Putting one Together #4
Mr. Durfee at the real real game...
Bonjour bonjor, and we’re back with another installment of ‘Putting One Together.’
Last we saw our ridiculous trio, they were just back from an aborted-attempt at putting on a real game of Russian roulette. Ultimately they were thwarted by Durfees mistaken-notion of the location that he had called for the game. They have made plans to try it again on the next night, but their friend DORTY has decided that he might not have the stomach for watching such a thing, and has decided not to follow along on this next attempt.
Content advisory: It gets a little bloody on this round… Yep. Just some.
Last we saw them, they were planning a trip to the pool hall after dinner. Let’s pick it up the next day…
INT. DURF’S BEDROOM LATE AFTERNOON
Durf and Dem prepare for the game.
DURF:
(Running over a checklist)
OK, so once more: Got the gun, got the bullets, bricks, bags, cash for players, got the location… Dem, call yer cousin and make sure he’s on the ball. Did you get gas in the car?
DEMIAN:
Yea, I’m gonna go use the phone.
DURF:
Yea, go ahead. Hey, we’re gonna leave in twenty minutes. Did you get the towels like I told you?
DEMIAN:
(From down the hall)
Huh?
DURF:
Did you get the towels?
DEMIAN:
Yea, Hang on.
(Comes back into Durf’s room)
Yea, Jamie is good, says he has maybe-even seventy for tonight!
DURF:
(Excited)
YEA! Hey let’s do a bong. I got the weed and what Byron drinks.
DEMIAN:
Cool.
CUT TO:
EXTERIOR PITTSBURGH, EVENING
The boys are riding around the town looking for Byron, Demian is at the wheel. The Vet is already in the back seat taking a bong.
DURF:
(Slightly concerned)
I don’t know! This is his usual corner, let’s take it around the block one more time.
CUT TO:
A HALF HOUR LATER
Now they are driving faster.
DURF:
(Really worried)
Goddammit! I don’t see the son of a bitch.
VET:
(From the back)
Hey! No one is a son of a bitch here! Were all in this together!
DURF:
(Takes a breath)
OK, OK, look, Dem, get us to the place, and we’ll come back here in a little.
DEMIAN:
Well man, I don’t think that’s cool, I mean what are they goin’ to say when we don’t got two guys?
DURF:
(Trying to be in control)
We’ll say that our man in the back here is going to play, and that our other man is preparing for the event- Doin’ some yoga or somethin’. That’ll keep ‘em busy for a while. Also, let’s collect their money, and send your cousin to go get some beers. And then I’ll go find the son of a bitch.
VET:
HEY DAMMIT!
CUT TO:
EXT. FACTORY NIGHT.
There are fifty or sixty kids milling around.
DURF:
OK Dem, I’m going to give them a pep talk, and then go look for the bum, I mean Byron, while you set the table up.
DEMIAN:
(Looking a little scared)
That’s a lot of people Durf. Why don’t you give them the pep talk, and I’ll go find Byron?
DURF:
No man, because I know where to look.
DEMIAN:
(Pissed)
BULLSHIT! If you mean all the places we just drove around, well I can go do that.
People are beginning to gather around the car.
DURF:
Don’t argue with me Demian. I know what I’m doing.
The Vet is singing the Door’s “Soul Kitchen” drunkenly in the back.
DEMIAN:
(Angry)
Don’t fuck with me Phil, ‘cause we both know that you don’t know shit, and I’ll leave you to sink if you want to dump me here!
(Durf looks hurt, Dem reflects- New plan)
Look, man, fuck it. We don’t gotta do shit. We can just turn around now, and forget this whole Russian roulette shit and go get a beer.
(Seriously)
I ain’t kiddin’ man, I mean, What the fuck? We can’t let this eat us up…
DURF:
(Thinks, and calms)
No, OK, I’ll stay here, and you go find the guy.
(Stands up on the passenger seat- Yells to the crowd)
We’re here! And this is it!
The crowd gets louder. Durf hops from the car, and ushers out the Vet. Jaime comes over. Durf gets the card table and portable chairs out of the trunk with the towels.
