of work are you in,
George?

EXT. CAR

Nelson sends a spray of bullets back at the pursuit car.

NELSON
COME AND GET ME, COPPERS! YOU
FLATFOOTED LAMEBRAINED SOFT-ASSED
SONOFABITCHES! NO ONE CAN CATCH ME!
I'M GEORGE NELSON! I'M BIGGER THAN
ANY JOHN LAW EVER LIVED! HA-HA-HA-HA-
HA! I'M TEN-AND-A-HALF FEET TALL AND
AIN'T YET FULLY GROWED!

Nelson fires wildly as the pursuit cars gain on him, returning
fire. He suddenly notices a herd of cattle grazing at the
roadside and murmurs:

NELSON
...cows...

He swings the tommy gun over with a whoop.

NELSON
I hate cows worse than coppers!

He lets loose a spray. One of the cows drops and the rest
stampede toward the road.

DELMAR
Aww, George, not the livestock.

Energized, Nelson resumes bellowing:

NELSON
HA-HA! COME ON YOU MISERABLE SALARIED
SONSABITCHES! COME AND GET ME!

In bovine ignorance of the conventions of high-speed police
pursuit, some of the cows have wandered up onto the road.
The lead police car broadsides one. George Nelson, cackling
wildly, fires into the air as his car recedes.

SMALL TOWN

The car is speeding into town, dodging and weaving through
light traffic as George fires into the air - perhaps a means
of clearing a path, perhaps an expression of high spirits.

The car screeches to a halt and George hops out, and the
three convicts emerge to follow him.

NELSON
COME ON BOYS! WE'RE GOIN' FOR THE
RECORD-THREE BANKS IN TWO HOURS!

Jowls shaking in a full run, George Nelson bursts through
the door of the bank, followed by the three men.

He fires into the ceiling and leaps up onto a table.

NELSON
OKAY FOLKS! HOLD THE APPLAUSE AND
DROP YER DRAWERS - I'M GEORGE NELSON
AND I'M HERE TO SACK THE CITY A ITTA
BENA!

He leaps down, fires into the air again, and sweeps a young
woman standing in line into a full V-J dip, kissing her on
the lips.

Delmar nudges Everett.

DELMAR
He's a live wire though, ain't he?

NELSON
Thanky dear! All the money in the
bag, and you can tell your grandkids
you were done by the best! I'M GEORGE
NELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!

He winks at the three men who obediently wait.

NELSON
It's a kick and a quarter, ain't it
boys?

Distant sirens again.

EVERETT
Pardon me, George, but have you got
a plan for gettin' outa here?

NELSON
Sure boys, here's m'plan!

He whips open his suitcoat to reveal a half-dozen sticks of
dynamite.

NELSON
They ain't never seen ordnance like
this!  WELL, THANK YOU, FOLKS, AND
REMEMBER: JESUS SAVES, BUT GEORGE
NELSON WITHDRAWS!  HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-
HA! GO FETCH THE AUTO-VOITURE, PETE!

He sends a burst into the ceiling, and heads for the door as
customers murmur.

VOICE
...it's Babyface Nelson...

George whirls.

NELSON
WHO SAID THAT?!

The customers stare mutely back.

NELSON
WHAT IGNORANT LOWDOWN SLANDERIZING
SONOFABITCH SAID THAT?! MY NAME IS
GEORGE NELSON, GET ME?!

The customers shuffle their feet and glance uncomfortably
about. Delmar lays a hand on George's shoulder and tries to
steer him toward the door.

DELMAR
They didn't mean anything by it,
George.

NELSON
GEORGE NELSON! NOT BABYFACE! YOU
REMEMBER AND YOU TELL YOUR FRIENDS!
I'M GEORGE NELSON, BORN TO RAISE
HELL!

OUTSIDE THE BANK

The siren grows louder as the four men emerge.

EVERETT
You gotta be a little tolerant,
George; all these poor folk know is
the legend.  Hell, they can't be
expected to appreciate the complex
individual underneath-

NELSON
Aww, I'm all right-

He shrugs off Everett's hand and lights the fuse on a stick
of dynamite.

NELSON
This'll put me right back on top!

The car squeals up and, as sirens approach once again, the
three men pile in.

NELSON
OR-VOIR, ITTA BENA! GEORGE NELSON
THANKS YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

As the car peels out - KA-BOOM! - the dynamite blows a crater
in the street behind.

CAMPFIRE

It is night.

George Nelson, now strangely quiet, holds a coffee cup and
stares gloomily into the fire.

After a long beat, Delmar, also staring into the fire, slaps
one knee and ejaculates:

DELMAR
Damn but that was some fun though,
won it George?!

George responds, barely audible and without brightening:

GEORGE
...yeah...

Everett and Pete exchange significant looks. Delmar, however,
is less sensitive to the Babyface's mood.

DELMAR
Almost makes me wish I hadn't been
saved! Jackin' up banks - I can see
how a fella could derive a lot a
pleasure and satisfaction out of it!

GEORGE
...it's okay...

DELMAR
Whoa doggies!

At length George swishes the coffee around his cup, shrugs,
tosses the coffee and rises.

GEORGE
...Well, I'm takin' off.

He digs into a pocket and tosses his car keys to a dumbfounded
Delmar.

GEORGE
You boys can have the automobile.

Glassy-eyed, he continues to dig in his pockets and lets his
money fall to the ground.

GEORGE
'N might as well take my share a the
riches.

DELMAR
What the - where you goin', George?

George has turned woodenly and walks away, leaving the
campfire's flickering circle of light.

GEORGE
...I dunno... who cares...

Delmar stares at Everett, who looks appraisingly at George's
retreating back. Pete scrambles to pick up the loose money.

DELMAR
Now wuddya suppose is eatin' George?

EVERETT
Well ya know, Delmar, they say that
with a thrill-seekin' personality,
what goes up must come down. Top of
the world one minute, haunted by
megrims the next. Yep, it's like our
friend George is a alley cat and his
own damn humors're swingin' him by
the tail. But don't worry, Delmar;
he'll be back on top again. I don't
think we've heard the last of George
Nelson.

Delmar, gazing out at the blackness that has closed over
George Nelson, hasn't really been listening. He turns sadly
back.

DELMAR
Damn! I liked George.

A FIELD

A ploughing farmer has paused to look for the source of
distant string-band music, growing closer. There is also an
approaching amplified voice:

VOICE
Don't be saps for Pappy; vote for
Stokes and responsible gummint!

A stakebed truck approaches along the road bordering the
field. It is festooned with Stokes banners showing the
candidate holding high a broom. Pickers perform in the bed
of the truck, along with a dancer doing a two-step as he
pushes a broom. A midget in overalls waves his arms, as if
conducting the music.

VOICE
He's against the Innarests and for
the little man!

This, the driver's voice, is amplified through a flared
speaker mounted on the roof of the cab. As the oncoming truck
draws near, the midget bellows out at the farmer, who has
removed his hat to scratch his forehead.

MIDGET
Greetings, brother! Vote for Stokes!

The voice tails away:

MIDGET
Clean gummint is yours for the askin'!

Our pan with the passing truck comes to rest on the WEZY
radio building.

INSIDE

We are pulling back from a close shot of the portly blind
man.

MAN
Hang on! Lemme slap up a wire.

He turns away to load a recording as he talks into a
microphone.

MAN
Folks, here's my cousin Ezzard's
niece Eudora from out Greenwood doin'
a little number with her cousin Tom-
Tom which I predict you're just gonna
enjoy thoroughly.

He switches off the microphone as the song, a duet of 'I'll
Fly Away', scratchily issues from a monitor. He turns his
attention back to a well-dressed man sitting nearby.

MAN
Now what can I do you for, Mister
French?

FRENCH
How can I lay hold a the Soggy Bottom
Boys?

MAN
Soggy Bottom Boys - I don't precisely
recollect, uh -

FRENCH
They cut a record in here, few days
ago, old-timey harmony thing with a
guitar Accump-accump-uh-

MAN
Oh I remember 'em, colored fellas I
believe, swell bunch a boys, sung
into yon can and skedaddled.

FRENCH
Well that record has just gone through
the goddamn roof! They're playin' it
as far away as Mobile! The whole
damn state's goin' ape!

MAN
It was a powerful air.

FRENCH
Hot damn, we gotta find those boys!
Sign 'em to a big fat contract! Hell's
bells, Mr. Lunn, if we don't the
goddamn competition will!

MAN
Oh mercy, yes. You gotta beat that
competition.

'I'll Fly Away' mixes up to play full over the following.

MONTAGE

- The three men walk down a flat delta road, the sun
shimmering off the rough pavement. Their bank loot, wrapped
in a bandanna, is knotted to the end of a stick slung over
Delmar's shoulder.

- A different road under a threatening sky. The three men
stand in the middle distance, waiting. In the foreground two
little black boys are walking home, each carrying a block of
ice. A horse-drawn cart rumbles in from offscreen and Everett
waggles his thumb. Thunder rumbles.

- A spinning 78 on a green felt turntable. The crude black
label identifies it as 'Man of Constant Sorrow' by the Soggy
Bottom Boys.

- A high shot looking down through the rain past the dripping
eave of a barn, under which Everett, Pete and Delmar have
taken cover. The three hold their coats pinched shut at the
neck as they look forlornly up at the weather.

- The three men walk along a red dirt road elevated through
a bayou.

