GRAVEYARD SHIFT AT THE DONUT KING

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<< back to INT. RUDY'S APARTMENT | from GRAVEYARD SHIFT AT THE DONUT KING, draft 6, pages 41-44

INT. DONUT KING - NIGHT

A fluorescent box on a Valley boulevard. Four stools, two booths, a glass case of donuts under lights that make everything look slightly radioactive. The clock over the register says 3:16.

TERESA (40s, flour to the elbows, has seen it all and most of it twice) wipes the counter in slow circles.

At the end of the counter sits OFFICER DWAYNE PIKE (30s, uniform pressed like a threat). In front of him: a black coffee and a bran muffin. He has not touched the muffin.

TERESA

You could just have a donut.

DWAYNE

I'm not going to be that guy.

TERESA

You're a cop in a donut shop at three in the morning. You're already that guy. You're just that guy with a muffin.

The clock clicks to 3:17.

Teresa puts down her rag, takes a plain cruller out of the case with tongs, sets it on a plate, pours a cup of tea, and puts both at the second stool. All without looking.

Dwayne watches this.

The door CHIMES. In comes MRS. ABERNATHY (84, church hat, good coat, handbag held like a diploma). She crosses to the second stool without a word, climbs onto it with some effort and great dignity, and folds her hands.

MRS. ABERNATHY

Good evening, Teresa.

TERESA

Good evening, Mrs. A.

MRS. ABERNATHY

The news, please.

Teresa leans on the counter like a newscaster.

TERESA

The kid from the car wash proposed to the girl from the car wash. She said she'd think about it. The man with the parrot came in without the parrot. We're all worried. And we've got a new one.

She tips her head at Dwayne. Mrs. Abernathy turns, slowly, and examines him. Dwayne sits up straighter without meaning to.

MRS. ABERNATHY

Is he eating a muffin?

TERESA

He's not eating anything. He's making a point.

MRS. ABERNATHY

What point?

DWAYNE

Ma'am, it's kind of hard to explain.

MRS. ABERNATHY

I have been awake at three in the morning every night since 1971. I have time.

Dwayne looks at Teresa for help. Teresa is suddenly very busy with the coffee maker.

DWAYNE

It's a stereotype. Cops and donuts. Every comedian, every cartoon. I just figured, one guy, somewhere, can not do it. You know? One guy can decide.

Mrs. Abernathy considers this. She takes one small, precise bite of her cruller. Chews.

MRS. ABERNATHY

My husband carried mail for twenty-six years. Every dog on his route bit him at least once.

DWAYNE

Okay...

MRS. ABERNATHY

He hated it. The jokes. Mailman and the dog. So he went to the pet store and bought a box of biscuits and he fed every one of those dogs, every day, for twenty-six years. They loved him. He still got bit. But he got bit by friends.

A pause.

DWAYNE

I don't understand what that has to do with donuts.

MRS. ABERNATHY

Neither do I, young man. I'm eighty-four. It's three in the morning. Eat the donut.

Long beat. Dwayne looks at the case. Looks at Teresa. Teresa, without a word, holds up the tongs.

DWAYNE

(defeated)
Glazed.

Teresa slides one onto a plate. Dwayne takes a bite. His whole face changes.

MRS. ABERNATHY

(back to her tea)
Put that in the news, Teresa.

TERESA

Leading story, Mrs. A.

The door CHIMES again. A MAN enters with a PARROT on his shoulder. Everyone in the shop exhales.

CUT TO:

Rudy's note: This is the scene that got me the two manager reads. One of them said Mrs. Abernathy should get more pages. The other said she should be cut. That's this business in a nutshell. What do you think? [email protected]

© 1999 Rudy Kasparian · Last updated September 24, 1999 · back to the front page · next: THE CLEAN-OUT