DURF:
(To Demian)
OK, get moving, I gotta count on ya now Dem, I’ll keep ‘em busy till you get back. But if you don’t find him after an hour, come back here and tell ‘em he died!
Demian pulls out of the lot and hits the road. Durf turns his attention to the crowd, and then to Jaime.
DURF:
(Putting on a superior air)
Well, here we all are, and here is one of my excellent competitors.
JAIME:
(Reaches to shake Vet’s hand.)
Pleased to meet you.
The Vet is oblivious and very high, grumbling to himself.
DURF:
(To Jaime)
Jaime- Please collect the proceeds, take a hundred and go buy us some beer.
JAIME:
OK, but when are you going to do it?
DURF:
We’ll start after our other man gets here, which should be very soon. Hey, and look, when you take the money, give each person who pays one of these.
(Hands Jaime a box of .22 bullets)
JAIME:
Why?
DURF:
Well, so we can know how many people we got. I got a hundred bullets here, and if you give me back sixty, I know we got forty people, and we should have $1600 bucks. This will be their admission, and make sure you give me back what you don’t give out. Now, let’s go around the side of the building and look at our set up. Can you get a couple of your friends to set this up like we did at the frat house?
The crowd is big and following. Durf looks at it nervously, a little awed. They end up around the side of the big building in some seclusion.
DURF:
(Getting cash from his pocket)
Look, Hurry up and go get some beer.
The boys set up the table and chairs. Durf looks-on as a king preparing to sit at his throne, then sits down at the table as if he has done it a million times.
He lays out the towels carefully in a square, and then re-folds them, as if there is some sort of Zen-fold that he is attempting. He sets out the box of .38’s.
He pulls out his revolver and opens the cylinder. He goes over it in a fascinating array of movement: Pulling out, laying and straightening the bullets, and then putting one in a cylinder, spinning the cylinder, removing it, then taking a different bullet and trying a different cylinder. Feeling each bullet in his hand, weighing it against the next. Mucho pageantry.
All this time spent as if it meant something. His hands move deftly. His fur coat enhances his authority. He remains perfectly stoic as he attends to the surroundings. He feels the table and makes sure that it does not shake. He lays his head down along its line to see that it is smooth and perfect, checking for bullet-trajectory, and whatever else a roulette master would need to be taking into consideration. He looks at the chairs to be sure that they are set properly, and is deaf to the aloud questions of the college kids: “What’s he doing?” “Why’s he doing that?” etc.
After a bit the beer shows up.
DURF:
(Taken by surprise at the arrival. Loudly)
Here! My good friends! Drink! Drink to the victor. Drink to the loser. Drink to this silly game we call life!
No one calls him on his big-act, as they head to the beer. Durf then turns his attention to getting a bong lit-up for the Vet to keep him calm.
As the kids loosen up on the beer, Durf begins to field some questions as if there were a question and answer session at every event. He speaks authoritatively and mixes in tautologies and maxims that seem relevant.
Durf is the center of attention, and between the beer, set-up, the gun, and Durfee, the kids are quite pacified.
Demian arrives, and, in fact, has found Byron. At once Durf looks relieved and concerned: Now it IS the real deal!
The crowd turns its attention onto Byron, the bum. He is not very impressive.
Demian moves over to Durf.
DURF:
(Keeping up the pageantry)
Player two has arrived!
A couple of the youths snicker; the beer is having an effect on the kids. They are pacified, but more active now, getting excited.
DURF:
(To Demian)
OK, look, good job, now look, get the money and extra bullets from Jaime, I told him to get beer for a hundred bucks, and then when I make the announcement, I want you to go check that everybody has a bullet for entry, and count the cash and we’ll get started. Go get us a couple beers.
Demian makes the rounds while Durf goes to attend to getting Byron and the vet set together, and getting a bandana tied around their heads to keep chunks from flying. It is not easy, as the Vet now seems belligerent, and Byron is totally out of it.
DURF:
(For dramatic effect.)
Demian! Check admission.
Finally Durf gets the men seated and smoking pot. Demian arrives after the admission check.