- The three men sit around a campfire. Everett sits on a
stump, expressively telling a ghost story as Pete and Delmar
gaze at him from below, wide-eyed and rapt.

- The three men walk past a cotton field dotted with burst
pods.

- A Woolworth's interior. A sad-faced woman in a calico dress
addresses the clerk:

SAD-FACED WOMAN
Do you have the Soggy Bottom Boys
performing 'Man of Constant Sorrow'?

CLERK
No, ma'am, we had a new shipment in
yesterday but we just can't keep it
on the shelves.

The sad-faced woman is crestfallen.

SAD-FACED WOMAN
Oh, mercy. Then - just the purple
toilet water.

- The three men walk down a road excavated through banks of
clay, from which gnarled tree roots protrude.

- A pie rests on a windowsill, steam wafting from it. A hand
enters from below the sill outside and disappears with the
pie. A moment later we see Everett's and Pete's backs as
they scamper away across the yard. A short beat, and then
Delmar peeks over the sill. He ducks back down and then his
hand reaches up to leave a dollar bill. Moments later we see
him scampering away after Pete and Everett.

- Another campfire. The three men sit around it laughing as
they enjoy the pie, each with a slab on a plate improvised
of old newspaper. Everett finishes his piece, licks his thumb
and tosses the newspaper onto the fire.

We jump in to look at the soiled newspaper as flame begins
to curl its edge. A story is headlined 'TVA Finalizing Plans
for Flooding of Arktabutta Valley'. The flame curls the page
away, briefly revealing the page beneath - with a story
headlined 'Soggy Bottom Boys a Sensation - But Who Are They?' -
before it too is consumed.

- A little general store. We are very high, looking down at
a foreshortened Everett, Pete, Delmar and store clerk, who
is wielding a long telescoping pole that stretches toward
us. Everett is pointing up, directing the man with the pole.
He moves it tentatively to and fro until, at a certain point,
Everett nods vigorously.

A reverse shows the end of the pole - a long stock-pincher -
as it closes over a tin of Dapper Dan pomade, resting on a
high shelf.

The exterior of the store shows it to be on a corner of a
little crossroads town. The three men are emerging from the
store just as a car pulls up to one of the two bubble-topped
gas pumps out front. A fancyman in a boater hat gets out of
the car and heads for the store, passing the three; Everett
glances at him and, as the man disappears inside, he dives
into his car, waving for Delmar and Pete to follow. Delmar,
initially reluctant, is hauled into the car by Pete, and the
men take off.

- The spinning 78 recording, as the song enters its last
verse.

- A spinning car wheel.

- A panoramic boom up as the car toodles away, down a road
that winds through scrub grass toward a distant sunset.

THE CAR

The three men are driving through the heat of the day. Everett
drives; Pete is slouched in the front passenger seat; Delmar,
in back, picks out 'I'll Fly Away' on a banjo.

Pete listens to something, squints, tilts his head.

PETE
...Shutup, Delmar.

Delmar and Everett exchange glances; Everett shrugs and Delmar
desists.

We can faintly hear a high, unearthly singing. Barely human,
the sound seems to agitate Pete. He looks desperately out
the window.

His hinging point-of-view shows, down the declivity from the
road and half hidden by trees, three women washing clothes
in the river.

Pete's reaction is enormous. He jams a fist into his mouth,
eyes widening. He yanks the fist out and screams:

PETE
PULL OVER!

Everett, startled, does so.

EXT.

Before the car has even come to a stop Pete's door flies
open and he is stumbling down the bank to the river.

Everett and Delmar follow more casually, Everett chuckling.

EVERETT
I guess o' Pete's got the itch.

AT THE RIVER

The unearthly singing, full volume here, comes from the three
women, beautiful but marked by an otherworldly langor as
they dunk clothes in the stream and beat them against rocks.

Pete is all awkward smiles and deep, burning eyes:

PETE
Howdy do, ladies. Name of Pete!

Strangely, the three laundresses do not answer, though they
do smile at him as they continue to sing.

Pete tries again as he reaches into their laundry basket:

PETE
Maybe I could help you with the, uh-

He realizes he is holding ladies' undergarments.

PETE
Ahem. I, uh...

He drops them back in the basket.

PETE
I don't believe I've, uh, heard that
song before...

Everett and Delmar have arrived; Everett is loud and jovial:

EVERETT
Aintcha gonna innerduce us, Pete?

Pete's eyes stay glued on the women as he hisses out of the
corner of his mouth:

PETE
Don't know their names. I seen 'em
first!

Everett laughs lightly.

EVERETT
Ladies, you'll have to pardon my
friend here; Pete is dirt-ignorant
and unschooled in the social arts.
My name on the other hand is Ulysses
Everett McGill and you ladies are
about the three prettiest water lilies
it's ever been my privilege to admire.

None of the women respond but, as all continue to sing, one
brings a jug marked with three Xes to Everett.

EVERETT
Why, thank you dear, that's very,
uh...

He takes a swig.

EVERETTE
Mm. Corn licker, I guess, uh, the
preferred local uh...

He passes the jug to Pete as the woman runs her fingers
through his hair.

The other two women are approaching to likewise tousle Pete
and Delmar.

Delmar's woman caresses his face and, by squeezing his cheeks,
smushes his mouth into a pucker.

DELMAR
Pleased to meet you, ma'am.

The singing continues. The stream gurgles. Somewhere, in the
distance, flies lazily buzz.

PETE
Damn!

FADE OUT

FADE IN

CLOSE ON DELMAR

We are very tight. Delmar's eyes are closed. We hear loud
snoring. At length his eyelids flutter open, but the snoring
continues.

Delmar groggily props himself on one elbow.

It is late afternoon. He is still on the riverbank. Everett
snores nearby.

The ladies are gone. The hamper of laundry is gone. Pete is
gone.

After looking blearily about for a moment, Delmar starts and
staggers to his feet.

DELMAR
Holy Saint Christopher!

He toes Everett urgently in the ribs.

EVERETT
Whuhh...

DELMAR
Oh sweet Lord, Everett, looka this!

Pete's clothes are laid out on the ground, not in a heap,
but mimicking the human shape, as if he had been simply
vaporized fron within them.

Everett rouses himself and looks at the clothes: He scans
the opposite river bank.

EVERETT
PETE! Where the heck are ya! We ain't
got time for your shenanigans!

Delmar stares horrified at the pile of clothes: a spot in
the middle of the shirt is rising and falling, rising and
falling.

DELMAR
Sweet Jesus, Everett! They left his
heart!

Everett joins Delmar to look. The rhythmic rising and falling
now travels up the shirt. A large yellow toad sticks its
head out from under the collar.

Delmar keens. Everett is bewildered.

EVERETT
What on earth is goin' on here! What's
got into you, Delmar!

DELMAR
Caintcha see it Everett! Them sigh-
reens did this to Pete! They loved
him up an' turned him into a horney-
toad!

The toad hops down the river bank.

DELMAR
Pete! Come back!

He slides down the bank after the toad, Everett watching in
perturbation.

The toad plops into the river and Delmar dives in after him.
He emerges a moment later with the toad wriggling in his
hand.

DELMAR
Don't worry, Pete! It's me, Delmar!
Oh Everett! What're we gonna do?!

DRIVING

We hear soft whimpering as Everett drives, sneaking worried
glances over at the passenger seat.

Delmar has the toad in his lap. He whimpers as he pets it.

Everett hesitantly offers:

EVERETT
...I'm not sure that's Pete.

DELMAR
Course it's Pete! Look at 'im!

The frog croaks.

DELMAR
We gotta find some kinda wizard can
change 'im back!

A beat. Delmar continues to whimper.

Everett squints and shakes his head.

EVERETT
...I'm just not sure that's Pete.

FINE RESTAURANT

The tables are formally laid with linen. Delmar and Everett
sit at a table, a shoebox between them, deep in conversation.

EVERETT
You can't display a toad in a fine
restaurant like this! Why, the good
folks here'd go right off their feed!

DELMAR
I just don't think it's right, keepin'
him under wraps like we's ashamed of
him.

EVERETT
Well if that is Pete I am ashamed of
him.  The way I see it he got what
he deserved - fornicating with some
whore a Babylon.  These things-

He points a knife at the shoebox.

EVERETT
-don't happen for no reason, Delmar.
Obviously it's some kind of judgment
on Pete's character.

ANOTHER PATRON

We are looking over the shoulder of a broad-shouldered man
in a cream-colored suit and a shirt with powder-blue collar.
He is digging into a huge plateful of steak and eggs. Sensing
something, he looks up, cocks his head, and then slowly turns
to look back.

He thus reveals a cream-colored eyepatch with powder-blue
trim; his good eye is looking intently off - at Everett and
Delmar, who continue arguing, out of earshot.

BACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR

Still heatedly discussing.

DELMAR
The two of us was fixing to fornicate!

The waitress has just arrived for their order. Everett gives
her an ingratiating laugh:

EVERETT
Heh-heh. You'll have to excuse my
rusticated friend here, unaccustomed
as he is to city manners.

He ostentatiously fans some of his money.

EVERETT
Well mamzel I guess we'll have a
couple a steaks and some gratinated
potatoes and wash it down with your
finest bubbly wine-

BIG MAN

Watching Everett fan his money. The big man stops chewing
and slowly raises his napkin to his lips to give them a dainty
pat.

BACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR

As Everett closes his menu.

EVERETT
...And I don't suppose the chef'd
have any nits or grubs in the pantry,
or - naw, never mind, just bring me
a couple leafs a raw cabbage.

