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. THE END
 Three convicts, Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney), Pete Hogwallop (John Turturro) and Delmar O'Donnel (Tim Blake Nelson) escape from a chain gang and set out to retrieve a supposed treasure Everett buried. The three get a lift from a blind man driving a handcar on a railway. He tells them, among other prophecies, that they will find a fortune but not the one they seek. The trio make their way to the house of Wash, Pete's cousin. They sleep in the barn, but Wash reports them to Sheriff Cooley, who, along with his men, torches the barn. Wash's son helps them escape.
They pick up Tommy Johnson, a young black man. Tommy claims he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the ability to play guitar. In need of money, the four stop at a radio broadcast tower where they record a song as The Soggy Bottom Boys. That night, the trio part ways with Tommy after their car is discovered by the police. Unbeknownst to them, the recording becomes a major hit.
Near a river, the group hears singing. They see three women washing clothes and singing. The women drug them with corn whiskey and they lose consciousness. Upon waking, Delmar finds Pete's clothes lying next to him, empty except for a toad. Delmar is convinced the women were Sirens and transformed Pete into the toad. Later, one-eyed Bible salesman Big Dan invites them for a picnic lunch, then mugs them and kills the toad.
Everett and Delmar arrive in Everett's home town. Everett confronts his wife Penny, who changed her last name and told his daughters he was dead. He gets into a fight with Vernon T. Waldrip, her new "suitor." They later see Pete working on a chain gang. Later that night, they sneak into Pete's holding cell and free him. As it turns out, the women had dragged Pete away and turned him in to the authorities. Under torture, Pete gave away the treasure's location to the police. Everett then confesses that there is no treasure. He made it up to convince the guys he was chained with to escape with him. Pete is enraged at Everett, because he had two weeks left on his original sentence, and must serve fifty more years for the escape.
The trio stumble upon a Ku Klux Klan rally, who are planning to hang Tommy. The trio disguises themselves as Klansmen and attempt to rescue Tommy. However, Big Dan, a Klan member, reveals their identities. Chaos ensues, and the Grand Wizard reveals himself as Homer Stokes, a candidate in the upcoming gubernatorial election. The trio rush Tommy away and cut the supports of a large burning cross. The cross falls on Big Dan, killing him.
Everett convinces Pete, Delmar and Tommy to help him win his wife back. They sneak into a Stokes campaign gala dinner she is attending, disguised as musicians. The group begins a performance of their radio hit. The crowd recognizes the song and goes wild. Homer recognizes them as the group who humiliated his mob. When he demands the group be arrested and reveals his white supremacist views, the crowd drives him out on a rail. Pappy O'Daniel, the incumbent candidate, seizes the opportunity, endorses the Soggy Bottom Boys and grants them full pardons. Penny agrees to marry Everett with the condition that he find her original ring.
The next morning, the group sets out to retrieve the ring, which is at a cabin in the valley, where Everett earlier claimed was the location of his treasure. The police, having learned of the place from Pete, arrest the group. Dismissing their claims of receiving pardons, Sheriff Cooley orders them hanged. Just as Everett prays to God, the valley is flooded and they are saved. Tommy finds the ring in a desk that floats by, and they return to town. However, when Everett presents the ring to Penny, it turns out it wasn't her ring, and she doesn't even remember where she put it. The movie ends with the two bickering and the blind man driving the handcar is seen again.
Three convicts , Ulysses Everett McGill ( George Clooney ) , Pete Hogwallop ( John Turturro ) and Delmar O'Donnel ( Tim Blake Nelson ) escape from a chain gang and set out to retrieve a supposed treasure Everett buried . The three get a lift from a blind man driving a handcar on a railway . He tells them , among other prophecies , that they will find a fortune but not the one they seek . The trio make their way to the house of Wash , Pete s cousin . They sleep in the barn , but Wash reports them to Sheriff Cooley , who , along with his men , torches the barn . Wash s son helps them escape . They pick up Tommy Johnson , a young black man . Tommy claims he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the ability to play guitar . In need of money , the four stop at a radio broadcast tower where they record a song as The Soggy Bottom Boys . That night , the trio part ways with Tommy after their car is discovered by the police . Unbeknownst to them , the recording becomes a major hit . Near a river , the group hears singing . They see three women washing clothes and singing . The women drug them with corn whiskey and they lose consciousness . Upon waking , Delmar finds Pete s clothes lying next to him , empty except for a toad . Delmar is convinced the women were Sirens and transformed Pete into the toad . Later , one-eyed Bible salesman Big Dan invites them for a picnic lunch , then mugs them and kills the toad . Everett and Delmar arrive in Everett s home town . Everett confronts his wife Penny , who changed her last name and told his daughters he was dead . He gets into a fight with Vernon T. Waldrip , her new suitor . They later see Pete working on a chain gang . Later that night , they sneak into Pete s holding cell and free him . As it turns out , the women had dragged Pete away and turned him in to the authorities . Under torture , Pete gave away the treasure s location to the police . Everett then confesses that there is no treasure . He made it up to convince the guys he was chained with to escape with him . Pete is enraged at Everett , because he had two weeks left on his original sentence , and must serve fifty more years for the escape . The trio stumble upon a Ku Klux Klan rally , who are planning to hang Tommy . The trio disguises themselves as Klansmen and attempt to rescue Tommy . However , Big Dan , a Klan member , reveals their identities . Chaos ensues , and the Grand Wizard reveals himself as Homer Stokes , a candidate in the upcoming gubernatorial election . The trio rush Tommy away and cut the supports of a large burning cross . The cross falls on Big Dan , killing him . Everett convinces Pete , Delmar and Tommy to help him win his wife back . They sneak into a Stokes campaign gala dinner she is attending , disguised as musicians . The group begins a performance of their radio hit . The crowd recognizes the song and goes wild . Homer recognizes them as the group who humiliated his mob . When he demands the group be arrested and reveals his white supremacist views , the crowd drives him out on a rail . Pappy O'Daniel , the incumbent candidate , seizes the opportunity , endorses the Soggy Bottom Boys and grants them full pardons . Penny agrees to marry Everett with the condition that he find her original ring . The next morning , the group sets out to retrieve the ring , which is at a cabin in the valley , where Everett earlier claimed was the location of his treasure . The police , having learned of the place from Pete , arrest the group . Dismissing their claims of receiving pardons , Sheriff Cooley orders them hanged . Just as Everett prays to God , the valley is flooded and they are saved . Tommy finds the ring in a desk that floats by , and they return to town . However , when Everett presents the ring to Penny , it turns out it was n't her ring , and she does n't even remember where she put it . The movie ends with the two bickering and the blind man driving the handcar is seen again .
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Brother,_Where_Art_Thou%3F
O Brother, Where Art Thou?
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<b>			 "O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU"
</b>
					  By