DEMIAN:
(Excited)
Durf, dude! Look man, it’s a little fucked up with the bullets and stuff, but man, there’s about a jillion bucks here!
DURF:
(Keeping cool)
Let me see.
Demian shows him the wad.
DURF:
OK, give it here, it’ll do. Get us a beer.
(Turning to the crowd)
Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get down to it. Place your bets at this time.
(Pulls the gun from his pocket)
I have in my hand an inspected, and certified-for-play, Colt .38 caliber revolver, into which I will now place a .38 caliber high velocity hollow-point bullet into a random chamber…
(He holds up the bullet and makes quite a display of the loading)
DURF: (CONT…) making this weapon a deadly, though intermittent, implement of destruction.
(Spins the cylinder and snaps it shut)
I shall at this time place it on the table between the two players, and spin the revolver in its entirety. Whichever player the muzzle tends-toward shall play first, at which point play will begin at this most serious, and deadly, games of chance.
Demian brings him a beer. Poor timing.
DURF:
(Totally Maurice)
The time has come! Bet’s up!
Durf sets the gun on the table, and spins it. It points to the Vet who grabs the gun immediately, puts it against his head and pulls the trigger. No shot.
Some of the girls in the crowd squeal and several of the people let out expressions of shock- “Man, he was gonna do it!” “That dude is a freak!” “Whoa!” etc.
Even Durf is a little freaked out. But continues as if he’s seen it a thousand times.
DURF:
OK, player one has fulfilled his obligation.
(He opens the cylinder, pulls out the bullet, shows it around, replaces it, spins the cylinder and snaps it shut.)
Silence please- Down to player two!
The bum holds the gun, looks at it, aims it around, at which point Durf has to get involved, and instruct him on not aiming it anywhere but at his head. The bum seems happy to oblige, but is just a physical mess.
Finally he gets it up to his head and with an audible “Arrrgh.”
Pulls the trigger. No shot. The noise that the bum makes is human and real. A little creepy.
DURF:
(Playing it straight)
Player two has fulfilled his obligation!
Again the crowd gets loud, and Durf goes back through the ritual with the bullet, and hands the gun to the Vet who is mumbling to himself. Again he gets right to it fast, gun to the head, pulls the trigger.
DURF:
Player one has fulfilled his obligation!
Again the hoopla and bullet ritual, and again the struggle with Byron to get it together. The towel is slipping from the old man’s head, and Durf tries to set it straight. It slips, and as Durf begins to reach for it, the gun goes up and BOOM! Durf recoils. (There is no need to show this actually happening; just the noise and a bit of blood should give the idea of what has happened.) The man has done the deed, blood hits the wall, and he falls to the ground. The explosion is HUGE. Way loud. They forgot the earplugs.
The crowd gets nuts. Durf is in shock. The crowd is breaking up. There are muffled screams and “Eeks.”
Durf gets hold of himself.
DURF:
(To the crowd at large)
REMEMBER! YOU’RE ALL ACCOMPLICES! NO RUNNING FROM IT! FATE HAS MADE HER WISHES CLEAR!
But no one is listening, people are freaked out, many are running away, some crying can be heard in the background. Durf tries to keep his composure, but there was nothing like this in any game book.
DURF:
DEM!… DEMIAN!
Demian arrives with a shocked look, carrying sheets.
DEMIAN:
(In shock)
Holy Shit Durf. Holy Shit..!
DURF:
(A little freaked)
Yea, Yea… OK. OK. Here’s what were gonna do. And we’re gonna do it fast. First. Get the money.
(Runs through Byron’s pockets, gets money.)
Where’s my gun?
DEM:
I don’t see it, I bet it fell under him, Or, I mean he landed on it like. Here…
(Turns the guy over)
Look…
DURF:
(Bending)
Yea, you’re right.
(He pulls up the gun, he is repulsed by the blood.)
…OK, get the Vet, he’s gonna help us wrap this guy up.
They get the sheets together. The Vet takes over: He’s done this before. Moves quick. The body is quickly wrapped-up in the bloody sheet.