WAITRESS
Yes sir.

The big man appears as she leaves.

BIG MAN
Don't believe I've seen you boys
around here before! Allow me
t'innerduce myself: name of Daniel
Teague, known in these precincts as
Big Dan Teague or, to those who're
pressed for time, Big Dan toot court.

EVERETT
How d'you do, Big Dan. I'm Ulysses
Everett McGill; this is my associate
Delmar O'Donnell.  I sense that,
like me, you are endowed with the
gift of gab.

Big Dan chuckles as he draws up a chair.

BIG DAN
I flatter myself that such is the
case; in my line of work it's plumb
necessary. The one thing you don't
want is air in the conversation.

EVERETT
Once again we find ourselves in
agreement.  What kind of work do you
do, Big Dan?

BIG DAN
Sales, Mr. McGill, sales! And what
do I sell? The Truth! Ever' blessed
word of it, from Genesee on down to
Revelations! That's right, the word
of God, which let me add there is
damn good money in during these days
of woe and want! Folks're lookin'
for answers and Big Dan Teague sells
the only book that's got 'em! What
do you do - you and your tongue-tied
friend?

DELMAR
Uh, we uh-

EVERETT
We're adventurers, sir, currently
pursuin' a certain opportunity but
open to others as well.

BIG DAN
I like your style, young man, so I'm
gonna propose you a proposition. You
cover my check so I don't have to
run back up to my room, have your
waitress wrap your dinner picnic-
style, and we'll retire to more
private environs where I will explain
to you how vast amounts of money can
be made in the service of God Amighty.

Everett rises and digs in his pocket.

EVERETT
Well, why not. If nothing else I
could use some civilized conversation.

As the three men start to move off, Big Dan gives Delmar a
tilt of the head and a crinkling smile.

BIG DAN
Don't forget your shoebox, friend.

We hear bellowing issuing from a curtained private dining-
room.

INSIDE THE PRIVATE ROOM

Pappy O'Daniel sits smoking a cigar, nursing a glass of
whiskey, and soliciting the counsel of his overweight retinue.

PAPPY
Languishing! Goddamn campaign is
languishing! We need a shot inna
arm!  Hear me, boys? Inna goddamn
ARM!  Election held tomorra, that
sonofabitch Stokes would win it in a
walk!

JUNIOR
Well he's the reform candidate, Daddy.

Pappy narrows his eyes at him, wondering what he's getting
at.

PAPPY
...Yeah?

JUNIOR
Well people like that reform. Maybe
we should get us some.

Pappy whips off his hat and slaps at Junior with it.

PAPPY
I'll reform you, you soft-headed
sonofabitch! How we gonna run reform
when we're the damn incumbent!

He glares around the table.

PAPPY
Zat the best idea any you boys can
come up with? REEform?! Weepin' Jesus
on the cross! Eckard, you may as
well start draftin' my concession
speech right now.

Eckard grunts as he starts to rise.

ECKARD
Okay, Pappy.

Pappy whips him back down with his hat.

PAPPY
I'm just makin' a point, you stupid
sonofabitch!

ECKARD
Okay, Pappy.

As he settles back Eckard looks around the table and helpfully
relays:

ECKARD
Pappy just makin' a point here, boys.

A MEADOW

The car boosted from the general store has been pulled off
the road and parked a few yards into a field littered with
bluebonnets and rimmed with moss-dripping oak.

Everett, Delmar and Big Dan sit on a blanket around a large
picnic hamper. Big Dan is just sucking the last piece of
chicken off a bone.

He tosses the bone over his shoulder, belches, and sighs.

BIG DAN
Thankee boys for throwin' in that
fricasee. I'm a man a large appetite
and even with lunch under my belt I
was feeling a mite peckish.

EVERETT
Our pleasure, Big Dan.

BIG DAN
And thank you as well for that
conversational hiatus; I generally
refrain from speech while engaged in
gustation. There are those who attempt
both at the same time but I find it
course and vulgar. Now where were
we?

DELMAR
Makin' money in the Lord's service.

BIG DAN
You don't say much friend, but when
you do it's to the point and I salute
you for it.

Delmar is pleased and embarrassed.

DELMAR
Oh, it weren't nothin', I-

BIG DAN
Yes, Bible sales. The trade is not a
complicated one; there're but two
things to learn. One bein' where to
find your wholesaler - word of God
in bulk as it were. Two bein' how to
reckanize your customer - who're you
dealin' with? - an exercise in
psychology so to speak.

He rises to his feet and tosses down his napkin.

BIG DAN
And it is that which I propose to
give you a lesson in right now.

He reaches up and with one hand easily rips a stout limb off
a tree. He casually strips its twigs.

EVERETT
I like to think that I'm a pretty
astute observer of the human scene.

BIG DAN
No doubt, brother - I figured as
much back there in the restaurant.
That's why I invited you out here
for this advanced tutorial.

His club is ready. He swings at Delmar who staggers back
with a grunt.

Everett wears a puzzled smile.

EVERETT
...What's goin' on, Big Dan?

Delmar, though stunned, is faster to size things up. He
charges Big Dan and wraps his arms around him.

Delmar roars.

Big Dan rears back and whacks at his head.

Everett is still puzzled, but willing to be instructed:

EVERETT
Big Dan, what're you doin'?

Big Dan walks awkwardly over to Everett with Delmar still
attached to him like a hunting dog locked on to a bear. Big
Dan takes a break from whacking at Delmar to deliver a blow
to Everett.

The blow catches Everett on the chin and sends him reeling.

BIG DAN
It's all about money, boys! Atsy
answer! Dough re mi!

Big Dan bear hugs Delmar and tosses him away. He whacks
Everett into a semi-conscious heap and then paws through his
pockets.

BIG DAN
Do unto others before they do unto
you!

He pulls out their wad of cash.

BIG DAN
I'll just take your show cards...

He walks over to Delmar who is on the ground moaning, and
kicks him several times.

BIG DAN
...and whatever you got in the hole.

He takes Delmar's shoebox and flips off the top.

Inside is a bed of straw with the toad resting on it.

BIG DAN
What the...

He pokes around the straw with his finger; nothing else
inside.

BIG DAN
It's nothin' but a damn toad!

Delmar, moaning, looks blearily up through swollen eyes.

Big Dan has the toad in his enormous fist.

Delmar moans through cracked and bloody lips:

DELMAR
No... you don't understand...

BIG DAN
Don't you boys know these things
give ya warts?

He squeezes the frog, crushing it, and tosses it away against
a tree.

DELMAR
Oh Lord... Pete...

Big Dan is over at the car, cranking it up.

BIG DAN
End of lesson.

He climbs in.

BIG DAN
So long, boys! Hee-hee! See ya in
the funny papers!

The car belches and pops and toodles off down the road.

Delmar staggers to his feet and stumbles over to the carcass
of the frog, weeping.

DELMAR
Pete... Pete... Pete...

FADE OUT

PAN DOWN FROM BLACK TO BRING IN A TORCH

Flickering in the night. We hear the rumble of distant thunder
as the continued pan down brings the torch's bearer into
frame - a man with the slavering grin of the dim-witted
sadist. He watches as we hear:

VOICE
Where are they?!

There is the sound of a lash and a scream.

VOICE
Talk, you unreconstructed whelp of a
whore! Where they headed?

Another lash brings another scream.

The screams come from Pete. His arms, stretched high over
his head, are tied to a tree limb. His interrogator wields a
bullwhip.

INTERROGATOR
Your screams ain't gonna save your
flesh! Only your tongue is, boy!

Another lash, another scream.

INTERROGATOR
Where they headed!

A third man walks into the torchlight, a hound drooling at
his heels. He is Cooley, the sheriff with mirrored sunglasses
whom we remember from previous barn confrontations.

COOLEY
Lump. I.O.

The two men acknowledge by backing away from Pete.

We hear a pat... pat... and then the accelerating pitter-
patter of arriving rain.

Cooley looks up.

COOLEY
Sweet summer rain. Like God's own
mercy.

He looks back down at Pete.

COOLEY
Your two friends have abandoned you,
Pete.  They don't seem to care 'bout
your hide.

He shrugs, looks off.

COOLEY
...Okay.

Looking up, into black: a rope is tossed up - it recedes out
of the torchlight into black night - and then drops back
down into the light, a noose bouncing at its end.

COOLEY
Stairway to heaven, Pete.

The two henchmen fit the noose over Pete's neck. Cooley licks
his lips. His dog slobbers.

COOLEY
We shall all meet, by and by.

PETE
Goddamnit!

Cooley holds up one hand. The two men pause in fitting the
noose.

Pete is sobbing:

PETE
Godfer gimme!

Thunder crashes.

BACK OF A HAYTRUCK

Everett and Delmar sit disconsolately on a haybale as the
stakebed truck bounces along a rough country road. They are
both ill-kempt and heavily bruised.

Though still an undammable river of verbiage, Everett now
seems to be talking out of weary habit, not conviction:

EVERETT
Believe me, Delmar, he would've wanted
us to press on. Pete, rest his soul,
was one sour-assed sonofabitch and
not given to acts of pointless
sentimentality.

Delmar doggedly shakes his head.

DELMAR
It just don't seem right, diggin' up
that treasure without him.