			   Ethan Coen and Joel Coen

<b>	BLACK
</b>
	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:

<b>	A PICK
</b>
	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

<b>	BLACK
</b>
	The last of the voices fades.

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

<b>	A WHEAT FIELD
</b>
	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.

<b>	THREE PAIRS OF EYES
</b>
	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.

<b>	BARNYARD
</b>
	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.

<b>	COUNTRY LANE
</b>
	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.

<b>	AFTERNOON CAMPFIRE
</b>
	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.

<b>	ROLLING HILLS
</b>
	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.

<b>	TRACKING
</b>
	Laterally with the clanking, running feet.

	The chugging sound is very loud.

<b>	RUNNING
</b>
	Next to a freight train. A boxcar door is open.

<b>	INSIDE THE BOXCAR
</b>
	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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>	OUTSIDE
</b>
	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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Jesus - can't I count on you people?

	The second con is Delmar.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Sorry, Everett.

	Everett looks desperately about.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		All right - if we take off through 
		that bayou-

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Wait a minute! Who elected you leader 
		a this outfit?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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!

<b>				PETE
</b>		Suits me! I'm votin' for yours truly!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Well I'm votin' for yours truly too!

	Both men look interrogatively to Delmar.

	He looks from Pete to Everett, and nods agreeably.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Mind if we join you, ol' timer?

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		You work for the railroad, grandpa?

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		I work for no man.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Got a name, do ya?

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		I have no name.

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

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

	The men fall silent.

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		...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.

<b>				OLD MAN
</b>		...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:

<b>				OLD MAN
</b><b>		IZZAT CLEAR?
</b>
	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.

<b>								FADE OUT
</b>
<b>	DAY
</b>
	A hot dusty road leading up to a lone farmhouse.

	The three men walk, clanking and abreast.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		How'd he know about the treasure?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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-

<b>				PETE
</b>		He said we wouldn't get it! He said 
		we wouldn't get the treasure we seek!

	Everett grows testy:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				CHILD'S VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				CHILD
</b>		You men from the bank?

<b>				PETE
</b>		You Wash's boy?

<b>				CHILD
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Well, we ain't from no bank, young 
		feller.

<b>				CHILD
</b>		Yassir! I'm also suppose to shoot 
		folks servin' papers!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Well we ain't got no papers.

<b>				CHILD
</b>		Yassir! I nicked the census man!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		There's a good boy. Is your daddy 
		about?

<b>	THE BACK OF THE HOUSE
</b>
	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.

<b>				WASH
</b>		'Lo, Pete. Hooor yer friends?

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		'N I'm Delmar O'Donnell.

<b>				PETE
</b>		How ya been, Wash? Been what, twelve, 
		thirteen year'n?

	Still looking sourly at his whittling:

<b>				WASH
</b>		You've grown chatty.

	He tosses the stick aside and sighs.

<b>				WASH
</b>		I expect you'll want them chains 
		knocked off.

<b>	THE HOGWALLOP KITCHEN
</b>
	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.

<b>	WASH
</b>
	They foreclosed on Cousin Vester. He hanged himself a year 
	come May.

<b>				PETE
</b>		And Uncle Ratliff?

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Where's Cora, Cousin Wash?

	Wash glances at the little boy.

<b>				WASH
</b>		Couldn't say. Mrs. Hogwallop up and 
<b>		R-U-N-N-O-F-T.
</b>
<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Mm. Must've been lookin' for answers.

<b>				WASH
</b>		Possibly. Good riddance, far as I'm 
		concerned...

	The three men slurp their stew.

<b>				WASH
</b>		I do miss her cookin' though.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		This stew's awful good.

<b>				WASH
</b>		Think so?

	He sniffs dubiously at his spoon.

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

<b>	LIVING ROOM
</b>
	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.

<b>				ANNOUNCER
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Well, guess I'll be turning in...

	He screws the lid back on the pomade.