DURF:
(Looking worried)
OK, Dem, get the car. We gotta hustle.
Durf takes the moment to peruse the mucho blood on, and around him. He wipes his hand on the grass, and then the gun, but there’s just way too much blood. He doesn’t like it. The car arrives.
With no small effort, they heft Byron’s body into the trunk and tie some bricks with wire to him. They load up the table and chairs, make a quick perusal of the area, and get out of there fast.
CUT TO:
EXT. FOOTHILLS OF PITTSBURGH
They are speeding down the road.
DURF:
Dem- Slow it down Dem!
DEMIAN:
Dude- I wanna get this over as soon as possible.
VET:
(Booming from back seat)
Me too!
DURF
(Paranoid)
Dem- Slow it fuckin’ down man! If we get pulled over we’re fucked!
DEMIAN:
DURFEE!- Take it easy. We’re goin’ the limit OK. Just relax, we…
DURF:
(Interrupting exasperated)
I’m just saying to slow it down…
(Headlights approach from the opposite direction)
Oh FUCK- It’s COPS!
DEMIAN:
(HARD)
DUDE! Take it easy!
The lights pass on by, and Durf puts his face in his hands. He is thoroughly worked.
DEMIAN:
It’s gonna be OK man, just take it easy.
VET:
…As long as the colonel doesn’t find out..!
They drive to a spot on the edge of the Monongahela and toss the body overboard. Demian and Durf then dump the Vet where he wants to go, and hit the road. They wind up at Durf’s garage. They both look shook and disheveled. Durf cleans up the chairs and table while Demian hoses out his trunk.
DEMIAN:
Dude, there’s blood all over everything man. We gotta make sure that we get it out of my trunk man.
(Taking it in)
Man there’s so much blood, and…
DURF:
(Interrupting, worried)
I know there’s a lot of blood. We’ll get it out of everything… But that’s the nature of the game.
DEMIAN:
(Still shocked by his memory)
Duuuuude, did you see the flash and the whole thing when the gun went off?
DURF:
(Beginning to harden- Maurice)
Yes my man, that was what they call a ‘blast-of-glory.’ That old man is in heaven now.
(He looks at Demian)
DEMIAN:
(Looking at Durf)
You’re wild Durf, man. Dude, you gotta get the blood off your coat, and off your face, man, if the cops came right now, we’d be toast.
DURF:
The blood’s coming off- Don’t worry, and there won’t be anymore cops. Besides, It’s not really our problem, I mean the guy killed himself, we didn’t do anything worse than anybody else who was there. Just that takin’ the body around… That could get a little sticky.
DEMIAN:
But if they ever got the gun, they’d trace it back to you.
DURF:
Nah, I filed the numbers. If the cops come, I just back away like everyone else. The only thing I’m thinkin’ is that I gotta ditch the cash at the game. Maybe I’ll get Dorty to collect it and leave if he doesn’t want to watch. I don’t know exactly… But maybe its better if there’s no money around there.
(Pause- Cleaning)
Look, let’s clean up and go get somethin’ to eat and a beer, I wanna talk to you about some stuff about all this stuff. And let’s get Dorty over here and see what he thinks now. I think this chair is done.
CUT TO:
INT. DURF’S SHOWER
Durf watches the blood come off of him as he washes.
Pan his clothes on the counter along with the wad of cash.
CUT TO:
DURF’S BEDROOM
He cleans his bloody coat with alcohol and toilet paper. Later, on his bed, he cleans his bloody gun, and the blood comes off the gun in much the same way the blood came off him in the shower. It is clear that he is repelled by the work of it all. At one point he looks into the mirror and peruses his face.
Puts on the Maurice face.
DURF:
(At the mirror)
Zis game… She is quite rare.
Doing this seems to calm him. He cleans his pistol carefully and puts it away. He dresses and finally counts the money. There is $1,950 dollars. Even he didn’t expect this.
DURF:
(Mumbling in shock as he looks at the bills)
OH…OH……OH…!
C’est ca mes petits! We’re into it now, huh?
In any case, please look-in next week as Durfee tries to expand his operation!