We distantly hear picks ringing and male chanting. Hollow-
eyed, Everett tries to convince himself as much as Delmar:

EVERETT
Maybe it's for the best that Pete
was squushed. Why, he was barely a
sentient bein'. Now, soon as we clean
ourselves up, get a little smell'um
in our hair, we're just gonna feel a
hunnert per cent better about
ourselves and about...

His voice trails away as he looks out at the road.

They are passing a line of chained men in prison stripes and
duck-billed caps wielding pickaxes and shovels at the side
of the road. Guards bearing shotguns amble back and forth.

As he stares at the line of men Everett tries to pick up his
thread:

EVERETT
...and about... life in general...

The prisoners look like phantoms in the heat and dust.

EVERETT
Jesus. We must be near Parchman Farm.

The men, giving throat to a dolorous chain-gang chant, do
not look up at the passing haytruck.

Everett is haunted:

EVERETT
Sorry sonsabitches... Seems like a
year ago we bust off the farm...

The last man in line swings his pick and, as he grows smaller,
looks up. Everett stares.

It is Pete.

Lone and lorn, he returns Everett's slack-jawed stare until
heat ripples and the truck's dusty wake dissolve him away.

Everett blinks.

EVERETT
Pete have a brother?

DELMAR
Not that I'm aware.

Everett shakes his head as if to clear it.

EVERETT
Heat must be gettin' to me.

The truck rattles on.

TOWN SQUARE

Ithaca, Mississippi. On a bunting-covered stage a pencil-
necked man with round rimless glasses addresses a crowd of
rustics.

The pencil-neck is identified on posters as 'Homer Stokes,
Friend of the Little Man', and, in life as in the pictures,
he shakes a broom over his head. A midget in overalls stands
next to him.

STOKES
And I say to you that the great state
a Mississippi cannot afford four
more years a Pappy O'Daniel - four
more years a cronyism, nepotism,
rascalism and service to the
Innarests!  The choice, she's a clear
'un: Pappy O'Daniel, slave a the
Innarests; Homer Stokes, servant a
the little man! Ain't that right,
little fella?

The midget enthusiastically seconds:

MIDGET
He ain't lyin'!

STOKES
When the litle man says jump, Homer
Stokes says how high? And, ladies'n
jettymens, the little man has
admonished me to grasp the broom a -
ree-form and sweep this state clean!

The midget waves his little midget broom in time with Stoke's
waves.

STOKES
It's gonna be back to the flour mill,
Pappy! The Innarests can take care a
theyselves! Come Tuesday, we gonna
sweep the rascals out! Clean gummint -
yours for the askin'!

He beams amid cheers and then, as three girls in gingham
frocks run out to join him:

STOKES
An' now - the little Wharvey gals!
Whatcha got for us, darlin's?

The oldest girl is about ten.

LITTLE GIRL
'In the Highways'!

STOKES
That's fine.

The haytruck has pulled into the square and Everett and Delmar
are climbing out.

Everett stares at the stage.

EVERETT
Wharvey gals?! Did he just say the
little Wharvey gals?

Delmar shrugs. For some reason, Everett is enraged:

EVERETT
Goddamnit all!

Onstage, the three girls are singing in untrained but
enthusiastic harmony:

GIRLS
In the highways, In the hedges...

Everett stomps toward the stage, fighting his way through
the crowd. Puzzled, Delmar follows.

DELMAR
You know them gals, Everett?

Everett reaches the stage and climbs up into the wings just
as the song ends. The midget starts buck-dancing to a fiddle
tune as the three little girls, filing off, notice Everett.

YOUNGEST
Daddy!

MIDDLE
He ain't our daddy!

EVERETT
Hell I ain't! Whatsis 'Wharvey' gals? -
Your name's McGill!

YOUNGEST
No sir! Not since you got hit by a
train!

EVERETT
What're you talkin' about - I wasn't
hit by a train!

MIDDLE
Mama said you was hit by a train!

YOUNGEST
Blooey!

OLDEST
Nothin' left!

MIDDLE
Just a grease spot on the L&N!

EVERETT
Damnit, I never been hit by any train!

OLDEST
At's right! So Mama's got us back to
Wharvey!

MIDDLE
That's a maiden name.

YOUNGEST
You got a maiden name, Daddy?

EVERETT
No, Daddy ain't got a maiden name;
ya see -

MIDDLE
That's your misfortune!

YOUNGEST
At's right! And now Mama's got a new
beau!

OLDEST
He's a suitor!

EVERETT
Yeah, I know 'bout that.

MIDDLE
Mama says he's bona fide!

This worries Everett:

EVERETT
Hm. He give her a ring?

YOUNGEST
Yassir, big'un!

MIDDLE
Gotta gem!

OLDEST
Mama checked it!

YOUNGEST
It's bona fide!

MIDDLE
He's a suitor!

EVERETT
Hm. What's his name?

MIDDLE
Vernon T. Waldrip.

YOUNGEST
Uncle Vernon.

OLDEST
Till tomorrow.

YOUNGEST
Then he's gonna be Daddy!

EVERETT
I'm the only damn daddy you got! I'm
the damn paterfamilias!

OLDEST
Yeah, but you ain't bona fide!

EVERETT
Hm. Where's your mama?

Stokes is announcing from the stage:

STOKES
And now let's fetch back the Wharvey
gals to sing 'I'll Fly Away'.

The girls call over their shoulders as they run back onstage:

MIDDLE
She's at the five and dime.

YOUNGEST
Buyin' nipples!

WOOLWORTH'S

The faces of a six-year-old girl and her four-year-old sister
light up.

GIRLS
Daddy!

Next to them is a two-year-old girl with a string wrapped
around her waist. The other end of the string is held by a
woman in her thirties with a haggard, careworn face. The
woman also holds a babe-in-arms.

Everett, entering, goggles at the infant.

EVERETT
Who the hell is that?!

WOMAN
Starla Wharvey.

EVERETT
Starla McGill you mean! How come you
never told me about her?

SIX-YEAR-OLD
'Cause you was hit by a train.

EVERETT
And that's another thing - why're
you tellin' our gals I was hit by a
train!

WOMAN
Lotta respectable people been hit by
trains. Judge Hobby over in Cookeville
was hit by a train. What was I
supposed to tell 'em - that you was
sent to the penal farm and I divorced
you from shame?

EVERETT
Well - I take your point. But it
leaves me in a damned awkward position
vis-a-vis my progeny.

A man in a straw boater joins them.

BOATER
'Lo Penny... This gentleman bothering
you?

EVERETT
You Waldrip?

BOATER
That's right.

Everett sniffs and, catching a scent, squints.

Waldrip's hair, protruding from under his boater, is plastered
against his scalp.

EVERETT
...Have you been using my hair
treatment?

WALDRIP
Your hair treatment?!

Everett covers his anger with an exaggerated politeness.

EVERETT
S'cuse me...

He draws Penny aside.

EVERETT
Well, I got news for you case you
hadn't noticed - I wasn't hit by a
train. And I've traveled many a weary
mile to be back with my wife and six
daughters.

SIX-YEAR-OLD
Seven, Daddy!

PENNY
That ain't your daddy, Alvinelle.
Your daddy was hit by a train.

EVERETT
Now Penny, stop that!

PENNY
No - you stop it! Vernon here's got
a job. Vernon's got prospects. He's
bona fide! What're you?

EVERETT
I'll tell you what I am - I'm the
paterfamilias! You can't marry him!

PENNY
I can and I am and I will - tomorrow!
I gotta think about the little Wharvey
gals! They look to me for answers!
Vernon can s'port 'em and buy 'em
lessons on the clarinet! The only
good thing you ever did for the gals
was get his by that train!

EVERETT
...Why you... lyin,... unconstant...
succubus!

WALDRIP
You can't swear at my fiancee!

EVERETT
Oh yeah? Well you can't marry my
wife!

With this he takes a wild swing which Waldrip easily eludes.
Waldrip adapts a Marquess of Queensbury stance and prances
about, delivering stinging punches to the nose of a stunned
and outclassed Everett.

A crowd is gathering and voices murmur:

BYSTANDERS
Who is that man?

PENNY
He's not my husband. Just a drifter,
I guess... Just some no-account
drifter...

EXT. WOOLWORTH'S

Its glass doors swing open and Everett is hurled out and
bellyflops into the dust of the street.

BRAWNY MANAGER
...And stay out of Woolworth's!

MOVIE THEATER

Romantic music tinnily plays as Delmar and Everett watch,
Everett slumped down and angrily hissing:

EVERETT
Deceitful! Two-faced! She-Woman!
Never trust a female, Delmar! Remember
that one simple precept and your
time with me will not have been ill
spent!

DELMAR
Okay, Everett.

EVERETT
Hit by a train! Truth means nothin'
to Woman, Delmar. Triumph a the
subjective!  You ever been with a
woman?

DELMAR
Well, uh, I - I gotta get the family
farm back before I can start thinkin'
about that.

EVERETT
Well that's right! If then! Believe
me, Delmar, Woman is the most fiendish
instrument of torture ever devised
to bedevil the days a man!

DELMAR
Everett, I never figured you for a
paterfamilias.

EVERETT
Oh-ho-ho yes, I've spread my seed.
And you see what it, uh... what it's
earned me... Now what in the...

The screen is flickering down to black as the music slows to
sludge and stops.

The theater is dark and quiet.

Everett and Delmar, and the rest of the sparse audience,
look restively about.

A man carrying a shotgun enters the auditorium.

He walks halfway down the aisle and stops several rows behind
Delmar and Everett. He scans the theater, then brings a
whistle to his lips.