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

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

<b>	THE THREE MEN
</b>
	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:

<b>				BULLHORN VOICE
</b>		All right boys, itsy authorities.

	The three men rouse themselves.

<b>				BULLHORN VOICE
</b>		We gotcha surrounded. Just come on 
		out grabbin' air!

	Everett shrugs his shoulders and peeks down into the barnyard.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		What inna Sam Hill...?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Pete's cousin turned us in for the 
		bounty!

<b>				PETE
</b>		The hell you say! Wash is kin!

	An unamplified voice echoes up from the yard:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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:

<b>				PETE
</b><b>		I'M GONNA KILL YOU, JUDAS ISCARIOT 
</b><b>		HOGWALLOP! YOU MIS'ABLE HOSS-EATIN' 
</b><b>		SONOFABITCH! YOU-
</b>
	RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT- Everett pulls Pete down as a tommy gun spits 
	lead into the hayloft.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Damn! We're in a tight spot!

	Pete is enraged:

<b>				PETE
</b>		Damn his eyes! Pa always said never 
		trust a Hogwallop-COME'N GET US, 
<b>		COPPERS!
</b>
<b>				BULLHORN VOICE
</b>		So be it! You boys're leavin' us no 
		choice but to smoke you out.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Oh no! Lord have mercy!

	Men approach the barn with torches.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		What do we do now, Everett?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Fire! I hate fire!

<b>				PETE
</b><b>		YOU LOUSY TIN-WEARIN' MOTHERLESS
</b><b>		BARNBURNIN' COCKROACHES-
</b>
	Everett cuts in, his voice breaking:

<b>				EVERETT
</b><b>		NOW HOLD ON, BOYS-AINTCHA EVER HEARD 
</b><b>		OF A NEGOTIATION? MAYBE WE CAN TALK 
</b><b>		THIS THING OUT!
</b>
<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Yeah, let's negotiate 'em, Everett.

	The hayloft is filling with smoke. Flames lick downstairs.

<b>				PETE
</b><b>		YOU LOUSY YELLA-BELLIED LOW-DOWN 
</b><b>		SKUNKS-
</b>
<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Now hold on, Pete, we gotta speak 
		with one voice here - CAREFUL WITH 
<b>		THAT FIRE NOW, BOYS!
</b>
	Pete grabs a flaming faggot and hurls it down at the deputized 
	congregation.

	It lands harmlessly in some scattered straw.

<b>				BULLHORN VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				MAN WITH BULLHORN
</b>		Holy Saint Christopher - OUTA THAT 
<b>		VEHICLE, CHAMP, SHE'S LICKIN' FAR!
</b>
	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.

<b>				MAN WITH BULLHORN
</b>		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.

<b>				VOICES
</b>		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:

<b>				BOY
</b>		Come on, boys! I'm gonna R-U-N-N-O-F-
<b>		T!
</b>
	Pete, Everett and Delmar pile in.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				BOY
</b>		You ain't the boss a me!

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

<b>	COUNTRY ROAD - DAY
</b>
	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:

<b>				BOY
</b>		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:

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		What's the damn problem?

<b>	DRYGOODS STORE
</b>
	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.

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

	Everett is stunned.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Two weeks! That don't do me no good!

<b>				PROPRIETOR
</b>		Nearest Ford auto man's Bristol.

	Everett picks up the tin.

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

<b>				PROPRIETOR
</b>		I don't carry Dapper Dan. I carry 
		Fop.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		No! I don't want Fop! Goddamnit - I 
		use Dapper Dan!

<b>				PROPRIETOR
</b>		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.

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

<b>	PETE AND DELMAR
</b>
	On a wooded hillside. They sit at a twig fire, roasting a 
	small creature on a spit.

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

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...but try getting a decent hair 
		jelly.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Gopher, Everett?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		And no transmission belt for two 
		weeks neither.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Don't I know it.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		We ain't gonna make it walkin'.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

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

	Pete looks at the watch, puzzled.

<b>				PETE
</b>		How's this a plan? How're we gonna 
		get a car?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Sell that. I figured it could only 
		have painful associations for Wash.

	Pete pops the front and reads the inscription.

<b>				PETE
</b>		To Washington Bartholomew Hogwallop.  
		From his loving Cora. Ay-More Fie-
		dellis.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		It was in his bureau.

	He screws the lid back on the pomade.

	Delmar whistles appreciatively.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		You got light fingers, Everett. 
		Gopher?

<b>				PETE
</b>		You mis'able little sneak thief...

	He lurches threateningly to his feet.

<b>				PETE
</b>		You stole from my kin!

	Everett scrambles up.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Who was fixing to betray us!

<b>				PETE
</b>		You didn't know that at the time!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		So I borrowed it till I did know!

<b>				PETE
</b>		That don't make no sense!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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:

<b>				VOICES
</b>		Oh Brothers, let's go down, down to 
		the river to pray...

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

<b>				WOMAN
</b>		Come with us, brothers! Join us and 
		be saved!

<b>	THE RIVER
</b>
	White robes stream down the hill, out of the woods, and down 
	the riverbank. The voices swell in a great chorus:

<b>				VOICES
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Well, I'll be a sonofabitch. Delmar's 
		been saved!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Pete, don't be ignorant-

	Delmar is slogging back through the water.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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!

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

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		I thought you said you were innocent 
		a those charges.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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!

<b>	LATER
</b>
	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.

<b>				A VOICE
</b>		All tight, boys! We got the scent!

