冰血暴  绑架  英文剧本  奥斯卡最佳原创剧本奖  美国

　　CARL
　　Look. I’’m not gonna debate you，
　　Jerry. The price is now the whole
　　amount. We want the entire eighty
　　thousand.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Oh， for Chrissakes here -
　　
　　CARL
　　Blood has been shed. We’’ve incurred
　　risks， Jerry. I’’m coming into town
　　tomorrow. Have the money ready.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Now we had a deal here! A deal’’s
　　a deal!
　　
　　CARL
　　IS IT， JERRY？ You ask those three
　　pour souls up in Brainerd if a
　　deal’’s a deal! Go ahead， ask ’’em!
　　
　　JERRY
　　…… The heck d’’ya mean？
　　
　　CARL
　　I’’ll see you tomorrow.
　　
　　Click.
　　
　　Jerry slams down the phone， which immediately rings. He
　　angrily snatches it up.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah!
　　
　　VOICE
　　Jerome Lundegaard？
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah!
　　
　　VOICE
　　This is Reilly Deifenbach at GMAC.
　　Sir， I have not yet recieved those
　　vehicle IDs you promised me.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah! I …… those are in the mail.
　　
　　VOICE
　　Mr. Lundegaard， that very well may
　　be. I must inform you， however，
　　that absent the reciept of those
　　numbers by tomorrow afternoon， I
　　will have to refer this matter to
　　our legal department.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah.
　　
　　VOICE
　　My patience is at an end.
　　
　　JERRY
　　Yah.
　　
　　VOICE
　　Good day， sir.
　　
　　JERRY
　　…… Yah.
　　
　　WIDE ON THE CUBICLE
　　
　　We are looking at Jerry’’s cubicle from across the showroom.
　　Noise muted by distance， we watch Jerry slam down the
　　reciever， rise to his feet， fling the phone to the floor，
　　raise his desk blotter high over his head with pens and
　　pencils rolling off it and slam it onto his desktop.
　　
　　He stands for a moment， hands on hips， glaring.
　　
　　He stoops and picks up the phone， places it back on the
　　desktop， starts picking up the pens and pencils.
　　
　　TRACK
　　
　　On steam-table bins of food， each identified by a plaque:
　　BEEF STROGANOFF， SWEDISH MEATBALLS， BROILED TORSK， CHICKEN
　　FLORENTINE.
　　
　　A complementary track shows two rays being pushed along a
　　buffet line， piled high with many foods.
　　
　　MARGE AND NORM AT A TABLE
　　
　　They sit next to each other at a long cafateria-style
　　Formica table， silently eating.
　　
　　A hip with a hissing walkie-talkie enters frame.
　　
　　GARY
　　Hiya， Norm. How ya doin’’， Margie？
　　How’’s the fricasse？
　　
　　MARGE
　　Pretty darn good， ya want some？
　　
　　GARY
　　No， I gotta - hey， Norm， I thought
　　you were goin’’ fishin’’ up at Mile
　　Lacs？
　　
　　NORM
　　Yah， after lunch.
　　
　　He goes back to his food.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Whatcha got there？
　　
　　Gary hands her a flimsy. Marge takes it with one hand and
　　looks， her other hand frozen with a forkful of food.
　　
　　GARY
　　The numbers y’’asked for， calls
　　made from the lobby pay phone
　　at the Blue Ox. Two to Minneapolis
　　that night.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Mm.
　　
　　GARY
　　First one’’s a trucking company，
　　second one’’s a private residence.
　　A Shep Proudfoot.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Uh-huh…… A what？
　　
　　GARY
　　Shep Proudfoot. That’’s a name.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Uh-huh.
　　
　　GARY