At his whistle the back doors burst open and a line of chained
men trot in at double-time. With much clanking they file
into one row and then, that row filled, the one behind it.
They remain silently on their feet.

The first guard and two others who escorted in the convicts
scan the theater. The first guard again blows his whistle.

The two rows of chained men sit.

After another silence:

FIRST GUARD
...Okay boys! Enjoy yer pickcha show!

One more whistle cues the movie to grind back up to speed.

A hissing whisper from behind draws Everett and Delmar's
attention:

VOICE
Do not seek the treasure! It's a
bushwhack!

Everett and Delmar turn and stare, saucer-eyed. In the middle
of the frontmost row of convicts sits Pete - bald, haunted
Pete.

After a long, disbelieving stare:

DELMAR
...Pete?

Pete whispers again, urgently:

PETE
They're fixin' a ambush! Do not seek
the treasure!

Everett, jaw hanging open, can only stare, as if at a ghost.
Delmar stares also, but finally brings out another:

DELMAR
...Pete?

PETE
Do not seek the treasure!

Everett's face remains frozen in horrified disbelief, but
Delmar finally accepts Pete's corporeal reality.

DELMAR
We thought you was a toad!

Pete squints and cocks his head as if to say, What was that?

Delmar repeats the whisper slowly and with exaggerated mouth
movements:

DELMAR
We thought... you was... a toad!

Pete shakes his head - didn't catch it - and repeats, also
overarticulating:

PETE
Do not... seek... the treasure!

A guard murmurs:

GUARD
Quiet there. Watcha pickcha.

VERANDA

Pappy O'Daniel sits on the veranda of the Governor's Mansion,
smoking a cigar and sipping from a glass of bourbon as the
evening sun goes down.

PAPPY
I signed that bill! I signed a dozen
a those aggi-culture bills! Everyone
knows I'm a friend a the fahmuh!
What do I gotta do, start diddlin'
livestock?!

JUNIOR
We cain't do that, Daddy, we might
offend our constichency.

PAPPY
We ain't got a constichency! Stokes
got a constichency!

ECKARD
Them straw polls is ugly.

SPIVEY
Stokes is pullin' ah pants down.

ECKARD
Gonna pluck us off the tit.

SPIVEY
Pappy gonna be sittin' there pants
down and Stokes at the table soppin'
up the gravy.

ECKARD
Latch right on to that tit.

SPIVEY
Wipin' little circles with his bread.

ECKARD
Suckin' away.

SPIVEY
Well, it's a well-run campaign,
midget'n broom'n whatnot.

ECKARD
Devil his due.

SPIVEY
Helluva awgazation.

JUNIOR
Say, I gotten idee.

ECKARD
What sat, Junior?

JUNIOR
We could hire us a little fella even
smaller'n Stokes's.

Pappy whips at him with his hat.

PAPPY
Y'ignorant slope-shouldered sack a
guts!  Why we'd look like a buncha
satchel-ass Johnnie-Come-Latelies
braggin' on our own midget! Don't
matter how stumpy! And that's the
goddamn problem right there - people
think this Stokes got fresh ideas,
he's oh coorant and we the past.

ECKARD
Problem a p'seption.

SPIVEY
Ass right.

ECKARD
Reason why he's pullin' ah pants
down.

SPIVEY
Gonna paddle ah little bee-hind.

ECKARD
Ain't gonna paddle it; he's gonna
kick it real hard.

With his mouth forming an O around his dropping cigar, Pappy
looks sadly from one to the other, like a spectator at a
particularly boring tennis match.

SPIVEY
No, I believe he's a-gonna paddle
it.

ECKARD
Well now, I don't believe assa
property scription.

SPIVEY
Well, that's how I characterize it.

ECKARD
Well, I believe it's mawva kickin'
sichation.

SPIVEY
Pullin' ah pants down...

ECKARD
Wipin' little circles with his
bread...

A NOOSE

In slow motion it is dropping... dropping... dropping through
the night. We hear distant thunder and the howl of a hound.
The sounds recede, and the black background dissolves into a
pan down from a raftered ceiling as the noose fades away.

The continued pan down shows that we are in a barracks-like
cabin. It is night. Convicts are ranged in bunk-beds. Their
snores stand out against the chirp of crickets.

In the upper berth of the foreground bed is Pete. His hands
are clasped behind his head. A manacle and chain links one
wrist to a rail that serves as headboard.

He stares up, haunted, at the phantom noose.

PETE
I could not gaze upon that far
shore...

He reacts quizically to a whispered:

VOICE
Pete!

A moment later Everett rises over the lip of his bed. His
face is blacked and he sways as if standing on a boat.

EVERETT
Hold still.

He is raising a large, long-armed, short-nosed pincering
tool. He locks the nose onto Pete's chain and levers the
arms. As his hand chinks free, Pete does not react to his
newfound liberty.

We hear an agonized voice from off as Everett continues to
sway:

DELMAR
...Cain't stand much longer.

Pete's eyes burn into Everett's.

PETE
It was a moment a weakness!

EVERETT
Quitcha babblin' Pete - time to
skedaddle.

THE THREE MEN

We track with them as they walk through the moonlit woods.
Delmar's and Everett's faces are thoroughly blacked; Pete is
just finishing blacking his, and he hands the shoe polish
back to Everett.

PETE
They lured me out for a bathe, then
they dunked me'n trussed me up like
a hog and turned me in for the bounty.

EVERETT
I shoulda guessed it - typical womanly
behavior. Just lucky we left before
they came for us.

DELMAR
We didn't abandon you, Pete, we just
thought you was a toad.

PETE
No, they never did turn me into a
toad.

DELMAR
Well that was our mistake then. And
then we was beat up by a bible
salesman and banished from
Woolworth's. I don't know if it's
the one branch or all of 'em.

PETE
Well I - I ain't had it easy either,
boys.  Uh, frankly, I - well I spilled
my guts about the treasure.

DELMAR
Huh?!

PETE
Awful sorry I betrayed you fellas;
must be my Hogwallop blood.

EVERETT
Aw, that's all right, Pete.

Pete is shaking his head, miserable.

PETE
It's awful white of ya to take it
like that, Everett. I feel wretched,
spoilin' yer play for a million
dollars'n point two. It's been eatin'
at my guts.

EVERETT
Aw, that's all right.

Pete starts weeping.

PETE
You boys're true friends!

He hugs a stunned Delmar.

PETE
You're m'boon companions!

He hugs Everett, who looks profoundly uncomfortable.

EVERETT
Pete, uh, I don't want ya to beat
yourself up about this thing...

PETE
I cain't help it, but that's a
wonderful thing to say!

EVERETT
Well, but Pete...

He clears his throat.

EVERETT
Uh, the fact of the matter is - well,
damnit, there ain't no treasure!

Now it is Pete's turn to be stunned. He and Delmar stare at
Everett.

EVERETT
Fact of the matter - there never
was!

PETE
But... but...

DELMAR
So - where's all the money from your
armored-car job?

EVERETT
I never knocked over any armored-
car. I was sent up for practicing
law without a license.

PETE
But...

EVERETT
Damnit, I just hadda bust out! My
wife wrote me she was gettin' married!
I gotta stop it!

Pete stares vacantly off.

PETE
...No treasure... I had two weeks
left on my sentence...

EVERETT
I couldn't wait two weeks! She's
gettin' married tomorra!

PETE
...With my added time for the escape,
I don't get out now 'til 1987...
I'll be eighty-four years old.

Delmar, not angry himself, is trying to work it out.

DELMAR
Huh. I guess they'll tack on fifty
years for me too.

EVERETT
Boys, we was chained together. I
hadda tell ya somethin'. Bustin' out
alone was not a option!

PETE
...Eighty-four years old.

Delmar brightens.

DELMAR
I'll only be eighty-two.

Pete lunges at Everett.

PETE
YOU RUINED MY LIFE!

He tackles him and, with his hands wrapped round Everett's
throat, the two roll over.

EVERETT
(strangled)
Pete... I do apologize.

PETE
Eighty-four years old! I'll be gummin'
pab-you-lum!

They have rolled through some brush and their bodies are now
halfway into a clearing. They abruptly stop.

Pete, lying on top of Everett, looks up, startled by loud
chanting. Everett, lying on his back, tries to see as well,
his eyes rolling back in his head.

Their point-of-view shows a great open field where men in
bedsheets parade in formation before a huge fiery cross.

Pete and Everett hastily crabwalk back into the bushes and
then push through with Delmar.

The ranks of hooded men, chanting in a high hillbilly wail,
intersect and shuffle like a marching band at halftime. At
length they stop in perfect formation, still chanting, to
face the Imperial Wizard, who stands in front of the burning
cross dressed in a red satin robe and hood trimmed with gold.

An aisle leads through the middle of the formation to the
burning cross, before which a gibbet has been erected. The
backmost row has stopped, facing away, only a few yards from
the bushes that hide Delmar, Pete and Everett.

As the chanting continues, two Klansmen lead a black man,
whom they grasp by either arm, up the aisle toward the gibbet.

BLACK MAN
I ain't never harmed any you
gentlemen!

Everett hisses:

EVERETT
It's Tommy! They got Tommy!

DELMAR
Oh my God!

It is indeed Tommy Johnson.

TOMMY
I ain't never harmed nobody!

Pete is staring aghast at the makeshift gibbet.