<b>	A CAR
</b>
	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:

<b>				PETE
</b>		The preacher said it absolved us.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		But there were witnesses, saw us 
		redeemed!

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		You should a joined us, Everett. It 
		couldn't a hurt none.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Hell, at least it woulda washed away 
		the stink of that pomade.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				HITCHHIKER
</b>		You folks goin' through Tishamingo?

	Delmar pushes open the back door.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Sure, hop in.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				HITCHHIKER
</b>		Thank you fuh the lif', suh. M'names 
		Tommy. Tommy Johnson.

	Delmar is genuinely friendly:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		This ain't no laughin' matter, 
		Everett.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		What'd the devil give you for your 
		soul, Tommy?

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		He taught me to play this guitar 
		real good.

	Delmar is horrified:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Oh, son! For that you traded your 
		everlastin' soul?!

	Tommy shrugs.

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		I wudden usin' it.

<b>				PETE
</b>		I always wondered-what's the devil 
		look like?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		And he told you to go to Tishamingo?

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		How much does he pay?

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

<b>	WEZY 
</b><b>	LISTENING AIN'T NEVER BEEN 
</b><b>	SO EASY NOR 
</b><b>	SO FINE
</b>
	As the men get out of the car, Everett snaps his suspenders.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		All right boys, just follow my lead.

<b>	INSIDE
</b>
	Everett strides up to a portly middle-aged man who wears 
	dark glasses and holds a white cane.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Who's the honcho around here?

<b>				MAN
</b>		I am. Hur you?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				MAN
</b>		Well that all depends. You boys do 
		Negro songs?

	Everett grimaces, thinking.

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

<b>				MAN
</b>		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-

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		That's right!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		That's right! We ain't really Negroes!

<b>				PETE
</b>		All except fer our a-cump-uh-nust!

<b>	THE STUDIO
</b>
	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.

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

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

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

<b>	THE LOT
</b>
	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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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!

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		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.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Finest governor we've ever had in 
		M'sippi.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		In any state.

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

	As Pappy brushes by them, Junior wheedles:

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		Aintcha gonna press the flesh, Pappy, 
		do a little politickin'?

	Pappy slaps at the young man with his hat.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Oh, yes, assa parful new force.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Mm-mm.

	The men head for the station, with Junior lagging.

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

<b>	A CAMPFIRE
</b>
	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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Why don't we bed down out here 
		tonight?

<b>				PETE
</b>		Yeah, it stinks in that ol' barn.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Suits me...

	He stretches out.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Pretty soon it'll be nothin' but 
		feather beds'n silk sheets.

	Pete swishes his coffee as he stares into the blaze.

<b>				PETE
</b>		A million dollars.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Million point two.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Five... hunnert... thousand... each.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Four hundred, Delmar.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Izzat right?

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		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:

<b>				PETE
</b>		An' all my meals for free...

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

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

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Well that hardly sounds like you...

	A distant Voice:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		All right, boys, itsy authorities!

	The three men tense up. Tommy stops singing.

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Damn! They found our car!

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

<b>				MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Damn! We gotta skedaddle!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		I left my pomade in that car! Maybe 
		I can creep up!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Where's Tommy?

<b>				PETE
</b>		Already lit out, scared out of his 
		wits. Let's go!

<b>	DAYTIME ROAD
</b>
	The three men shuffle down the dusty road.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Yeah, look at me.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>				DRIVER
</b>		Is this the road to Itta Bena?

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Itta Bena, now, uh, that would be...

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		...Nah, that ain't right... I'm 
		thinkin' of...

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

	The driver pushes open the passenger door.

<b>				DRIVER
</b>		Hop on in while you give it a think.

	The three men climb in and the car squeals out.

<b>	INT. CAR
</b>
	The driver shoots a glance up to the rearview mirror as the 
	sirens grow louder, then gropes inside his coat.

<b>				DRIVER
</b>		Any a you boys know your way around 
		a Walther PPK?

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Friend, some of your folding money 
		has come unstowed.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				DRIVER
</b>		George Nelson. It's a pleasure.

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

<b>				NELSON
</b>		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.

<b>				NELSON
</b>		Hand up that Thompson, Jack.

	Delmar gropes in the footwell.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Say, what line of work are you in, 
		George?

<b>	EXT. CAR
</b>
	Nelson sends a spray of bullets back at the pursuit car.

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

<b>				NELSON
</b>		...cows...

	He swings the tommy gun over with a whoop.

<b>				NELSON
</b>		I hate cows worse than coppers!

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Aww, George, not the livestock.

	Energized, Nelson resumes bellowing:

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		HA-HA! COME ON YOU MISERABLE SALARIED 
</b><b>		SONSABITCHES! COME AND GET ME!
</b>
	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.

<b>	SMALL TOWN
</b>
	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.

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		COME ON BOYS! WE'RE GOIN' FOR THE 
</b><b>		RECORD-THREE BANKS IN TWO HOURS!
</b>
	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.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		He's a live wire though, ain't he?

<b>				NELSON
</b>		Thanky dear! All the money in the 
		bag, and you can tell your grandkids 
		you were done by the best! I'M GEORGE 
<b>		NELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!
</b>
	He winks at the three men who obediently wait.

<b>				NELSON
</b>		It's a kick and a quarter, ain't it 
		boys?

	Distant sirens again.