PETE
The noose. Sweet Jesus! We gotta
save 'im!

A broad-shouldered man in the middle of the ranks of Klansmen,
sensing something, slowly turns to look back over his
shoulder. He thus reveals that his hood has only one eye-
hole.

He slowly draws off his hood. It is, of course, Big Dan
Teague. His one good eye looks about; his other eye, now
revealed, is hideously clouded and stares up and off in fixed
sightlessness.

Everett, still crouched behind the bushes, notices something.
He hisses and points.

EVERETT
The color guard.

Off to one side is a robed and hooded three-man color guard
displaying a Confederate flag.

In front of the crowd the Imperial Wizard raises one satin-
draped arm, and the chanting stops.

WIZARD
Brothers! We are foregathered here
to preserve our hallowed culture'n
heritage!  From intrusions, inclusions
and dilutions!  Of culluh! Of creed!
Of our ol'-time religion!

Over in the bushes Everett, Delmar and Pete are straightening
up and adjusting their appropriated robes and hoods, having
disposed of the color guard.

WIZARD
We aim to pull evil up by the root!
Before it chokes out the flower of
our culture'n heritage! And our women!
Let's not forget those ladies, y'all,
lookin' to us for p'tection! From
darkies! From Jews! From Papists!
And from all those smart-ass folk
say we come descended from the
monkeys!  That's not my culture'n
heritage!

A roar from the crowd.

WIZARD
Izzat your culture'n heritage?

Another roar.

WIZARD
And so... we gonna hang us a neegra!

A huge roar - and now the ranks resume their chanting.

The color guard hustles up the aisle to draw up behind the
two men leading Tommy to the gibbet. Everett hisses:

EVERETT
Hey Tommy! It's us!

Behind Everett in the deep background someone emerges from
the ranks into the middle aisle. He approaches with a strong,
purposeful stride - Big Dan Teague, bareheaded, holding his
hood under his arm.

Everett hisses again:

EVERETT
Hey Tommy!

Tommy looks back over his shoulder.

TOMMY
...Huh?

Everett is oblivious to the big man approaching from behind.

EVERETT
It's us! We come to rescue ya!

TOMMY
That's mighty kind of ya boys, but I
don't think nothin's gonna save me
now - the devil's come to collect
his due!

PETE
Tommy, you don't wanna get hanged!

TOMMY
Naw I don't guess I do, but that's
the way it seems to be workin' out.

EVERETT
Listen to me, Tommy, I got a plan -

Whoosh - arriving Big Dan whips the hood from Everett's head.
Everett is exposed - in blackface.

The chanting abruptly stops. The crowd is stunned.

Big Dan whips off the other two hoods - Delmar and Pete, in
blackface.

From the crowd:

VOICE
The color guard is colored!

Big Dan roars.

The crowd roars.

Everett screams:

EVERETT
Run, boys!

Pandemonium breaks out, and the Imperial Wizard takes off
his red satin hood for a better view.

He is the reform candidate Homer Stokes. Next to him, his
midget also pulls of his midget hood.

Stokes is peeved.

STOKES
Who made them the color guard?

Everett, Pete, Tommy and Delmar, bearing the Confederate
flag, are retreating across the neutral ground separating
the mob of Klansmen from the burning cross. The mob pursues
in full cry.

When the intruders reach the foot of the cross, Delmar turns.
He javelins the flagpole up and out toward the pursuing crowd.

Homer Stokes is mortified.

STOKES
Damn! Can't let that flag touch the
ground!

The crowd gasps and watches, heads tilted back, in silence.

The only sound is the fluttering flag.

Homer Stokes' eyes rise, hesitate and start to fall as the
flag reaches its zenith and starts to descend.

We boom down with the hurtling flag toward a sea of upturned
white hoods. Dead in the middle is bareheaded Dan Teague.

His arms are tensed out at his sides like a waiting kick-off
returner. He squints up with his one good eye, judging
distance and trajectory.

From somewhere we hear a loud BOINK, as of a wire popping.

The flag flutters.

The crowd is silent.

Big Dan sets and...

WHAP! He snaps his hands up and together.

He has caught the flagpole. The flag has not touched the
ground.

The crowd cheers.

Big Dan looks around, beaming acknowledgement of the cheers.

From somewhere, another BOINK.

As Big Dan's look reaches front again, his smile fades.

His eye tracks up - up-

CREEEEEEK! The fiery cross is twisting and starting to fall.

At the foot of the cross Everett snaps its last guy wire
with his pincers - BOINK - and the four men sprint off.

WHOOOOSH - As the crowd scatters, the cross descends toward
Big Dan, frozen, looking up.

It crashes in a shower of sparks and embers that obliterates
Big Dan Teague.

A PACKARD

It is pulling up in front of a town hall from which party
sounds filter out.

Pappy O'Daniel emerges from the car with his retinue - Eckard,
Spivey and Junior.

PAPPY
I'm sayin' we har this man away.

ECKARD
Assa good idea, Pappy.

SPIVEY
Helluva idea.

ECKARD
Cain't beat 'em, join 'em.

SPIVEY
Have him join us, run our campaign
'stead a that pencil-neck's.

ECKARD
Enticements a power, wealth, settera.

SPIVEY
No one says no to Pappy O'Daniel.

ECKARD
Oh gracious no. Not with his
blandishments.

SPIVEY
Powas p'suasion.

PAPPY
What's his name again?

ECKARD
Campaign manager? Waldrip.

SPIVEY
Vernon Waldrip.

ECKARD
Vernon T. Waldrip.

PAPPY
Hmm... His folks from out Tuscarora?

SPIVEY
Tuscarora? Might be. I b'lieve they
is.

ECKARD
Not a doubt in my mind.

Pappy is disgusted:

PAPPY
You don't know where his goddamn
folks from; you speakin' outcha
asshole.

ECKARD
Well now Pappy I wouldn't put it
that strong...

As the three men make their way up the steps, Eckard's voice
is fading:

ECKARD
...but p'haps yaw right...

In wide shot, they disappear into the building.

A reverse shows the wide shot to have been the point-of-view
of Everett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy, who peek out from the
mouth of an alley. Everett hisses his intelligence:

EVERETT
Well, it's a invitation-only affair;
we'll have to sneak in through the
service entrance-

PETE
Wait a minute - who elected you leader
a this outfit? Since we been followin'
your lead we got nothin' but trouble!
I gotten this close to bein' strung
up, n'consumed in a fire, 'n whipped
no end, 'n sunstroked, 'n soggied -

DELMAR
'N turned into a frog -

EVERETT
He was never turned into a frog!

Delmar sulks:

DELMAR
Almost loved up though.

Everett is stunned.

EVERETT
So you're against me now, too!... Is
that how it is, boys?

Silence. No one wants to meet Everett's eye. He is saddened.

EVERETT
The whole world and God Almighty...
and now you. Well, maybe I deserve
this. Boys, I... I know I've made
some tactical mistakes. But if you'll
just stick with me; I need your help.
And I've got a plan.  Believe me,
boys, we can fix this thing! I can
get my wife back! We can get outta
here!

Headlights play; the men suck back into the alley as a car
passes by.

The car tools up to the banquet hall and Homer Stokes emerges
with his midget. The midget tosses his balled-up white hood
into the car and both men shrug into their suitcoats.

Stokes is angry:

STOKES
...goddamn disgrace. Made a travesty
of the entire evenin'...

They too start up the stairs. Stokes's pace is brisk and the
midget hops awkwardly to keep up.

STOKES
...what I wouldn't give to get my
hands on those agitators. Whoever
heard a such behavior. Even among
culluds. Or mulattos, maybe - I
suspect some miscegenation in their
heritage... how else you goin' explain
it - usin' the Confed'it flag as a
missile...

BANQUET HALL KITCHEN

Everett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy are entering through the
back door. The blackface has been scrubbed off but all four
now wear long gray beards as disguise, clumsily affixed with
spirit gum. Each is carrying a musical-instrument case.

They elbow past the bustling kitchen help.

EVERETT
Scuse me... scuse me... we're the
next act...

DELMAR
Everett, my beard itches.

PETE
This is crazy. No one's ever gonna
believe we're a real band.

EVERETT
No, this is gonna work! I just gotta
get close enough to talk to her.
Takin' off with us is got a lot more
future in it than marrying a guy
named Waldrip.  I'm goddamn bona
fide. I've got the answers!

HEAD TABLE

Out in the banquet hall Penny and Waldrip sit side-by-side
at the head table, surrounded by the Wharvey gals. Penny and
Waldrip are facing the hall with their backs to the stage as
the four bearded band members - Everett, Pete, Delmar and
Tommy - take their places.

Pappy O'Daniel stands by Waldrip's chair with an arm draped
over his shoulder, leaning in to murmur confidentially.
Waldrip sits stiffly erect as he listens, frowning at a spot
in space.

Suddenly Waldrip erupts:

WALDRIP
Well that's a improper suggestion!
I can't switch sides in the middle
of a campaign!  Especially to work
for a man who lacks moral fibre!

PAPPY
Moral fibre?!

He waves his cane, outraged.

PAPPY
You pasty-faced sonofabitch, I
invented moral fibre!

Up on the stage, the band has launched into a song.

PAPPY
Pappy O'Daniel was displayin'
rectitude and high-mindedness when
that pencil-neck you work for was
still messin' his drawers!

A hissed Voice:

VOICE
Psst! Penny! Hey! Up here!

As the two men continue to exchange sharp words, penny turns
her head to look steeply up over her shoulder.

Everett is up onstage just behind her. As the rest of the
band continues to play, he is parting his beard to hiss down
at her:

EVERETT
Penny! It's me!

Dismayed, she shakes her head and tries to unobtrusively
wave him away. He is undeterred:

EVERETT
No, Penny, listen! We're leavin' the
state! Pusuin' opportunities in
another venue! I got big plans! Not
minstrelsy; this-here's just a dodge -
I'm gonna be a dentist! I know a guy
who'll print me up a license! I wanna
be what you want me to be, honey! I
want you and the gals to come with
me!

She shakes her head vigorously and looks down at her plate
as Everett continues pleading to her back:

EVERETT
They're my daughters, Penny! I'm the
king a this goddamn castle!

Stokes has ambled up to the head table.

STOKES
What're you doin' here, Pappy? I
guess someone let on there was free
liquor, heh-heh.

PAPPY
Yeah, you'll be laughin' out the
other side your face come November.

ECKARD
Pappy O'Daniel be laughing' then.

SPIVEY
Not out the other side his face,
though.

ECKARD
Oh no, no, just the reg'la side -

This byplay is interrupted by a roar from the crowd.

The band has launched into 'Man of Constant Sorrow',
precipitating the huge reaction. Everett, still trying to
get Penny's attention, looks up, stunned at the ovation.

Cry from the crowd:

VOICE
Hot damn! Itsa Soggy Bottom Boys!

Everett and the boys, still singing, exchange bemused looks.
A shrug, and they lean into the song with a will.

Everett performs an impromptu buck-and-wing, bringing the
crowd to new heights of hysteria.

PAPPY
Holy-moly. These boys're a hit!

JUNIOR
But Pappy, they's inter-grated.

PAPPY
Well I guess folks don't mind they's
integrated.

Stokes is also staring at the band, frowning. He murmurs to
himself:

STOKES
Wait a minute...

Everett catches Stokes' look. The two men look at each other,
aghast.

Stokes raises his voice accusingly:

STOKES
...you's miscegenated! All you boys!
Miscegenated!

Everett raises the volume of his singing. Stokes cries out:

STOKES
Get me a mike-a-phone!

A mike is thrust into his hand and he bellows into it,
overwhelming the music, which the boys eventually abandon.
Stokes continues bellowing into the silence:

STOKES
These boys is not white! These boys
is not white! Hell, they ain't even
ol'-timey! I happen to know, ladies'n
gentlemen, this band a miscreants
here, this very evening, they
interfered with a lynch mob inna
performance of its duties!

The crowd stares at him, stone-faced. Stokes plows on:

STOKES
It's true! I b'long to a certain
society, I don't believe I gotta
mention its name, heh-heh...

Nobody joins in the laugh; Stokes slowly strangles on it.

STOKES
...Ahem. And these boys here trampled
all over our venerated observances
an' rich'ls!  Now this-here music is
over! I aim to -

Boos start up among the crowd.

STOKES
I aim to hand these boys over to -
listen to me, folks!

The boos are growing in volume. There are cries of 'More
music!' and even one 'Shut up, pencil-neck!'

STOKES
Listen to me! These boys desecrated
a fiery cross!

More boos. Waldrip approaches and nudges the microphone away
to murmur confidentially in Stokes' ear. Stokes excitedly
retrieves the mike and struggles to be heard:

STOKES
And they convicts! Fugitives, folks,
escaped off the farm!

This cuts no ice; the boos have become overwhelming.

STOKES
Folks, these boys gotta be remanded
the 'thorities! Criminals! And I
happen to have it from the highest
authority that that Neegra sold his
soul to the devil!

He is hit by a tomato.

The boos are deafening; the Soggy Bottom Boys, sensing
opportunity, launch back into the interrupted verse of 'Man
of Constant Sorrow'. The boos become wild cheers.

Stokes is being pelted by foodstuffs. Shielding himself with
one arm, he bellows into the mike:

STOKES
Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Is you
is or is you ain't my constichency?

INT. RUSTIC CABIN

Far up some sleepy holler. An old man in overalls and his
wife sit hunched before a crystal set, listening to the tinny
voice. They look at each other wordlessly, look back at the
crystal set.

BACK TO BANQUET HALL

Stokes is almost drowned out by the music as his midget looks
apprehensively on.

STOKES
Is you is or is you ain't -

A disgruntled audience member yanks out the microphone plug;
Stokes continues to mouth the inaudible words.

Pappy is considering the crowd.

PAPPY
Goddamn! Oppitunity knocks!

He starts clambering up onto the stage.

Two men advance through the clapping audience holding high
either end of an eight-foot rail. When they reach Stokes,
other audience members help load him onto the rail.

Onstage, Pappy claps along with the audience.

As they play, the band members fearfully eye Pappy, who
advances on them.

Pappy joyfully shakes his fat ass in time to the music and
does a little two-step. The audience roars. The band relaxes,
performing with even more gusto.

Stokes is being through the crowd on the rail, jeered at and
pelted with comestibles until he bangs out the exit.

As the songs rolls into its big finish the audience roars
approval, and Pappy elbows in to the microphone, beaming.

PAPPY
That's fine, that's fine!...

He drops one arm around Everett, the other around Delmar.

PAPPY
...Ladies'n gentlemens here and
listenin' at home, the great state
of Mississippi (Pappy O'Daniel,
Gov'nor) thanks the Soggy Bottom
Boys for that won-a-ful performance!

Cheers.

PAPPY
Now it looks like the only man in
our great state who ain't a music
luvva, is my esteemed opponent in
the upcomin', Homer Stokes -

Boos.

PAPPY
Yeah, well, they ain't no accountin'
f'taste. It sounded t'me like he
harbored some kind a hateful grudge
against the Soggy Bottom Boys on
account a their rough'n rowdy past.

Boos.

PAPPY
Sounds like Homer Stokes is the kinda
fella gonna cast the first stone!

Boos.

PAPPY
Well I'm with you folks. I'm a f'give
and f'get Christian. And I say, well,
if their rambunctiousness and
misdemeanorin' is behind 'em - It
is, ain't it, boys?

Everett hesitates, not sure where this is going.

EVERETT
Sure is, Governor.

PAPPY
Why then I say, by the par vested in
me, these boys is hereby pardoned!

Loud cheers prod Pappy to another level of inspiration:

PAPPY
And furthermore, in the second Pappy
O'Daniel administration, why, these
boys - is gonna be my brain trust!

Raucous cheers.

The band beams, but Delmar leans into Everett, worried:

DELMAR
What sat mean exactly, Everett?

EVERETT
Well, you'n me'n Pete'n Tommy are
gonna be the power behind the throne
so to speak.

DELMAR
Oh, okay.

PAPPY
So now, without further ado, and by
way of endorsin' my candidacy, the
Soggy Bottom Boys is gonna lead us
all in a chorus of 'You Are My
Sunshine' - ain't ya, boys?

He gives Everett a meaningful look, which Everett holds for
a considering beat.

EVERETT
...Governor - that's one of our
favorites!

Pappy returns a considered appraisal:

PAPPY
Son, you gonna go far.

The song begins.

LATER

The steps of the meeting hall. People stream out of the
concert into the warm summer night.

Everett, now relieved of his beard, is walking down the steps
with Penny.

EVERETT
I guess Vernon T. Waldrip is gonna
be goin' on relief. Maybe I'll be
able to throw a little patronage his
way, get the man a job diggin' ditches
or rounding up stray dogs.

DELMAR
Is the marriage off then, Miz Wharvey?

PENNY
McGill. No, the marriage'll take
place as planned.

EVERETT
Just a little change of cast. Me and
the little lady are gonna pick up
the pieces'n retie the knot,
mixaphorically speakin'. You boys're
invited, of course. Hell, you're
best men! Already got the rings.

He raises Penny's left hand with his own to display their
wedding bands - but Penny's finger is bare.

EVERETT
Where's your ring, honey?

PENNY
I ain't worn it since our divorce
came through. It must still be in
the rolltop in the old cabin. Never
thought I'd need it; Vernon bought
one encrusted with jewels.

EVERETT
Hell, now's the time to buy it off
him cheap.

PENNY
We ain't gettin' married with his
ring!  You said you'd changed!

EVERETT
Aw, honey, our ring is just a old
pewter thing -

PENNY
Ain't gonna be no weddin'.

EVERETT
It's just a symbol, honey -

PENNY
No weddin'.

DELMAR
We'll go fetch it with ya, Everett.

EVERETT
Honey, it's just - Shutup, Delmar -
it's just -

PENNY
I have spoken my piece and counted
to three.

She walks off.

EVERETT
Oh, goddamnit! She counted to three!
Sonofabitch! You know how far that
cabin is?!

His attention, and everyone else's, is drawn by a procession
on the street below. A crowd carrying torches jogs behind a
man in clanking leg irons and wrist manacles who is being
escorted by four policemen trotting alongside, their
nightsticks held across their chests in riot-ready formation.

Everett and the rest of the Soggy Bottom Boys descend the
last couple of steps to meet the oncoming criminal. Delmar
cries out:

DELMAR
George!

It is indeed George Nelson, grinning and game despite his
heavy restraints.

GEORGE
'Lo, boys! Well, these little men
finally caught up with the criminal
a the century! Looks like the chair
for George Nelson. Yup! Gonna
electrify me!  I'm gonna go off like
a Roman candle!  Twenty thousand
volts chasin' the rabbit through
yours truly! Gonna shoot sparks out
the top of my head and lightning
from my fingertips!