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

<b>				NELSON
</b>		Sure boys, here's m'plan!

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

<b>				NELSON
</b>		They ain't never seen ordnance like 
		this!  WELL, THANK YOU, FOLKS, AND 
<b>		REMEMBER: JESUS SAVES, BUT GEORGE 
</b><b>		NELSON WITHDRAWS!  HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-
</b><b>		HA! GO FETCH THE AUTO-VOITURE, PETE!
</b>
	He sends a burst into the ceiling, and heads for the door as 
	customers murmur.

<b>				VOICE
</b>		...it's Babyface Nelson...

	George whirls.

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		WHO SAID THAT?!
</b>
	The customers stare mutely back.

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		WHAT IGNORANT LOWDOWN SLANDERIZING 
</b><b>		SONOFABITCH SAID THAT?! MY NAME IS 
</b><b>		GEORGE NELSON, GET ME?!
</b>
	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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		They didn't mean anything by it, 
		George.

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		GEORGE NELSON! NOT BABYFACE! YOU 
</b><b>		REMEMBER AND YOU TELL YOUR FRIENDS!  
</b><b>		I'M GEORGE NELSON, BORN TO RAISE 
</b><b>		HELL!
</b>
<b>	OUTSIDE THE BANK
</b>
	The siren grows louder as the four men emerge.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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-  

<b>				NELSON
</b>		Aww, I'm all right-

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

<b>				NELSON
</b>		This'll put me right back on top!

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

<b>				NELSON
</b><b>		OR-VOIR, ITTA BENA! GEORGE NELSON 
</b><b>		THANKS YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
</b>
	As the car peels out - KA-BOOM! - the dynamite blows a crater 
	in the street behind.

<b>	CAMPFIRE
</b>
	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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Damn but that was some fun though, 
		won it George?!

	George responds, barely audible and without brightening:

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		...yeah...

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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!

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		...it's okay...

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Whoa doggies!

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

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		...Well, I'm takin' off.

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

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		You boys can have the automobile.

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

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		'N might as well take my share a the 
		riches.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		What the - where you goin', George?

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

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		...I dunno... who cares...

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Now wuddya suppose is eatin' George?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Damn! I liked George.

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

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				MIDGET
</b>		Greetings, brother! Vote for Stokes!

	The voice tails away:

<b>				MIDGET
</b>		Clean gummint is yours for the askin'!

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

<b>	INSIDE
</b>
	We are pulling back from a close shot of the portly blind 
	man.

<b>				MAN
</b>		Hang on! Lemme slap up a wire.

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

<b>				MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				MAN
</b>		Now what can I do you for, Mister 
		French?

<b>				FRENCH
</b>		How can I lay hold a the Soggy Bottom 
		Boys?

<b>				MAN
</b>		Soggy Bottom Boys - I don't precisely 
		recollect, uh -

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

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

<b>				FRENCH
</b>		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!

<b>				MAN
</b>		It was a powerful air.

<b>				FRENCH
</b>		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!

<b>				MAN
</b>		Oh mercy, yes. You gotta beat that 
		competition.

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

<b>	MONTAGE
</b>
	- 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:

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

<b>				CLERK
</b>		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.

<b>				SAD-FACED WOMAN
</b>		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.

<b>	THE CAR
</b>
	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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		...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:

<b>				PETE
</b><b>		PULL OVER!
</b>
	Everett, startled, does so.

<b>	EXT.
</b>
	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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		I guess o' Pete's got the itch.

<b>	AT THE RIVER
</b>
	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:

<b>				PETE
</b>		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:

<b>				PETE
</b>		Maybe I could help you with the, uh-

	He realizes he is holding ladies' undergarments.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Ahem. I, uh...

	He drops them back in the basket.

<b>				PETE
</b>		I don't believe I've, uh, heard that 
		song before...

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Aintcha gonna innerduce us, Pete?

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Don't know their names. I seen 'em 
		first!

	Everett laughs lightly.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Why, thank you dear, that's very, 
		uh...

	He takes a swig.

<b>				EVERETTE
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Pleased to meet you, ma'am.

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Damn!

<b>								FADE OUT
</b>
<b>								 FADE IN
</b>
<b>	CLOSE ON DELMAR
</b>
	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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Holy Saint Christopher!

	He toes Everett urgently in the ribs.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Whuhh...

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		What on earth is goin' on here! What's 
		got into you, Delmar!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

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

<b>	DRIVING
</b>
	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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...I'm not sure that's Pete.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Course it's Pete! Look at 'im!

	The frog croaks.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		We gotta find some kinda wizard can 
		change 'im back!

	A beat. Delmar continues to whimper.

	Everett squints and shakes his head.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...I'm just not sure that's Pete.

<b>	FINE RESTAURANT
</b>
	The tables are formally laid with linen. Delmar and Everett 
	sit at a table, a shoebox between them, deep in conversation.

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

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

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

<b>	ANOTHER PATRON
</b>
	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.

<b>	BACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR
</b>
	Still heatedly discussing.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		The two of us was fixing to fornicate!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

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

<b>	BIG MAN
</b>
	Watching Everett fan his money. The big man stops chewing 
	and slowly raises his napkin to his lips to give them a dainty 
	pat.

<b>	BACK TO EVERETT AND DELMAR
</b>
	As Everett closes his menu.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>				WAITRESS
</b>		Yes sir.

	The big man appears as she leaves.