As he passes he turns to call back over his shoulder:

GEORGE
Yessir! Gonna suck all the power
right outa the state! Goddamn, boys,
I'm on top of the world! I'M GEORGE
NELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!

Delmar, smiling, shakes his head as he watches him go.

DELMAR
Looks like George is right back on
top again.

BLACK

In the black we hear snuffling, growing louder, closer,
slobberier.

A crack of light. We are inside a cupboard. Its door is being
nosed open by an eagerly sniffing snout.

As the door swings wide the inside of the cupboard is washed
with light. It contains, next to a tangled bunch of hairnets,
several neatly stacked tins of Dapper Dan pomade.

PINEY WOODS

Everett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy are walking through the woods.

EVERETT
Well, at least you boys'll get to
see the old manse - the home where I
spent so many happy days in the bosom
of my family - a refugium, if you
will - with a mighty oak tree out
front and a happy little tire swing...

They emerge into a clearing. The cabin stands before them.
It is indeed a peaceful-looking haven with a mighty oak tree
in front. There is, however, no tire swing; instead, three
nooses hang from one stout limb.

DELMAR
Where's the happy little tire swing?

Two shotgun-wielding goons fall in behind the four men and
push them forward.

Moving forward reveals, next to the oak tree, three fresh-
dug graves. Standing at the far lip of each grave is a rough
pine coffin.

The sheriff with mirrored sunglasses, Cooley, steps off the
porch, the drooling hound at his heels.

COOLEY
End of the road, boys. It's had its
twists and turns -

EVERETT
Waitaminute -

COOLEY
- but now it deposits you here.

The goons are shoving them toward the tree. Three
gravediggers, having just finished their work, emerge from
the three graves. They are shirtless black men with bandannas
round their necks.

EVERETT
Waitaminute -

COOLEY
You have eluded fate - and eluded me -
for the last time. Tie their hands,
boys.

EVERETT
You can't do this -

COOLEY
Didn't know you'd be bringin' a
friend.  Well, he'll have to wait
his turn -

EVERETT
Hang on there -

COOLEY
- and share one of your graves.

EVERETT
You can't do this - we just been
pardoned!  By the Governer himself!

DELMAR
It went out over the radio!

COOLEY
Is that right?

The leering goons, who have been lashing the men's wrists
behind their backs, pause, their sadism stymied. They look
to Cooley for guidance.

So too does the drooling hound.

Silence.

Finally:

COOLEY
...Too bad we don't have a radio.

The goons recover their leering grins and resume their happy
task.

The gravediggers stand next to the graves, leaning on their
shovels. They begin to sing a slow and dirgelike 'You've Got
to Walk That Lonesome Valley'. Sweat glistens on them and
trickles down their faces like tears.

PETE
God have Mercy!

TOMMY
It ain't fittin'!

EVERETT
It ain't the law!

COOLEY
The law. Well the law is a human
institution.

Cooley gives the faintest smile.

COOLEY
Perhaps you should take a moment for
your prayers.

PETE
Oh my God! Everett!

DELMAR
I'm sorry we got you into this, Tommy.

PETE
Good Lord, what do we do?

Pete is in tears. Tommy is terrified. Delmar bows his head
to silently pray.

Everett bows his head as well. He murmurs:

EVERETT
Oh Lord, please look down and
recognize us poor sinners... please
Lord...

The singing of the gravediggers begins a mournful swell.

EVERETT
...I just want to see my daughters
again.  Oh Lord, I've been separated
from my family for so long...

The mournfully building song is now supported by a bass more
palpable than audible - the song, it seems, rising out of
the earth itself.

EVERETT
...I know I've been guilty of pride
and sharp dealing. I'm sorry that I
turned my back on you, Lord. Please
forgive me, and help us, Lord, and I
swear I'll mend my ways... For the
sake of my family... For Tommy's
sake, and Delmar's, and Pete's...

The rumble is building.

EVERETT
...Let me see my daughters again.
Please, Lord, help us... Please help
us...

The rumble erupts into a deafening roar.

A wall of water is crashing through the hollow.

It engulfs everything and everybody. The cabin itself is
ripped away; the Soggy Bottom Boys are knocked off their
feet and all is noise and confusion.

UNDERWATER

A silent world. Everett tumbles in the current in natural
slow motion.

Suspended around him are scores of tins of Dapper Dan pomade.

Other objects spin slowly by; framed sepia-tinted family
portraits, tree limbs, a fishing pole, an outhouse door, a
frying pan, a noose, an old banjo, the wild-eyed frantically
paddling bloodhound, a tire with a rope tied around it.

FURTHER DOWNHILL

The churning torrent opens into a lowland to become a newly
created river, fast-moving but no longer violent.

After a beat of hold on the rippling waters, the surface is
broken by the up-bob of a pine coffin.

The coffin floats downstream for a beat and then Everett
pops out of the water next to it, gasping for air, shaking
his head clear of water, and moving his shoulders to finish
freeing himself from the rope round his wrists.

Pete and Delmar emerge nearby, gasping for air.

The men hang onto the coffin, which bears them downstream.
Dazed, they look around.

The inundated valley shows only the occasional roof- or
treetop poking out of the newly formed river. All is quiet
except for the gurgle of water.

DELMAR
A miracle! It was a miracle!

EVERETT
Aw, don't be ignorant, Delmar. I
told you they was gonna flood this
valley.

DELMAR
That ain't it!

PETE
We prayed to God and he pitied us!

EVERETT
It just never fails; once again you
two hayseeds are showin' how much
you want for innalect. There's a
perfectly scientific explanation for
what just happened -

PETE
That ain't the tune you were singin'
back there at the gallows!

EVERETT
Well any human being will cast about
in a moment of stress. No, the fact
is, they're flooding this valley so
they can hydro-electric up the whole
durned state...

Everett waxes smug:

EVERETT
Yessir, the South is gonna change.
Everything's gonna be put on
electricity and run on a payin' basis.
Out with the old spiritual mumbo-
jumbo, the superstitions and the
backward ways. We're gonna see a
brave new world where they run
everyone a wire and hook us all up
to a grid. Yessir, a veritable age
of reason - like the one they had in
France - and not a moment too soon...

His voice trails off as he notices something.

A cottonhouse in the middle of the river is submerged to its
eaves. A cow has taken refuge on its roof. It stands staring
at Everett, who returns the stare.

He shakes off the vision and clears his throat.

EVERETT
Not a moment too soon. Say, there's
Tommy!

Tommy has indeed just surfaced downstream, clinging to a
half-submerged piece of furniture.

EVERETT
What you ridin' there, Tommy?

The furniture beneath him begins to rotate in the current
and, to keep his head above water, Tommy climbs in place
like a hamster on a wheel. As the chest exposes its ribbed
upper half:

TOMMY
Rolltop desk...

STREET

Everett and Penny walk arm in arm, the seven Wharvey gals
behind. The girls sing 'Angel Band' as the grown-ups talk.

EVERETT
All's well that ends well, as the
poet says.

PENNY
That's right, honey.

EVERETT
But I don't mind telling you, I'm
awful pleased my adventuring days is
at an end...

He fumbles in his pocket.

EVERETT
...Time for this old boy to enjoy
some repose.

PENNY
That's good, honey.

EVERETT
And you were right about that ring.
Any other weddin' band would not do.
But this-here was foreordained, honey;
fate was a-smilin' on me, and ya
have to have confidence -

He is slipping it onto her hand.

PENNY
That's not my ring.

EVERETT
- in the gods - Huh?

PENNY
That's not my ring.

EVERETT
Not your...

PENNY
That's one of Aunt Hurlene's.

EVERETT
You said it was in the rolltop desk!

PENNY
I said I thought it was in the rolltop
desk.

EVERETT
You said -

PENNY
Or, it might a been under the
mattress.

EVERETT
You -

PENNY
Or in my chiffonier. I don't know.

Everett shakes his head.

EVERETT
Well, I'm sorry honey -

PENNY
Well, we need that ring.

EVERETT
Well now honey, that ring is at the
bottom of a pretty durned big lake.

PENNY
Uh-huh.

EVERETT
A 9,000-hectacre lake, honey.

PENNY
I don't care if it's ninety thousand.

EVERETT
Yes, but honey -

PENNY
That wasn't my doing...

Indignation quickens her pace. Everett keeps up, and the two
are pulling forward out of frame.

EVERETT
Course not, honey, but...

We are now on the Wharvey gals who follow in a ragged bunch,
still singing. From somewhere distant, through the song, we
can just hear a rhythmic clack of metal on metal.

The second-to-last girl is the oldest; she holds a piece of
string along which we travel, still listening to Penny and
Everett, off:

PENNY
I counted to three, honey.

EVERETT
Well sure, honey, but...

We reach the end of the piece of string; it is wrapped around
the waist of the toddler, who lingers in frame. She gazes
down a quiet street at the edge of town that ends in an open
field.

EVERETT
...finding one little ring in the
middle of all that water...

His voice, and that of the singing girls, recedes.

EVERETT
...that is one hell of a heroic
task...

The string is given a tug and the little girl waddles out of
frame.

A train track is thus revealed in the distance. The rhythmic
clack is from the hand-pumped flatcar.

The blind seer pumps the car along the distant track, singing
harmony under the Wharvey gals' receding voices.

THE END

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