<b>				BIG MAN
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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?

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Uh, we uh-

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		Don't forget your shoebox, friend.

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

<b>	INSIDE THE PRIVATE ROOM
</b>
	Pappy O'Daniel sits smoking a cigar, nursing a glass of 
	whiskey, and soliciting the counsel of his overweight retinue.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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!

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		Well he's the reform candidate, Daddy.

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

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		...Yeah?

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		Well people like that reform. Maybe 
		we should get us some.

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

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

	He glares around the table.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Okay, Pappy.

	Pappy whips him back down with his hat.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		I'm just makin' a point, you stupid 
		sonofabitch!

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Okay, Pappy.

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Pappy just makin' a point here, boys.

<b>	A MEADOW
</b>
	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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Our pleasure, Big Dan.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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?

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Makin' money in the Lord's service.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Oh, it weren't nothin', I-

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		Do unto others before they do unto 
		you!

	He pulls out their wad of cash.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		I'll just take your show cards...

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		...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.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		What the...

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		No... you don't understand...

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		Don't you boys know these things 
		give ya warts?

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Oh Lord... Pete...

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

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		End of lesson.

	He climbs in.

<b>				BIG DAN
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Pete... Pete... Pete...

<b>								FADE OUT
</b>
<b>	PAN DOWN FROM BLACK TO BRING IN A TORCH
</b>
	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:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		Where are they?!

	There is the sound of a lash and a scream.

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

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

	Another lash, another scream.

<b>				INTERROGATOR
</b>		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.

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		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.

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		Sweet summer rain. Like God's own 
		mercy.

	He looks back down at Pete.

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

	He shrugs, looks off.

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		...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.

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		Stairway to heaven, Pete.

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

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		We shall all meet, by and by.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Goddamnit!

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

	Pete is sobbing:

<b>				PETE
</b>		Godfer gimme!

	Thunder crashes.

<b>	BACK OF A HAYTRUCK
</b>
	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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...and about... life in general...

	The prisoners look like phantoms in the heat and dust.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Pete have a brother?

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Not that I'm aware.

	Everett shakes his head as if to clear it.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Heat must be gettin' to me.

	The truck rattles on.

<b>	TOWN SQUARE
</b>
	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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				MIDGET
</b>		He ain't lyin'!

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

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

	The oldest girl is about ten.

<b>				LITTLE GIRL
</b>		'In the Highways'!

<b>				STOKES
</b>		That's fine.

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

	Everett stares at the stage.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Wharvey gals?! Did he just say the 
		little Wharvey gals?

	Delmar shrugs. For some reason, Everett is enraged:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Goddamnit all!

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

<b>				GIRLS
</b>		In the highways, In the hedges...

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Daddy!

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		He ain't our daddy!

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

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		No sir! Not since you got hit by a 
		train!

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

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		Mama said you was hit by a train!

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Blooey!

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		Nothin' left!

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		Just a grease spot on the L&N!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Damnit, I never been hit by any train!

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		At's right! So Mama's got us back to 
		Wharvey!

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		That's a maiden name.

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		You got a maiden name, Daddy?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		No, Daddy ain't got a maiden name; 
		ya see -

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		That's your misfortune!

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		At's right! And now Mama's got a new 
		beau!

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		He's a suitor!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Yeah, I know 'bout that.

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		Mama says he's bona fide!

	This worries Everett:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hm. He give her a ring?

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Yassir, big'un!

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		Gotta gem!

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		Mama checked it!

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		It's bona fide!

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		He's a suitor!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hm. What's his name?

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		Vernon T. Waldrip.

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Uncle Vernon.

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		Till tomorrow.

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Then he's gonna be Daddy!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		I'm the only damn daddy you got! I'm 
		the damn paterfamilias!

<b>				OLDEST
</b>		Yeah, but you ain't bona fide!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hm. Where's your mama?

	Stokes is announcing from the stage:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				MIDDLE
</b>		She's at the five and dime.

<b>				YOUNGEST
</b>		Buyin' nipples!

<b>	WOOLWORTH'S
</b>
	The faces of a six-year-old girl and her four-year-old sister 
	light up.

<b>				GIRLS
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Who the hell is that?!

<b>				WOMAN
</b>		Starla Wharvey.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Starla McGill you mean! How come you 
		never told me about her?

<b>				SIX-YEAR-OLD
</b>		'Cause you was hit by a train.

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

<b>				WOMAN
</b>		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?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				BOATER
</b>		'Lo Penny... This gentleman bothering 
		you?

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		You Waldrip?

<b>				BOATER
</b>		That's right.

	Everett sniffs and, catching a scent, squints.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...Have you been using my hair 
		treatment?

<b>				WALDRIP
</b>		Your hair treatment?!

	Everett covers his anger with an exaggerated politeness.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		S'cuse me...

	He draws Penny aside.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				SIX-YEAR-OLD
</b>		Seven, Daddy!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Now Penny, stop that!

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

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

<b>				PENNY
</b>		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!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...Why you... lyin,... unconstant... 
		succubus!

<b>				WALDRIP
</b>		You can't swear at my fiancee!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				BYSTANDERS
</b>		Who is that man?

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

<b>	EXT. WOOLWORTH'S
</b>
	Its glass doors swing open and Everett is hurled out and 
	bellyflops into the dust of the street.

<b>				BRAWNY MANAGER
</b>		...And stay out of Woolworth's!

<b>	MOVIE THEATER
</b>
	Romantic music tinnily plays as Delmar and Everett watch, 
	Everett slumped down and angrily hissing:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Okay, Everett.

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

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Everett, I never figured you for a 
		paterfamilias.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				FIRST GUARD
</b>		...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:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		...Pete?

	Pete whispers again, urgently:

<b>				PETE
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		...Pete?

<b>				PETE
</b>		Do not seek the treasure!

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		We thought... you was... a toad!

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		Do not... seek... the treasure!

	A guard murmurs:

<b>				GUARD
</b>		Quiet there. Watcha pickcha.

<b>	VERANDA
</b>
	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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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?!

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		We cain't do that, Daddy, we might 
		offend our constichency.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		We ain't got a constichency! Stokes 
		got a constichency!

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Them straw polls is ugly.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Stokes is pullin' ah pants down.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Gonna pluck us off the tit.

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Latch right on to that tit.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Wipin' little circles with his bread.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Suckin' away.

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Devil his due.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Helluva awgazation.

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		Say, I gotten idee.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		What sat, Junior?

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		We could hire us a little fella even 
		smaller'n Stokes's.

	Pappy whips at him with his hat.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Problem a p'seption.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Ass right.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Reason why he's pullin' ah pants 
		down.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Gonna paddle ah little bee-hind.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		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.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		No, I believe he's a-gonna paddle 
		it.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Well now, I don't believe assa 
		property scription.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Well, that's how I characterize it.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Well, I believe it's mawva kickin' 
		sichation.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Pullin' ah pants down...

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Wipin' little circles with his 
		bread...

<b>	A NOOSE
</b>
	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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		I could not gaze upon that far 
		shore...

	He reacts quizically to a whispered:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		...Cain't stand much longer.

	Pete's eyes burn into Everett's.

<b>				PETE
</b>		It was a moment a weakness!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Quitcha babblin' Pete - time to 
		skedaddle.

<b>	THE THREE MEN
</b>
	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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

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

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		No, they never did turn me into a 
		toad.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Huh?!

<b>				PETE
</b>		Awful sorry I betrayed you fellas; 
		must be my Hogwallop blood.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Aw, that's all right, Pete.

	Pete is shaking his head, miserable.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Aw, that's all right.

	Pete starts weeping.

<b>				PETE
</b>		You boys're true friends!

	He hugs a stunned Delmar.

<b>				PETE
</b>		You're m'boon companions!

	He hugs Everett, who looks profoundly uncomfortable.

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

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Well, but Pete...

	He clears his throat.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Fact of the matter - there never 
		was!

<b>				PETE
</b>		But... but...

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		So - where's all the money from your 
		armored-car job?

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		But...

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

	Pete stares vacantly off.

<b>				PETE
</b>		...No treasure... I had two weeks 
		left on my sentence...

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		I couldn't wait two weeks! She's 
		gettin' married tomorra!

<b>				PETE
</b>		...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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Huh. I guess they'll tack on fifty 
		years for me too.

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		...Eighty-four years old.

	Delmar brightens.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		I'll only be eighty-two.

	Pete lunges at Everett.

<b>				PETE
</b><b>		YOU RUINED MY LIFE!
</b>
	He tackles him and, with his hands wrapped round Everett's 
	throat, the two roll over.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>			(strangled)
		Pete... I do apologize.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				BLACK MAN
</b>		I ain't never harmed any you 
		gentlemen!

	Everett hisses:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		It's Tommy! They got Tommy!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Oh my God!

	It is indeed Tommy Johnson.

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		I ain't never harmed nobody!

	Pete is staring aghast at the makeshift gibbet.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				WIZARD
</b>		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.

<b>				WIZARD
</b>		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.

<b>				WIZARD
</b>		Izzat your culture'n heritage?

	Another roar.

<b>				WIZARD
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hey Tommy!

	Tommy looks back over his shoulder.

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		...Huh?

	Everett is oblivious to the big man approaching from behind.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		It's us! We come to rescue ya!

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		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!

<b>				PETE
</b>		Tommy, you don't wanna get hanged!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		The color guard is colored!

	Big Dan roars.

	The crowd roars.

	Everett screams:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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.

<b>	A PACKARD
</b>
	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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		I'm sayin' we har this man away.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Assa good idea, Pappy.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Helluva idea.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Cain't beat 'em, join 'em.

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Enticements a power, wealth, settera.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		No one says no to Pappy O'Daniel.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Oh gracious no. Not with his 
		blandishments.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Powas p'suasion.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		What's his name again?

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Campaign manager? Waldrip.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Vernon Waldrip.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Vernon T. Waldrip.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Hmm... His folks from out Tuscarora?

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Not a doubt in my mind.

	Pappy is disgusted:

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		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:

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		...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:

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

<b>				PETE
</b>		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 -

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		'N turned into a frog -

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		He was never turned into a frog!

	Delmar sulks:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Almost loved up though.

	Everett is stunned.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		...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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		...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...

<b>	BANQUET HALL KITCHEN
</b>
	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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Scuse me... scuse me... we're the 
		next act...

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Everett, my beard itches.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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!

<b>	HEAD TABLE
</b>
	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:

<b>				WALDRIP
</b>		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!

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Moral fibre?!

	He waves his cane, outraged.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		You pasty-faced sonofabitch, I 
		invented moral fibre!

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

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

	A hissed Voice:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Penny! It's me!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

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

	Stokes has ambled up to the head table.

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

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

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		Pappy O'Daniel be laughing' then.

<b>				SPIVEY
</b>		Not out the other side his face, 
		though.

<b>				ECKARD
</b>		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:

<b>				VOICE
</b>		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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Holy-moly. These boys're a hit!

<b>				JUNIOR
</b>		But Pappy, they's inter-grated.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Well I guess folks don't mind they's 
		integrated.

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

<b>				STOKES
</b>		Wait a minute...

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

	Stokes raises his voice accusingly:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		...you's miscegenated! All you boys!  
		Miscegenated!

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

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		...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.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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!'

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		And they convicts! Fugitives, folks, 
		escaped off the farm!

	This cuts no ice; the boos have become overwhelming.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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:

<b>				STOKES
</b>		Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Is you 
		is or is you ain't my constichency?

<b>	INT. RUSTIC CABIN
</b>
	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.

<b>	BACK TO BANQUET HALL
</b>
	Stokes is almost drowned out by the music as his midget looks 
	apprehensively on.

<b>				STOKES
</b>		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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		That's fine, that's fine!...

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

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		...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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Sounds like Homer Stokes is the kinda 
		fella gonna cast the first stone!

	Boos.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Sure is, Governor.

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

	Loud cheers prod Pappy to another level of inspiration:

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		What sat mean exactly, Everett?

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Oh, okay.

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...Governor - that's one of our 
		favorites!

	Pappy returns a considered appraisal:

<b>				PAPPY
</b>		Son, you gonna go far.

	The song begins.

<b>	LATER
</b>
	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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Is the marriage off then, Miz Wharvey?

<b>				PENNY
</b>		McGill. No, the marriage'll take 
		place as planned.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Where's your ring, honey?

<b>				PENNY
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hell, now's the time to buy it off 
		him cheap.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Aw, honey, our ring is just a old 
		pewter thing -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		Ain't gonna be no weddin'.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		It's just a symbol, honey -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		No weddin'.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		We'll go fetch it with ya, Everett.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Honey, it's just - Shutup, Delmar -
		it's just -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		I have spoken my piece and counted 
		to three.

	She walks off.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		George!

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

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		'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:

<b>				GEORGE
</b>		Yessir! Gonna suck all the power 
		right outa the state! Goddamn, boys, 
		I'm on top of the world! I'M GEORGE 
<b>		NELSON AND I'M FEELIN' TEN FEET TALL!
</b>
	Delmar, smiling, shakes his head as he watches him go.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		Looks like George is right back on 
		top again.

<b>	BLACK
</b>
	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.

<b>	PINEY WOODS
</b>
	Everett, Pete, Delmar and Tommy are walking through the woods.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		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.

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Waitaminute -

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		- 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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Waitaminute -

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		You can't do this -

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Hang on there -

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		- and share one of your graves.

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		It went out over the radio!

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		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:

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		...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.

<b>				PETE
</b>		God have Mercy!

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		It ain't fittin'!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		It ain't the law!

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		The law. Well the law is a human 
		institution.

	Cooley gives the faintest smile.

<b>				COOLEY
</b>		Perhaps you should take a moment for 
		your prayers.

<b>				PETE
</b>		Oh my God! Everett!

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		I'm sorry we got you into this, Tommy.

<b>				PETE
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Oh Lord, please look down and 
		recognize us poor sinners... please 
		Lord...

	The singing of the gravediggers begins a mournful swell.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>	UNDERWATER
</b>
	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.

<b>	FURTHER DOWNHILL
</b>
	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.

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		A miracle! It was a miracle!

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

<b>				DELMAR
</b>		That ain't it!

<b>				PETE
</b>		We prayed to God and he pitied us!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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 -

<b>				PETE
</b>		That ain't the tune you were singin' 
		back there at the gallows!

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Not a moment too soon. Say, there's 
		Tommy!

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				TOMMY
</b>		Rolltop desk...

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		All's well that ends well, as the 
		poet says.

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That's right, honey.

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

	He fumbles in his pocket.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...Time for this old boy to enjoy 
		some repose.

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That's good, honey.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That's not my ring.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		- in the gods - Huh?

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That's not my ring.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Not your...

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That's one of Aunt Hurlene's.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		You said it was in the rolltop desk!

<b>				PENNY
</b>		I said I thought it was in the rolltop 
		desk.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		You said -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		Or, it might a been under the 
		mattress.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		You -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		Or in my chiffonier. I don't know.

	Everett shakes his head.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Well, I'm sorry honey -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		Well, we need that ring.

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

<b>				PENNY
</b>		Uh-huh.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		A 9,000-hectacre lake, honey.

<b>				PENNY
</b>		I don't care if it's ninety thousand.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		Yes, but honey -

<b>				PENNY
</b>		That wasn't my doing...

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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:

<b>				PENNY
</b>		I counted to three, honey.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		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.

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...finding one little ring in the 
		middle of all that water...

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

<b>				EVERETT
</b>		...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.

<b>	THE END
</b>

</pre>
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	<td><h1>O Brother Where Art Thou?</h1><br><br>
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Who does the trio get a lift from shortly after they first escape from prison?
Who does the trio get a lift from shortly after they first escape from prison ?
A blind man driving a handcar gives them a ride. 
A blind man driving a handcar gives them a ride .
A blind man
A blind man